#this AU was not my idea for the record. it is a collab AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

beomcoups · 9 months ago

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Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia. Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.:” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean…” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that.Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO,” you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did.

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend.

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you. You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop.

I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night.

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.”

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.”

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a heart chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.”

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.”

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition.

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?”

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to.

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever.: “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off.

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier.

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon.

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head.

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting.

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing.

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them.

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic.

You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.”

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.”

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying.

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career, I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.”

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.”

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that.

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.”

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future.

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.”

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #hoshi x reader

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atalossofwords · 8 months ago

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YOU TASTE THE SILVER - IvanTill WIP (PART 1)

Hi y'all. The brainrot took me with no warning, and I've written 5k for these two just the last two days. I've no idea how much I'll write, but I'm going to squeeze the serotonin for as long as I can lmao

Anyhow, this is a streamer/actor AU that somehow evolved into a sugar daddy AU. Till is a streamer, and Ivan is a famous actor who found him when he was a small streamer and fell in love; he's been sending donations for a good while now, but they've never communicated outside of it.

Until Till opens his PO box and Ivan's need to spoil Till is too much, at least. Then all bets are off, and Till finally starts thinking more about the stranger who keeps sending him gifts. I have a basic outline for it all, but I'm going with vibes first, since I mostly just want to write them and torture Ivan.

I'm going to be posts little snippets of what I've writer so far over the next few days, so please don't be afraid to come to my inbox to ask about them!

This was inspired by this fic! Check it out!

Till wasn't the most famous streamer there was. Not anything near that, actually, though he thinks he does well enough.

He has an established fanbase, almost 500k of them, he's sold some merchandise and collabed with some pretty nice people. He likes streaming, varying between his songwriting and recording processes and any new video game that catches his fancy.

When he started, he didn't think he'd do this for a living. He probably wouldn't be able to afford it, being a struggling musician as he was, for once.

He couldn't blame his comfortable living situation solely on one person, no, since that would be incredibly inconsiderate of the rest of his fans, but this one Navi person definitely funded Till's move from his old apartment mostly by themselves.

Case in point.

NAVI (TILL'S ATM) DONATED $100: Hyung, how's the new house?

Till reads the donation out loud, ignoring his chat going a little crazy over Navi's donation. By now, Till is used to Navi only ever sending messages through donations. He'd be so flustered, in the beginning, and worried enough he almost disabled them. Luckily Hyuna talked him out of it.

"It's going well. As everyone can see, my studio isn't done yet," he says, gesturing behind himself into the empty expanse of freshly painted wall. At least he'd painted it black already. "but the rest is going okay. I'm really sorry for the week I had to take off, everyone."

He quickly scams the chat, his heart feeling warm as all the people watching rush to reassure him that it's not a problem, he should take care of himself, and how glad they are he managed to move from his shitty rented apartment.

"Actually, I have some news for you all." He scratches his neck, a nervous habit, and looks to the side. Hyuna convinced him to do this, so he knows it's something streamers do, but he can't help being anxious about it. "Since I moved, and this place needs some decorations, I was thinking of opening a PO box and doing an... what's it called? Unboxing?"

The chat is going crazy, he can barely keep up, oh god. He feels his cheeks heat.

"An unboxing live and then decorate my stream setup with some stuff I get. Would you guys like that?"

His chat is a mess of "yeses" and incoherent screams, and Till can't help but smile a little. He's got to say, he's looking forward to this.

The following weeks are a bit of a mess. He streams less than normal, still setting up his new apartment; he goes with Hyuna to buy electronics she swears will make his streaming better.

Dewey, his brother, goes with him to buy a new shelving unit and help him set up all his new furniture. Isaac is strangely fixated on saying Till needs rugs and other things, otherwise his apartment is "just a place, not a home, bro", apparently.

He checks in with his PO box frequently, each day more excited by all the packages he got. After two weeks he announces on twitter he'll be closing the PO box in a week since he wants to be able to open all the gifts on stream and he's already got a good amount of them.

The day after his announcement, he goes to pick up any new packages to store in his living room since he doesn't want to burden the office workers and finds a package that makes his stomach twist in itself.

It's a large box, clearly packed by hand instead of the usual post-service stamps. And it has a large sticker reading "FROM: NAVI" on it.

Till doubts anyone would use the name to get his attention, since he does treat all his viewers equally, so this really is from Navi. He wonders what is in it, since Navi clearly has money to spare and intends to spend it on Till.

"It's probably a maid dress." Hyua says, helping him lug it all to his apartment.

"It's not!" He splutters, mortified. Hyuna raises an incredulous eyebrow. "It's probably snacks, or something like that. Navi's said they travel a lot." That, somehow, just makes the eyebrow twitch higher.

"You remember what your viewers say?" She asks, hip-checking his door open. He follows, frowning a little. He always remembers what his viewers say.

Navi, obviously, since they only talk in donations, but also a few other regulars. Kirby has an older sister they're sharing the computer with; Siren started learning the guitar because of Till, and is doing well for himself; Jaewoon – with the username Till's Merch Overlord – draws and is currently suffering through art university, BonBon who has a one-year-old and listens to Till while doing his household chores.

"Yeah? I mean, there's only so many people who regularly chat. And out of those, a good part are my mods." He says, shrugging. He knows Hyuna pays someone to mod for her, but Till didn't think he'd need a mod, since he never expected to get so many views. He kept going without mods for so long that the most active members of the community ended up auto-modding the rest, at which point Till just reached out and asked if they wanted to mod, and now he pays them for it because he felt bad otherwise.

(Of course, Navi isn't a mod. They'd fit Till's criteria, but they never chatted normally, so it was kind of hard to ask.)

"Aaah, you're just too wholesome, heartbreaker." Hyuna says, sighing, the old nickname that still makes Till confused coming out with a teasing lilt. She waves him off before he can say anything, though, plopping the box on the couch and grinning at Dewey. "Hey, this one you'll definitely want to check!"

Till rolls his eyes as his brother 'oohs' and 'aahs' over the package, Isaac peering over with a pocket knife ready to pry it open. When Till mentioned opening a PO box, he insisted on checking the gifts beforehand, just to make sure they were all stream-appropriate and, most importantly, not dangerous for Till.

He was grateful his brother cared, but he was less amused by the teasing and hint-dropping they'd been doing over the content of the packages. He leaves them to it, moving to the kitchen to get some much-needed coffee.

Looks like Isaac bought bungeo-ppang, so Till fills a mug and picks one, nibbling at it and looking into his fridge. He should go buy more food, but there's a seven-eleven right across his street, so he almost never bothers stocking up. He does need to get more tea, though, since he dislikes drinking water, and for reasons unknown, his chat enjoys it when he drinks on-stream.

He finishes updating his list and walks back to the living room, where Dewey has already closed the package back up, but is holding a small parcel in his hand, frowning. Hyuna looks over as he approaches, a complicated expression on her face.

"The rest of the package is fine to open on-stream, but I think this one might be best off-stream." She says, and the lack of any teasing or barb makes him worried. She must've read that in his expression, because she grins. "Do you happen to know why this Navi person likes you so much? I wouldn't mind getting some of these myself."

Till can't help but scowl, snatching the parcel from Dewey's hands. He doesn't know Navi, not really, but they're still one of his first viewers, and they do kind of give Till a lot of money.

"Keep your hands away from my viewers, hag." He has to move fast to escape her grab, which soon develops into a little keep-away with the parcel, soon ending up with Dewey on the ground howling with laughter as Isaac tries to haul Hyuna off him, curled on himself on the ground to keep the parcel to himself.

"Ugh, you brat! Just open it!!" She exclaims, sitting down on Dewey's lap, making the older man yelp. Till huffs, but sits up to analyse the gift.

It seems to be an envelope, like many of the letters he got, but there was something inside of it, making it weirdly bulky. Till folds it open, tipping the envelope so whatever it is can fall on his open hand, and stares.

There is a pair of... earrings, on his hand.

Diamond earrings, to be precise.

That the fuck.

Till stares at it, then peers inside the envelope. Nothing weird falls out, like a damned credit card or pure gold, but a little recipe with the return address of a high-class jewellery store makes itself known. The rest of the envelope contains a certification for the damned diamonds.

Till curls up back again, head in his hands, groaning. His face is so hot you could cook an egg in it.

Navi got him diamond piercings because Till complained once, months ago, that he wanted to switch out his piercings but didn't have the money for it.

"C'mon Till! You didn't tell me you had a sugar daddy!" Hyuna jeers, and from the hiss and yelp, Dewey just dropped her. The sound of them bickering – Hyuna insisting this Navi person has to be after Till's virtue, and Dewey being insulted by the thought of someone going after his little brother like that, plus Isaac googling the store to throw fuel on the fire – is enough to distract Till form his own freakout.

He sits back up, his face still red, to study the piercings better. There are six items in total. One is a simple diamond stud, a tiny and delicate stone, probably for his second hole. A pair of bigger stones, with four elongated asymmetrical spikes, making it look like a shining star, probably for his first hole. One's a series of round stones inlaid together in a belt, forming a hoop, for his helix piercing. The final ones are two silver loops, delicate and silver, for his double auricle piercing.

He thinks if he puts any of those on, he's going to spontaneously combust.

(Later that night, after Hyuna and Isaac went home and Dewey crashed on his couch, Till locks his bedroom door and tries them on. The pair of star-shaped earrings go on both ears, the tiny stud on his left, alongside the helix, which he takes a while to get on since it is so finicky, he pierced it himself with a safety pin in high school. The hoops go on his right, looking a little lonely with just the earring, remembering Till that he really wishes he had money to get a constellation on that ear.

He's wearing a simple white shirt, ready for bed, that slips off his shoulder to show off the simple moon covered by clouds on his clavicle, clashing with the TILL tattoo he has over his neck. He turns this way and that, watching the diamonds shine, and feels almost bad for using them.

Why did Navi send this to him? What did Till do, to deserve something as delicate as this? He's not the kindest of people, he's kind of an asshole actually, all shouting and side eyes. He's not the kind of guy that can properly appreciate such nice jewellery, not the kind of person that should be appreciated like this.

Still. The diamond shines against his skin, the silver compliments his white hair. He takes most of them off, only keeping the simple snake bites. He doesn't want to somehow dirty up the diamonds.)

part two

#writing #wip #ivantill #alien stage #you taste the silver

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shortfeather · 8 months ago

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HEYA, BEHOLD!!

🍓🥤🍄🪐🦷🥝🌸🧩

Hehehe I couldn't decide, so you may choose to answer just a few of these if you wanna! :]

so MANY—

🍓: I don’t remember exactly? I’ve always loved telling stories though, and had actually started writing original fic as early as 2010, so when I finally got online and into fandom in 2018-ish it was really an inevitability. But I know I fell in love with it when I made a couple particular author friends whose works I got to help on (beta/edit/brainstorming), which is honestly still my favorite thing to do. The reason I have so many AUs/ideas is because I love workshopping so much XD

🥤: gotta shout out both Odaigahara and MawoftheMagnetar on AO3. I just adore how much worldbuilding they can imply/show in such a short amount of time, and they have such unique ideas!

🍄 : firstly, hear me out on the pairing. It’s zedskall. Please take a moment to imagine zedskall in truly any context or relationship. It would be GLORIOUS. even doc would live in fear of the things they are capable of. The headcanon is that they would collab on a shop where you have to pay in exp somehow, exploiting zed’s incredibly niche game knowledge and Iskall’s love of challenging his fellow players

🪐: my dogs, my chickens, my goose! They all love me <3

🦷 : sleeping on things, especially creative stuff. Not only does it force you to rest, but it allows you to get a much more objective look at whatever you’re creating. One of the major reasons Hesperides is as good as it is is that I will not publish a chapter until I have written it, edited it once or twice, slept on it, and then made any further changes the next day. Do this with art, with writing, with recording, with hard work/school assignments if the deadline allows. And sleep on it PROPERLY - not just a nap, but a full night of rest.

🥝 : I don’t lie a lot because I don’t like how good I am at lying… the most recent lie I told was probably that I had already started cooking dinner for me and my mom when I hadn’t? But then I started like five minutes later and it was ready when she got home so does that even count yk

🌸 : I have several, I live on a farm! I’ll put the pictures in a reblog though

🧩 : formatting. I’m a stickler for it on AO3 especislly. If there’s no breaks between your paragraphs, and god forbid if you don’t have paragraphs at all, I will not read it. Similarly, if you don’t have a new paragraph when someone new speaks, I will click that back button faster than grian

#ask the author #fingers crossed I got all the right questions bc my eyes skip lines sometimes XD

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amiharana · 2 years ago

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STREAMERS AU STREAMERS AU STREAM ERS A U ????????

yeah streamers au!!!!! :D i'm thinking all of them also upload their own videos on youtube too, but some originated as streamers and some as youtubers (more streamer au hcs under!!)

like i said in the other post, i think zelda would be analogous to someone like pokimane or valkyrae, and does variety/just talking streams. i don't think she would take advantage of or even be aware of her simps/e-girlism, she's actually very sweet and a just bit naive :'>. she probably already collaborates a lot with urbosa, and has on done a video or two with mipha. i would say she probably started off streaming first and then eventually starting doing youtube to post her vods, then make her own videos

mipha would kinda be like the qtcinderella and urbosa would be like. corpsehusband lowk ☝️😳 mipha does a lot of cutesy stuff like acnh and stardew valley playthroughs, maybe cooking & baking videos, and also like lifestyle videos like GRWM or 'day in the life' vlogs. her first video was a first aid video because she wanted to be a pediatrician when she was younger 🥺 urbosa started off as a youtuber and is one of those like old legendary youtubers who's still around so she's seen the rise and fall of the internet fr. she's very wise and she's zelda's favorite youtuber growing up, role model, and mentor 🥺 mipha probably also watched some of urbosa's videos growing up and cites urbosa as one of her inspirations when she started her own youtube channel :)

revali absolutely started off as a streamer but he excels as a youtuber, as expected. he does a lot of speedrun or challenge streams/videos of video games and i lowkey think that he has beaten quite a few speedrun records, only bested by link who he has an ongoing rivalry with because they keep beating each other's records. revali mostly does stream highlight videos, but every once in a while he'll do a fun little collab video with someone else or on the rare occasion, a vlog or a grwm 😧 someone asked him how he keeps his hair so nice on stream and he was so proud he ended up making a whole video about his haircare routine, what products he uses, etc HAHAHA

link is definitely the type of guy who made dumb little videos as a kid but eventually evolved into a full-fledged content creator with high quality videos and excellent ideas. he definitely does a lot of nintendo game videos (people adore his acnh playthrough series and his collabs with mipha 🥺), but i think he would also upload a lot of like. scenic videos of places he's traveled to or hiked at because he's pretty good at filming and editing. link def found his love for streaming and speedrunning on accident by, get this— watching one of revali's streams 😳😳😳 but he forgets that it was by revali 😭 link is like, This looks fun I want to try, so he does and is actually really good at it. so he ends up streaming the same exact games that revali did and beating his records, and revali would get pissed that his records were getting broken, and thus the rivalry was born!

what daruk does as a streamer or youtube still escapes me though like i just don't know what he would do. i can't even see him streaming KDJHFKJD like what would he do? maybe make reviews videos about old gaming systems, retro games, or reviews on his favorite restaurants or something LOL feel free to offer any ideas for him bc i'm lost lowkey

my brain is stewing with ideas for growing sexual tension between streamers revalink...... imagine them slowly starting to do collab streams together........ collab videos........ the champions going to twitchcon and doing a panel...... revalink meeting irl right before twitchcon because champion meetup and not knowing what to say because wow they're even more attractive irl....... revalink sexual tension in the airbnb all the champions are staying at because link got out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist because he forgot his clothes and revali's eyes bulging out of his head 😭 UGH I THINK I MIGHT WRITE THIS AS AN ACTUAL AU HAHAHAHA

#revalink #loz #botw #loz botw #legend of zelda #amihan's revalinkverse #amihan's headcanons #ask #streamer au #THIS HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL TBH #i wanna write revalink streamers so bad now.......#thank u anon for indulging encouraging and also enjoying this idea #could you imagine the amount of ship wars there would be between zelinkers miphlinkers SIDLINKERS and revalinkers in this au 😭#someone has gotta write the “heat waves” revalink fic in this au i swear to god #the revalink fandom would start off small and it would be a rarepair first but then when revalink start interacting more and collabing #people are converted into revalinkism because of revalink's lowkey flirty banter #losing their shit when revalink sit next to each other at the twitchcon champions panel and flirt even harder #internet would explode when revalink announce they're actually dating though #i'm so into this au omg

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triple-starsss · 5 months ago

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(Hallo! This is meerly a fun idea/hc/concept, please dont feel pressured to respond or accept this!)

Had been looking back at your potential inclusion of elise in this au, (makes me happy to see her recognized in any au at all haha) and its been conjuring up in my mind of how she would maybe meet triple S. I cant remember if they go anywhere outside of their home city to do performances but if they did, i could imagine some alibeit cliche thing where whilst exploring the city they accidentally get lost and dont have much time to get to their performance. And while trying to rush to the destination or bicker about what to do, she happens to spot them; and recognize them from well; media popularity and them being a popular band and so forth.

Since you mentioned she’d be on the richer side she maybe could have a cab or limo with her as her father wants her to get around “safetly” or something. She greets herself to them and asks them if she could offer them a ride to their performance (as she had heard about it online)? And id imagine they’d maybe take it as a like “we dont have any other option and she looks nice” thing. So they get on, sonic and elise chat yada yada and they make it to their destination right on time to get prepared for their concert- or performance.

All 3 of em thank her obviously and she ends up staying to watch in the crowd as they let her in with them for free. (Do as you want to with this, could be a one time thing or whtev. as i said please dont feel pressured to respond! Sorry for the long text!)

THIS IS SO GOOD ACTUALLY.

I'm pretty set on Elise being an idol in this au (her dad is still an owner of a major record company so she's got direct links!!) so this is honestly such a fun way for Triple S to meet her rather than just. Ivo managed to get them a collab or something yk.

WOULD DEFINITELY HAPPEN EARLIER ON IN THE AU THOUGH! considering how they're just. strolling around this city without getting swarmed by fans/ journalists. also the fact that Ivo trusts them enough to just venture out without watching them like a hawk ABJDHF!

really love the idea of Silver recognising Elise and gushing over her music during the drive (HE'S A BIG FAN OF HER SINGING ABJDHF, i think Elise being an inspiration for Silver would be super cute). since they're still pretty new to this whole fame thing, can imagine them struggling to Act Normal around the people they look up to BAJDHF not used to meeting celebrities so often just yet!!

ALSO LOVE HER STICKING AROUND TO WATCH THEM PERFORM.

like this is their first time in this specific venue so she guides them through it and watches them from backstage, (if she was out in the crowd SHE'D get swarmed ABJDHF).

BUT AGRRHFHD YEAH THIS WOULD BE SUCH A FUN START TO THEIR FRIENDSHIP. I AM 100% TAKING PARTS OF THIS THANK YOU.

#asks #t☆s txt #elise #triple☆stars

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collabwithmyself · 3 years ago

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Since the dream realm is based heavily on Miles and Phoenix's thoughts and memories (though Kristoph does his best to manipulate them to his advantage), most of the sentient obstacles the two face are very much like their friends and family! For example, Trucy's favorite stuffed animals, a lion and a crow, become like Sebastian and Kay... though, as Miles and Phoenix soon discover, despite existing in a dream realm, being reckless can have consequences in the real world, even if they themselves cannot be perceived.

(This AU is a joint effort with @soupsy-daisy!)

#FOR THE RECORD MILES AND PHOENIX DID NOT HURT SEBASTIAN ON PURPOSE #MY GOD. THAT POOR ELEPHANT IN THE CANON GAME. WHO DECIDED THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA #collab doodles #it2 au #collab fanarts #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #kristoph gavin #sebastian debeste #kay faraday #trucy wright #soupsy-daisy

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haravath0t · 3 years ago

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Rose, imagine beefy cam!boy Bucky walking in on his roommate who oh I don’t know also happens to be a cam!girl (it’s how they became roommates). She’s in his red Henley YOU KNOW THE ONE and doja cat ‘woman’ is playing in the back how’s my beefy daddy gonna react???

Your Woman

A/N: first off, I should thank YOU @world-of-aus for not only beta reading, but for literally carrying me in terms of smut because I already know without you beta reading and editing this would have gone much shittier LOL literally this wouldn't even END if it weren't for you! And I ought to thank you for always getting over this wall of insecurities for writing but alas, it’s no longer a surprise to you, but I hope you and whoever reads on this is all nice and hot after reading 🙈

Pairing: cam!boy Bucky x cam!girl reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Warning(s): MINORS DNI!, fingering, thigh riding, use of pet names, subtle dom/sub undertones, implication of smut

It's a Sunday evening and you're gathering the pile of clothes that Bucky had folded for you and left on the dryer the night before while he did laundry. It was no new occurrence that one of you would take over the other's chores while the other was doing live streams or recordings.

In preparation for today’s live stream you were putting away your freshly washed pairs of lingeries, shirts, and -

Oh…

A maroon henley that you knew right off the bat belonged to your roommate sits at the bottom of your hamper. You reach for the cotton material, it must have been thrown in by accident. Grabbing the folded piece of clothing you turn on your heel intent on dropping it off in Bucky’s room, though you halt mid stride as you realize the time of day, Bucky was doing a livestream. You cradled the maroon long sleeve to your chest, catching the woodsy smell of his cologne that still lingered behind the scents of the softener. You took a quiet step back away from his door, turning on your heel as you made your way to your room, a new idea for your livestream having come to mind.

You stride into your room, the door falling closed behind you as you move over to your bed a smirk tugging at your lips as you lay the henley down next to the matching lingerie set you had laid down for this evening's livestream. Discarding your night robe, you slip on the lingerie set you had laid out fixing the delicate pieces over your skin, your fingers then reaching for the larger piece of clothing to conceal the secret set.

Upon finding the maroon material in your belongings you had decided that this would be on time with your milestone to tease your beloved roommate, and what better way to finally push the boundaries. See, having lived with Bucky as long as you had, you’d have to have been blind not to notice the burly blue eyed brunette that took over your spare room, and he would have to have been blind not to notice you, and he had, he did. The tension between you two was undeniable to those who knew you both in real life, and the two of you weren’t clueless to the other's attraction either, but the real competition remained: who would give in and crack first. Of course there were temptations out in the real world, but both of your followers were evidently making matters much harder for both parties.

“Are you ever going to collaborate with the Winter Soldier?”

A fan would ask.

“A collab with the Soldier sounds so cool!”

Another would add.

“Seeing Bunny with the Winter Soldier would be something I’d pay to see.”

A lazy, blissed out smile would tug at your lips as you read over the responses of the few subscribers that loitered in your comments after the most anticipated part of the live stream had ended “We’ll see,” you’d respond, “I’m not sure what the Soldier would think about it, but you should ask him!”

Bucky’s followers seemed to be going through the same predicament, always asking only to be met with Bucky answering something similar, “Why don’t we ask Bunny and see what she says?” It had been months yet no one dared to make a move, until today.

The camera had been set by now, your phone connected to the bluetooth speaker as the sound of Doja Cat’s “Woman” filled the quiet of your room. You reached over starting the livestream waiting for the video to load. You set yourself up against the headboard of your bed smiling coyly as you toy with the hem of the henley, waiting.

“Hello, bunnies,” you coo as your image pops on screen, a flood of subscribers popping up on the side of the cam site’s dash. You always liked to take the first few minutes of your live stream to thank your viewers as they commented their congratulations towards your newest milestone. “Oh come on now, it wouldn’t have been possible without all of you, I really can’t thank you enough,” you start, fingers lightly tracing up your thighs, barely peeking from the sleeves of the henley. “You all have always been so good to me since I started this page, I figured you guys could tell me what you’d like, you know, as a little thank you for helping me reach my goal.” You shift positions then as you poise yourself on your knees, hips gyrating along to the beat of Doja’s song as your eyes flit to the comments.

Unlike you, in the other room Bucky has just finished his pre-recorded video, his phone vibrating with a notification on his secret account that you had started a live stream. He clicks to join, plopping the phone down as he adjusts his sweats, he should have never pulled them up with the sight he’s greeted by.

He watches entranced as you gyrate your hips to the slightly boosted bass coming from the speaker of your bluetooth that he knows sits by your bed. He’s also met with the sound of coins dropping into your account, the thousands of followers praising you as you put on a small show before you give them the main act. Bucky immediately realizes it was truly a mistake to have put his sweats on.

“You know I think I’m gonna have this on for a while, it does something to me,” he hears you purr. Your eyes flit down to the comments, “Show us what it does to you,” you read, a teeth biting grin pulls at your lips, “mmm, i’d bet you’d like to see what it does to me,” he hears you breathe, watching as you lean back onto your hands, back arched slightly. The movement causes the henley to hike up a tad, exposing the lacy maroon panties underneath.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, jaw going slack at the sight of you in his clothes. It’s like you knew what fantasies he had imagined in his head late at night when his fist was wrapped around his cock, only now you were manifesting them into reality.

“Do you like what I’m wearing?” you question, fingers gripping at the fabric of the henley to pull it upwards, exposing more of your torso. “It is similar to the soldier’s henley, isn’t it,” you moan, hand having slipped under the cloth and under the lace of your bra to tease your nipples. “Fuck,” you chuckle breathlessly, “you all are so very needy for the soldier and I, aren’t you bunnies?” A sly smile now kisses your lips. “Mm, maybe if we reach a certain tip, we can figure something out, how does that sound,” you suggest, lips grinning at the sound of more coins dropping into your account. “Oh my bunnies are so kind to me,” you praise, a hand trailing down from your breasts, to the edges of your lace underwear.

“Should I give you a treat,” he hears you ask, deft fingers fiddling with your panties as you roll your hips into the palm of your hand, squeezing the supple flesh of your pussy. It’s embarrassing how hard he is, he tells himself not to give in when he watches your fingers slip underneath the tiny piece of fabric and meet your wet folds, a wanton moan slipping past your lips as your rub at your clit. A part of him wonders how you’d act when his bigger ones do the favor instead. “M’so wet, fuck i wish you were here bunnies, want you to touch this pretty little pussy for me, m’so lonley,” His eyes fall shut when he hears this; he’s already memorized the way your back arches when you chase your high, and he wants to be the one to give it to you. The sounds of coins meet his ears as your honeyed sounds grow louder and louder as you meet your peak. “F-fuck” he hears you squeal, “keep them coming bunnies, c’mon give me one more please, wanna come all over your fingers, give me one more!”

More coins drop, he’s sure it’s by the thousands because suddenly an alarm is going off confetti falling over the comments, “Oh my god,” you laugh breathlessly, “you guys did it, you passed the goal for the soldier, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask, what do you think, soldier?”

Bucky couldn’t resist anymore, he had been doing so well, doing so well in reeling you to admit your feelings. So many live streams pleasing himself to the thought of you, so many nights where the slightest things you did sent him reeling. So many instances of him seeing your teasing smiles and your doe eyes paired with your light touches. So many instances where he wished it was him. Now, he watches as a piece of him is on you as you get yourself off. He knows damn well that you’re also imagining the same thing he is. He knows he’s reached his limit. He also knows you’ve also reached yours.

His phone is all but discarded as he slips off his bed pulling open his door as he makes his way to your slightly cracked one, he pushes it open.

“Ask what, Bunny,” your head is snapping to the side, eyes wide as you look at your roommate, the soldier.

“I-” you look at the screen where the comments are now spammed with;

“Is that who I think it is?!”

“No way, is that the soldier?!”

More coins fall into your account, the goal now surpassed by thousands.

A groan bubbles in his chest at the sight of you; your lips parted slightly, body barely covered by the maroon colored henley.

“Come on, sweet girl, don’t get shy on me now,” he coos, smirk growing along with his confidence at the sight of your legs squeezing together subtly. He pushes his way into your room then closes the distance between the two of you, his muscular torso evident and his sweats down to his hips displayed off the screen but very clearly to you. “Tell me what your bunnies have asked,” he smirks, index finger, tilting your head up at him.

“They asked for us to collaborate,” you respond, the nearly arrogant persona that you bring alive for your livestream almost gone due to the shock of the situation. Bucky’s smirk grows, he had never seen you like this, so submissive and ready for him.

“Oh,” he questions, you find yourself nodding dumbly.

“Tell you what,” he starts, head dipping to get him level with you, “I think it's time you and I put a stop to this, no more games, no more teasing”, he murmurs, finger dropping from your chin to trail down the expanse of your neck, your chest, till he’s cupping the wet heat of your pussy. His eyes find yours, “We give the fans what they want tonight, what we’ve both been wanting for a while now.” You swallow the lump in your throat, nodding quietly, want and need evident in your eyes as you watch him.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, offering you a hand to pull you from the bed, you go willingly as you let him pull you up. Bucky switches your position, his body taking the spot you were once in, you raise a brow in question. “What,” he smirks, “this is going to be as much of a show for me as it’s going to be for our fans, now c’mere.”

You're taking his hand again, letting him guide you over his lap, though he stops you before you can fully straddle him, “Just the one,” he murmurs, wedging your other leg between his open thighs.

“You’ve been an awful tease, you know, parading around in my shirt like this I know you knew what you were doing,” he murmurs, giving you a knowing look tugging your now soaked panties to the side. “You gonna dance for me, Bunny,” he questions, tongue running over his bottom lip as he watches your flustered self slowly piece together what he asked of you. “Would you like a reminder,” he questions, leaving you no room to speak as his bigger hands take a hold of your waist, guiding your hips as he rolls you up against his thigh.

Your lips part in surprise, your clit catching on the cotton material of his gray joggers. It felt like a dream - there was no way this was happening, Bucky wasn’t actually in your room was he? The soft ping of comments and coins slowly disappeared into the background noise as your eyes locked with icy blues. Bucky hums beneath his breath as he flexes his thigh, eyes glistening when he hears the delicate but sweet noise that leaves your lips. It took all of you not to moan out his real name, “F-fuck,” you whine instead when he presses his thigh into your semi clothed core.

“You like that don’t you, been cravin’ my touch for so long,” he chuckles, hand slipping under the Henley and up your bare skin until it stops at the lacy material that covers your breasts. “C’mon sweetheart show me how well you dance,” he purrs, “Put on a show for them, for me.”

“Oh you’d love that wouldn’t you,” you moan, hips now gyrating with renewed confidence onto his thigh as praises continue to leave Bucky’s lips.

“Of course I would,” he groans, his skillful hands fondling your breasts from underneath, catching as your eyes flutter shut as you get lost in his touch, lost in trying to chase your second high for the live. He didn’t realize how much doing such intimate acts to you underneath his clothes appealed to him until today. “Show me how badly you wanna cum, wanna see my sweatpants soaked by your slick, Bunny.” Bucky can tell your high was quickly approaching the more you were praised by him, your once rhythmic rolls now becoming more sporadic as his hands guided you down onto his lap.

“M’so close,” you gasp, head falling back in pleasure, “Soldat please.” Bucky was in awe with just how fucked out you were for him; closed eyes, furrowed brows, lips parted while beautiful sounds left the lovely pair. Bucky was already entranced with you on screen, but with you up close? He felt like he was in paradise.

Something in him, despite loving the current state you were in, caused his hands to leave your nipples, gently cupping your face to have your hooded eyes meet his. “So so pretty for me,” he praises, “waited so long to have you like this for me, you like being like this for me bunny, like getting yourself off on me?”

God yes, you think, as you continue to grind your pussy into the muscle of his thigh, “You gonna cum for me bunny, gonna get me all wet with your juices, leave something behind for me to show your fans?”

You’re preening in pleasure as the coil tightens, your body falling onto his for support, your hands finding the back of his head as you bring him closer to you, “Kiss me,” you breathe, “kiss me please.”

His lips crash into yours, tongue delving past your lips as the coil breaks, your letting out a low moan of pleasure, as your orgasm all but blindsides you, your hips faltering as it consumes you.

“Fuck just like that bunny girl,” he groans into your lips, hands squeezing your hips urging you on, “Keep going, give me all of it, come on baby.”

You're whining low in your throat, “please,” you breathe, “B…B… please.”

He’s not sure what you're asking, but he knows what he wants, and if the cock throbbing in his joggers is any indication of what he wants, he’s going to take it.

He flips the two of you then, bodies falling sideways as he looms over you, he reaches blindly for your laptop, closing the device altogether, “Bucky!”

A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as he brings his head closer to you, a warm breath hitting your face as he speaks, “This next part of the show is for me and me only, Bunny.”

Permanent Taglist: @buckybarnesthehotshot @chickenmcstucky @hailhydra920 @karollbey @letstalkaboutsebbaby @lookiamtrying @lordyitsjordy @rebekahdawkins @rodrikstark @swift-potomac @thee-soom-soom @whew-oh-em-gee @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads @vesper852

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @whatrambles @darylandbethfanforever9

strike-throughs means I couldn't tag you!

(If you would like to be included in a tag list let me know via ask! ❤️☺️)

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes scenario #buckybarnesxreader #camboy!bucky #camgirl!reader #camboy au #ask replies #mischief managed ✨

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vminity21 · 3 years ago

Text

The Truth Untold | ksj

Pairing: bestfriend!Seokjin x singlemother!reader, singledad!btsmember x female!reader, f2l!au

Word Count: 22,340

Genre: fluff/smut/angst

Warning(s): profanity, mention of divorce, mega angst, mention of child birth, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), shower sex woop woop, nipple play, morning sex, dirty talk, slight fem!dom, it took me three years to write this story and I am so thankful that it is finally finished Rated: 18+

Summary: When a job opportunity arises in the hometown you left seven years ago, you return with the gift that was never made known to the one person who hasn't left your mind. Despite the love interest tugging on your heartstrings, you wonder where he may be; tired of suppressing the guilt for hiding the biggest secret you have ever withheld. Now, after all this time, the truth is approaching much sooner than you anticipate, and the untold story of why you left will soon be revealed.

Co-author: @yoonoclock (suhflix) is the first human whose writing I fell in love with and her talent never ceases to amaze me! This collab right here is an absolute dream come true and this story can finally be told after years of the idea living rent free within my brain. I love you so much my Monnie! Seriously thank you so much for cowriting this piece with me.

Credits to: @dee-ehn for making such a beautiful cover, it truly embodies the story. Thank you so frickin frackin much!

Greenery zips by, your hands guide the steering wheel in concentration nearing the road to your new home; one that is bringing you back to the town you left years ago, and even now, you never imagined you'd ever return. A brand-new office job opportunity discovered online, you immediately applied, accepting the position that happened to be in your hometown; and, with the experience you've already had with a desk job, you were at the top of the list.

In the passenger seat sits your daughter, Mae, cuddled against the door, eyes glued shut in sleep while classical music serenades through the speakers at low volume. Nostalgia is a funny one- sneaking up on you in times you desperately try to avoid it. But, finally caving, you convince yourself this is all a good idea; with your sister, Monnie, and her husband being closer, at least you have someone you can rely on, the same as she can rely on you.

A moving company has already moved the heavy stuff into your home. Rooms are finished. You started unpacking Mae's room first, so she would have everything she needed available. And today, you're coming home from 'Back to School' shopping, purchasing your daughter a new backpack as well as supplies with the infamous request of colored pencils. With summer ending, you've already transferred Mae's records to the new school she will be attending; starting second grade, her seventh birthday passed, you're nervous for the new adventure ahead, and all you hope with every fiber of your being is that you made the right decision.

“I hope,” you think repeatedly as you look back at Mae every few minutes. She’s okay, therefore, so should everything else… right?

Receiving an email once you arrive home, you read over it to see an announcement for an open house- a way for students to see their classroom and meet their teacher. Though you're excited about the news, your heart falls in disappointment all the same, because of course, the date of the open house is the same day you're beginning your new job. With your luck, the times clash. Sneaking a glance to check on your daughter, who is groggily hugging her favorite stuffed animal (one given to her by her grandmother), you dial your sister's number.

"Woman, you've been gone for a total of two whoppin’ minutes, what do you want now?" Monnie's voice answers the line abruptly which prompts you to pull the phone away from your ear when you hear the familiar muffle of a car.

"Are you driving!?" You say incredulously into the phone- a conversation you have openly said you're uncomfortable with. Monnie exhales into the phone which you imagine involves a painfully long eye roll.

"First of all, no, I'm not driving. You and Yoongi seem to think hell has frozen over if I do, and secondly, I'm pregnant, not helpless,"

A hearty snicker escapes your mouth, excitement filling you for your future nephew, "I know, but you can't even see your feet anymore,"

"And" she draws out, "My due date isn't until two months from now so you two need to calm down before I legitimately find relaxation pills to sneak into the wine I can no longer drink."

You sigh, “I don't like bitter wine-"

"Who said I couldn't find other ways to-"

"Fine," you raise a hand in the air, "Anyways, I'm not calling to fuss at you. I need a favor," bringing the tip of your thumb to your mouth, you nip at the nail, guilt brewing for even asking.

"What did you do," Monnie immediately asks as a reflex.

After years of schemes and numerous escape plans back in the day, it comes as no surprise that whenever you hear the words ‘favor’ the need to question arises.

"Nothing!" You scoff teasingly, pacing back and forth into the dining area ignoring the numerous small boxes you're procrastinating to unpack. "Monnie, really, I need a favor,"

"What's the catch?"

"Coffee," you answer straightway, "Caffeine-free coffee.”

"Ugh," your sister bellows, the staticky feel of the phone line poppy within your ears, "Hence why I want this little troublemaker to exit my body. I miss caffeine," she pauses, "But, not as much as I miss bitter wine.”

The quiet snicker of Yoongi is heard- you shake your head at your sister's playful banter- something Yoongi loves about his wife.

"Well, it's the least I can do," you offer, "But is there any way you can take Mae to her open house this coming Monday?"

"Yes, of course, we can. Yoongi's off that day surprisingly, so no worries, he will be driving."

You’re very thankful your sister will take care of it, and you soon hang up the phone for the evening and turn on a heel to prepare dinner for you and your daughter.

Everything will be okay.

When Monday rolls around, you fluff at the curls layered in your hair, triple-checking your makeup, and doing a couple of side glances in the mirror before your clicking heels leave the bathroom. Monnie and Yoongi wait in the driveway, planning to take Mae to her new school while you tackle a new job.

"I love you so much, Mae," you hug her close, letting her soft hair tickle your nose before pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And make sure you say ma'am or sir when greeting your teacher, and say please and thank you, okay?"

"I will Mommy, I promise!" She says, her nervous eyes mirroring your own, though they resemble the eyes you used to get lost in once upon a time. Burying the thought further, you refuse to dig up the lurking past until you're ready.

"Be good, kiddo," embracing your daughter one more time before she heads to the car.

Your eyes linger out the door to ensure she safely enters the car and drives off until you can no longer see them. Once out of sight, you can assure yourself that this day will move along smoothly for both of you.

Walking into the new job, the boss, Kim Namjoon, shows you around, introducing you to the staff. Slightly bowing with each face to show respect. It's then you're led to what will be your office.

Namjoon hands you a schedule and goes over the code of conduct, also explaining your role in answering phone calls or preparing projects he asks of you. Lastly, he assists in providing you with a username and password. All the basics are covered, and you can say that it hasn’t been as terrifying as you originally thought.

"I'll be looking forward to seeing you further your skills with our company. Thank you for joining the team," Namjoon shakes your hand, nodding once, his black glasses slip to the bridge of his nose before he fixes them. "Your trainer will be here shortly to show you the ropes. Once you feel comfortable on your own just let us know,"

"Will do, thank you, sir," you smile, settling behind your desk once he departs.

Though decorations to make the atmosphere more like home has been a goal, the only thing you need right now is just the picture frame of your daughter; one you slip from your purse to steady next to the computer- her toothy smile lighting up your whole world as her happy eyes warm your heart. Staring at the photo once more, you log in to your computer, bringing up the first message you receive. Deeply focusing on the list of projects forwarded to your work email that was already prepared prior to your arrival, you scan through everything, scribbling down your login onto a pad of paper you plan on keeping within your purse. Unbeknownst to you, a tall figure leans into the entryway, poking his head just enough to reveal his identity,

"When I saw the name on the schedule, I had to do a double-take! Since when, did you decide to come back to the underworld?" The deep voice utters prompting you to jolt from your concentration to gasp at the handsome face smirking at you.

It takes a total of two seconds for you to recognize the man standing before you.

"Kim Seokjin!" The excitement leads you to jump from your desk, arms outstretched, you rush towards him until crashing into his embrace while he sways you from side to side. "I didn't know you worked here! Jin, how are you?" Your hands grip his shoulders, gazing at his dancing eyes- dark hair longer from what you remember in high school, covering his forehead in the softest fluff.

"I'm doing good! Never been better."

When you realize you've been in his arms a moment longer than expected, you slowly back away, a timid smile forming on your lips.

Clearing his throat, his expression reflecting the same awkward tension, you can't help the slight attraction within your chest. It most definitely had to be due to your lack of physical contact. When was the last time you went on a successful date? Oh dear… far too long for you to remember.

Yes, this slight tingle you feel upon your skin has everything to do with the lack of romance in your life. Definitely.

Seokjin politely ignores your forced smile by shoving his hands within his pockets. It is in that moment you catch a glimpse of his bare ring finger kindling a subtle surprise. Out of everyone in your past friend group, you expected him to be the first one married.

Everything about him then screamed husband. It’s probably the same now.

“How are you, y/n?"

“Wonderful," you sigh, inwardly grateful to have a familiar face welcoming you, bringing a sense of comfort until you get used to being here, "Excited to be back,"

"What's it been, like, seven years?" Jin tilts his head while his eyes scan the ceiling, "Gosh, we were children, then,"

You nod in agreement, "Still to this day, I remember dreading pre-calc, if it wasn't for you and-" leaning backward onto your desk a bit too far, the clanging of your picture frame lands on the desk interrupting what you were about to say.

"Oh!" Jin reaches to set it back up, eyes widening when he sees the picture, "Is- is she-?"

"My daughter," your head is slightly lower when answering, the realization Jin makes bundling nerves within your tummy.

Seokjin was your best friend in high school and even after his graduation, since he's a few years older than you, both of you maintained a friendship up until you vanished without any explanation. Jin helped you with all your math classes, which was something you consistently struggled with, and supported you at any event you attended. No one ever knew why you left so suddenly after your graduation, and though there were people you trusted with your whole life, you couldn't bear to tell them when you found out you were pregnant. Seventeen years old and pregnant, "Her name is Mae," you smile.

"How old is she?" He asks, eyes meeting yours- his nervous fingers fiddling within his pockets.

"She's seven," you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes- a dawning 'oh' becoming present on his lips.

"Well," he swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," you say softly, turning to stare at the photo fondly, "She's my best friend,"

When silence falls between the two of you, he rocks on his heels once, gathering words carefully. Now fully understanding that whatever your motives were for leaving seven years ago, you did not do it with the intention of hurting anyone.

“She looks just like you," His compliment catches you off guard, your eyes trailing from his broad shoulders to the gentleness resting in his brown irises, heart fluttering though you mask it.

"Thank you, Jin," he bows slightly, turning toward the entrance.

"I'll see you around, y/n," and with that, his presence disappears, leaving your wondering heart thudding beneath your chest.

Min-a, a lady with red-rimmed glasses and matching lipstick, dangly, red earrings and a messy bun happened to introduce herself as your trainer shortly after Seokjin left. Quickly going over how the system at your new job works, she answered any questions you had, even letting you try a couple of phone calls as well as preparing for the first task on a presentation that involved the selling of a cosmetic product. Although the hours seemed to drag, the only thing your mind focuses on is how your daughter is doing, and how open house went.

When the opportunity presents itself, you quickly give a call to Monnie.

"You asked questions, correct?" You panic into the phone. Your sister is chuckling at your rushed state.

“Met her teacher? Showed her the classroom? Took notes? Did they provide any information?" You can't help yourself, slinging your purse into the passenger side after the long day, pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you triple check to make sure you have everything you need. Keys, wallet, paperwork from the job.

"Can you breathe?"

"Did they provide any information," you repeat with a playful yet stern tone. "And did Mae-"

"Y/N, hold your titties. Yes, we did. We met the teacher, she knows where to go next Monday and no, I didn't take any notes. You are being dramatic."

Now, most people assume that she was being rude. That she didn’t understand the stress of motherhood. Monnie may not be a mother yet, but she is a woman who saw everything you have endured. She is fully aware that you seek to make this transition smooth for Mae because you love her. And Monnie loves you.

She just happens to know when you are stressing yourself out beyond what you should be. Sometimes reminding you to take a breath is the best decision.

"Okay, okay," you lean back into your seat with eyes squeezed shut, "I'll relax. Just- just, thank you. Thank you for doing all of this for me," you're grateful despite the guilt from missing your daughter's preparation for the big day in a week's time.

"What can I say? I'm the best auntie ever," Monnie gloats. You know the tight-lipped smile she most likely has planted on her face while Yoongi stifles giggles.

"Yeah, and you're the only one so what choice does she have?"

"You're just jealous because I am the best thing since sliced bread-"

"Stale bread.”

"I'll have you know that these hot crossed buns didn't form a baby with being sta-"

"SPARE ME," you yell into the phone, turning out of the parking garage and into downtown, "I'll see you when I get home you sicko. Tell Mae I love her very much, and I really hope she's wearing her headphones, I don't need her listening to your profanity-"

"Yes, she is listening to music, I'll see you in a bit, love you,"

"Love you," you make a detour, stopping for some iced coffee as you promised, also purchasing your daughter's favorite treat in celebration for her beginning second grade.

Keeping your full attention on the road, it's still quiet enough, even with comforting music, to let your thoughts spin. With this new job you have acquired, it's come to your attention that this will be the busiest you've ever been, at least according to Min-a. Though you and your sister's relationship had been strained nearly seven years ago, it took Mae turning four years old- a time where the guilt nearly consumed you- to reconcile with the one person you hoped had forgiven you. One thing you did think about, too, especially with moving back after all this time, was looking for the individual who changed your life. A young man, full of life, numerous dreams he was determined to accomplish, laughter that made you swoon, and a heart that pieced yours together when your world was falling apart. Where he is now, you're uncertain of. And, whether he'd be happy to see you again, that's unknown to you, too. With the news, you've buried deep enough, and with the way you left him, he still to this day has not an idea of the gift you brought to this earth without him.

Even Seokjin, who was your rock most of your high school years, didn't even know about the situation. The only thing he was aware of was the man who had captured your heart at the time; though, you hope he wouldn't say anything or ask about it... Either way, you are thankful for the beginning of the reconnection with Jin. If anything, this job may draw the opportunity of really catching up; seeing what all he's been up to since you've last seen him, including the curious inquiry involving his love life hidden subconsciously. With a handsome man like him you'd think women would snatch him up quick. Though deep down, you've really missed him, and are hopeful in the fact he's still single.

Perhaps it’s okay if you search for someone too. Is it too soon to see that in Seokjin? Years may have passed but his enduring existence has not.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you murmur to yourself.

Pulling into your driveway, you park the car, letting a long sigh out through your nose. No one knows who Mae's father is in your life, other than you. Something your sister has chosen to accept as well as your parents. Having Mae in their life is what matters to them the most, the same as Mae is your constant- the little girl who will always have your heart.

She is what brings stability to your life amid all the chaos from past, present and future.

Carrying the iced coffees into the house, Mae greets you with an excited smile and hug,

"Mommy!" She exclaims, her arms tightening around your frame, her long, black hair nestling into the material of your pants suit.

"Hello there, my sweetheart. I have a surprise for you," you coo, handing her the paper bag with her favorite dessert.

"Oh, thank you!" She takes it, opening the bag with wide eyes, "By the way, I think I'm really going to like school this year! Everyone is so nice!" Her toothy smile makes your heart swell, your hand running along the top of her head.

"And I can't wait to hear all about it," you beam, watching her take a bite out of the treat while sitting comfortably on the couch where her iPad is charging.

The simplicity of the evening is what naturally has your mind flooded with thoughts of what once was.

Freshly graduating high school, you weren't quite showing, yet upon the discovery of your pregnancy which is something you were thankful for. Your parents divorced when you were a freshman, with Monnie and you being a year apart, (also her being closer to your father, while you were closer to your mother). The two of you ultimately decided to live in separate houses. Monnie being completely unaware of your social life the same as you were hers. Well, when it mostly came to boys. Monnie happened to fall in love later; meeting Yoongi in college, both falling head over heels in love that led him to proposing within two years. Now, the two are expecting a baby boy. This time it is your turn to be an aunt.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite nemesis," Monnie waddles into the living room, her hand resting on top of her swollen belly; Yoongi follows behind her, shaking his head at her joking tone.

"Do arch nemesis buy coffees for their loved ones?" you lift the drink tray of coffees into her line of vision, "Decaf for you, Preggers."

Playfully snatching it from your hands, she takes a quick sip, "Ugh, I need something hell of a lot stronger.”

Yoongi chuckles, planting a sweet kiss to Monnie's temple, "I think childproofing is no longer of concern, Drunkard.”

Monnie scoffs, "Well, excuse me, Curly," her eyebrows raise while a tug of a flippant sneer aims back at her husband, "How about you carry this infant for nine months within your womb that deprives you of your weekly festivities.”

Yoongi sips his coffee in amusement, "I thought you said you got drunk off my love. Isn't that enough?"

"I-" Monnie pauses, not expecting such a soft retort that she can't deny. She shrugs before leaning into him as he wraps an arm around her.

"Get a room before I regurgitate," you tease, cackles echoing within the living room. After a few more conversations, Monnie and Yoongi head home. Night comes quicker than you anticipate, which brings you to tucking Mae into bed, kissing her forehead before turning to waltz to your bedroom.

"Mommy?"

You halt at the sound of your daughter's soft voice, arching an eyebrow in concern,

"Everything alright, Mae?" Her almond eyes show a sadness you are familiar with- especially when something has been weighing on her mind- something you have feared since she became old enough to talk. A subject you're not sure you're ready to talk about. A pout forms on her lips as she bundles closer into her covers.

"I saw a lot of families today," your shoulders tense, heart beginning to thud louder beneath you while sorrow overwhelms your chest.

"My teacher actually thought Aunt Monnie and Uncle Yoongi were my mom and dad," her eyes meet yours, reflecting the same eyes you try to keep suppressed in the back of your brain, but sometimes that's hard to do- especially when her heart is as pure as his was.

"Mommy?" Her sweet voice breaking you from your trance, you dread the topic more than you'd like to admit- also wondering how long you may have been zoned out just a moment ago.

"Yes, love?" You try to pretend you're not nervous, which is extremely difficult to do because it's written all over your face.

"Do I-?" Mae begins, gulping carefully before continuing, "Do I... Have a dad?"

Your shoulders fall expectedly at her question, your eyes immediately gazing at the bed covers your hands are gripping. Swallowing, you're trying to gather what little words you have spiraling relentlessly to the point you feel faint. How can you answer her? How can you tell her how cowardly you were? Running from him to keep him from giving up on his dreams? Leaving for the fear of him rejecting you? Rejecting your daughter? His daughter?

You left him without any warning. Something you never thought you would do. Pregnancy wasn't part of the plan, but you are thankful it happened. Although, every day you wonder what it would be like if her father was or had been in Mae's life. Would you be where you are now?

"Honey," you murmur, wishing you could muster the strength to answer her, "It's time for bed, okay? Mommy's got work in the morning," you can hardly meet her eyes- brimmed with tears. But instead of questioning you, her small hand reaches forward to hold yours, and all you can do is let your tears pang the comforter. "I love you so much,"

"I love you, too, Mommy."

Wiping away your tears once you re-tuck Mae into bed for the night, you briskly walk to your room, shutting the door behind you. Now you rush to your closet to find a bin you keep all your old journals in. It doesn't take long before you find it; a journal you kept in college. Nearly torn to pieces it seems yet held together just enough to keep the written pages intact. You flip through the sheets until you find it. The picture of you and Mae’s dad taped onto one of the pages; you run your fingers along both your smiling faces as a tear slaps onto the paper. You carefully remove the photo, folding it in half and tiptoeing to the kitchen to place it safely within your purse. One day, you promise yourself, you'll show it to Mae- you'll finally find the strength to reveal who her father is. Because your daughter deserves that much.

It was the fighting that brought you here; innumerable nights of hiding in your bedroom, counting down the time until the arguing silences. Holding your sister close while she covers her tear-stained cheeks into your shirt. It was the shouting that brought you to where you are now- back pressed against the crinkled rooftop while your bare feet smooth amongst it. Your parents announced divorce a few days prior, yet the two can't seem to settle things enough to become civil. Although you and your sister have tried to make ends meet, the truce was made that both of you will part ways as well. You would remain here with your mother while Monnie moves in with your father.

The stars stare down at you- shimmering above as if dancing to the songs of the chirping crickets neighboring the night. Warm tears stroke your cheeks, your hands folded upon your stomach while you swallow the sour taste on your tongue. The familiar sound of the treehouse ladder, which is what you typically use to pull your way to the roof, prods you to focus in on what you realize are footsteps. They carefully step onto the roof. The metal clinking sounding until the figure settles beside you, raising their knees while they lean back onto the palms of their hands.

"Your call had me worried," the voice of your best friend brings a relief you've needed all day, but you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, "What's up?"

You can feel his gaze- him blinking a few times in reaction to his contact lens, the infamous blink you're so used to seeing. Seokjin nudges you slightly, bringing your attention to reality while you glimpse up at him to notice his recently cut hair gelled to the point it shines beneath the moon.

"They're getting a divorce," you murmur while fresh tears stew, returning your glance to the constellations above in an attempt to distract yourself from the stab beneath your chest. Seokjin's shoulders fall almost brusquely, his lips ajar while his heart aches for you.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry,"

"It's okay," your eyes squeeze shut, "I knew it was coming, I just- I didn't know who else to go to,"

"Hey," voice soft, he slides to lay on his back, his shoulder touching yours just enough to remind you he is here- the comfort of a friend that will do anything to put a smile on your face, "I'm right here."

It doesn't take much for you to bury your face into his chest, muting the sobs that overwhelm your frame in harsh trembles. Your hands grip his shirt to somehow force the pain away. Seokjin visits you nearly every day after school, and tonight was a night he was studying for his midterm. Hence why when you called to find out he was busy, you refused to burden him with your heartache that you merely told him you were fine, just bored out of your mind. Of course, he knew better, dropping his studies to rush to your home- climbing to your rescue to join you underneath the stars. He figured it had to do with your math homework- he didn't expect such saddening news. Yet he holds you tight, wishing there was something he could do to tell you everything will be okay.

'Do I... Do I have a dad?'

A long, dreaded sigh escapes your lips as you lean into your chair; anxiety builds with every passing minute. Work is not helping nor is your mind that happens to be too foggy to concentrate on any tasks at hand. Crossing your arms, pen gripped between your fingers, you still can't help but ponder the one lingering question that refuses to vanish since Mae asked you nearly a week ago.

The picture from your journal lays unfolded in front of you. The computer screen is bright and alert which is the opposite of your current mood. Yet you lean forward, minimizing the blank word document that has sat before you untouched since you've clocked in, and you click online to search through your Facebook. If anything, he must have a profile, something to give you an idea of what he's been up to. Posing your fingers above the keyboard, you hold your breath, typing in his first name just to huff in frustration. You quickly exit out of the screen before it even has a chance to compute what name you were trying to search.

"Fuck," you whisper, running your hands along your face once again, "Why can't I do this?" rubbing your eyes, you lift your head to see the photo of your daughter. She's the only reason you've made it to where you are today. Her patience and understanding for why you don't always have an answer. The trust she has regardless of what situation is thrown your way. You are the strongest woman she knows aside from her favorite auntie though you doubt yourself from time to time. No matter what, even if you were to find him- her father- even if he chooses to remain unheard of once the revelation is made known to him… At least, you have her.

Clicking off the site, you refold the picture of you and Mae's father to settle it within your purse. You know it's wrong. Keeping this from him. But you've done it for so long that you just accept that right now, you need some time. The time that you always assure yourself you have even though you know one day it will run out. Wincing from the pain that waves within your chest, you bury your face into your palms, the tips of your fingers tickled by your hair.

"Having second thoughts?"

When you recognize the voice of Seokjin, a small smile forms on your lips while you raise your head to greet him. Your eyes adjust to the light while you watch him approach with hands in his pockets. He drops into the seat that Min-a had brought in which was positioned next to you. His warmth being so close brings a sense of comfort that you've been needing all day. And despite the sensation that burns in your chest from the attraction, you try to ignore it. You hardly notice that you haven't said a word since he arrived.

"You seem… rattled," he observes, concern shedding from his eyes while he pivots in the chair.

"And, you seem entertained,"

Jin pauses mid-spin and throws you a humorous glance, "You're never too old to swivel, okay," laughter just falls from your smile, him pausing to run his hands together, before turning to face you once again, "Wanna grab some coffee?"

"You act as if you've already had some,"

"One cup is never enough, now let's go,"

The two of you walk to the nearest shop to order your drinks which Jin insists on paying despite your objections. The two of you settle into one of the tables outside. The sun shines high in the sky, causing his hair to glisten as well as the smooth skin of his face. You can't help but take it all in; uncertain of how you could have forgotten such a content face. His stare remains off to the side- investigating the parking lot; unaware of the way you watch him. You are happy to have your best friend from what feels like a lifetime ago, sitting before you as if the friendship had never been lost. When guilt seems to raise its ugly head, your glance drops to stare at your drink curled within your fingers prompting you to twirl the cup. This then becomes the moment where you fixate on the tiny details, such as the perspiration from the melting ice that dampens your fingers.

"You've gone quiet," his voice is tender as it always is when he's concerned, which is something you’re glad to see has never changed.

It really is just like it was back in high school. Suddenly you feel as if all those years away vanish. You are a girl spending time with her best friend.

Shifting in your seat uncomfortably, you take a moment, swallowing before answering.

"It's Mae's first day of second grade," you lean back in your chair to cross your arms, trying to ease the nerves wanting to plague your mind, "And... I think it's safe to say I'm more nervous than she was this morning.”

Trying to make light of the situation, Jin lets out a breathy laugh of understanding. However, when your smile slowly falls into an anxious line, he can't help but intercede.

"Hey," he reaches over to rest his fingers upon yours, the shape of them igniting memories from the times you'd tease him (a cute trait about him amongst many) which he'd retort with mentioning how bad your hair frizzes when it's humid.

Your eyes never leave the scene of your fingers touching. The desire to interlace them has never been so strong- something you hadn't thought of before with him.

He must have mistaken your stare of one of discomfort, so he quickly brings his hand back to his coffee to take a quick sip, "If she's anything like you, which I'm pretty positive she is," he tilts his head, the serenity pooling within his gaze bores into yours, "She's going to be just fine."

The rest of the time is spent slowly walking back to work. Your shoulder brushing slightly below his. The urge to want to hold his hand is still present although you're uncertain if he will reject you which is something you'd rather not be embarrassed by. But his words from nearly ten minutes ago spin profusely like a record.

Seokjin isn't angry with you, except that's something you're oblivious of. On the contrary, he finds you the most determined human being to walk the planet. He doesn't see your daughter as a secret, he sees her as someone who fueled you to become the best mother and person you can be. He sees your leaving as taking responsibility upon yourself and whoever the father of Mae is. Though he thinks highly of you, he is also oblivious of the one detail that is too soon to reveal. The father has no idea of Mae's existence, which is something you know would upset Seokjin if he were to find out.

It's then Jin glimpses at you, your worried expression evident, "She's going to be fine," he reassures you.

The road soon leads to the parking lot of your job when the courage to reach for his long fingers turns into a reality.

Damn, y/n. I never thought you would be so bold, you thought to yourself.

You haven’t been here very long. But it appears that none of it matters when it comes to being with Seokjin. The years separated doesn’t feel so foreign to you but a fond memory that follows you wherever you go.

Yes, you have wanted to hold his hand long before this exact moment.

His eyebrows raise in surprise, but you refrain from averting your gaze, letting the corners of his eyes crinkle from the side grin that tugs upon his lips. With the sensation of his fingers sliding to fully intertwine yours, you hardly register the time that's passing, but you're so enthralled by the kindness he's never rid of that you don't want to move.

"Thank you, Jin," your voice softer than the wind breezing through the ruffling trees. He squeezes your hand once before nodding, hoping that after all this time you'll finally see what's been standing right in front of you.

Mae traces each letter carefully onto the notebook paper until everything upon her heart has been written. The assignment today is to write a note to someone special whether it be a family member, a friend, or a person in uniform one may know. Once the projects are graded, the messages will be returned for each student to give the letter to the person they wrote it to. Sadness overwhelms her heart while she scribbles down the final sentences, soon rising from her seat to lay the paper onto Mr. Park's desk.

"Thank you, Mae," he grins, accepting the paper, "Everything going okay with today's assignment?"

"Yes, sir," she nods politely, remembering to greet her teacher the way her mom taught her.

"Good," Mr. Park smiles, proud that his students so far have been doing well with the English portion of his lessons, "Any questions?"

"No, sir," Mae replies, turning on a heel to be seated at her desk.

Once all the papers are collected, Mr. Park begins the math lesson. Mae is hardly able to focus because the one thing she can't seem to shake is the burning question she has yet to know the answer to.

Transitioning to the new school has gone smoothly: her gradually making new friends, and Mr. Park is enthusiastic with the way he teaches. She enjoys coming here almost every day.

There's just something missing.

There's a half of her reason for existing- one she has questioned since she became old enough to notice that her tiny family wasn't complete. One she wishes she can tell her day to just as she does with you. She wants to know who this missing piece is, and though she has no idea where to start, she refuses to lose hope. Reaching for her pencil, she copies down each math problem Mr. Park adds to the board wishing nothing more than to hear your voice, telling her everything will be okay.

Sometimes, at night, before Mae goes to sleep, she pulls out a journal Aunt Monnie bought her a while back. The journal Mae writes letters to her father in- telling him about her days spent with you. Days where she's sad and wishes she could meet him. Days where she mentions her favorite hobbies and foods, even animals. It's something you don't know about because Mae knows it would make you sad if you were to read it, and that's the last thing she ever wants for you.

Overall, she can't help, but close her eyes and make a wish, the same wish she has wished on so many stars. The same wish she put in her letter that is now turned in to Mr. Park,

'I wish I knew where to find you.’

"You know you're supposed to put an X there,"

"I'm about to put an X where the sun doesn't shine if you-"

"It's called accuracy, now mark that X on the spot,"

Seokjin pokes the area on the homework assignment- a math problem you have struggled with for the past hour while you huff in frustration. Your clammy palm spreads along your forehead with the geometry problem staring back at you in a torturous taunt.

"Well," you sputter, "who the hell thought it was smart to mingle Algebra with Geometry?" You lean back in your chair, exasperation evident in your limbs that go limp by your sides, "And, who the hell thought we would ever use this in real life situations? Tell me why this is even a thing?"

The windshield wiper laugh is all that serenades your ears while your best friend's shoulders shake hysterically, "Do you plan on becoming a photogrammetrist?"

"A what-"

"A photo. Gram. Et. Rist,"

Silently, you stare at Seokjin with his plump lips poised in a side grin while he attempts to maintain a straight face. With the way your eyebrows are furrowed so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if it resulted with a wrinkle smack dab in the middle of your forehead.

"... No,"

"Okay," Seokjin claps once, "Then all you have to worry about is acing this class.”

You can't help but squint at him, his amusement making you want to playfully smack his shoulder. Although the idea of having to deal with this class for the rest of the semester makes you thrust your head back with impatience, "And how am I going to do that?"

"Because I'm not going to let you fail," his words catch you off guard, especially when you raise your head to meet his gaze. How you ever deserved a friend as loyal as him you will never be sure, but you give him a soft smile, before he clears his throat, "So, if I were you, I'd write that X so we can focus on finishing the rest of the problem,"

It's hard to snap back to reality just to continue overthinking a Geometry problem, but you reluctantly lean forward anyways, obeying Seokjin's orders. After you carefully write the X onto the lopsided triangle he had drawn earlier, you look over at him, his eyes tunnel visioning before him while he slowly draws a circle.

"Thank you," you murmur, him pausing just to glimpse at you,

"Anytime."

And that's the day Seokjin wanted nothing more than to reach for your hand, but he desisted, merely distracting himself with the shapes and numbers he needed to create in order to help you solve them. Without your knowledge of his inner fight with telling you how he feels, you lay your head on his shoulder, the perfect pillow for your exhausted mind. And him taking in the smell of your lavender shampoo whilst struggling to scribble the final equation beneath one of the angles of another triangle he's drawn. By the end of the night, you are closer to fully understanding the gist of geometry- Seokjin applauding you through it all with him even closer to falling even more in love with the determined soul that you are.

Lack of sleep is an understatement, especially right now while you roam to the breakroom to fill a cup of water just to return to your desk. Namjoon scheduled another project for you to complete within the next week or two- one you must present to your coworkers at the staff meeting coming up soon. The phone has been ringing off the hook- not allowing you one moment of peace. Three weeks officially at the job, and you were able to break from the trainer in confidence that your skills have been met for the company.

Other lists of things tangle a web within your mind; you also have to run to the grocery store to stock up the pantry, write a check for the bills due in a few days, make sure laundry is caught up, and you have yet to unpack some of the boxes from first moving nearly a month ago. Not to mention, calling your sister every other evening to check up on her pregnancy. Despite it all, it's the side grin of a handsome face that waltzes into your office once you settle into your chair to finish up a phone call with a client that fills you with ease. Including him setting a steaming cup of coffee onto a coaster decorating your desk.

"Oh, Jin!" you gasp, "You don't- you didn't- you- I just, why are you so kind," you stammer, causing him to smile at your worn-out frame who ultimately accepts the coffee, blowing into the lid to cool the liquid before taking a sip.

He descends into his chair, his legs stretching before him while a giddy smile adorns your face. You hate being so obvious, but with the way Seokjin has been visiting you every single workday with laughter and little things you'd never expect him to notice after all this time. It’s as if your heart has finally found something to confide in- a place of serenity.

"Listen, if it's anything like how my first year was here, then caffeine is the treatment to survive," he pokes the back of your hand while your chest burns with an ache forming in your cheeks from hiding the dozens of giddy grins.

"Thank you," you murmur, your eyes dropping to your coffee cup to twirl it, a habit Seokjin has picked up on as well as the coffee flavors you tend to order. New things about you that he's gradually learning from the girl you no longer are from what feels like a previous life.

"So," he leans forward, resting his elbows upon his knees, both of your eyes connecting while he rubs his hands together, "Have you thought about tonight?"

A knowing smile naturally spreads across your face at his question. A question he asked a few days ago on if you'd like to go on a date one evening. And though that is definitely something you really want, with all the errands you have to run, you know tonight may not work out.

Nipping at your thumb, you contemplate, "Actually, can I make a proposal?"

He investigates your expression, leaning back just enough to fully see your face, "Should I be scared?"

"No," you retort, folding your arms across your desk, "I just- I- I have a lot of errands to run, and I was wondering if you'd like to come with?" His playful gaze softens as you jump to explain, "Mae is staying at my mom's tonight to visit her, or else she'd be with me. I guess, erm, I would just like the company, you know if-if you're up for it, I, uh-"

His large hands move to steal yours which distracts you enough for your words to trail off. His fingers interlock while his sweet expression refuses to break from your nervous face, steadying you just enough to feel the world around you stop.

"Hey," his voice is soft, his face now a few inches from yours, "I'd love to."

It's then your eyes cut to his lips that part just enough to tempt you. The yearn to kiss him waves within your chest and with the way the tips of his thumbs tickle tender circles along the palms of your hands, you know you're a goner. Seokjin leans closer because the desire beckoning you mirrors his own. His nose brushes yours until-

The sudden ring of the phone causes the two of you to jolt. Both pairs of eyes widen as your heart hammers against your rib cage.

"Oh, um, I, um, I better take this," you frantically reach for the phone, Seokjin clearing his throat as he throws you a thumbs up in understanding.

"I'll meet you at your place to pick you up. See you tonight.”

You nod at him whilst simultaneously trying to gather the question the client has on the line. There have been a few guys here and there you tried to court, but you were always way too afraid to take the next step, not only because you were terrified of the commitment, because you also wanted the right person who would protect and care for your daughter as much as you do. You can’t help but wonder how your daughter would feel if you were to admit to her about your interest in your former best friend; in your heart you know Mae would adore Seokjin, and you know Seokjin would do anything for Mae if given the chance. It’s just all in the timing, you try to tell yourself, but you can’t shake the guilt that you are seeing somebody without consulting with how Mae would feel especially since she recently asked about… her dad.

Thankfully, time flies by, until you find yourself preparing for the evening with Seokjin. Him showing up at the time he texted you he'd be arriving, you send a quick message to your mother to check up on Mae, before letting him whisk you away to the world of adulting. The grocery store is a place you never thought would be fun with anyone else other than your daughter. Turns out there is room for one more. Seokjin cracks jokes from left to right in order to ease your nerves. You end up giggling to the point that you can't breathe. As a result, all you can wonder is how you've never seen him in such a different light. In high school, he was strictly a friend to you, nothing more. Yet the way he's making your heart flutter it's as if the universe was made for just the two of you.

Finishing up errands, Seokjin points with his thumb at the remaining boxes you have yet to unpack. The gesture caused you to shrug with the excuse that you'll get to them at some point. This means the only thing left to do (after the two of you file into your home to unload the groceries and put them away) is to throw the laundry in the washer.

"Ugh," you exhale, running tired hands through your hair, "Finally, all done!"

As you are standing there with nothing else that requires immediate attention, you sense a shift in the air between you. It’s no lie that there has been a lingering tension. You meet his gaze.

Seokjin's breathy laugh escapes through his smile as he approaches you, his hands reaching to settle onto your waist while your arms move to tangle behind his neck. The heat of his chest nearly smothers you with happiness.

“Finally," he whispers, his forehead pressing to yours while you take in the way his heart is pounding in accord with yours. Unbeknownst to you, his finally isn't said with the same intention as yours. His finally is said with the hope he's never lost in winning your heart, making it a promise to win your heart every single day if you'll let him. When his hands then move slowly to wrap behind your back, your faces cuddle. The feeling of his strong arms holding you so tight you never want him to let go.

He is still mind blowing. Even with just the simple acts of him standing at your doorstep at the start of the evening with the way his hair is tint with slight waviness. His brown eyes timorously meet yours while his hands hide within the pockets of his pants. His loose dark denim jacket swallows his frame while the black hood rests against his back. All of these are simple… but so mind blowing. The way your heart moved at the sight of him, you can hardly register the sentiment you can't put into words. Right now, you are still speechless, you want to get lost in the moment with him. A million moments if possible.

Eyes closed, breathing steady. You kiss him. The warmth and softness of his lips causes you to melt as he leans into you. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss whilst the emotions pour out. Your back presses to the couch from moving backward. His frame towers over you, yet your hands find the tufts of his hair, refusing to let him break the kiss in any way.

Clothes start to fall to the floor once you lead Jin to your bedroom, letting his love overwhelm you in ways you've longed for since the two of you reunited. Bare bodies intertwine underneath the covers. Kisses placed on every inch of your skin, exchanging whispers of admiration for one another with his hands caressing you so gently you can hardly breathe.

The two of you become one, ending the evening with both of you crashing side by side. He immediately turns to hold you while you bundle your face into the crook of his neck. Words aren't needed to fill the silence, just the sound of his breathing and beating heart are enough to make you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

Even when the morning comes, the beams from the sun brighten your bedroom while the happiness creases at the corners of Jin’s eyes. His bare body is still glued to you, and you bundle the covers over your mouth as you timidly return his gaze. The tips of his fingers tickle along your skin while you get lost in him- snuggling you closer just to now tangle his long fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck. Lust grows in the pupils of your eyes as you watch him move to hover above you as things start to get heated yet again and he shuffles to place kisses along your abdomen until he reaches your inner thighs.

Moaning in response to his every touch, the ceiling fan wafts cool air along your exposed frame as Seokjin throws the comforter to the side so he can watch the pleasure fill your expression. Goosebumps domino upon your arms as you try to say his name, hips rising in reaction to the tip of his tongue swiping your heat. He slides forward to add more pressure of his lapping tongue along your entrance while he fully embraces your thighs with each arm. His movements against your core are so enthralling, you curve one of your legs behind his shoulders, “Oh Jin- oh fuck, baby you feel so fucking good- ah!”

Just when your eyes start to roll back, Jin runs his fingers from the middle of your torso to where your nipples start to bud from the chilly air of the room though your body is burning from the intense passion stirring between you two. His tongue still speedily moves continuing to lather up any bit of your taste he can while simultaneously beginning to rub his fingers ever so gently upon your nipples while you moan even louder. The strong sense rising in your core is so strong, your palm slams against the bed frame while Seokjin relentlessly enjoys his time with you.

Jin starts sucking on your clit after circling his tongue over your entrance messily before the orgasm starts to build even more, “Keep going,” you breathlessly say, “Keep going baby, ah-!” Your thighs tense as your body fidgets to the powerful sensation, leaving your thighs clenching as Jin watches you smile at how amazing he feels. “Holy fuck,” you squeal, Seokjin shifting to sit on his knees while his chin glistens from the juice of your heat. You lay there, your limbs feeling limp in response to everything, and your calves are pressed against the side of Seokjin’s frame as he watches you closely, so happy to see the woman of his dreams returning the bliss after all this time. “How am I supposed to recover from that?”

Quickly, the pair of you freshen up after sharing a few more lightheaded chuckles, brushing your teeth, and snickering at the trail of clothes in the hallway. After you mouth wash, Seokjin wraps his arms around you from behind to place a slow kiss to your neck- the heat of his skin causing you to feel dizzy while your core lets out a warm gush for the billionth time within twelve fanatical hours. The way his body moved with yours from the night before has you giddy, and thankful you gave sex another chance. Especially with someone you are truly having deep emotions for. A mischievous tip to the corner of your lips reflects in the bathroom mirror as you reminisce on the way Seokjin easily succumbed you to a desire you are addictingly going to dream about for the rest of your life, so why not return the sinful favor? Spinning in his arms, you flit your gaze along his face while you bite at your bottom lip, “You up for round two? Or would it be round three? I wasn’t done,” you coo seductively, just to cuddle to his face again.

“Oh no, what are you trying to do to me?” Seokjin moves a hand to cup your cheek, kissing your lips once while you whisper against his mouth.

“I said…” you murmur, gliding your fingers from his v-line to his chest, “I. Wasn’t. Done.” It doesn’t matter how tall Jin is compared to you. You push up on your tip toes to crash your lips more passionately with his while you push him in the direction of your shower. The minty taste of his tongue collides with yours as you then graze your teeth along his bottom lip giving it a nice, slow suck. If you are going to tease him, you want to tease him just right. Letting you take control, Seokjin inhales a quick breath as you trace his face, reaching behind him to switch on the shower, waiting for the steam of the water to start engulfing the bathroom.

“I’m a little scared,” Seokjin teases with a grin, and you nearly fall into his frame at the feel of his erection now pressing against your figure. This is a side of you that you never thought he’d see, but you do not want the excitement to end here.

“Step in,” you say softly, feeling the water drip between your fingers. Jin obeys immediately and you jerk the shower curtain closed as soon as your bodies mold underneath the pouring water. Arms holding each other tightly, you gasp into his kiss as the pair of you stay entranced, and his eyes widen in surprise when you slightly pull away just enough to give him a hinting glance. At this point, he is innocently reaching for the shampoo to start massaging your tangled strands, but you have something else in mind. Droplets of water linger upon his skin while you start to kneel, taking in the sight of his being which prompts your mouth to water.

“Oh,” Seokjin realizes, trying with all his might not to pounce on you with what he is witnessing before him. He is so turned on by you he can hardly stand it. You start with his tip, clamping your lips around it to run your tongue over his precum before you start to allow him further into your mouth. Taking an agonizingly long suck, you are even more aroused by the low moan he releases. Your hands move to grip his hips when you start hollowing your cheeks to suck even faster, bobbing your head while hot water trickles down your back. He doesn’t use his hand to guide you, he simply rests his hand on your head to keep himself from flipping you over to clap against your ass while you scream his name, letting you continue to give him the high of his life. You are surprised with how much drive all of this is giving you and maybe you didn’t realize how deprived you have been from physical intimacy.

Something about Seokjin just gave you the ultimate determination to please him and you know it is because of how much you have fallen for him in such a short amount of time. One palm moves to start rubbing his scrotum, him leaning his head back in pure ecstasy as you continue to move your mouth deliciously over his erection. You don’t even know where time has taken you at this point other than your back is on the bottom of the tub while Seokjin thrusts inside you- lips clinging to yours while you gasp in awe at how nothing, but magic seems to capture in every caress of his kiss.

Finishing, the water washes away his cum that seeps onto your inner thighs. “Oops,” he chuckles, falling into the crook of your neck while you squeeze your legs from the sensitivity.

“I’m not complaining,” you smile, eventually helping each other stand to start the shampooing. You don’t want to say it too soon, but everything he has done for you since you have known him makes you want to say it. Looking into the sweetness in his eyes, you want to confess exactly every thought turning within your brain cells. But you can’t and you are uncertain of why. Or maybe you just refuse to admit why because you haven’t given your daughter the closure about who her dad is. And your daughter comes first.

After cleaning up, the squeak of the shower knob signals the water being cut off and you reach for a few towels so that the pair of you can dry off. Jin slips out to start gathering his clothes knowing he has a few errands to run regarding work, and you must prepare to pick up Mae once you get the house organized properly. Wrapping a towel around your bare frame, Seokjin is fully dressed ruffling his hair while he waits in the hallway for you. He holds your outfit from the day before in his palm, yet you swiftly brush the tangles from your wet hair before parading to where he stands.

Sadness starts to etch in your expression, “I don’t want you to go.” You murmur, him handing you your clothes, so he can free his arms to hug you closer. Peering up at him, he leans in to press a slow kiss to your lips before resting his forehead to yours. There’s a strong silence between you two as Seokjin battles internally with what he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to go either, and his feelings that he has always had for you have returned but in full force- overwhelming him especially as he holds you in this very moment. How can he say it? He has been waiting for what feels like his whole life to tell you how he feels, so where does he even start?

Being with you is magic, it’s like he is in Heaven, and now you are finally sharing this dream of being together with him, and in a way, it doesn’t feel real all the same. “Trust me, I have every intention of seeing you outside of work.”

“Good,” you smile, “You’re fun.”

“Was I not before?” He smirks, moving to kiss your forehead, the tip of your nose, your closed eyelids- he peppers kisses down the side of your jaw while you teasingly shove him away.

“Eh, you talked about math too much,”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me doing that anymore. That ship sailed when I turned twenty-seven. Now, I talk about physics.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you scoff, “Same damn thing.”

Seokjin kisses you quickly, “Is that so,” he remarks, smacking your toweled ass once you turn on a heel.

"Is there a reason why you're glowing. You’re acting like you got laid." Monnie promenades along the house, cleaning out small boxes you have yet to unpack still; glaring at her when she attempts to lift heavier boxes which of course you rush to take them from her. "I have muscles, ya know," your sister arches an eyebrow while she rests her hands on her hips.

"Yeah, muscles that need to remain intact when holding your soon-to-be child," you remind her, completely dismissing the surprise you feel at how well your sister knows you after all. You set the box onto the dining table. Wiping the dust off your hands, you meet her shaking head, "And you're not supposed to be lifting anything whatsoever; hence why I have a much safer favor to summon from you,"

Monnie tilts her head, "Depends,"

"I'll buy you the reddest, most bitter wine whenever you are on maternity leave and unpregnant,"

"I'm listening,"

"Sit down,"

"Not until you tell me why you're more chipper than Yoongi's dog."

Chortling, you shake your head at your sister's consistent arched eyebrow.

"Maybe," you rush into the living room to finish dusting the shelves, your voice echoing behind you, the sound of Monnie's hands reaching into the cardboard box heard beneath your voice, "Maybe I have met someone. Well… re-met someone… and got laid."

"Um, excuse me!?” Your sister gasps, "You know I'm going to need more details than that! Do I know him?" Though Monnie's voice sounds concentrated, your auditory senses tune in to the sound of rapidly flipping pages. “And… Was it delicious?”

Snickering to yourself about her choice of complimenting words, you pause, "Possibly, you may know him. He was my best friend in high school if you remember. Happens to work at the same company I do now. Kim Seokjin?" Just the memory of his gentle fingertips running along your arms the following morning- his gaze never faltering while he soaked in every inch of your face. The blooming smile that seems to spread upon your lips images the swelling joy within your heart. “And yes, he is very good in the bedroom.”

You hear Monnie fake gag in disgust despite her asking about your sex life which prompts you to shake your head as you giggle. "Oh girl, he is cute! How could you not tell me about this hunk muffin? I can see why you finally got re-defloured."

"Please, Monnie, for the love of fucking sanity, do not say that phrase ever again!" you snort, then you pause in surprise, "you found him that fast? How-?"

"I'm on the senior section of your yearbook, and he's the only Seokjin I see so far, so girl go get that bread and devour it,"

"Gladly," you circle the living room for any spots you may have missed- the turning of pages being the main sound the next few minutes while you hum your favorite song beneath your breath.

"Hey!" Your sister's voice calls, "I didn't know Mae's teacher went to school with you!?"

"Oh? Maybe she and I were friends! What's her name?" Giving one more swipe onto the bureau holding the TV, you walk back to the dining room where Monnie examines the pictures within your old yearbook. When your sister's focus doesn't dissipate, you snap your fingers, "Hey, are you present?"

"Oh, sorry, I got distracted," she turns the page, "Oh, look, I found you!"

"Ick!” you raise your hands high while you slam your eyes closed, “Please don't show me the younger me. I’d rather talk about sex.”

"Wait a minute," your sister's eyebrows furrow while her stare remains fastened to the book, "Oh my, how he's grown!"

"He?" Confusion clouds your expression, especially since you assumed Mae's teacher was a female.

"Yeah, who did you expect?"

Mouth ajar, you comb back through your memory while Monnie meets your gaze. "Now that I think of it... I don't think anyone ever told me who Mae's teacher is. Here, just let me take a look at the picture,"

Monnie shrugs, "Okay," handing the open book to your outstretched hand. Your fingertips run along the smooth page until your eyes find the face you didn't expect to see. The pang of pure shock stuns your entire being while your eyes enlarge- heart pounding luridly you hardly hear Monnie's concerned tone trying to catch your attention, "So, were you close friends or what?" Hands unsteady, goosebumps raise among your arms- it's like you're frozen in time- eyes refusing to avert from the photo staring back at you. "Y/N? What's going on? Did he hurt you or something? What happened?" your sister's voice blurs through the fog suffocating your mind while nausea gathers in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh my God," you mouth, "Oh my God," heated tears stain your wide eyes while your body trembles uncontrollably. Your throat feels so tight that you aren’t even sure if you are truly breathing.

"Y/N, what the hell is wrong with you!? I seriously don't have time to cater to everyone's needs here. I have needs and that is this baby needs to come out so if you do not start talking, I’m-"

"It's- it's- I-" you stammer, feeling so faint, you are surprised you are still standing.

"Were you two a... Couple?"

Your eyes immediately meet your sister’s infuriated gaze, terror takes its toll over you before you can say more, pleading for her to interpret whatever attempt at telepathy you're sending her while the yearbook slips from your numb fingers just to smack the ground. "Did you-" It's then it dawns on her, words dying off her tongue- eyebrows rising, lips parting in a small gasp; hand raising to cover her mouth when she puts two and two together. ".... Oh," she steps backward as if to steady herself from the mutual tremor overwhelming both your systems. "Holy shit," she breathes, bending forward to grip a chair in front of her. Your eyelids are heavy when you fight through the dizzy spell swarming your fatigued head, your mind hardly registering your sister's continued hunched frame before the sound of water splats onto the wooden floor, jolting you to your senses. "Y/N," Monnie's voice breaks in pain, trying to endure the harsh contraction waving within her body, "Y/N, call Yoongi. Now. AAGH-"

"Oh, shit- oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit!" Realization hits you after your feet rush to where your purse is, fumbling with quivering fingers for your car keys, thrusting your sister's arm around your shoulders while you lead her to the passenger seat- your sister is about to have a baby, and she's about to have this baby soon. Monnie's breaths are steady, yet she winces with every contraction, your panicking expression hardly able to focus on the road the moment you dial Yoongi's number, swerving out of the driveway in the direction of the hospital, "Are you okay!?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm not letting this baby be birthed in your damn car, now drive!"

It doesn't take long until you've reached Yoongi- him frantic once it's revealed he's about to be a father, him also promising to pick up your mother and to pick up Mae from school- the three planning to meet you and Monnie at the hospital as soon as possible. Your sister grips the handle above the car window, inhaling and exhaling deeply with her eyes slammed shut. Your heart rams against your sternum, sweat beading on your forehead focusing solely on the road ahead still processing what has happened in such little time.

Mae's father has been right in front of her since you moved back without your knowledge- the guilt encompassing your mind faster than you can decipher- and right now, your sister is in labor, relying on your distressed driving to get both of you to the hospital in one piece.

Though the sudden turn of events shoves the lingering discovery in the back of everyone's minds for the time being laying open at home, in disarray on the floor holds a picture that was taken senior prom of high school, the night emotions were professed, and slovenly kisses were shared; one that unraveled the familiar pair of eyes squinted from a wide smile.

Despite it all, there is only one person other than your daughter that you can't stop thinking about, and with one swoop, you dial his number, inwardly begging just to hear his voice,

"Jin," you choke, fighting the tears the second he answers, "Jin, I need you,"

Seokjin left for college long before you greeted your senior year with a bang, heart moved on from your parents’ divorce, and you and your sister had a bond of steel, yet there were some things you limited from telling her. You never expected to meet him, the man who would capture your heart in ways you couldn’t explain, on your very first day of senior year, his hair tousled, eyes searching the hallways to memorize where he would be going, lips pursed in concentration. You offered to help him- revealing schedules to see the two of you shared a few of the same classes- walking together side by side sharing laughter and contagious smiles- your heart pounding with every brush of his warmth. You informed Seokjin of the newfound love every afternoon when you’d call, completely unaware of the pain you were causing him with every story.

It took months before your crush kissed you for the first time- lips gentle on yours, experiencing new things together- whispering dreams into the night when he would sneak visits to the treehouse while your mother was asleep. It was toward the end of the school year, after applying to several different colleges between the pair of you, that he was accepted to the university of his dreams- a full-ride scholarship that would bring him one step closer to fulfilling his dream job as a psychologist - even observed by coaches of college sports teams who begged him to join their sides.

The same day he reported his exciting news to you- was the same day you gripped the end of the pregnancy test, the red plus sign burning into your memory forever- while an overwhelming toll of fear traced every fiber of your being. You couldn’t destroy his chance- his chance of gaining a college degree, to play his favorite sports and possibly winning the world as your heart soared for his every success. Even seeing Seokjin when he’d be home visiting from college, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him of your plan; knowing he would talk you out of it if you were to confess.

It was graduation day when you last saw the father of your child- he kissed you so lovingly that you couldn’t hold the tears back while he hugged you.

“I love you,” he pressed his forehead to yours, assuming your tears were from accomplishing high school, unbeknownst to the real reason, your heart was bursting at the seams. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you murmured, his thumbs stroking your cheeks while his nose traces the tip of yours. “I’ll never forget you,” You whispered. He was distracted by his buddies who surrounded him with handshakes, his ears missing your final statement. His happiness was all you cared about, and with one final goodbye, you rushed home, packed your bags, and left as soon as you double checked your savings account for money, you saved up from your job you obtained your junior year. You blocked every number on your phone aside from your parents and your sister- notifying them of your pregnancy when you stumbled upon Monnie in a convenience store an hour out of the way- a convenience store her boyfriend at the time worked at- her eyes wide with the sight of your bulging belly- realization mingled with anger evident within her expression while pained tears brimmed her eyes. You cautiously ran to your car, refusing to look back.

It took the birth of your daughter, holding her in your arms for you to finally find the joy you had robbed yourself from for what seemed like a lifetime. Her small smile brought a new hope- a new beginning. At the time, you knew you could do this- be a mother. Be her everything- the same as she will be your everything- promising to love her unconditionally until the day you die. Even if the picture of his face haunts your dreams for the rest of your life, you'll accept it, because at least you have the bundle swaddled in a pink blanket, beaming up at you as if you're the only one she will ever need.

Seokjin fumbles with his car keys while he enters the elementary school, clipping them to his belt loop. The clear hallways pave glistening tile floors underneath long lit lights that align the ceilings.

Scents of disinfectants waft to his nostrils while he grips his coffee cup, waving toward the principal, Kim Taehyung, who he used to go to college with back in the day. You’re the only one etched in his mind- the way the sun glimmered upon your face until your eyes fluttered open to shine with the rays. Or the way you kissed him so lovingly before he left- returning a smile to him every time he steps foot into your office.

After seven years without your presence, he never expected for you to return- pulling his heart into your direction absentmindedly, yet this time he can finally express his heart- something he never dreamed he’d have the chance to do. Guilt sweeps within his conscious for there is a secret he has kept from you- one he felt wasn’t his place to say, yet he approaches the classroom, knocking on the already open door.

“Ah, Seokjin!” Jimin’s cheery tone echoes, him immediately rising from his creaking chair, “Did Taehyung put you up to it?” Seokjin chuckles, Jimin reaching for his hand just to pull him in a quick hug.

“Nah, I just wanted to give you my condolences,” Seokjin’s eyes hold concern when Jimin’s face contorts in a grim expression. Jimin’s grandmother, who happened to be the inspiration for his switch of majors in college, passed away a week ago- Seokjin received the news from mutual friends promising to pay Jimin a visit, “I’m really sorry about your grandma. She was very kind,” Jimin’s Grandmother really helped the two of them throughout college when they would come home to visit- cooking them meals and sharing words of wisdom when they felt like giving up.

Memories that helped Seokjin and Jimin heal when they lost you.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” Jimin pats the back of Seokjin’s shoulder to rest his hands upon his hips, “But, anyway, enough about me, what has been going on with you? Any promotions at your job? I know you mentioned a few new people were going to be hired a month ago,”

Seokjin turns to lean against the whiteboard which happens to be freshly cleaned, scoping the empty classroom assuming the kids are at recess. A grin tugs on his lips especially when a flash of your smile sends a warmth he seems to miss- though, he clears his throat, trying to mask the awkward tension that he doesn’t want Jimin to detect.

“Everything’s been great with the new hires, but as far as a promotion, Namjoon and I have discussed it, but I turned it down. It would mean I’d have to move companies, and I don’t necessarily want to do that-”

Frilly voices mingled with padding footsteps resonate within the hallway distracting Seokjin as his eyes trace to the door of the classroom. “You turned it down? I thought you’ve been waiting for this for years!” Jimin, being immune to the sounds since he hears it consistently, waits patiently for Seokjin to reply. But it’s the silhouette of a young girl skipping to a desk following suit to other pupils doing the same that catches Seokjin off guard to the point his focus dissolves. Her toothy smile identical to the photo placed upon your desk, the realization hitting Seokjin in a pained confusion.

“Mae?” Seokjin murmurs to the point it’s inaudible. His eyebrows furrow, the coffee cup sitting loosely in his hand.

“Hey, Jin,” Jimin’s forehead crinkles in worry, Seokjin stammering when he returns to reality, gripping the coffee cup tighter to prevent it from slipping to the floor, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, eyes scanning Jimin’s desk with the realization that there aren’t any frames of his daughter- the one sitting across from him in the classroom- which plagues the realization that Seokjin has battled with for some time since he reunited with you.

Mae’s gaze flickers between the two men- wondering who the man conversating with Mr. Park is- his hand shoving into his pants pocket while he holds a coffee cup in his free hand. She tilts her head curiously when the men’s’ tones are hushed- that’s when a friend of hers taps on her shoulder to show her a drawing she made during class earlier that morning.

“Sorry, heartburn,” Seokjin’s save seems believable once he pats his chest- Jimin offering an antacid which Seokjin politely declines. When a call at Jimin’s desk rings, he apologetically looks at Jin with a ‘duty calls’ look.

“Well, it was great seeing you,” Jimin shakes his hand, “Taehyung’s golf crew are heading out next weekend. I figured he mentioned it to you, but if you’d like to come, I can send you all the details,”

“Of course, thank you,” Seokjin shares his goodbyes until Jimin answers the phone. Jin steps out of the classroom wishing he had fresh air to breathe. From what he can tell, Jimin is unaware of the little girl who is his own flesh and blood; something Seokjin knows isn’t his place to know, yet the inward betrayal- what if she was his daughter? Would you have kept this away from him? He always assumed that you and Jimin had everything figured out, but with this epiphany, now it all makes sense as to why Jimin never spoke of Mae because he clearly has no idea that he is her father. Seokjin doesn’t want to be selfish- that’s the last thing he ever wants to be- but, in this situation, upon the discovery of your deepest secret, he doesn’t know how to process it- trying so hard to understand your side even though it’s never been discussed.

Sprinting to his car, he settles inside, turning on the air conditioner in full blast while he sets his coffee cup into a cup holder, running his palms along his face tuning everything out. Everyone has secrets and nobody is perfect, but here he is struggling with the thought of possibly being a hypocrite. How can he be angry that you kept your daughter a secret from her father when he’s been best friends with Jimin ever since you left? And how can he admit to Jimin that he’s in love with a woman who happens to be the mother of his daughter?

The pain surges through Seokjin’s chest, stabbing every fiber of his heart- wishing nothing more than to hear your voice. Something that will take away this agony even if for a moment. Minutes drag until the vibration of his cellphone prompts him to open his anxious eyes, reaching for the device to see your name lit up on the screen.

It doesn’t take long before he answers, “Hello?” He breathes, relief flooding his senses.

“Jin,” your voice wavers, “Jin, I need you.”

Sparse memories flicker from when you were in labor, blurrily seeing the rectangular lights on the ceiling as you were raced to a hospital room. Fear gripping your figure amongst the pain of contractions and going through the birth of your daughter all alone. You remember the comfort of the nurses and the kindness of the doctor, and she talked you through every step until your daughter was finally bundled in your arms. Now, it’s your sister’s turn. Although, you have no recollection of how you made it to the emergency entrance where your heart is pounding through your temples and the anxiety is roaring inside your chest.

Monnie breathes as steadily as she can as you rush to the passenger door to retrieve her. You are uncertain how you even alerted the hospital staff to make their way to your car- an attractive, young guy in scrubs with the name tag, Jeongguk, rolls a wheelchair to Monnie’s side while another nurse in blue scrubs named LenLen tries to get the information from you as you muster whatever words you can to answer the questions to lead Monnie to her main physician for the birth. You do not even remember helping Monnie out of the car, and when you start to follow the nurses wheeling your sister into the building, you hardly expect the grasp of your shirt dragging you to your sister’s gritted teeth and desperate plea.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Monnie can hardly speak through the pain, her cheeks flushing as you stare at her incredulously.

“What do you mean what am I doing!? You are about to have a baby! I’m not fucking leaving your side!”

“The hell you are! You’ve got to tell Mae’s teach- father, you are going to tell Mae’s father everything before I put you in the hospital myself!”

“Did you not hear me!? I’m not leaving your side-”

“I’ll be in labor longer than you think. And, if you don’t leave now, you’re going to run out of time- AAGH- So GO- AAGH-”

“Monnie-!” The nurses are helplessly watching the pair of you verbally battle match loudly, and you try to calm down, but right now there is no such thing as calming down. “What about Mae!? I can’t just leave her! And what about Jin? He’s on his way!”

“I will take care of Mae-!” Monnie growls in pain. “I have Yoongi and Mom, and I’m sure Dad already booked a flight, so I will not be alone. And I’ll tell your boyfriend everything, but Mae is your priority right now and it’s about fucking time that she knows who her father is,” Monnie tries to meet your enlarged, hysterical eyes. “I know you will be back as soon as you do the right thing. Now, hurry up and fucking go!”

“Okay!” You reply breathlessly, tears you hadn’t realized were muddling your vision fall down your cheeks in tepid paths. “Okay,” you choke, “I’ll do it.”

Monnie’s fingers detach from your shirt and you, crying, run to your car, hardly knowing what else to do other than panic. This is it. This is it- you have no choice but to face your biggest fear, and now that you know Mae’s father has been right here all along, you can’t help the humiliation you feel and are going to feel once you share to him the biggest secret you have ever kept from him. Choking back sobs, you barely can remember what the name of her school is from how distraught you are, but your shaking fingers try to type the name you believe it is until the GPS pulls it up.

There is no escaping this, and you have the route ready as the voice directs you on every turn.

His kiss made you melt every time, and the first time you both became one, he was so gentle, and loving despite the discomfort of it all. Of course, the curiosity and the learning involving intimacy became an addiction you two couldn’t stop, especially when your body was starting to enjoy it. You weren’t on birth control in high school, so it should have been expected that you would have become pregnant. But what you didn’t expect was how you were going to break the news to him when he had so much on his plate already. Kids were never a conversation unless marriage was the topic. Being so young, marriage was a huge assumption during that time because you thought you would get to spend the rest of your life with him.

You were in love with him once, and the thought of seeing him again scares you. Not only because you are about to tell him something that you have no idea what his reaction will be, but that his reaction will be what will prompt whether you tell Mae the truth or not. Mae being front row in her teacher’s life, why would you want her to know who her father is if her father doesn’t accept her after all? What if he becomes so angry with you that he dismisses his own daughter? And do you blame him? Of course not. You hiding your daughter away from him is your mistake. Or was it really a mistake to begin with?

Guiltily, you know what you did was wrong. He was never the kind of person who would mistreat someone from what you remember, and in your heart, you know he would have been a great father. But it’s never too late. Mae is only seven years old. She still has her whole life ahead of her, so maybe… just maybe he will see past your betrayal and give Mae a chance to be in his life, but as her father, not her elementary school teacher. How is this even a possibility? You could kick yourself for not paying attention. It’s been a month and you still had no idea who Mae’s teacher was. But is this how it all was supposed to pan out?

When the school comes into sight, you brace yourself as you turn into the parking lot. You notice the buses are gone and the majority of the cars seen most likely belong to the teachers finishing out whatever paperwork they have on their desk. You wonder which car is his, and you choose a spot closest to the entrance. Even though the weather isn’t that chilly yet, your hands feel like ice, and as you robotically walk towards the building after exiting your car, you breathe in and out deeply before reaching the door.

The nerves are so strong, your head starts to ache, and embarrassingly, as Mae’s mother, you don’t even know where Mae’s classroom is. Someone in your peripherals must have noticed your confused state and approached, “Hello, I’m Hoseok, the assistant principal, do you need assistance?”

Jumping slightly, you hope he doesn’t notice the redness of your eyes from the crying, but you manage to steady yourself enough to force a smile. “Yes, I’m looking for my daughter’s classroom. I, um, have a meeting with her teacher.”

“Ah, of course! I hope it’s all good news to report. We are sending out their progress papers soon with their current grades, but if you have any further questions, you can contact her teacher via email. May I ask who it is?”

“Yes!” You appreciate his smile and his willingness to help, because you are so frazzled, you are shocked that you are speaking anything audibly. “Um, Mr. Park. Is he still in?” You try not to make it sound like a question to feel like you are a good mother for knowing, not really, who your daughter’s teacher is. Plus, you really are hoping he is still here.

“Right down this hallway to the left, classroom 58.” Hoseok points in the direction and you thank him profoundly for his help, clutching the strap of your purse while your mouth runs dry. The swarm of nerves in your stomach grows stronger to the point that you feel nauseous as you step down the hallway while your vision blurs with more tears.

C’mon, you can do this. You must do this. Mae deserves this. He deserves to know.

You pause when the number 58 above the door frame enters your line of vision, and you feel the ice of your hands start to frost your entire body. This is it; you exhale slowly, this is it. Stepping cautiously to the door that you see is wide open, you carefully peer in, your heart stopping as your fingers move to press against your trembling lips. He nonchalantly is shifting through a pile of papers, his expression concentrating as his cheek rests against his fist from how his elbow is leaned on the top of his desk.

He is exactly how you remember him except his hair is a tad longer, and his jawline is much sharper from aging into his mid-twenties. His thick lips are lined pleasantly in a faint grin and a Styrofoam cup rests diagonally from the papers. He still looks beautiful, so innocent. How could you have ever left him the way you did? Now, things are different, your heart belongs to someone else, and you hope he has his heart set on someone else too and if he does, will that person be accepting of his seven-year-old daughter? Or, that you are from his past and will now be his present if he does happen to accept his daughter once it is revealed to him? You honestly have no idea what to expect from any of this, but you check out his left hand to see that there is no wedding ring though that doesn’t always mean anything considering people forget or have lost jewelry of any kind before.

You know you can’t stand there staring at him forever, yet you genuinely don’t even know where to start, so you just… start.

“Jimin,” you say his name for the first time in years, and it sounds so bittersweet coming from your mouth. He lifts his head immediately to the sound of his name with an evident smile probably assuming you’re a coworker, and it takes him a few seconds to register exactly who he is seeing. Jimin’s eyes widen in profound astonishment as recognition forms in his expression, his mouth dropping open in silence.

Standing to his feet, he can hardly believe who he is staring at, and he refrains from rubbing his eyes. “Y/N? Is that… you?”

You can’t help the tears. Hot and streaming down your face, you sniffle while you try to nod and force a timid smile. “It is me, Jimin. How’ve… how’ve you been?”

Jimin’s expression shifts as he analyzes your words. Of all the things to say, after what felt like an eternity…you ask how he has been doing. In all honesty, he would have done the exact same thing.

When faced with the past, what else is there to say? There are missing pieces that need to be mended…but not all at once.

Jimin has to respond somehow.

“I don’t… I don’t even know where to begin, I’ve just been, well,” he has a hint of a nervous smile on his face, probably feeling just as awkward as you feel, and you are so overwhelmed by how kind he has remained all these years. Eventually he gestures with an arm toward the empty desks. “I’ve been- been working, but goodness, how long has it been? How are you doing?”

“I’m well,” you swipe a tear away knowing Jimin probably feels so helpless right now which makes you feel even worse. “I’ve gotten a new job not far from here, so… So, I came back to town.”

“Yeah, I-” Jimin stutters, trying to gather whatever words he can that make decent sentences, “I wondered where you went. I figured maybe a college farther away or if you decided to move with your dad. I never- I never knew where you decided to go in life.”

The prevalent question you know he wants to ask is how you found him since his longtime dream was originally to be a psychologist. He probably is wondering if you reconnected with Seokjin, but how would Seokjin and Jimin know that you were back? You still are under the assumption that they were never super close when you all were younger.

“I’m sorry, I know I should have told you what was happening… I just didn’t know how.” You choke, your eyes dropping to the floor still struggling on how you were going to continue this conversation.

“Come- come in, come in, have a seat,” Jimin gestures toward a chair off to the side that he shuffles to place in front of his desk. You reluctantly take a seat, clasping your fingers together tightly to fight off the trembling, and it mildly helps.

“Thank you,” you whisper, letting Jimin return to his seat across from you.

“Of course,” he replies gently, struggling to find a box of tissues, concern consuming his entire countenance. “What brings you by? Is everything…okay?”

“I…” This is so hard for you, and you know it is because there are no words to fully get anyone to understand why their child was kept from them especially when they haven’t done anything wrong to deserve that. “Jimin…” The tears return.

“Hey…” Jimin used to hold you so tight if you cried, like Seokjin would, but with seven years behind you, it’s pretty clear that Jimin wanting or considering holding you is long gone. Now, he is staring at you in confusion and probably seeing you as a long-lost stranger. “I know I ended up changing career paths, but something is definitely bothering you and the best advice I can give is to let it out.”

Wiping away another tear, you nod in agreement, sniffling before you can speak, “I know… I just never really prepared for what I’m about to tell you. It’s like… I knew this day was going to come but I just didn’t know when or… How.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Jimin leans his elbows on his desk, “What… Wait, y/n, what do you mean? Did something happen?”

Running a sour tongue over your lips, you exhale a slow breath, “Seven years ago, I discovered something and thought at the time I was making the right decision by… by not telling you.” You can’t meet his eyes. “You had so much going for you, Jimin, I was… I was so scared that if I told you what I had just found out that you would reject me… or reject her.”

Jimin’s folded hands gradually move to lay completely upon the desk, his mind is trying to make sense of what you just said, yet he can’t. And he tries to form words, but he is so rattled that he gives no choice other than to listen.

“Jimin,” you brace yourself as your body tense. “Jimin, I was pregnant.”

You can see the horrified shock in his eyes as they enlarge and the way his chest caves from the sudden blow of pain and confusion spreading all over his rigid posture. “You… were what?” His voice is so quiet, so shaky from this revelation that he can’t even meet your eyes either. “Y/N, what are you saying?” A sob chokes you as you reach to touch his hand, but he shoves your hand away. “You were what?”

“I left,” you say between the tears, “I left because I was pregnant. I know I should have told you, but I was so scared, Jimin, I didn’t know what to do- I couldn’t stand the thought of you giving up everything-”

Something is triggered in Jimin. Glass shatters in his heart. Broken. Broken and robbed is what he feels.

“But that wasn’t just your choice to make!” Jimin shoves his chair back as he rakes his hands roughly through his hair with so many emotions he could vomit.

“How could you keep this from me!? You mean all this time, losing sleep because I fucking lost you just to find out now that I had lost a child too!? My child. I have a… child, I-” His voice breaks as he tries to keep himself upright. You know he is angry, and he has every right to be. “How could you-!?”

You feel the weight of his anger. You deserve the weight of his anger. This is a piece of his life that was stripped away without his knowledge. It’s unfair to him. It’s unfair to Mae. You can’t possibly be upset with his response.

“I thought I was making the right decision, Jimin, I’m so sorry, I will spend the rest of my life being sorry, but I owe it to her. She asks about you. She wants to know who you are, and I know I waited so long, but Jimin…” You breathe, “She has your eyes. She has your smile-”

“And yet you kept her from me.” Jimin grits his teeth, fighting tears of his own as he hastily paces back and forth. “How could you-!?”

“Listen…I know what I did was wrong, and I don’t deserve any form of forgiveness from you. You can- you can hate me. Hate me as much as you want, but please, I am begging you to give her a chance to be yours, too.” You plea.

“Here-” Frantic, you fumble through your purse because you know exactly what you are looking for now. Your voice is ridden with despair and desperation to make things up to Mae, you unzip your wallet to the many small pictures you have kept over the years of Mae, and you find the most recent one where her toothy smile lights up the entire world.

Laying the picture on Jimin’s desk, you stand to your feet, “Her name is Mae. She is your daughter. And I’m so sorry that I ruined any chance of her getting to truly know you as her father.”

The pace of your heart quickens as you examine his features, waiting. You royally fucked up. You know it. But you owe it to them to try. To try again.

Jimin’s heart is shattering, and it’s written all over his scorned face as tears drip from his cheeks.

“I understand it may be too late. I may not know firsthand but…I can see how it would feel that way, but… She loved you even though she had no idea you were standing right in front of her.”

The lingering pause that followed was deafening. You were drowning in the tension and agony. What else did you expect? There are years of pain unfolding before him. What else can you do?

“I need….” Jimin’s lips tremble as he fixates on the picture of Mae. “Time…I need time to process. Please.”

You gnaw on your lower lip to refrain from crying. You understand his need for space. You respect that.

“Of course,” you whisper hoarsely.

And with that, you saunter out of the room, waiting until you are safe in your car to wail out the pain, not realizing that Jimin falls to his knees as he clutches the picture of the gift he had no idea he had.

His daughter. His daughter who he recognizes to be the sweet student that sits a few rows back whose assignment she wrote was a letter to her missing father:

Him.

Monnie clutches the rails of the hospital bed with gritted teeth as another contraction surges. The nurses rush in colorful blurs hooking up IV fluids, preparing for IV catheter placement, placing all the instruments and tools out for the doctor and who knows what else. Of course, Monnie is worried about her sister and the hell she is about to go through with Mae’s teach- father, but one thing is for sure, she wishes her husband and her mother would hurry the hell up.

“Breathe as steadily as you can,” Jeongguk, the male nurse, reminds her as she slams her eyes shut from the pain. She can’t even focus on the needle being inserted into her arm for the IV catheter placement, because the labor pains overshadow any other pain she has ever experienced. Despite it all, she is so ready to meet her baby boy. The absolute gift she cannot wait to share with her beloved husband and soon-to-be father of their child, Min Yoongi.

If only that curly headed ham would hurry up!

Palms slam against the sides of the door frame ahead after some time, prompting Monnie to lift her eyes to the silhouette, but she doubles over in brief disappointment because it’s not Yoongi, but another man that takes her a moment to recognize.

Wait a minute… Is that Seokjin? It has to be. He looks exactly like the picture in the yearbook that she saw earlier except his hair is longer and his face has matured from the boyish charm that showed in his high school portrait. He’s breathing as if he’s ran a mile, and his mouth is ajar while his chest swiftly moves in and out- in and out which disrupts the breathing pattern for Monnie unintentionally.

“Please tell me you’re my sister’s boyfriend,” she says through clenched teeth, but not in an angry way, just to keep herself from screaming with these darned contractions.

“I-” He wets his lips cautiously as if taken by surprise at first until a small smile becomes evident but only for a small moment as if he abruptly remembers where he is, “Where is she?”

“Not. Here.” Monnie tries so hard to speak clearly, and it’s obvious to Seokjin that she is doing her best and he doesn’t press further. Plus, Monnie doesn’t know how much he knows about your situation, so maybe telling him everything isn’t such a good idea. She doesn’t want to reveal too much about where you actually are.

“Is there anything I can do?” Monnie notices the nurses seem skeptical about Seokjin since he is not a relative, but Monnie waves an okay and appreciates Seokjin’s efforts at wanting to be of help. Especially, since she promised you that she’d take care of him when he arrived as well as Mae. Then, an idea strikes her.

“Actually...” She exhales slowly. “I need to make an excuse for Mae as to why her mom’s not here yet.”

She understands Seokjin’s confusion. Her sister called him and was not at the hospital when he arrived. And him suddenly meeting your sister who is in the process of preparing to give birth is an awkward way to meet for the first time.

“Okay,” Seokjin’s eyes show he’s trying to think of something, “Wha- what is her favorite fruit or snack? You can say she’s picking up something for you or- or for the baby-?”

“Yoongi loves tangerines.”

“Who-?” Seokjin’s lips form an O while his eyebrows scrunch.

“Just get me some tangerines. Who doesn’t love tangerin- AAGH-” Seokjin panics and helplessly takes his hands through his hair until Monnie recovers momentarily. “I’ll give you a cue somehow. I’ll say the word once after my husband, mom and niece arrive. Just keep your ears alive or y/n is gonna look real. Dumb.”

“Okay.” Seokjin nods once, stepping back immediately once his head jolts to see who is entering the hallway. “I won’t let you down.”

“Yep. That’s the spirit- AAGH-”

Mae nervously fidgets with a stuffed animal given to her by her grandma who is chirping with excitement despite Uncle Yoongi’s desperate voice as he speeds toward the hospital. Mae can’t help the anxious way she feels because she knows something big is about to happen. Aunt Monnie is going to have a baby. Mae is going to be a big cousin and despite her curious stares at the adults talking frantically in front of her as Uncle Yoongi drives- she is also excited. Inwardly, she wishes her mother could be with her, but she understands that you had to take your sister to the hospital.

Mae is unaware of how close they are to pulling into the parking lot of the facility, but once arrived, Grandma rushes to help her out of her seatbelt and Mae grips her hand as they follow a sprinting Yoongi into the hospital doors. “Is Mommy here yet?” Mae whispers, staring up at her grandma who catches her breath once reaching Yoongi.

She smiles reassuringly, “I’m sure she is here somewhere with your aunt and the baby. Don’t worry, Sweetheart.”

Mae can’t help it though. Sometimes her comfort is with you regardless. Either way, she doesn’t lose hold of her grandmother’s hand as the pair rush onto an elevator with Yoongi. His hands are jittery as he fumbles from putting them in his pockets versus running a hand through his hair. He is so ready to be with his wife and soon to be son he can hardly concentrate.

Mae smiles to herself in excitement, until she notices a young couple exiting the elevator she was about to enter. In the father’s arms is a car seat where the sweetest little bundle of joy is currently sleeping. The father has a glow in his eyes as he gazes constantly at the baby and over at his wife. He gazes at her in appreciation of the life she has given. Mae captures this encounter for a brief few seconds before losing sight of them behind the closed doors. The prior excitement subsides. What remains is an overwhelming sadness. Would her dad have been this excited about her being born? Would he have looked at her in the same way that father just did?

A big piece of her heart was missing.

The ding of the elevator distracts Mae momentarily and the three exit the doors and into the hallway.

For a brief moment, Mae’s eyebrows furrow when she recognizes the man who had visited Mr. Park earlier today. What was he doing at the hospital? Is he okay? The man’s hair seems ruffled, and his mouth is ajar as he looks around as if trying to find something… Or someone. Could he be looking for lost treasure? Mae wonders- her favorite fairy tales that she has seen countless times help create a story in her mind as she watches him eventually settle on a bench that happens to be right in front of the door Uncle Yoongi rushes into.

“Who is that man?” Mae murmurs to her grandma who follows her gaze.

“Hm,” Grandma harrumphs, tilting her head as if some recognition forms on her face. “He seems healthy. Let’s go see how your Aunt Monnie is doing.”

When Mae sees Aunt Monnie, she looks around for a baby but learns that he has not arrived just yet. Damp hair covers the sides of Monnie’s forehead as she tries to suppress the pain as much as she can. Uncle Yoongi is comforting her to the best of his ability, and he squeezes Monnie’s hand while she breathes slow and steady breaths in between. Mae also notices the nurses rushing to get everything prepared, but… where are you?

“Where’s mommy? And, where’s my cousin?”

“I’m sure she will be here soon. Maybe she went to the bathroom? And oh, silly girl, babies take time entering the world. He will be here soon enough I promise.”

Mae meets Aunt Monnie’s eyes in widened astonishment as kids do when they seem to understand the seriousness of whatever situation they are about to witness. “Hey there, Mae,” Aunt Monnie’s voice is thickened with discomfort, but she tries to force a smile through the sheer pain of labor. “Your mom will be on her way soon. I made her go… pick up some tangerines.” She tries to raise her voice loud enough as if to capture someone’s attention.

“Tangerines?”

Mae notices the utterly confused look on Yoongi’s face as well as the ajar mouth of questioning that drops open from her grandmother, but it seems Aunt Monnie shares a look of ‘will explain later’ although Mae is too young to understand exactly what that could mean in adult language.

And apparently, Mae is way too young to be watching a woman give birth, so eventually her and her grandmother return to the hallway where Mae notices the man she noticed earlier is still here.

More questions spin in her mind as she watches him, but she also tries to keep herself preoccupied by clutching the stuffed animal closer to her side. Grandma moves her hand to her shoulder.

“Your mother should be here soon. And then once she is, we will get to meet your cousin. Are you excited?”

“Very excited. I didn’t even know babies could have tangerines.” Mae smiles wide despite being nervous, and she hugs her grandma, anticipatingly waiting not only for her cousin to make his appearance, but to also finally get to be by your side during this celebration with a bag full of one of her favorite fruits.

It’s the determination. Bursting through the doors of the hospital with fresh, warm tear stains and hardly a moment to figure out how to audibly ask which room your sister was taken to before you left. Memories of the ceiling and you being rushed to a room spark as well as the intense burn of contractions while you gripped whatever you could with clenched teeth. The desperate way you felt to bring this little life into the world was all you could think about as well as the excitement of finally getting to hold her in your arms. Now, it’s your sister’s turn to experience the endless joy of becoming a mother.

Aside from the determination, it’s the devastation swarming your chest in powerful waves for the betrayal you have revealed, and the forgiveness you hope your daughter will give you over time once the truth is finally brought to light. The truth Mae has been wishing for since the day she understood she had a father out there somewhere. Little did Mae know, her father would unintentionally find her, and now it is your mission and priority to bring them together no matter what it takes.

Jimin asked for time, and time will be what you give him. For Mae, her time to know is now because not only did you rob Jimin from his daughter, but you also robbed your daughter from having a father. Even if neither of them ultimately forgives you, how can you blame them? You are going to have to battle forgiving yourself just as much.

Mae’s face is all you can see as you jog to the nearest elevator and the agonizing slow pace of reaching the level your sister’s room is nearly smothers you in panic. Wanting to see your daughter is all you care about aside from meeting your nephew and seeing the man you have fallen in love with who has no idea of where you just were. It's all too much, but if you can just get to your daughter, you will be okay again.

“Mommy!” Her voice shouts in exhilaration when she sees your running frame enter the hallway. Smiling with more tears blurring your vision, her outspread arms rush toward you until you are holding her so close, your heart swells at her giggles muffling into your shoulder. “There you are!”

Mae’s stuffed animal squishes against you too but you don’t even dare to let your daughter go.

“I love you so much,” you cry, pulling away to peck all over her chubby cheeks as she laughs a tad louder.

“Mommy!” She pulls away slightly, kissing you sweetly on your cheek. “I just saw you this morning!”

“I know, but it feels like ten long, horrendous years.” You swipe at a tear on your cheek as you squeeze her one more time. To your surprise, Mae looks around you and your hands as if she is confused. “Is something wrong, baby?”

“Where’s? Where’s the tangerines?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you open and shut your mouth multiple times before hearing the light chuckle of your mom who steps closer not wanting to initially interrupt you reuniting with your daughter before getting an update on your sister.

“Monnie said she sent you to pick up tangerines.” Your mother winks once you realize with a mouthed ‘Oh’ that your sister was covering for you. Which then brings the sharp stab of guilt at the thought of Jimin and the pain you caused him. And the even deeper stab being that your daughter has no idea that you just met with her father who has been her teacher this entire time.

Before you can even figure out how to put your stammering words together to come up with even the slightest excuse, a bag of tangerines dangle in your vision where your gaze slides from the bag to the handsome broad shoulders and face of Kim Seokjin.

“Did somebody say tangerines? I saw you accidentally drop them earlier when I was coming from the cafeteria. Figured I’d return them to their rightful owner.”

The warmth that replaces the sadness from a second ago is enough to make you want to jump into his arms as his lips quirk into a sweet smile. You know good and damn well that this man went out of his way to pick up these tangerines from God knows where, but how did he even know to get them in the first place? He must have overheard Monnie’s explanation to Mae? Knowing Mae and how much she loves to ask questions sometimes, maybe she asked them, and he happened to be in the vicinity? Whatever the case, you are beyond thankful for him stepping in. ‘Thank you,’ you mouth toward him while Mae jumps in enthusiasm.

“You’re the man who visited Mr. Park earlier!” Mae exclaims, which makes you cock an eyebrow in surprise. Jin was with Jimin earlier? But then, the next thought makes you cringe because Mae just referred to her father as Mr. Park- not that she knows of course, but it brings back the guilt all the same. Your plan to tell Mae needs to be soon, but at what moment will be the right time?

Seokjin laughs as if he is embarrassed because now you are aware that he visited Jimin earlier and knows you are going to want an explanation even though he doesn’t necessarily owe you one. It’s not like he knew that Jimin didn’t know he had a daughter unless it was that obvious. Honestly, all these anxious cycles of questions are making your head feel heavy, and no matter what, you hope for a positive outcome for everyone.

“Why yes, I was.” Seokjin says, looking at Mae, “He is a great fella. Me, him, and your mom go way back.” Oh shit.

Seokjin, realizing he may have said too much, locks eyes with you as your heart nearly plummets to the ground in fear. Your mother is oblivious to the whole scene as she keeps her eyes toward the door of Monnie’s room where the doctor has hopefully begun checking Monnie’s dilation. As much as you want your focus to be solely on your sister and the baby, it seems like everything unfolding is keeping you from doing so.

“You know Mr. Park, too, Mommy?” Mae asks innocently.

One thing Mae does know is that you have not met her teacher yet because her aunt and uncle are the ones who took her to the open house and have helped take her to school while you started your new job. Clutching the side of your purse that nestles the picture of you and Jimin, you try to swallow the dry lump in your throat. Seokjin seems as though he wants to kick himself, but none of this is anywhere near his fault. You are the reason this is happening the way it is happening. You are the one who chose to flee from the man who gave you this precious, little girl whom you love more than anything in this entire world. Now, there is a choice that is being presented to you. Struggling with what to do, the stifled shout of a deep voice turns everyone's head toward the door housing Monnie, Yoongi and a medical team which causes all of you to rush with pressed ears to hear what could be happening.

“PUSH!” And with sheer elation, everyone holds their breaths as they know now is the time for Monnie’s baby boy to enter the world. Your hand finds Mae’s as the large, warm hand of Seokjin squeezes your shoulder- his other hand still clutching the bag of tangerines. You’ll kiss him really good later for that one, but for now, your brain is fully devoted to your baby nephew and your trooper of a sister. Sharing delightful giggles with your mother, it’s amazing how a baby can bring a family together in the most serene way.

By the time everything starts falling into place, you and Mae share a happy look as you follow your mother into the hospital room where your sister with teary eyes holds a blue blanket wrapped around the tiny body of her and Yoongi’s baby boy. Mae skips to the bed rails where her small hands hold tightly- her sweet eyes glued to the baby as she gasps in awe.

“He’s so… perfect,” she whispers while Monnie and Yoongi share emotional smiles.

“Just like you,” Monnie holds Mae’s gaze as she reaches a free hand to brush the back of Mae’s knuckles. “Absolutely just like you.”

You’re frozen in place at the beautiful scene- Seokjin’s hand on your back keeps you steady but there is no stopping the silent tears as they drip down your cheeks. He is beautiful. The sweet bundle of joy and happiness making two people you love parents and the absolute unconditional love already pouring from Yoongi and Monnie. This moment will be burned in your memory forever. A moment you wish you could have shared with Jimin.

“What’s his name?” Mae asks quietly, still in her childlike trance.

“Sammy,” Monnie replies, tilting her head to look into her husband’s eyes. “His name is Sammy.”

As the night continues, everyone gets a chance to hold Sammy while pictures are taken from left to right. You even include a swift introduction of Seokjin, whom Monnie briefly met before Yoongi arrived as you learned since Seokjin booked it to the hospital after you called. When it comes to Mae’s turn to hold Sammy, you have to restrain from crying even more at how you fall in love with the thrill in her countenance as her small legs kick after taking a seat, reaching her arms out to welcome him.

“He’s so heavy!” She exclaims as a chorus of laughter echoes within the room.

“Yeah!” Monnie says with teasing eyes, “Imagine how long I had to carry that bun.”

“And then push it out,” your mom elbows Monnie’s shoulder with a wink.

“Oh Lord,” you playfully roll your eyes, “Let’s not teach my child health class too early. I’m not ready for her to grow up.” You mutter to yourself spinning to take more pictures of your daughter holding your newborn nephew. Seokjin offers after an hour and a half of the family visiting Sammy, to take your mother home since you want to spend more time with your daughter and your sister. Your mother’s droopy eyes want to decline, but Monnie insists that she get some rest with her old age.

“I’m not as old as you think. Just you wait. You’re gonna wish you had the spunk I have.”

“The spunk left the trunk in 1976.” Monnie teases prompting a glare from your mother, but you also know Monnie was always closer to your father even after your parents divorced.

“I’ll have you know that your father loved my spunk, why else do you exist?”

Chorus of laughter turns into groaning; you leave Mae with your sister and brother-in-law briefly as you follow Seokjin and your mother out in the hallway. Whether it’s impeccable timing, your mother gets a phone call and starts exhaustingly yapping to whoever it is, giving you a few minutes to talk to Seokjin.

“Thank you again,” you say as he pauses in front of you, staring into your soul with the kindest eyes you have ever seen, yet there is a look of distance that you catch.

“Anytime,” he says. If your mother wasn’t standing right there, you would have kissed him so hard on the mouth, but instead, you reach up just to give him a quick peck on his cheek. “Now you keep my mother safe. She’s a bit crazy.”

“I remember,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug. Taking him in, you are so thankful for the man he has always been and the rock you have always needed. How did you make it seven years without him? How was that even possible? He moves his mouth closer to your ear causing pleasurable shivers along your skin.

“He was always my friend.” Your auditory senses perk at his words as your heart skips a beat. “And I realized that I didn’t know he had a daughter because he didn’t know he had a daughter.” Squeezing you tightly one more time, you feel the lump in your throat again. “I know you will do the right thing.” And with that, Seokjin pulls away, holding your eyes before lightly pinching your chin with his fingers. He wasn’t saying goodbye, but you can tell from the sadness etched in his gaze that he wants you to make things right before being with him.

“Jin… I-”

“You’ll do the right thing. It may not feel like it now, but you will make things right because that’s the kind of person you are.” Leaning forward, he presses a slow, warm kiss to your lips causing fireworks to spark deep within your chest. Breathless, even from the simplicity of the kiss, he pulls away slightly to meet your eyes, “I love you,” he whispers, “And I always will.”

Words are taken from you as you stiffly watch him reach a hand for your mother’s shoulder to lead her toward the elevators, him holding your gape before stepping on officially. Your mother is still smiling into the phone, not aware of what happened between you and Seokjin, and your heart is pounding profusely through your temples. Seokjin loves you. He just said he loves you. You didn’t have a second to say it back because you are too stunned to even exhale.

You are uncertain of how long you stand there in the hallway rigid with surprise. Breathing deeply until your shaky hands have settled, you know what you need to do. Turning slowly, you walk into the dimly lit hospital room where you see Yoongi laying next to Monnie, staring down at their son who is now their pride and joy. The exact look you gave Mae after she was born and the same look that will never die. Flitting your vision, you find Mae sitting on one of the cushions laid out for anyone who decides to stay the night with their loved one and sitting there, staring back at you, is your purse that holds the answer Mae has been waiting for as well as an opened bag of tangerines. Stepping softly, you take a seat next to your daughter wrapping a gentle arm around her.

“I think your cousin loves you so much already.” You coo, kissing the side of her forehead. Mae continues to watch her cousin, her smile remaining planted on her bright expression. “You are going to be the best cousin ever, and I know you will let him know it.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” She sighs dreamily. “Today has been a good day.”

“I’m so glad.” You murmur, watching the interaction between your sister and her little family. Of course, you know what you need to do, but would it continue to make Mae’s day better? Or will this good day Mae says it will come crashing and burning if you reveal the truth? There is an urge or a strong pounding of your heart that this is it. This is the time to tell Mae about her father, but are there words to even begin?

You let the minutes pass by slowly, giving some time to settle until you gather your words. Your fingers have already run through your daughter’s long hair before you speak softly.

“Mae, I just want you to know that you are the best thing to ever happen to me.” Mae looks up at you with softened eyes. “And you always will be no matter what… There is also someone who deserves to know you just as much as I do. And though it may take time, I know you will be the best thing to ever happen to him as well.”

Mae’s eyes widen when realization dawns on her, yet she holds the question evident in her expression. “I’m really sorry…” You choke back a sob, “I’m really sorry that I never told you sooner, and I will live the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. And to your father if he lets me.”

Reaching for your purse, you find the pocket that holds the folded picture of you and Mae’s father and once it is securely gripped between your fingertips, you lift it into you and Mae’s line of vision. Her eyes immediately glue to the folded picture as she anxiously swallows.

“I love you, Mae.” You whisper and you unfold the picture, exposing the truth you thought you could keep hidden, but instead, the heavy burden you’ve buried lifts from your heart and shoulders as the opened picture brings closure to the young girl staring back at it.

There is no anger in her eyes. No hatred for being left in the dark. Instead, she is overcome by all consuming joy. She has a father. This whole time she has been in the same room as him. A man so kind. The years as a younger girl that may have been shattered are now slowly healing. Being so little can mean that it is difficult to express her true emotions. Except it’s all right there in her eyes.

Mae has a father, and she couldn’t be more at peace.

Two months later��

“Okay, just remember that she absolutely loves ice cream, but don’t let her eat too much!” You stress as you hold your hands out, “It sometimes upsets her stomach, so just let her have maximum two scoops and that’s it-”

“Y/N,” Jimin chuckles as he gives you a pointed look, resting his hands on his hips. “How many times have I told you that I know this? You’ve told me-”

“Countless times, I know,” you groan, running your palms over your face. “I’m sorry, I’m still not used to no longer being a single parent. Sharing is hard.”

“And I understand that completely, but you also must remember that she is my daughter, too.” A side grin tugs at his thick lips as the screen door remains stopped by his elbow.

“Dad, c’mon! We’re gonna be late!” Mae drones from the passenger side of his car, her excitement exuberant and her nonstop conversation of another adventure with her dad is all she has been talking about since Jimin made the decision to officially be in his daughter’s life. It didn’t take much time- only a week and Mae willingly switched classrooms and slowly became introduced into Jimin’s life. His tears were endless the day he wrapped his arms around her for the first time, nearly falling to his knees while she buried her face into his shoulder. Mae finally found her father. And, two months later, it has been continuous adventures: Jimin and his little sidekick, Mae.

“I’m coming, Kiddo!” He laughs, returning to face you while he shakes his head teasingly. “The punctuality she gets from me.”

You scoff, “Excuse you.”

“It’s true and you know it.”

Your eyes soften at the man before you. Uncrossing your arms, you reach to hug him. Tightly. Every ounce of thankfulness, happiness, sorrow, guilt, any emotion that exists is held within this hug as you feel his arms completing the embrace. He feels the emotions, too. He is taking this all in, too.

“You are also an amazing father,” you whisper as tears brim. “Thank you so much for choosing her.”

He squeezes you close one more time before pulling away. “I will always choose her.”

There will never be a relationship again, but the parental bond you two will share is everything you could have asked for. Wiping at a tear that escaped, Jimin nods his farewell before sprinting to the driver’s side of his car. Laughing hysterically at Mae, who must have made a pouty joke, you watch in pride as your daughter smiling with glee, shoves her father’s shoulder as he backs out of the driveway to head to Mae’s favorite ice cream shop. You never imagined the day would come, but you have all the gratefulness in the world that it did. Your daughter is complete. The father of your daughter is complete. Your family is complete.

There’s just one more thing you have to do.

Rushing to grab your keys, you slip on a pair of shoes and sprint to your car after locking up the house. You know who you are about to visit is off today, and you happened to take some time off to be with your daughter before she stays with her dad for the weekend. It doesn’t take long until you see the familiar road that will bring you to the one who made you whole aside from your daughter, and the second you pull into his driveway, you run a hand through your hair letting a long, jittery sigh escape.

Clearing your throat, you rush out of your car and saunter to his front door, keeping a hand on your stomach from the slight nausea wanting to rear its head. There has been some communication on and off throughout the past couple months, but there is something you have been wanting to tell him ever since the two of you reconnected.

Ringing the doorbell, you run quivering palms over your clothes, and when the click of the door opens, your heart halts at meeting his surprised eyes.

“Jin!” You say faster with a gust of excitement than you anticipate, so you clear your throat again before continuing. “I’m sorry, I just… I needed to see you.”

Slowly stepping forward, Seokjin steadily places a warm hand to your cheek where his thumb strokes your skin so softly it's as if you are in a dream. Yet, your eyes never leave his gentle, brown irises as tears fill his eyes. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much and he has never stopped waiting on you and the woman he knew you would and have become.

“I love you, too.” You breathe, letting the words sink in before Seokjin’s lips crash to yours. Now that life seems to be exactly where it’s supposed to be- the way it should be, now even you feel complete. The emptiness fled once the truth was told, and now you can happily be in the arms of Kim Seokjin while your daughter gets to learn about the father she’s always wanted to know.

Wrapping your arms behind Seokjin’s shoulders, you let him whisk you away into happiness, because now you can finally allow yourself to feel it.

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yoonjinkooked · 3 years ago

Text

[ REC. ] | JJK and KSJ

Part of the House of Lust Valentine’s Day Collab

Title: [REC.]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader x Jin

client Jin x escort reader x cameraman Jungkook

Genre: smut, threesome, escort AU

WC: 16k

Summary: After being the creative director for HoL for a little while, Jungkook gets a crazy idea of how to combine business & pleasure. His love of cinematography may just be what the HoL needs. Luckily, he finds a very willing worker and an eager customer to experiment with.

Warnings: soft dom Jin, switch reader, sub JK, semi-amateur sextape setting, oral (m) receiving, jerking off, unprotected sex, spit-roast, throat fucking, creampie, sloppy seconds, anal play and fingering (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), mxm making out, mentions of double penetration, mentions of mxmxf anal sex (in that order), cum play, cum eating, spitting, finger sucking, voyeurism, uses of the phrases slut, baby boy, good boy

Beta: good ol’ grammarly

AN: This is honestly just my one way ticket to hell...

You never would have thought that the sound of your doorbell would be the sound that signals your pending doom, but here you are. Sitting casually in your living room, wearing nothing but a black silk robe to cover your lingerie, you wonder if today, you will be making the biggest mistake of your entire career. By the time the doorbell rings, you know it’s too late to change your mind, no matter how much you reassure yourself that it’s never too late. It is. It is officially too late, and you know that for a fact when you open the door and see Jungkook standing on the other side of it.

He is dressed casually, in jeans and a t-shirt, and other than two larger bags that he is carrying over both his shoulders, he looks the same as he does any other day, back in the office. Well, the semi-worried look on his face is also a bit of a change, which just proves to you that you’re not the only one that is having second thoughts about this. Too late.

“I feel the need to remind you that this was all your idea,” you say in greeting, before opening the door fully to let him pass. “Welcome to my humble abode - do make yourself comfortable.”

“It wasn’t my idea to do this at your apartment, Y/N,” he hisses at you in irritation as he slips off his shoes, following your lead into the living room. It’s too late for any last-minute fixes, but you are fairly certain that your morning cleaning was successful and there won’t be any dirty socks in some long-forgotten corners. “Though I have to say, it is a nice apartment. Wasn’t aware that escorts earn as much - I must be working in the wrong branch of our company,” he jokes, but it falls flat. Leave it to Jungkook to accidentally insult you. At least he realizes it, eyes widening once he does. “I didn’t mean it like-”

“Just leave it,” you wave him off, making yourself comfortable on your sofa and grabbing the already half-empty glass of wine that you were nursing when the doorbell rang. “It was my idea to do it at my place, you don’t have to be all bitchy about that - with all that you have planned, both Seokjin and I thought that it would be nice to at least be on familiar turf. Wine?” you offer him, reaching over to the table to pour him a glass once he nods.

Jungkook and yourself… you’re not friends, not per se. You’re not enemies either, not in the slightest, but your relationship is superficial, to say the least. You could never make up your mind about him, as he is generally kind, but will often say stupid shit that will indirectly, or sometimes even directly, insult you and your co-workers. There was always something about him that didn’t sit well with you, but you could never quite pinpoint it, no matter how hard you tried. This is exactly why agreeing to this was more than likely a mistake.

To have him record you during sex with your favorite client. It was his idea, although he didn’t name you. He named Jimin and yourself, calling the two of you the kinkiest out of the bunch. He was right - that’s why you’ve agreed to it. The idea of someone watching was always arousing to you, and you knew Seokjin would be game - he agreed to it at the speed of light, before you even explained the details. And, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you always did find Jungkook incredibly attractive. Not worth the risk, but attractive.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” you urge him again, watching as he sits down on an armchair that is on the complete opposite end of your coffee table - he picked the seat that is as far away from you as possible. “And to satisfy your curiosity, yes, sex work does pay well. Being smart with your money can get you an apartment like this - you don’t need a sugar daddy to afford it if you have some brains and common sense.”

“I’m sorry if you found my comment offensive,” he apologizes, but somehow, the honesty of it misses you. “I do have a tendency to speak before I think, unfortunately.”

“Yes, I noticed,” you point out, noticing how he visibly flinches at your words. “It doesn’t matter,” you wave it off, but it’s not as easy for you to ignore his expression. It’s a complete 180 to who and what Jungkook is at the office. He is a man that walks with confidence and isn’t afraid to voice his opinion - someone who is good at his job and knows it. Here? One on one with you? He is definitely not that man. In fact, he seems shy - you’d even go as far to say that he seems scared. You wouldn’t be surprised if he really is, though. In this situation, you are the one calling the shots and something tells you that having a woman telling him what to do isn’t something he experiences on a daily basis.

“Seokjin will be joining us in half an hour,” you inform him, wanting to move to the details of the plan and not have meaningless small-talk to fill your time. “I have told you to come here earlier because Seokjin is very punctual and I don’t like the idea of keeping him waiting or boring him with the tediousness of this conversation. I figure that you need a bit of time to familiarize yourself with the location and the dynamic Seokjin and I share.”

“Your dynamic?” he frowns in confusion. “Is there something I should know?”

“There’s plenty,” you laugh, taking a sip of your wine that would likely be better described as a chug. “For example, the safe word that Seokjin and I use is coconut. If at any point, and I mean at any point at all, you hear that word being said, you will need to immediately stop whatever it is that you’re doing. I would also suggest that in case it happens, you leave the room and leave the two of us alone, as the use of a safe word asks for a safe and comfortable environment. I doubt he’d feel too comfortable with a stranger in a room and I know I wouldn’t like it either.”

“Noted,” he nods his head obediently. “Coconut. I’ll remember.”

“That also applies to you, mind you,” you inform him, not surprised at all by the look of confusion on his face. He truly jumped into this completely unprepared - and you wish you can say that you’re surprised. “As much as we think that we are mentally prepared for the scenarios we previously agreed on, we can’t know if we will continue to feel comfortable for the duration of the session. And if at any point, you want to stop, leave the room, or feel as if you are put in an uncomfortable situation, you need to stop it. Once the word coconut is said by anyone, everything stops.”

“I mean, I have never filmed people having sex,” he admits reluctantly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he pauses to take a sip of the wine. It’s so evident that he is very nervous and he very well might be way in over his head - he is fidgety, clearing his throat, biting his lip as he thinks of what words he wants to use. “I doubt it will ever get to the point of me being that uncomfortable, but if I do, I promise you that I will let you know and use the safe word.”

“Good,” you say, offering him a small smile. “I am sure Seokjin will appreciate it as well. He is a fairly simple man, so there will be no extravagant shit that you will have to deal with.”

“What exactly do you mean when you say ‘extravagant shit’?” he asks and you can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t even sure if he wants to hear the answer.

“Honestly, for someone who will record for the first time ever, any kind of toy seems like extravagant shit, in my opinion,” you tell him, shrugging as you go over the sex toy catalog that is in your brain. “I do have some of these things on hand, but there will be no BDSM, no bondage or pain play, no bar spreaders, fucking machines, gags, and such.”

“Oh!” he gulps at your explanation. Honestly, would anyone ever believe that this man is employed in the best escort establishment in the country? How can someone come up with ideas to make sex fun when he blushes at the very mention of bar spreaders? Oh, how fun would it be to break him, to introduce him to all of those things and turn his world upside down… but that’s not a job for you. Not now, perhaps not ever, and that is not a thought that you should be entertaining. “Yeah, I suppose it’s a good thing that none of those things will be used. I think I will need a bit more time to learn all the equipment and the angles that would be good for those… toys and positions.”

“You have none of that to worry about,” you reassure him, as it is something that both you and Seokjin had agreed on. He made it clear to you that if this is a video he will get to keep, he wants it as simple as possible, just the two of you and the chemistry that you have built over the time that he has been your client. It was easy for you to agree to that, as it’s less work, more simplicity, and less chance of Jungkook freaking the fuck out. “There is more that we need to discuss once he is here, but the main points are settled. He knows you will be here and he is completely okay with the idea.”

“What about the location?” Jungkook looks around the room, paying careful attention to the ceiling lights and the way they are not as bright as they can be - in fact, you have dimmed them for the sake of the atmosphere. “I know we want this to look amateur and not like it is being done on a proper set, but some good lighting will be needed. Now that I think about it, filming during the daytime might have been a better idea,” he adds, frowning at his own mistake. He always seemed like a perfectionist so it doesn’t come as a surprise that he proved it this early on in the night.

“I doubt it would work for Seokjin, as I don’t think he’d want to spend a day of the weekend filming an amateur porno,” you laugh, knowing how hard Seokjin works and how he only spends nights with you, never full days. He cherishes his time off and he needs his rest. “You can ask him once he is here, though - suggest to film something in the daylight,” you shrug, knowing that you will be here all night, regardless. For a moment, you wonder if Jungkook knows that. While you and Seokjin have settled all the details with Namjoon, you’re not sure if your forgetful boss had a chance to tell the cameraman. “You do know we’re going to be here the whole night, right?” you check.

“No, no, I know,” he reassures you and you sigh in relief - you really didn’t want to have him freaking out about this lasting long, too. “Again, I’ve never recorded two people having sex before but I’ve had sex, and I know that both of you will need some rest. Honestly, I will need it too, I will be doing a lot of work myself, albeit a different kind of work. And the idea is to get as much material as possible, but whatever the two of you say, goes.”

He is very much willing to adapt, which is a big plus. Something tells you that the three of you will need to have good communication tonight, more so than usual. You and Jungkook are simply coworkers, nothing more, nothing less. And you and Seokjin know each other so well at this point, you don’t even have to speak for him to know what’s on your mind.

There is one possible outcome that worries you and you dare not mention it to Jungkook. Yes, you were one of the two workers that were his first pick because you are among the kinkier of the staff, more willing to do stuff others wouldn’t dare, but Seokjin has that streak, too. Yes, he is a simple man and yes, he has agreed to keep things simple tonight, but you know that with him, all that is needed is for the right button to be pushed and he will go wild. Which is one of the reasons why you have given Jungkook the safe word, too.

It’s not just about the worry that seeing you two in action will fry his brain; you are worried that Seokjin will try and find a way to rope him in. It is not against the rules but it also isn’t agreed on. And while you would definitely be interested in seeing how that would play out, the last thing you want to do is to have someones’ lines being crossed. If it gets to that, if Seokjin does decide to rope him in, Jungkook will have the ability to stop it. And while yes, it may be awkward and it may even end the session, at least it will keep Jungkook safe.

But you are curious and you are not ashamed to admit it. You’ve had several days to think about this, to imagine how it’ll play out, or to even pull out of it if you decide that it is too much. And all that you could think of were ways in which you could drive Jungkook insane in the best, sexiest way possible. In a somewhat fucked up way, you will enjoy this play. You won’t stop Seokjin if he tries to bring him in on the fun, but only if Jungkook agrees to it.

“Jungkook, dick out or not, you are the third party,” you give him what you hope to be the last warning, truly not wanting to make this a situation where either you or Seokjin end up taking advantage of him. You notice the lump he swallows at your words and you’re not surprised in the slightest. “This is an unusual situation for all of us. Yeah, obviously, it’s the least unusual for me, but if a third party was ever included, they were also a paying client. You are a co-worker. You will have a camera in your hands. It will, in many ways, be weird. This is why you need to consider yourself an equal, an equal third party in this, and approach it the same way you would if you were a client or a worker. It may not be an easy mindset to put yourself in, but trust me, it’s for your own benefit.”

For no more than a second, you wonder if you’re being too nice to him. The thought comes as fast as it goes because this is sex work. And you would never forgive yourself if you were to make someone unsafe in this industry. Jungkook is hardly an escort or whore or any of the titles you go by, but he will be a part of this. People in your branch, along with their employers like Namjoon, have fought for far too long and far too hard to make this legal - all of it. And to everyone, safety always comes first. No, you are not being too nice to Jungkook. If anything, you are doing the bare minimum. You wish you had it in you to do more.

“Is there anything that I should be worried about, in particular?” he asks, making you wonder if he has ever seen one of the CCTV recordings from the office. The security is monitoring those 24/7, obviously, and Jungkook is hardly a bouncer, but you know that the chances are slim that he never saw anything while in the building. What did he see? Was it something too extreme? Or is he just asking as a precaution?

“Not much. Like I’ve said, Seokjin is a simple man,” you remind him. “We may use words you’re not used to hearing and will not expect, but what I’ve said earlier still stands - if it becomes too much if you no longer want to be in the room, if you no longer want to do this, the safe word is there and it’s the law.”

“Ironically, I wasn’t nervous or worried about this in the slightest, until you started… educating me of what will happen and what I should do if and when.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s the way it works,” you manage to sound somewhat compassionate, but it’s obvious that you’re forcing it - you can hear it in your own voice and his skeptical look just confirms it. “Working in this industry isn’t easy. People think, as far as jobs go, having sex for a living isn’t all that bad. But in a morbid way, it is still a form of customer service, and the risks are plenty. Most of us that work for House of Lust have had weeks of proper training and education, and while again, you are not exactly one of us, you will be doing a part of it and I’m trying to make sure that you won’t freak out or feel uncomfortable.”

“Are you saying all this for my sake or for yours?” he asks through an uncomfortable chuckle, once again showing signs of nervousness - his leg is bouncing so fast, you actually think that if given enough time, he would make a dent in your wooden floor.

“Honestly? For Seokjin’s sake,” you deadpan, choosing to ignore the obvious surprise on his face. “He’s been my best client for years and I don’t want to lose him because of a fuck up experiment. Yes, I want all three of us to go through this as comfortably as possible, that we have no hiccups, but I also need Seokjin to remain a client.”

“Business as usual, huh?” he scoffs. It’s easy to recognize the judgment in his voice. You smile at how gullible he is. If he thinks that seeing this in any other way would be better for either of you, he is so wrong. He can judge, he can sulk, he can think he deserves better - for both of you, and Seokjin as well, this needs to be business as usual.

“Just like always,” you play it up, sipping on your wine. “Once Seokjin is here, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom since I want to know that he’s okay with that.”

“It won’t be in your room?”

“Why are you surprised?” you laugh, dumbfounded. “That is my own personal space and if it’s going to be filmed, I don’t want anything personal to be seen in it. Not to mention that I don’t really have a particular desire to have Seokjin fuck me while I’m holding onto my childhood teddy bear,” you hiss, dropping your kind act, if only for just a moment. His surprise at the revelation that you won’t be in your bedroom is stupid, to say the least. For someone who is as good as his job as he seems to be, he has plenty of dumb moments.

“And where does that teddy bear go when you have someone around for private purposes?” he jokes, only to realize that he likely went too far for it - you smile at the sight of his eyes widening. Oh, how the proper and professional and oh-so-full-of-himself Jungkook is sheepish when the doors are closed and no one else is around.

“Pardon my tackiness, but that’s for me to know and for you to guess.”

You regret it instantly - it is tacky. But it’s also the safest way to end this conversation, as you have no intentions of discussing your sex life with Jungkook. Just like you wouldn’t if it actually existed. When your day-to-day job is to fuck people, most days, sleeping with someone for your own fun and benefit is just about the last thing you want to do.

He asks no further questions, so the two of you sit in silence while you think about how much you regret not leaving a smaller window of time between his and Seokjin’s arrival. In hindsight, it was a stupid decision. Yes, you spared Seokjin all the talk he already knows, but now you are left to either sit in silence or force a conversation with someone you find as interesting as a dirty sock. Sure, he’s attractive and you want to have your fun, but he seems so… limited. Blank. Uninteresting. You may be wrong and there’s might be a whole lot about him that you know nothing about, but you’re not particularly interested in knowing, either.

“Oh, thank God!” is your response to the doorbell, Seokjin coming in as your savior. You all but run to open it, smiling widely at the man who immediately reaches for a hug. Handsome as always, offering you his best, brilliant smile, and dressed as elegantly as possible, Seokjin is downright breathtaking tonight, just like he always is. Whenever you see him, no matter how often it is, he still manages to take your breath away at first glance and yeet you right back to the memory of when the two of you first met.

He was among your first clients. He knew it, too; whether someone informed him beforehand, or if he figured it out thanks to your nervousness - you didn’t know and you don’t know still, as he refused to elaborate whenever you bothered asking. Seokjin is as demanding as he is comforting and as sure of what he wants as he is nice. If you lived in a different world, you can easily imagine him being your end-all, be-all. In this world, however, in the only reality that you have a say in, he can only be the one thing you need him to be: your favorite customer.

“Y/N, my love,” he greets you as he pulls away from the hug, giving you a kiss on each cheek. “It’s always the greatest pleasure to see you.”

“You say that like we don’t meet every other week, Seokjin,” you remind him, gently smacking him on the chest. He laughs as you roll your eyes, your expression changing as you remember that you’re not quite as alone as you normally prefer to be. “Tonight is quite a bit different, though,” you point out, referencing the fact that it will not be just the two of you.

“Ah, yes,” he speaks with a wicked grin, as if your words have just awoken the beast within; perhaps they have, as you do know Seokjin loves his little mind games. He’s not a successful businessman for nothing: he knows how to work with people, and work the people themselves. “Is our special guest already here?” he asks.

“Waiting in the living room,” you inform him. “Go, introduce yourself. And be nice.”

“Fine, fine,” Seokjin whines, acting like a toddler whose favorite toy was just ripped out of their hands. “I’ll be nice. Will you be nice, though?”

“When am I not nice?” Seokjin complains, to which you laugh without hesitation, even rolling your eyes at him.

“Whenever being nice doesn’t suit you,” you point out, a deadpan look on your face. He knows you are right, too - the scowl on his face confirms it in his stead. “I’m serious Seokjin, he’s completely new to this,” you tell him, keeping your voice low, although you know that given your proximity to the living room, Jungkook will likely be able to hear you regardless. “We need to be gentle with him, at least at first. I don’t want him to freak out on us and for all of this to be useless and a waste of all our time.”

“Goodness Seokjin, what kind of question is that?” you ask, feigning innocence. “When am I not nice?” you ask, using his own words against him. When he doesn’t respond, other than scowling at you, you laugh at his visible irritation. It causes him to march away from you and into the living room, introducing himself to a still extremely nervous Jungkook.

The conversation between them is brief and, from what you could see on the surface, comfortable. Seokjin talks a lot of shit, and he loves playing his games but below the surface, he truly is a kind man, and as soon as he could see how out of his depth Jungkook is, he turned up his charm to a higher notch. His voice was calm and reassuring, and even though they were not discussing what was going to happen tonight, you could tell that Jungkook was no longer nervous in his presence. In fact, when you compare it with how he was earlier, when he was one on one with you, he was definitely more nervous before.

Knowing that you need to speak to Seokjin in private, you all but shoo Jungkook into your guest bedroom, with the excuse that he needs to make sure that everything is in place and good to go. He jumps at the chance, mumbling under his breath about lighting and angles, and you make a quick escape back to Seokjin.

He was waiting for you, sitting casually on your couch with his legs crossed, one of his eyebrows raised in what you can only describe as an expectant way - as if he is waiting for more details, an explanation, something.

“What?” you ask, suddenly feeling entirely way too judged, not hiding your defensiveness.

“You are having way too much fun with this, aren’t you?” he asks.

“I’m not,” you bite back, sitting down on the couch. “And even if I was, wouldn’t that be the point? If I’m going to fuck people for a living, the least I can hope for is to enjoy it, at least occasionally.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Seokjin chuckles at your response, gently shaking his head. Yet again, you feel entirely way too judged. “That guy is your type, through and through. He’s the reason you agreed to do this, not to feed the exhibitionist side of you. You want to rope him in and have him be part of the play, don’t you?”

“He’s already a part of it,” you remind him in a hiss, fearing that Jungkook might appear at the door at any second, hearing this stupidity. “This is going to be new and different for all of us and he is already a willing participant. Now, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when we both go sex-crazed in that room, but I promise you, nothing will happen unless all three of us give explicit consent to it,” you say, both as another reminder and another warning.

“I know that Y/N; this is hardly my first rodeo,” there’s an edge in his voice as he speaks, reminding you that as much as you consider him a friend, right now, he is just a paying client. “What I’m asking is whether or not you want it to happen. He needs to agree, yes, but so do we, and my choice will be heavily influenced by yours.”

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, confused if he would hypothetically want it or not.

“If you want to have your fun, play a game and get him to give in, it’s alright with me. But if you don’t, or if it’s not something you particularly care about, I’m fine with completely ignoring both him and his little camera. You know how I work in these situations, Y/N.”

That you do. Seokjin is one of the rare specimens that equally care about your pleasure as much as he cares about his. In this world, in this industry, he’s a diamond in the rough. On paper, you are nothing more than a vessel for his pleasure, but he has never treated you like a living, moving sex doll - your satisfaction is right up there with his, on his list of priorities.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you tell him honestly, not wanting to make any promises you won’t be able to keep or will come into temptation to break. “I’ll keep my focus on you like I always do. And we’ll see where it goes from there. You know I don’t want him to be a part of it if he doesn’t - I would never forgive myself if that were to happen.”

“Fat chance of that,” Seokjin laughs at you, giving you a look that makes you question your intelligence. “When you get in the zone, I doubt he’ll be able to keep his eyes off you. But it’s okay - I will be there and will make sure all three of us are on the same page.”

“That should be my job,” you remind him, the guilt slowly building up inside of you at the thought of your client being the brains of the operation, and not you. It shouldn't be that way, not now, not ever. Seokjin can be a safe haven in a situation like this because you already have a fairly strong trust between you, but even so, it’s not how it should be. You are supposed to be the one who keeps control of it all, both for your safety and the clients’ satisfaction. At the very least, this is the first hiccup of this kind that you’ve experienced - it’s not enough to make you question what the fuck you are even doing in this line of work.

“It can’t be your job now, not when you’re interested in him in some capacity,” Seokjin counters, keeping his voice low, which you appreciate greatly. “He’s not a client or a worker and that is both a blessing and a curse. So let me take care of that. For your own sanity.”

He has a good point but you are reluctant to admit that - just as much as you hesitate to accept your own defeat. Faced with what’s about to happen, you are painfully aware of how better it sounded on paper than it actually is in reality.

You’ll have to keep your focus on Seokjin and Seokjin alone; that’s the only way you can do this right, without wronging him or Jungkook. Hell, it’s the only way to not wrong yourself.

“Alright,” you agree, trusting Seokjin to take the reins and navigate you in the right direction. It hasn’t turned around to bite you on the ass thus far, so you hope that this time will be no different. “We do it like we usually do. Nothing’s different - it’s just us.”

Before he can say anything, you are interrupted by Jungkook’s entrance; for a flash, not more than a second, he looked relaxed and casual, but the moment he faced both you and Seokjin, he turned right back into that scared guy he was earlier. “Um. Everything is set up,” he announces. “I will walk you through the set-up whenever you are ready.”

“I think we should all finish our drinks first, don’t you agree?” Seokjin suggests. Both you and Jungkook silently agree, you continuing to sip from your almost empty glass and Jungkook walking over to the seat he previously occupied.

Your guest bedroom is exactly the same as it was when you have finished cleaning it, aside from a tripod holding what you, a complete rookie in filmmaking, would describe as a fairly simple camera. The lights are a bit brighter than you would normally have them, as you do prefer to keep them dimmed, but other than that, everything is exactly the same as it was before, and the little changes that have been made, you can completely understand.

The thing that catches your attention more than anything else, however, is the camera that is in Jungkook’s hands. The tripod is easy to understand, one angle, the whole time, fairly simple - just the way you like it.

He must notice what your attention is directed to because he nervously starts swaying, lifting the camera up, and forcing an awkward smile. “I figured that it would be best if we have one stationary camera and another one with me,” he starts explaining. “I understand that romance perhaps isn’t the goal tonight, but I’d hate to kill the mood when instructing you to move a bit to the left. This way, I will be the one that is moving. It should be easier… for you, I mean. If we do it this way,” he finishes. Who is this stuttering man and what the fuck he had done to the unfazed, perhaps even cocky, Jungkook that you have known thus far?

“So, let me see if I understand this fully,” Seokjin starts, jumping onto the bed. He doesn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable, leaning against the headboard, even propping one of your many pillows so that he can sit straight. “We fuck, you walk around the room and film us. And this goes on until we decide we’ve had enough or till the camera batteries die?”

“Well, that is the idea, yes,” Jungkook awkwardly responds, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Or until you decide to stop. Whatever comes first, I suppose.”

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it!

“That’s what she said,” Seokjin blurts out, unable to stop himself. You’re not surprised at all to hear Jungkook laugh. You, however, can only close your eyes, holding inside a sigh that desperately wanted to escape you. It’s bad enough that you have to deal with one dork on a regular, as you knew that Seokjin was going to squeeze that joke into the conversation, at one point or another - but to know that the other one is also a dork that will laugh at it? The more time you spend with them, together, the more you’re sure this was a bad idea.

Without uttering a single word, you grab Seokjin by the shirt, unfazed by a welp that escapes him, and push him to lay down on the bed, which he does with a laugh, obviously amused with what he likely sees as your impatience. Looking behind him and focusing your attention on Jungkook, you catch the look of surprise before he gets to mask it. You nod towards the camera in his hand. “You’d better turn that thing on. I’m tired of the two of you. So…” you look down at Seokjin, the way he sits up on the bed, looking up at you with a cheeky grin; he was expecting you to snap, you realize. It really should come as no surprise that he knows you as well as you know him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

With no further ado, you plant yourself on Seokjin’s lap and bring him in for a kiss, your bathrobe slipping off your shoulder in the process.

You know this man; his likes and dislikes, the feel of his lips, and the taste of his tongue, even to the point of craving it at times. You’d never admit that loud enough for him to hear, or even give him a chance to suspect it. It is easy to forget yourself with him in front of you, both pliant and willing yet somehow, assertive and formidable. He is a mixture of contradictions; one hell of a cocktail, one that could easily get you drunk, no matter how high of a tolerance you have, or how often you allow yourself a sip or two.

His hands are firmly on your hips, following your movements as you start grinding against him - very slowly, with little to no pressure. You always move like this, at first. In this line of work, foreplay is often ignored, so when you find a client that enjoys it, you take full advantage of that. And by god, Seokjin is a bitch for foreplay.

He moves the kiss from your lips to your neck, knowing exactly what your favorite spot is - you respond with running a hand through his hair, gently tugging at the ends of it, relishing the low grunt he lets out at your actions. That groan is signal enough for you to slowly grind against him with just a little more force, just enough to make him tell the difference, but not enough to make him lose his mind - not yet, at least.

It doesn’t take him long to grab you and pull you closer to himself, shifting both your bodies to the side; you think the change is him being mindful of the tripod camera, but you don’t bother asking. The subtle grinding motions you were making have now turned into proper dry humping, with you moving in the same way you would if his cock was inside you. The grip of his hands is firmer and he lifts his hips to meet your own; he is becoming greedy, pressing kisses down your chest, completely pushing away the fabric from your body, leaving you in nothing but the carefully selected lace bra that you have picked out only for the sake of visual, as the lace doesn’t really hide anything behind it.

Already, you are lost. He knows all the right places and all the right moves, and with you pressed so tightly against him, it was impossible for you to not get turned on, to not get wet for him. You can feel it, mentally cursing yourself for ruining such a good pair of underwear, but you really wanted to look pretty on camera.

Your eyes snap open as you are reminded of what for a moment, you were actually able to forget - the camera. But the one on the tripod is behind you, capturing what you imagine is the perfect view of Seokjin grabbing your ass as your bodies move.

The camera that you are facing isn’t on a tripod; it’s in Jungkook’s hands. The exact moment you realize that he’s holding it, your eyes connect with his.

It’s so wrong, so filthy, but you moan - not sure if it’s because of the way Jungkook is looking at you or because Seokjin moved your bra enough to take your nipple between his lips, and has begun sucking on it gently. Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as saucers and he is not looking away from you, your face. You can’t read his expression, and you don’t think you’d be able to even if Seokjin wasn’t doing his damn best to distract you. The look on Jungkook’s face is blank, completely blank, as if nothing except you even exists to be looked at. In a moment of sudden clarity, you realize that he is not even holding the camera properly, but before you can say anything, Seokjin is pulling you down for a kiss.

You want to close your eyes and break up the eye contact between you; end any sort of connection that might be forming within just one look, but you can’t. You try, and for a moment, it works, but not even a heartbeat after you closed them, your eyes are open again, searching for him, wanting to bask in the way he looks at you. He can tell what you are doing, you are being obvious, but there isn’t anything you can do about it. Just like you, he tries to look away, focusing on the position of his camera and no longer holding it at an angle, but the very next second, he comes back to you, his eyes searching for yours, focusing on you and nothing but you.

This is dangerous. It’s dangerous, it’s wrong, and it’s not going according to plan. It’s not even in accordance with your secret, the shameful one that a part of you still hopes could come to fruition.

“Do I have to put my cock inside of you to get you to focus on me?” Seokjin’s voice startles you and is what finally makes you focus on him, and not on your impromptu cameraman. While both his words and voice are menacing, you see the smirk on Seokjin’s face when you pull away - a smirk that tells you he is teasing you, teasing Jungkook and just playing around with the situation he has found himself in. He’s not insulted or hurt, not really; he is just having fun. “Cat got your tongue, baby?” he teases you further, an expectant look plastered on his face, paired with a shit-eating grin. Oh, he loves this.

“No, baby,” you respond sweetly, smiling down at him, playing along to what he wants. “We are taking it nice and slow, just the way you like.”

“You mean long and dirty, as you are still trying to make me come in my pants?” he laughs.

“Wouldn’t be the first time for that to happen, would it?” you ask, having a very clear memory playing in your head - back when he was still a fairly new client but also an early favorite, you and Seokjin had the time of your lives with edging one another. While you may have won that round, your current position only confirms that you have definitely not won the war.

“Definitely not,” Seokjin laughs in response, grinning wickedly at you. “Are you sure you don’t want to turn this into a competition? Dry humping like crazy and we see who cums first?” he suggests, and although it sounds tempting, you don’t like losing.

“No, you’re at an unfair advantage,” you remind him. He already knows - he knows how you were eyeing Jungkook, just how aware you are of his presence and what it does to you. You would lose, shamefully fast. “How does that cock in my mouth sound, huh?” you change the topic, knowing that Seokjin’s love of blowjobs can definitely play in your favor.

“It sounds heavenly, my love,” Seokjin agrees easily and with that, you move into action. As he makes himself comfortable on the bed, you finally get rid of your bathrobe completely, dropping it on the ground without a care in the world. However, once you help Seokjin take off his pants, you aren’t focused on the bulge in his boxers - your attention is on folding the pants properly and setting them carefully on the bedside table, ignoring Seokjin’s impatient sigh. This is more your thing than Seokjin’s, as he has plenty of money to waste and you are the one that can’t stand the idea of designer clothes stained with cum. Unless it’s a competition, of course - in that case, hell, you’d even consider keeping them as a very special souvenir.

Now, with Seokjin legs spread before you and his cock demanding your attention, this will become effortless. Getting down on your knees by the edge of the bed, you drag Seokjin’s underwear down, eyes glued to the dick that you’ve finally freed. Always so hard for you, so easily. Both Seokjin and his dick are a joy to you, and you don’t want to waste your time with even more teasing. With no warning, you put your lips around his dick and take it in, deeply.

“Fuck!” Seokjin exclaims when he feels you reaching the base of his cock on the first go - you’ve never done that to him before, he is not used to you going from zero to sixty with no warning or preparation. He likes it, though - he’s not particularly vocal in bed, not unless you are driving him insane in the best possible ways. And oh, how he is not quiet now. A string of curses, mixed with low grunts and higher-pitched moans leave him with ease, as you give him what has to be the most focused blowjob you’ve ever given to anyone.

You change your speed, going from slow to fast, watching as he is lulled into a false sense of security before you take him in all the way, swallowing around it. If you could, you would smile at Seokjin’s reaction, but your mouth is busy. You play around as much as you can, going from gentle licks to harsh sucks, from lazy bobs of your head to forcing him down your throat as much as you can, do your darn best to stay there as long as possible, your nose touching the skin of his stomach as you choke on his cock, holding it out for no other benefit than his pleasure. It works - he has to beg for you to stop before you finally let go of his cock, looking at it in awe - wet from your spit, red from the teasing. You have no doubt that your makeup is ruined completely but you also know it adds to the cinematic effect - which is exactly why you theatrically wipe at your mouth and chin, fully aware of Jungkook’s eyes on you and his camera catching every move you make.

While you were busy choking on a cock, Jungkook actually started doing his job. You didn’t acknowledge it in any way, nor do you now, with your eyes only on Seokjin, but when you lick your own spit from your hand, you know the sight of that action affects them both.

“Oh, how you are filthy and messy today…” Seokjin sighs, looking down at you in pure adoration. This moment, this look and understanding between the two of you are exactly why you never want to lose him as a regular. He knows you, he likes you and he makes sure that you are always as comfortable as he is. While it may be a product of your imagination, you simply projecting what you want to see, it feels like he gives you respect in turn for the pleasure that you give him. Maybe it is imaginary, but you definitely believe you see it now.

“I’m always filthy and messy for you,” you remind him cheekily.

“Ride me?” he asks.

Oh. Alright. That’s not how you normally work, not really. Seokjin loves eating you out just as much as you love to have him eat you out - it’s always a part of your routine, without question. And as you know that you are guaranteed to come all over his face every time he does it, you truly are disappointed that he is asking to skip it.

Why? Did you drive him that close to coming when you blew him? Is he saving it for later? Questions swarm your mind as you kneel in front of him, speechless. He must sense your hesitation because he smiles down at you. Not a teasing, wicked smile, but the real one, the one where his eyes close a little and small dimples appear on his cheeks. He is silently telling you to trust him, to follow his lead. You’ve never doubted him before, so why would you start now?

Slowly getting up on your feet, you take that time to take off your bra, smiling when Seokjin curses at the sight of your naked breasts, as if his face wasn’t nestled between them just minutes ago. He is a boob man, if you ever saw one.

“Are you wet?” he checks as you straddle him, your underwear still on - another one of his likes. Well, mutual likes. There’s something about the sight of lace underwear moved to the side, just enough for your cunt to be seen and to take his dick. You aren’t able to catch a good view of it now, but you definitely will when you go over tonight’s recording if Jungkook’s camera work is any good.

“Drenched,” you reassure him as you angle his dick against your entrance, sitting on it in one go; he stretches you out in a way that is borderline uncomfortable, but you are wet enough to make it doable. You don’t want to waste time and at this point, you’d rather take the stretch than prolong your torture. So, as soon as you feel like your body is on the same page as you are, which thankfully only lasts a moment or two, you start moving, leaning closer to Seokjin as your lower half does all the work for you. You watch his reaction as you ride him, going almost to the point of him slipping out of you, only to slam yourself back down on his cock.

“You’re going to kill me,” Seokjin concludes with a loud laugh; you only respond with a smile and a clench of your cunt around him, earning a curse that he mutters under his breath. “Oh, you’re definitely going to kill me!”

“Hush now,” you instruct him. “The less we talk, the better the video will be.”

“Says who?” he laughs; a laugh that is cut off when you squeeze around him again, with all your might. He knows that it’ll be easier if he keeps his mouth shut, as everything that reveals your identity, including your voices, will have to be cut out from the final product. You wonder if Jungkook will put some cheesy porn music in the background; the thought makes you laugh out loud, something that Seokjin frowns at. “Oh no, you did not just laugh while fucking yourself on my cock!”

You roll your eyes at his antics, but when he locks you in his embrace and starts fucking up into you, you don’t stop him; after all, it’s definitely more fun if he does all the work.

It feels good; too good, even. It’s not often that Seokjin goes for rough and tough like this, and fast, too, but when he does, it’s always done well; it’s not mindless fucking, like so many opt for. No, Seokjin knows the exact tempo that your body prefers, and luckily for both of you, his body likes it, too. Holding onto the headboard of the bed, you allow yourself to get lost in his thrusts and the nasty sound of skin hitting against skin. You don’t hold back your reactions, letting him know with moans and sighs just how good he’s making you feel. You don’t praise him, though, knowing that you want this part to be heard in the video.

A loud clack distracts you; it comes from behind you, alerting you to the fact that Jungkook is still with you, in the room; before you can remember a reason why you should stop yourself, you turn around, just in time for Seokjin to slam into you faster, making you freeze in spot for a moment. Your brain experiences a short circuit and by the time you compose yourself, Jungkook had noticed it. And you can clearly see it on his face, in the way he swallows a lump in his throat, at the way he stares at you, and sure enough, when you look down to check, in the way his cock is hardened enough for you to notice on a quick glance.

Fuck. He’s hard, he is watching, and he likes it. You wish that the slew of sounds you make as soon as you realize it is Seokjin’s doing, but his cock and its slamming barely compares to the way you are aroused at the realization that Jungkook likes this. You should have seen it coming, and in a way, you did, mentally preparing yourself for the unpreparable, but you still are surprised at the realization that he finds the sight in front of him arousing.

“Someone likes watching, huh?”

Seokjin voice breaks the spell, drawing your attention to him and away from Jungkook. He knew, he knew from the moment you suggested Jungkook’s idea to him and you are well aware of that, but it is something else entirely to know that you are caught; he caught you looking away from him, focusing on the second party, and once you return you focus to him, you know it’s too late. The grin on his face tells you that he will milk this for all its worth; and if you end up being collateral damage to him, so be it.

“Seokjin…” you warn him, making a conscious effort to not react to him fucking you harder; it’s not easy, as he knows exactly what you like, where, and how you like it.

“You’re literally getting wetter by the second,” his reply is quiet, and paired with the sound your bodies make, there’s a strong chance that Jungkook didn’t hear him at all. “You’re enjoying yourself a lot, aren’t you, Jungkook?” Seokjin teases him again.

You’re glad you have your back turned to him because his silence says more than his words could if he spoke; this way, without facing him, you don’t have to face the realization that this won’t end the way it started - with just Seokjin and yourself. The realization fills you with dread as much as it ramps up your arousal.

“What is it with the two of you and staying silent?” Seokjin sounds irritated, suddenly stopping his movements inside of you. Before panic can overpower you, he looks up at you. “Turn around and fuck yourself on my cock. If he wants to watch, the least we can do is give him a better look, don’t you think?”

“Seokjin,” you try again, but you know it’s useless.

“I said turn around, and fuck yourself on my cock,” he speaks firmly, giving you a stern look. Despite knowing that you can pull back and put a stop to this, deep down, you really don’t want to. As troubling as it is, as scared as you are, you are also excited, and yes, you do want to drive Jungkook insane; you want to see him lose himself, to watch him come in his pants and if you’re lucky enough, hear him moaning your name. You want it all and Seokjin knows it. As bossy as he sounds, he’s actually doing you a favor.

You lie to yourself that you have no other choice and you’re delusional enough to believe that lie; without saying anything to stop this, you lift your body away from Seokjin’s, ignoring the way his hard cock slams against his stomach. Quickly, with your eyes glued to the bed and not to where Jungkook stands, you turn around, kneeling over Seokjin and placing your hands on the bed. Taking his cock in your hand, you align it with your cunt and without a word or reaction, you let it slide into you again.

You move your body without giving it much thought, not finding it surprising that you’re not enjoying this. It’s difficult to enjoy it, when you’re forcing your own head down, avoiding looking anywhere at him, and not having Seokjin as a distraction.

Actually, Seokjin is a distraction. But that of the worst kind.

“Why won’t you look at him, Y/N?” he asks, continuing with his mind games. “He can’t take his eyes off you, at least you can give him a look.”

While his words make the entire ordeal a little more enjoyable for you, still, you refuse to listen; you don’t want to be the one to do it first. Seokjin is all talk and no game, and you will not back Jungkook into a corner. If that means you will not make eye contact with him for the remainder of the night, then so be it.

“I enjoy how the both of you are fighting something you obviously want,” Seokjin laughs, still refusing to let up. “Your act is cracking, my friends. At this point, Y/N, you should just look at him and Jungkook, you should just start jerking off. Why the fuck not?”

Nothing changes - you continue moving, just like Seokjin ordered, and if Jungkook reacts in any way, you don’t see it. Other than the wet sound of your and Seokjin’s body’s meeting and Seokjin’s occasional, low grunt, you don’t hear a single thing.

“I’ll admit that I don’t understand why the fuck you’re holding back,” Seokjin speaks up after a few long, torturous moments. “But I don’t mind something happening between you. I don’t mind you looking at each other, or touching yourselves. Live a little! If you’re waiting for my permission, you have it! Have fun, take advantage of the opportunity!”

He is smart with his words, tempting you to do exactly as he says. Would it really be that bad? If you were to look at Jungkook? No, it wouldn’t. He’d live, you’d live and Seokjin will gloat himself to an early grave. It wouldn’t be nearly as bad, or as dramatic, as you’re making it out to be. Seokjin’s words so easily lull you into a sense of security, one that you snap out of just as you are about to embrace it. No. You can’t. You can’t be the one.

“Can I?”

Jungkook’s voice is tiny, the words spoken so sheepishly, you wonder if they’re a product of your imagination. Worried that your mind and fantasy had officially taken you too far, you decide to risk it all and look up. No, you did not imagine it. Jungkook is looking at you like you are the only person in the room, in this world, like Seokjin doesn’t even exist. Desire is all but spelled out on his face, his eyes silently asking you for permission, just as his lips did moments ago because no, you didn’t imagine it.

All your movements stop. Frozen in place, feeling like it expands to time and space, too, you stare at him, waiting, wondering if he will back out, or push through. You dare not look away, dare not check if he’s harder than he was before, or if he is about to come in his pants at the sight of you fucking another man. You don’t move and you don’t say anything, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for anything, really.

“Can I?” he asks again in a pleading voice. Fuck, he really is asking you for permission. He wants it, Seokjin already allowed it all - you are the one with the final call, with all the power in your hands. And yet, your decision was made long before you walked into this room.

“Yes.”

Finally free of the invisible reigns, Jungkook moves, pressing the palm of his hand on his hard dick, rubbing at it through the material of his jeans. You watch in silence, resuming your movements as you continue to ride Seokjin. It’s a fascinating sight, to see Jungkook like this; it’s something that has crossed your mind before tonight, but you never tried to chase it. Now it’s theatrically presented for you to take and enjoy.

“Now that’s better,” Seokjin’s voice doesn’t break the spell this time; somehow, it enhances it. His commentary would normally take you out of the situation, just like it did before, but it no longer did that. Now, it just turned you on more. “She likes watching you, you know.”

Whether or not Jungkook needed that kind of reassurance, you don’t know, but you’re glad that Seokjin provided it. You do enjoy it and you’d rather not be the one talking. The less you talk, the better; you will have fewer things to ignore on Monday morning. You’ll never be able to look at him without seeing him wide-eyed and turned on, but at the very least, your mind won’t be replaying your words. You want to tease him, push him further, to bask in the way he is staring at you and commenting on each and every move he makes, but you can’t be the one that does that. Not if you want to maintain some form of professionality later.

“Jungkook, why aren’t you touching yourself properly?” Seokjin asks him, and you hope the question will be answered because Seokjin will just keep pressing if it’s not; he’s not a guy that backs away from a challenge and unless Jungkook says he doesn’t want to, he will keep on pushing him. “You both are so worked up and neither of you is doing anything about it? Why aren’t you touching one another? Do you need me to order it?”

“What, what do you want us to do?” you snap at him before you can stop yourself. He doesn’t understand; of course he doesn’t, as this won’t follow him whatsoever. The only way in which this will be in the forefront of his mind is if he is rehashing it the next time the two of you meet if he uses it to tease you. “In case you don’t get it, this is nerve-racking.”

“Y/N, I watched you take two cocks at once,” Seokjin’s voice leaves it easy for you to imagine just how unamused he looks. “You’re not a nervous little angel; you’re a hungry slut, we both know that. So if he won’t touch himself properly, why don’t you touch him?”

You look at Jungkook, seeing the panic in his eyes as clear as day. “Jungkook, we’re going to need you to start speaking,” you say, no longer sounding kind. It’s frustrating; he can’t be half-in, half-out. You are either doing this or you’re not. “Do you want us to have a threesome or not? You know the rules - you say the word, and this is stopping,” you remind him. You’re surprised when you feel Seokjin slipping out of you, but it makes you realize that you haven’t been moving ever since he berated you mid-fuck. You turn to check on him, wondering if you’ve irritated him somehow, but he is looking at Jungkook, waiting.

“You’re both okay with this?” Jungkook asks, his hand falling dumbly to his side as he stops pressing at his cock. “I’m not the only one that wants it, you’re both on board?”

“Yes,” you confirm, albeit reluctantly. You aren’t doubting your desires - you’re worried these words will be used against you. But hell, if they are, you’ll just remind him how desperately he was touching himself at the sight of someone else fucking you; either way, you win.

“Absolutely,” Seokjin shrugs. “In my mind, as long as you two agreed to it, it was always going to lead up to this. Now - do you need me to order the two of you around or will you de-petrify yourself and do something?”

Jungkook isn’t going to be the one to make the first move, you’re aware of that much. He still looks mildly frightened, and at this point, you have a strong suspicion that he is entirely submissive when it comes to sexual preferences. It would make sense, as you often see people who are in positions of power, or that have some arrogance about them, fall to their knees at your mercy, just because they want it like that. Jungkook fits that pattern perfectly - you shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation whatsoever. And now that you know that he wants it, and isn’t having second thoughts, you know that you need to be the one to make the next move.

With the insecurities settled and buried, you show no signs of hesitation as you get off the bed and walk towards where Jungkook is standing. To his credit, he doesn’t back away from you like prey about to be devoured; he stands calmly, his eyes scanning up and down your body as you move closer. Once in front of him, you take the camera out of his hand and place it on the desk behind him. Without a warning, you press your own hand against his hardness, smiling at the gasp that he lets out. For a moment, the two of you stay like that, staring at each other in silence, your hand casually resting against his clothed dick. Impatient, you stand on your tiptoes and kiss him. Finally, that is what makes him unfreeze; the second your lips are on his, he’s kissing you back with vigor, his hands finding a place on your waist immediately. His cold hands leave goosebumps behind as they travel across your naked back, the kiss deepening very quickly. He is so passionate in the way he kisses you, his tongue moving against your expertly, you have to remind yourself that you should be touching him, too. While he is preoccupied with showing you just what a great kisser he is, you are fumbling with his jeans, in a rush to get his dick out.

A part of you wants to scream when he moans into your mouth at the feel of your hand touching his cock directly, with no barrier between. He is as hard as he can possibly be, and while your movements are slow, your grip isn’t gentle at all. Prying yourself out of the kiss, you quickly spit on the palm of your other hand, and before he can realize what you’re doing, you’re kissing him again, using your spit-covered hand to jerk him off instead. He loves it, as you are happy to realize that he is incredibly vocal - much more than Seokjin is.

“Why don’t you give him a blowjob, sweetheart?” Seokjin suggests, reminding both yourself and Jungkook that you are not alone. “He deserves it, look how fucking hard he is for you.”

You can’t argue with that; as you pull away from Jungkook, you notice the unspoken plea in his eyes - he doesn’t want to stop kissing you. Seeing it, you reassure him with a wink and a small smile, knowing he’ll much prefer what you’re about to do next. Without saying anything, you get down on your knees, his cock now directly in your view. He’s big; bigger than you thought he’d be if you’re being honest. Not as girthy as Seokjin’s cock is, but definitely not anything you’d have a complaint about. The desire to tease him awakens again, as you barely stop yourself from wondering out loud if he’d know how to use it well; you bite your tongue and shake the thought out of your head - it’s way too soon to know how he’d react to that, and honestly, you really just want to suck his dick.

“Fuck, Y/N!” he hisses out the moment you take him into your mouth. Indeed, your name sounds so good coming from his mouth - with that in mind, with the desire to hear it again, you don’t hold back, going as crazy over his cock as you did over Seokjin’s. You have a feeling that he too, likes it messy, and that’s more than alright with you. Looking up at him, you find that the man looking at you is no longer the wide-eyed, confused and frankly, lost guy he was before he realized you want this as much as he does; now you only see hunger and nothing more, as he devours the sight of you - you watch as his eyes are firmly planted on your lips, watching the way your lips move against him with every bob of your head. He is hypnotized and your ego is blossoming.

“There’s a reason why I never paid for another worker,” Seokjin chuckles behind you, making you realize that he decided to come closer to the two of you. You don’t pay attention to him, or what he is saying, until he is standing right next to Jungkook, taking the camera from the desk; he puts it directly next to you, likely catching a perfect profile shot of you choking on Jungkook’s cock. You ignore the camera too, looking up at the guy above you, basking in his reactions - he is unbashful with his moaning, sometimes breaking those breathy sounds with low grunts. A whole symphony of sounds that you wish you could replay whenever you feel like it. Hell, if the camera is good, you will. “Look how hungry she is for your cock. Isn’t it magnificent? She actually loves giving pleasure. If in the right mindset, of course,” Seokjin chuckles knowingly, and if your eyes weren’t watering from the way Jungkook’s dick hits the back of your throat, you’d glare at him. “She’s also splendid when bossy - would you like to see that? Have her order you around? Tease you?”

“I’d let her do whatever the fuck she wants to do,” Jungkook somehow manages to respond. “I’d play along to anything she wants - anything.”

While that notion makes you incredibly happy and proud, you don’t get to react to it before Seokjin starts laughing. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart. Those words might just awake a beast, and when she is in beast mode, you won’t know what hit you.”

“You only make me want to experience it even more,” Jungkook manages to utter, but his words are cut short when you very carefully graze your teeth against his skin; you don’t miss the way he reaches for the desk behind him for purchase, his knuckles turning white with the force he is holding onto it.

“That’s the beauty of this,” Seokjin tells him, his voice sounding as sultry as it does when he speaks to you in similar situations; good, because you know this will be a lot more fun if they interact. One too many times, you had guys who wanted to tag team and basically just ignored each other if you weren’t in the middle. This? The way Seokjin is purring at him and standing right next to him, almost as if he’s ready to catch him… this was hot as all hell. You could watch them for hours, but you decide to keep your focus on Jungkook’s cock alone, at least for now. “We can do whatever we want, baby.”

While sucking on the tip of his cock, you decide to use your hands; one to jerk off parts of him that aren’t in your mouth and the other to grab at Jungkook’s balls. He moans, and the realization that the moan is muffled makes you look up.

Your mouth drops, his cock just awkwardly hanging in your hand, as you take in the sight in front of you. Seokjin and Jungkook are kissing, so passionately that you can even see their tongues gliding against one another; Seokjin is the one taking the lead, but Jungkook doesn’t hold back either, grabbing him by the neck to pull him closer. At this moment, you and your hands on his dick and balls are completely irrelevant; all that he sees and feels is Seokjin. And you? You can just stare in awe, so incredibly turned on at the sight of the two of them giving into pleasure. Admittedly, you always did have a thing for watching others, but given your partners for the night, you very much want to be included. With your eyes focused on their lips and the way they are making out, you finally focus on Jungkook’s cock again; you know it’s a product of your imagination, but right now, it feels even harder in your hand than it did before they went for it.

Not wanting to leave Seokjin hanging (even if he is preoccupied with sticking his tongue down Jungkook’s throat), you let go of Jungkook’s balls and switch hands, simultaneously jerking them off while sucking on the tip of Jungkook’s cock. Your action makes Seokjin break their kiss to laugh, only to proceed to look down on you, fondly.

He nudges Jungkook with his elbow, nodding towards you. “Look at this beautiful, hungry slut. One cock isn’t enough, is it, beautiful?” he asks. You play along, moaning, and in your own way, agreeing with him. “Let go of his cock for a moment, sweetheart,” he tells you, and despite not really wanting to do that, you listen to him, taking deep breaths as soon as you pull away from Jungkook. You watch in silence as Seokjin turns to him. “Spit in her mouth - she’ll love it,” he urges him.

Fuck, that’ll end you on sight - he’s right, you will love it.

“Can I?” Jungkook is entirely too sweet, looking at you in search of an answer. The way he is asking you, just to be sure, makes you feel safe and respected and those aren’t exactly the feelings you’ve come to associate with Jungkook. It has all changed now.

“You’d better,” you find yourself laughing, opening up your mouth to signal him that you’re ready. Now that he knows you’re into it, he isn’t hesitant; he bends down to get closer to you, and the next second, spits into your mouth. A bit of it catches your lips and you theatrically stick your tongue out to collect it, smiling when Jungkook curses at the sight.

“See?” Seokjin laughs. “She loves it - the filthier, the better. Y/N, suck him off while I prepare a special treat,” he tells you, and although his tone is casual, you know an order when you hear one. Not that you need to be told twice; with his cock only an inch away from your face, it’s a damn shame not to have it in your mouth. So, you do just that, watching Seokjin’s next move from the corner of your eye. He kneels next to you, hand reaching to caress your back and as it slides down, you realize two things. One, he no longer has the camera and none of you are even thinking about filming. And two, you know what Seokjin’s about to do next. When his hand travels down your ass and between your legs, pushing your underwear to the side, you don’t even flinch when he drags his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting the wetness; you are completely soaked. He puts two fingers inside you for good measure, but before you can take advantage of their position and move your body against them, he removes them.

Wanting to see what he’s about to do next, you let Jungkook’s cock slip out of your mouth; he looks down in surprise, but before a complaint can be voiced, he is face to face with Seokjin’s hand and two very wet fingers. Both you and Jungkook gulp. “Lick it.”

Jungkook licking and sucking Seojin’s fingers is a hypnotizing sight, especially when you know that it’s you that he’s tasting. You’d drool some more if you weren’t drooling already. He is so into it and listens so well - both yourself and Seokjin. If someone had told you yesterday that he is this submissive, you wouldn’t believe them, but the more you find out, the more sense it makes. Though your hunch still tells you that he can be in charge when he wants to be - it’s just that today, he really just wants to do what he’s fucking told.

“Good boy,” Seokjin removes his fingers from Jungkook’s mouth, tapping him gently on the cheek, offering him an angelic smile. You grin at the two of them, watching Jungkook shudder at the pet name. “Now - how about we tackle Y/N at the same time, huh?” he suggests. You nod immediately, already imagining all the possibilities and how willing you are to agree on every single one of them. “One hole for each - how about you get a little treat and fuck her ass, huh? And I’ll fuck her wet cunt at the same time.”

Fucking hell, how you want that! You want it so much, you are tempted to spread your legs and tell them to go at it with no prep whatsoever; the thought of having two dicks inside you at the same time… God, you want that too much for it to be healthy.

To your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t seem too eager. Maybe he’s not into it? Not everyone is, after all. “I’d love to but… I’d never had anal.”

“Oh, baby boy,” you find yourself cooing; you’ll worry about that reaction later. “That’s more than okay. We can do it if you want to, Seokjin and I can guide you through everything. I’m ready and prepped, so you don’t have to worry about anything - just claim it.”

“Except he’d blow his load in a nanosecond,” Seokjin points out. Okay, true, but you have all night! “I have a better idea - how does a good old spit-roast sound, huh? I fuck your cunt and Jungkook fucks your throat? And then we’ll switch, of course.”

“Not as good as DP, but I’ll take it,” you pout, not hiding your disappointment. There’s time, though. You’ll keep your hopes up for later, and if it doesn’t work out, there’s nothing wrong with keeping a fantasy just that; a fantasy. It’ll give you something to think about as you go through the motions with clients you aren’t particularly keen on.

“Let’s get ourselves more comfortable and move to the bed, huh?” Seokjin suggests and without any complaints, you stand up, your legs a little shaky. You can see from the corner of your eye, as you move towards the bed, that Seokjin is taking Jungkook’s shirt off while he steps out of his jeans and boxers, and you take that time to your advantage; taking off your underwear. Completely ruined beyond repair, sadly. Wanting to tease the guys, once they remember your presence, that is, you get on the bed and kneel, ass up in the air and towards them. The camera still placed on a tripod can’t catch your position well, but you truly don’t care, and you don’t think they care, either.

Lucky for you, it doesn’t take them long to notice; moments later, you feel hands on your ass, caressing it, spreading your cheeks apart. With your head against a pillow, you think how you could stay here, like this, for hours. You don’t recognize the touch, but a feeling tells you that it’s Seokjin; Jungkook is still very much hesitant unless he gets an order from either one of you. The cute, subby boy that he had turned into wouldn’t dare grab at your ass without asking one or both of you, first.

“Give me your hand,” you hear Seokjin say, and this makes you turn your head to the side, trying to see what it is that they are doing. You catch him sucking on Jungkook’s index finger, looking directly into his eyes as he did so. If you’re melting at the sight, you can only imagine what Jungkook is feeling. Seokjin lets go of his finger and guides his hand towards you; you and Jungkook exchange a look, and you add a nod for good measure, confirming that he can do whatever it is that Seokjin wants him to do. “You need to feel it. I want you to feel it, and imagine what it would feel like around your cock.”

You’re a smart girl who is always ready for the unexpected; your favorite butt plug had spent an hour or two in its rightful place today, and now, with Jungkook’s finger circling your opening, you know that you will enjoy it. He is still hesitant, likely overwhelmed at the idea. You help him out, pushing your ass back into him, showing him with your body language that you want it; goosebumps cover your skin as his finger touches your hole, circling it gently. Whether it’s the nerves or he likes a good build-up, he takes his sweet time, and while you would normally push him to move it, you let him play around. Once his finger finally sinks into you, you allow a comfortable moan to escape you, showing him that it feels good.

“Fuck, it’s so tight,” Jungkook utters in amazement.

“Imagine it squeezing your cock,” Seokjin tells him and this time, you’re the one that curses. It’s just unfair how he’s painting that picture inside your head, when you know that it won’t be happening, at least not yet. The feeling doesn’t last long, as Jungkook either doesn’t want to do it anymore, or the very idea Seokjin’s proposing is too much for him to handle; he is no longer touching you, and you’re glad they can’t see your face because if you were facing them, they’d see how sulky you’ve become.

Before you get to tell them that they should at least try doing something, Seokjin moves; he flips you around, as if you are a ragdoll, with complete ease and no warning. If anyone else dared do that to you, you would snap at them in response; not at Seokjin, though. Never at him. At him, you can only smile, let him spread your legs wide, presenting a perfect view of your wet cunt to both himself and Jungkook. “Jungkook, baby, you fuck her mouth first and take the camera; you’re going to want to have footage of your cock down her throat.”

You immediately know what he wants to do, and you move on the bed until your head is hanging off the side of it; Seokjin climbs to join you, nestling himself between your legs. Looking up, you can see that he has a camera in his hand, and when you look at Jungkook from where he stands above you, you realize that he had taken the tripod camera. Even upside-down, you see how nervous he is; you wink and smile, opening your mouth to show him that you want it. And this time around, he smiles back at you.

They both enter you at the exact same time. It’s overwhelming in the best way, as you want to moan at the feeling of Seokjin bottoming out, but you can’t, because Jungkook is fucking your mouth, slowly, moving his cock a bit further with each subtle thrust. Seokjin isn’t as gentle, finding a decent speed that he follows to a T. Every jerk of your body makes you take in Jungkook’s cock more and soon enough, he doesn’t have to bother moving; Seokjin does it in his stead, moving your body in tandem with his.

Very suddenly, Jungkook pulls himself away from you; you are confused, but before you can ask him what happened, Seokjin speeds up his movements; in just one thrust, the thoughts you’ve had have evaporated from your mind and you can only focus on the way he’s hitting the right spot, mercilessly, with more force and speed than you can ever recall him using before; it’s like Jungkook’s presence is egging him on, not just making him more turned on.

“I was gonna come,” Jungkook explains as he places his hands on your shoulders, moving you to the side so that you are no longer hanging on the edge of the bed; Seokjin curses as it makes him slow down, but he recovers quickly, digging himself into you while at the same time roughly grabbing at your ass. Jungkook moves, joining you on the bed, and does something that doesn’t fit the moment whatsoever - caresses your face, kindness, and awe seeping out of his eyes from the way he looks at you. “If this is the only chance we have, I’m not wasting any cum.”

How can something be both touching and extremely filthy at the same time? Jungkook walks that line with his words, balancing the two, and as turned on as you are, you also just want to reassure him; grabbing him by the hair, you pull him in for a kiss, smiling into it at the breathy moan that is his reaction to the hair-pulling; of course, he has a thing for it, and you can think of so, so many ways of using that move to your advantage later, preferably if and when his head ends up between your legs. God, you hope it will.

“Jungkook, get that camera over here,” Seokjin grunts out. “You’re gonna want this shot.”

Jungkook listens to him, stops kissing you, and crawls across the bed; you watch in silence as he angles the camera, focusing on the shot of Seokjin’s cock entering your pussy. You watch in silence, still enjoying the motions but now that you know that you’re not going to come, you can enjoy the scene more than the feeling. Jungkook is so focused, gulping as he watches, both on the camera screen and when his eyes peek over the gadget to look at the real thing. And Seokjin… you can feel his sweat dripping onto your body, his hips stuttering and his bottom lip stuck between his teeth so hard, you wonder if he’ll draw blood.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t announce that he’s about to come, but you know him well enough to recognize it. His eyes close, his face in a grimace, and just seconds later, you can feel him filling you up. In an unusual way, it’s comforting. Some people like cuddles and bear hugs, others like the feeling of warm cum in their cunt - to each their own. With a few slower, gentler thrusts, he rides it out, and when he finally pulls away from you, he gives you a proud smile before looking down to observe his work. Jungkook all but pushes him to the side, bringing the camera closer to your center. You wish you could see, but for now, you will satisfy yourself with the feel of cum dripping out of you, proof of Seokjin’s satisfaction.

“Your turn,” Seokjin grins at Jungkook, smacking him on the back. “Fuck it back into her.”

Oh shit. You’re going to love this!

It’s different now; you very much enjoyed being fucked by Seokjin, but now that you know that you are… for lack of a better word, tainted with his cum and that Jungkook will use it to his advantage? And that he will fuck you while it is still inside? God, it already sends you into overdrive, and as you watch Jungkook not showing a single ounce of hesitation, you know for sure that you’ll be a goner soon. He doesn’t hold back, taking Seokjin’s place between your legs. This time, Seokjin is the one that films, and you moan at the feeling of Jungkook’s cock grazing your cunt; he gently jerks off, collecting the cum that dripped out of you and smearing it over your cunt with his dick. God, you can’t wait to see the footage of this!

“Please just fucking fuck me,” you sound exasperated, finally hitting the threshold of being turned on to the point of needing to come, or you’re going to lose your shit. It almost made you forget that you are the one that’s in charge, compared to him. Luckily, you catch yourself as soon as you slip. “Fuck me. Now!” you order, and this time, he takes it for what it is.

You gasp when he sinks into you with ease, smiling contently when he violently shudders at the feeling. A part of you wonders if he’s imagining what it would feel like if he was fucking you in the ass, but before you can tease him about it, or suggest it, he starts moving.

“Let me get behind you, sweetheart,” Seokjin tells you and with great effort, you help him by lifting your body up, enough for him to slide behind you; you like this position, as you can see Jungkook entering you - it’s not ideal, but it’s much better than before. Seokjin doesn’t play either; as much as he likes watching, his hand is on your clit in a matter of seconds, and he starts circling it with his fingers in a rhythm that matches Jungkook’s thrusts.

“The two of you are fucking evil,” Jungkook laughs, and you finally see more than just panicking arousal in him; finally, he has given into the fun aspect of this, finally, he is enjoying himself. And you know for sure because before you can even think of suggesting it, his index finger is circling your other hole, sinking into it with ease; he smirks, first at you, then at Seokjin. You like this, the traces of cocky Jungkook, and all it took for him to appear was for him to sink himself into your cunt.

“Oh baby boy, this is just a preview,” you chuckle, moaning in surprise when he gives a sharp thrust, likely in reaction to the pet name. “We can get a lot nastier than this.”

“And we will,” Seokjin promises. “We have all night and I have two cum hungry sluts here with me; this is what heaven looks like.”

“How about the two of you focus on making me come, ‘cause all I got so far is all talk and no play,” you let your frustration show before you narrow your eyes at Jungkook. “Make. Me. Come.”

Both take your warning seriously, and as Jungkook’s movements become sharper, Seokjin spares no expense when it comes to the vigor with which he plays with your clit; his other hand reachers for your tits, teasing your nipple, just like he does your clit. Stimulated on four fronts at the same time, you allow them to push you into territory you’ve never reached before. Never, never before did your ass, cunt, clit, and tits suffer at the same time, expertly at that, and you don’t hold back in showing your appreciation, your moans becoming more high-pitched and frequent by the second. Seokjin realizes that you are close, and he helps push over the edge by pressing his entire palm against your clit and moving it rapidly from side to side. You feel like you’re about to explode, wondering if he could actually make you squirt - no one ever did that before, but if there ever was a time…

Before you can test that theory out, you’re coming, grabbing Jungkook by the shoulders to pull him against you. He falls easily, squeezing you between himself and Seokjin, his finger slipping away from your hole. Between the two of them is right where you want to be, especially as Jungkook doesn’t slow down; on the contrary, he only speeds up his movements, rushing to finally feel his release as he slams his dick into you.

“Fill me up, baby boy,” your words are gentle and encouraging, but the way that you pull on his hair is anything but. He groans, confirming your earlier suspicion that he has a thing for it. “Fill me up good.”

And he does. A few magic words, a little bit of praise, and he’s coming, moaning just as loud as you did, if not even louder. The polar opposite of Seokjin’s manly stoicism, Jungkook is a complete goner and not ashamed of showing it, his entire body shaking in your embrace as you can feel his cock twitch inside you, filling you up, just like you ordered him to.

You prepare yourself for taking care of him, some cuddles and more praise, but before you can get to it, Jungkook is moving, and you immediately realize why - he wants the shot. He doesn’t pull out of you until the camera is ready and focused and when he finally does, you help him out by pushing the cum out of you, watching as he licks his lips at the sight. You don’t even want to know how filthy your cunt is right now, but you sure do enjoy the feeling.

“Can I?” Jungkook asks.

“Can you what?” you question back.

“Clean you up?”

“Seokjin, he’ll end me,” you admit, making both of them laugh. Seokjin smiles down at you, and when you turn to Jungkook, he is smiling, too. “Of course, baby. Eat your heart out.”

Seokjin takes the chance to move, letting you fall back into the sheets, as he focuses on filming Jungkook eating you out - all your cum mixed together, smeared all over your cunt and his face. It’s a sight you want to burn into your memory forever, and you do, staring at him. A cheeky wink is all he offers you before he moves his tongue further down, making you flinch as he flicks at your opening - it is as clear as day that he wants to explore more; perhaps not tonight, but soon. And by god, you hope it’ll be tonight.

You’re on cloud nine as he eats you out and dabbles with rimming, casually stroking Seokjin’s cock to make sure that your client doesn’t feel left out. You doubt he would, as he stares at Jungkook in awe, completely taken by him. He has heart eyes for Jungkook and you can relate. When you agreed to this, you thought that maybe he can join in on the fun and make it even better, but you didn’t think that you’d find yourself being this bewitched by him, wanting him more. Both of them, at the exact same time, preferably.

You’re approaching another orgasm, but you don’t want it to hit you yet; you tap at Seokjin’s thigh, which he understands as a signal, and he gently stops Jungkook from literally smothering himself in your pussy. “Let’s take a breather, yeah?”

Both you and Jungkook don’t respond, but when you open your arms, they both understand what it means. Jungkook jumps into your embrace without hesitation, chasing your lips. You kiss him, relishing the taste of all of you on his tongue. And when Seokjin takes his place, laying by your side, you break the kiss with Jungkook in order to kiss him. You’re not surprised at all when it doesn’t last too long, because the two of them reach for each other, only breaking the kiss to catch their breath. Jungkook nestles his face between your breasts, leaving kisses against your skin, and Seokjin looks at both of you with fondness in his eyes.

“You’d better give me that ass fucking tonight,” you say, to both of them, to either of them - you want it, you’ve been teased long enough. And while you will accept their rejection if it happens, that’s not going to stop you from asking.

“You deserve it,” Seokjin caresses your face, smiling down at you. “As does Jungkookie.”

“I wanna,” Jungkook speaks up, only to continue peppering kisses on your breasts. “I wanna have you in any way you’ll let me.”

“So, we have two options,” Seokjin laughs. “You get the ass, I get the cunt. Or… you get the ass and I get the ass.”

Your eyebrows raise and you smile when you notice a sparkle in Jungkook’s eyes at the idea.

“You want that, baby?” you ask, running your hand through his hair. “You want to fuck me while Seokjin fucks you? We can make it happen if you want to try. I’d be willing to give up my fantasy of having you both fuck me at the same time.”

“Why would you give it up?” Seokjin asks in surprise. “We can do both - what’s stopping us?”

Nothing. Nothing is stopping you, and judging by the way Jungkook’s cock twitches against your thigh, he’s very game. The three of you all exchange smiles and you already know that you’re going to have to 911 your massage therapist as soon as they leave your place. It’ll be so worth it, though. So, so worth it.

#jungkook smut #jin smut #bts smut #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jinkook smut

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jenotapes · 3 years ago

Text

10 meters away, what now?

pairing | huang renjun x fem!reader

genre | tooth-rotting fluff, best friends to lovers, love alarm au, high school au

word count | 3.3k

warnings | profanity, renjun is a little annoying, reader and renjun have a touchy feely friendship, RENJUN JUST WANTS AN ANSWERRR, sorta making out at the end, mentions of the reader being referred as petite!!

notes | my long awaited part for @aehyei's VALENTINE'S GONE WRONG! collab <3

synopsis | in a world where an application alerts people if someone in the vicinity, within 10 meters, likes them. things had gotten harder for you the day it rose to popularity, as you preferred to keep your crush on your best friend top secret. it doesn’t really help when he starts to pester you about it.

Quote unquote, on a fine Monday morning: and Everyone’s gripped over the newly released application.

You remembered about half a month ago, Park Jisung had come to you over a slight concern he had, sitting on the wooden bench with his antsy hands as the autumn leaves fell around the both of you.

“I’m telling you this first because I trust you.”

You thought it was kind of silly, and stupid. Actually, it was a little nonsensical, maybe a lot. He thought it was a good idea to entrust you with ‘confidential’ information, telling you that he was nearly done programming this app project titled Love Alarm— in the result of a final harsh rejection, he decided to show the world that there was no need to wait for a yes or a no, and to let the mooning tension consume you with the never-ending questions to whether or not your crush likes you back.

That very decision was made right after the both of you met up. He had a way different plan before that, to be frank, wanting to program Love Alarm only for himself and his crush, Lee Dongsook— it seemed to him that it would be more romantic that way, albeit you barely understood why.

It seemed as if he wanted to give her a new smartphone as well, sneaking with the app already installed. But of course, plans never go the way it’s supposed to be and it ends up on the downhill road, leaving poor Jisung to be ever so heartbroken. So instead, he gave it to you, you were one of his closest friends after all.

But then again, you were left with an extra phone.

What the hell do you do with an extra phone?

A week after the app’s launch, its ratings had unexpectedly soared and before you knew it, you’d be walking to school with plenty of aggravating ringing through the busy hallways. You could really use some ear swabs right now.

By showing the world, you weren’t expecting it to be like this. You thought he was going to have some extreme makeover, gain some muscle and show Dongsook what she’s been missing out on; even though he looks completely fine, and maybe she just turned a blind eye. He’s finally putting his nickname dubbed ‘the coding genius’ to work but proclaimed ‘world record for most bitches’? Not so much.

Sure, you’d be complimenting his developing skills, after all, he is still a high school student— maybe you don’t know how entirely accurate the app is itself, but for a reminder: you still had an extra phone in your hands and you were no doubt on edge.

With the app already installed, maybe you could pick up the pace and try it out. Excuses and excuses, you just had a habit of going onto compatibility websites, maybe taking love and relationship Buzzfeed quizzes along with keeping an eye on the spicy couple gossip surrounding the school (who doesn’t?).

To add on, an avid romance lover who is, indeed, a hopeless romantic.

A little curiosity isn’t going to hurt anybody, right?

You sat on a bench that was set in the middle of the school’s open area, taking out the navy blue box that was wrapped around with a pearl white ribbon. Carefully pulling the ends and gently opening the cover of the box— the familiar blue and pink gradient of the app immediately appeared.

Do I just press it?

It was sort of terrifying, what if someone did like you? There were tons of people near your vicinity and something unexpected might happen. May it be a stranger or a close friend, that just so happens to pass by and ring your alarm.

A delicate touch on the screen was all it took to have it already ringing, scanning people within 10 meters of your vicinity that were currently using the app as well. It was like pretty much yearning for a high grade, though what would an app decide for you anyway?

Even with the ringing, you heard the faint beep.

One?

Looking at the number made you turn around, obviously to see and pick out who was in your surroundings. And of course, fate does an entire 360 degree. You were sort of hoping for it, but at a time like this— maybe you wished it wouldn’t have happened.

Renjun? Renjun. Not to exaggerate anything, but he was nothing short but the man of your dreams. He was your best friend in fact, and you couldn’t help but fall head over heels for him. I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t fall for him? That delicate, sweet look, an absolute gentleman, he isn’t fickle for shit and he’s got everything to fall for.

He just had to be there.

Then again, there were seven other people around you. Random guy, another random person, Jaemin, another random girl… and Renjun. You didn’t really recognize anyone besides the two you mentioned, possibly you’ve seen one of them in an old class before.

Your heart easily skips a beat from the thought of Renjun ringing your alarm, immediately turning your view away from him as you bring the phone close to your chest out of pure worry. Sure, you liked him, maybe so much to the point where all you’ve done on your little love percentage website hunts— was just to name the both of you. Results, you dare not say.

That’s because of the ‘don’t date best friends, don’t ruin friendships’ policy. You didn’t really care but then again, how were you going to face him if things were actually so much more different than they were? Worst case scenario, you idiotically confront him, he rejects you, things become awkward, and then it leads to the end of a long-time friendship.

Cardinal rule number one: do not confront him about your feelings, don’t even express anything.

You felt so stupid, mooning over him like a lovesick high school teenager. The only thing you could really do was to keep your lips zipped, pretend this never happened, and keep this phone safe in your hands.

–

“Have you downloaded Love Alarm?”

“Nope, not too interested. Why?”

Your response appeared cool, great. But you don’t realize the sort of dispirited expression that was sitting so prolonged on his face. You don’t know whether you should play cliche and avoid him but then again, knowing Renjun remarkably well, a straightforward question ushers to the inevitable start of cat and mouse. You don’t know if he’s just that of an observer, or it’s because you’ve been best friends since the start of your untold chocolate milk incident; the vending machine coincidentally dispensing two of the cartons at the same time Renjun came near to get a drink.

Right now, instead of two cartons of chocolate milk— he’s waiting for your phone.

“Why’d you ask?”

“I’ve gotten like, five people.” He’s awfully stern today, and that’s because he’s hoping for an answer from you. “Wow, I’m friends with a chick magnet.” A scoff leaves your lips, and he stares at the screen before putting it in his pocket. There’s a brooding look on his face, and it looks as if he wants to tell you something crucial— while trying to put two to two together.

“Pfft, chick magnet my ass. Have you seen Jaemin? He’s gotten at least twenty.”

“Twenty? Holy shit, that’s like— half a class.” Your jaw was slack, eyebrows raised as you lean your back on the chair. “Wishing my five was more than that.”

By more than that, you don’t realize he exactly means one person and not more than the number of secret admirers Jaemin had. He wants his five to add to a six, not a thirty-five nor a thirty-one. He wants that sixth person, to be you in fact.

And that’s the only probable reason why he’s looking at you so expectedly, he’s asking you because he had presumed you were one of the five people within his 10 meter vicinity— but he assumed you were not, unaware you were sitting on a bench right behind him that morning. He was so nonplused on why he was oddly eager to get a response from you, and by the looks of your shifting eyes, and reluctance to download an app, there was something you were hiding from him.

After all, you’re the Y/N he knows that loved to go on relationship percentage websites to see how compatible you were with different people in school (unaware it’s just Renjun’s name you were putting actually), always keeping tabs on the spicy couple schemes that get tangled in the school’s gossip blog, a hopeless romantic, and favorite movies entirely being just romance and it’s wide variety of subgenres.

Sounds familiar right? He loves catching details.

So he’s wondering why an app gets you less interested than a similar stupid bot-generating website. You told him yourself that a student here programmed it, right? Bot or not, what really was the difference?

He doesn’t want to sound crazy, but he thinks you like him.

And he definitely isn’t wrong.

In fact, he isn’t wrong at all.

If the two of you were on a dating reality show, you’d totally hit it off at first sight, as quoted by a Buzzfeed quiz you took the other day, and it totally hasn’t been in your mind since.

Actually, it totally has.

You choose to ignore his more-than-five comment, clearing your throat while tapping slightly on the table. “I’ll just stick with my websites.” You sigh, earning a raised brow from the latter in front of you. “But, this is real, isn’t it?”

A little taken aback by his reply, you tilt your head. “Yeah, why? Got your eye on someone?”

Playing fire with fire, he decides to take up a bold response. “I do.”

Renjun has never wanted to hit himself so hard in the face, it was a straightforward response but he swore he had an intuition that he’d be giving out a more indirect answer, something like ‘i don’t know, maybe i do’ because he reckons things like this would rile you up— but he pushes himself to another route. Luckily his flushed cheeks weren’t too noticeable, “W..what about you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Were you going to say it?

Should you be forward?

“Six letters, there’s a J in their name.” Your voice stumbles more than intended.

You’d expect him to immediately get the hint, but for some reason he’s absolutely clueless— dumber than a brick. “Joohee?” You shook your head. “Jisung?” Again, no. “Jaehyun?”

“That’s seven, hasn’t he already graduated?”

He’s thinking hard, and it should’ve been easy to piece— and you were somewhat ready to tell him, you’ve concluded that Renjun wouldn’t let go of your friendship so easily, at least that’s what you were hoping.

“...Jaemin?”

Just before you opened your mouth to say anything, the teacher already made her way in. Looking at your expression, Renjun is already set to a muddle. Why was he even thinking so hard about this in the first place? “Later.” You whisper, leaving the latter to glance at the teacher before a sigh leaves his lips.

“But–” Before he can finish his sentence, you abruptly stand up from your seat to sit on your own. It’s not like he’s overanalyzing your current movement, but he feels a little dubious. Is it Jaemin?

While Renjun was busy probing, you had realized the conversation was going nowhere. He’s always so dense when it comes to the answer being all about him, and maybe that hint was enough to get it festering into his brain for a day or two. You speak without thinking and this is the outcome of it, and now you’re back to square one: avoid him, you know desperate times call for desperate measures.

Renjun’s a little mixed up over the situation, over sixes and sevens how you were suddenly averting his every move and avoiding him. Maybe he beat around the bush too much, and you probably didn’t want to tell him anything of the sort. He feels a little shitty, but then again he was curious on why you were so reluctant. Was it really Jaemin that you liked?

Call him crazy, but Renjun doesn’t realize these are the effects of falling in love. He’s yet to know, and he’s yet to piece that your beloved crush is indeed, him. Huang Renjun.

You reach home completely exhausted, and not to mention, guilty that you’d be steering clear from him. What if he thinks you hated him? Maybe you did, to be honest. He makes you feel so corny inside— it’s insane. Falling in love makes you feel like a different person, and it’s hurting all of you for no reason.

You plop yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling of your room before questioning your life choices. Then again, there’s always that familiar notification ring that whips you into shape.

renjeon <3: hey

renjeon <3: you okay?

No, you definitely weren’t, it’s only been a day and now you were putting up the face of utter guilt. You take up the courage to type something, but quickly delete the message after—- licking your lips in anticipation as you shut your phone. At that moment, you feel your shoulders droop as you hug your pillow tight, burying your face into the soft cushion to let out a muffled scream. You were kicking your feet in the air and you felt like a complete idiot.

Hours and hours of tuition and art school were enough to get you weary, let alone the thoughts that were eating you up inside and out and feeling as if you mislead him and might have unintentionally ravaged your relationship with Renjun in some way. It was late at night and all you wanted was to sleep this night away and hope it all ends up magically well tomorrow, and that the misunderstandings would be quickly explained to.

renjeon <3: is smth bothering u?

You immediately glimpse at his notification, sucking your teeth as you had just decided that you were giving up right here, right now. Taking the phone in your hands, you type what you had forerun to text him just now.

you: meet me at eunhaeng children’s park, the bench near the playground

you: 8:47

The latter never dare to leave you on seen, quickly replying a short ‘okay’ as you mutter curses under your breath.

Now you were panicking on what to wear, fuck.

Renjun immediately grabs his dangling keys along with his phone, who cares if his hair was disheveled to oblivion— and that he was still in his sleepwear? No one would stare, but I’m afraid the Pikachu socks were a little out of pocket.

He kisses his mother goodbye, leaving her a little confused as he quickly runs out the door to ride his bike to the children’s park. It was about 5 minutes away at least, the latter cycling his way out, late at night, just to hear what you had to say. And he still hasn’t realized anything?

He’s panting, and he’s tired, moving his legs to quickly get to you.

And luckily, he’s managed to reach his destination in a matter of 5 minutes. Seeing your petite figure, huddled up on the bench as he swallows his throat.

The moment he arrives, your face lights up— giving him a small smile as he settles his bike near the tree trunk, walking up to you with his face all flustered. “5 minutes? Here I thought you’d take at least 9.” You laugh, getting a monotonous look from him in return. “Sorry.”

A quick scoff leaves his lips, sitting next to you. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

Your eyelashes flutter at his question, swallowing the lump in your throat as silence follows through the air. He was looking at you expectedly, your hand reaching deep in your pocket to take out a familiar phone.

It wasn’t familiar to Renjun at all, in fact— he’s never seen it once in his life. But it was familiar to you, in all means— it’s the phone Jisung gave you.

You lock eyes with him, your lips slightly curved as you fumbled with the gadget in your hand. “Love Alarm.”

“What?”

“Open it.”

Your voices were close to gentle whispers, accompanied by the noise of crickets and the somewhat chilly air. Renjun’s eyes blink as you tell him to enter the app, and as the familiar screen pops up— he glances at you. He feels as if your eyes were telling him to press it, and he does. You press it too.

It’s the familiar ringing.

Instead of a thousand rings at a time, it’s just two.

And instead of zeroes, there were ones.

Your eyes widened in shock, and not to mention— Renjun seemed stunned by the result.

“It was you?” The two of you said in unison.

Renjun was the person who had rung your alarm amongst the seven people, and you were among the five.

The two of you could only stare at each other, it wasn’t tense nor was it awkward— rather it was taking it in what they had just witnessed, trying to put two and two together. “Holy fuck, six letters, R in his name. Renjun, fuck! Renjun.” The latter abruptly says, bringing a palm to his forehead as you let out a laugh. “You’re so stupid, you know that?”

“I never thought it’d be me.”

“In denial?”

Bingo, he was definitely in denial. To him, you were like a goddess and he was like a fool, there was no way you would find any interest in him anyway. You click your tongue as he starts to ponder, bringing your soft hands to cup his face.

“You don’t understand. You..”

His face melts in your touch, and suddenly everything in him falls light like a feather. Nothing comes crashing down, and no thunderstorm to ruin the day, everything was like feathers falling. “I..?” He raises his brows.

“You… I like you.” You smile.

God, that was all he wanted, let alone— needed to hear.

He gently holds your wrists to settle them on his lap, shooting heart eyes as his idiotic smile was uncontainable, he couldn’t hold it. All he needed, was for you to confess to him right then and there. Sure, he should have made the first move— but you made it first before he did, and it reassures him in some way.

“I like you more.” Finally, an ear-to-ear smile forms on his pink lips.

He was firmly holding your cold hands, not too tight but it was enough to tell you not to pull away and stay with him, at this moment.

“So does this mean were…dating?” You cut to the chase, giving him your sheepish smile as he lets out a wholehearted chuckle. “Of course, idiot.”

“Says you.”

The two of you share a laugh, and as it fades, Renjun glances at your eyes— slowly bringing his hand to cup your cheek as he raises a brow to get your approval.

His little gesture left a smile on your face, immediately pulling him into a soft kiss as the two of you melt in each other’s arms. His hands begin to gently intertwine with your yours, and it slowly became a more passionate kiss. His pecks were gentle, barely rough and the way he leaned in was enough to tell he was a good kisser.

Your connected, intertwined hands sent your beating heart into a palpitation, his thumb slowly caressing your cheek as he never fails to make you the giddiest person alive. As a hopeless romantic, you set your ideals beside— as this was much better than what you desired. Begin a hectic day, follow with your sentiments let out, and sweet canoodling to end the night.

It’s always good to solve things, maybe avoid kissing at a children’s park if you sort things out.

Well, rest assured, the two of you walked into school hand in hand.

do not translate or copy © jenotapes 2022

#nct dream #nct #kflixnet #k radio!#renjun x reader #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct angst #nct fluff #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct dream imagine #nct dream oneshot #nct oneshot #nct imagine #nct fic #nct dream fic #renjun oneshot

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

the bodyguard

— Kirishima gets assigned to be the bodyguard to one of the worlds greatest idols: you. —

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pairing: bodyguard!kirishima eijirou x idol!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, brat taming, authority kink, spanking, blowjob, slapping, choking, brat taming, brat!reader, modern!au, no quirks, bodyguard!kirishima, idol!reader, PTSD portrayal, anxiety, war flashbacks, implied minor character death, drugging, alcohol consumption, size difference: kirishima is 2 feet taller than you, regardless of the reader’s original height. If you’re 6 ft congrats he’s 8 ft.

word count: 20,500

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab.... im so sorry, it’s 4:30 am and I have a plane to catch in 2 hours to get back to school. thank you jo for proofreading this for me because lol I am a mess. if the paragraph spacing did not work as I wish it does, please let me know so I can go in and edit in visible paragraph spacers!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“I’ll be okay.”

The smell of dirt, sweat, and blood clung to the air.

The sun was setting, its blood-red shine illuminating against the destroyed earth, making the already bloodied soil even bloodier.

There was no telling if the land was quiet, if the reason why the world's silence was because the world just for this moment had gone silent, or if the earlier explosions were still ringing in his ears.

Kirishima sat wounded, his back pressed to the wall, his eyes wide, breathing erratic. He can’t move, can’t bother picking up the gun that lays abandoned by his knee as warm, sticky liquid spills onto his clothed knees and continues to soak the fabric of his jeans.

What had he done?

What in the fucking world had he done?!

BOOM!

Kirishima stills, his eyes stilling on the floor and looking at the clear moisture. He doesn’t need to touch his face to know it’s a combination of both sweat and tears.

His ears sing with white noise, the erratic beat of his heart, and his pained breathing.

“I’ll be okay,” the ghost taunts his mind.

But I’m not okay, Kirishima tries to speak, but knows with how his tongue is sitting like a thick dried sponge in his mouth, he won’t be able to speak. Pushing off the cold floor, flops onto his back, his arm flinging over his closed, shaken eyes until the ringing in his ear disappears into his alarm clock.

05:30.

Kirishima lays there for a bit more, his chest still heaving heavily with the weight of lead.

Inhale.

Hold.

Exhale.

Better?

No, not yet.

Kirishima runs through breathing exercises, his chest never stopping in it’s hiccuped, broken pants as his memories continue to haunt his mind. If only he was smarter, more observant, better.

“Time to get up, time to get up, time to get up,” his phone screams with his second alarm set at 06:45. The sound does what it’s intended, jolting Kirishima out of his own head. His labored breathing shallowing just enough for his lungs to finally grasp ahold of its required function.

Today was an important day for him; he needed to be on his tiptop game, according to what Toshinori said yesterday.

I’m okay, he convinced himself as he does every morning after having this dream. Kirishima flings his arm off his eyes, the morning purple sun shining softly through his blinds. I’m okay.

Date: 4/2 Time: 08:00 Location: UA Services

“And in other news, music industries princess Y/n has been attacked by yet another round of masked perpetrators. Fortunately for the music idol, she was left unhurt but was clearly rattled. This is but the fourth attack on Y/n since three weeks ago. It’s leaving many of us fans, spectators, and civilians wondering just what is being done to ensure her safety? Y/n is reported to not have a single bodyguard to her name, wanting to quote-on-quote ‘experience her fans to the fullest’, but with these recent attacks, we can’t help but hope something is done. At least until something is done about these attackers—”

Kirishima’s eyes tore away from the screen, his lips pressed into a deep frown as he took in the story. There was deep worry about it, not only because he hated the idea of people getting hurt, but because he was a big fan of yours.

Your debut album had come out during his training camp for the military. Not only was it an instant billboard smasher breaking every standing record, but his commanding officers were obsessed with the album and played it continuously until they graduated. Most of Kirishima’s comrades came to dislike your music solely because they remember throwing up, bleeding, and suffering while you sang about love and whatnot, but Kirishima? Kirishima fell in love.

It was a bright spot in his life, and he was grateful for your music, even if it has been ten years and six albums since the training camp.

“Yo, Kiri!” a voice cheered out happily as a hand clasped onto his shoulder from behind. Kirishima held the flinch that threatened to rip through his bones. Kirishima turned to find Kaminari grinning up at him, a cup of steaming tea in one hand as he grinned brightly at his coworker. “I heard you’re finally getting a good case today!”

Kirishima found himself relaxing at the sight of his rather spontaneous friend, a warm smile easing onto his face as he raised his fist for a greeting fist bump.

“We’ll see, I know Toshi’ said it was going to be important, but he also said escorting the paranoid old lady was important,” Kirishima sighed, his smile softening a bit.

Kaminari laughed, his arm slinging around Kirishima’s shoulders as he remembered that.

The little old lady was sure that the government was out to kill her and wanted protection until her son returned from his vacation. Needless to say, Kirishima had thoroughly enjoyed his time with her, even if she was a bit scary. It was a low-risk job, and he only was paranoid by her cane, which she used to thwack his back many times as she talked about how plums extended your life.

“God, I remember subbing in for you for one hour because of your family emergency, and she was so scary! She still haunts my nightmares!” Kaminari shudders, placing the cup of his tea to his lip and taking a long, slow drink. His eyes shift over to the TV, which is still broadcasting the story of your attack. “What a bunch of bastards,” he growls, eyebrows scrunching as the news reporter ends the segment. “Thinking they can go after such a beautiful and talented idol… I’ll kill them.”

Kirishima was more than well aware of Kaminari’s plentiful budding romances. The blond man fell in love with just about any smiling woman who happened to waltz in front of him. Still, unlike most times, he found himself agreeing with him.

“It sounds really serious. I hope that she really considers some type of security team,” Kirishima inputs too, taking the teacup in his fingers with a nod of thanks. “There’re too many weirdos in Japan and in the world, I wouldn’t want to hear the news the day something bad happens.”

Kaminari hums, his face nearing Kirishima’s as he takes a small sip of the apparently black tea. His eyes scrunch, and Kirishima smiles awkwardly as the blond studies him intently.

“W-Wha—”

“You like Y/n!” Kaminari exclaims (accuses, maybe?), his arm leaving Kirishima’s shoulders as he points a finger accusingly at him. “I thought I was the only one in this department who did!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Denki,” the familiar voice of Sero responds for Kirishima. “Everyone in the world is in love with Y/n; she was voted the favorite artist of the year in our company. Everyone but Bakugou voted for her if I remember correctly.”

Kirishima looks over at his black-haired friend who is rummaging through his locker, his mouth curved into an easy, teasing smile as he looks between the bashful Kaminari and sneering Bakugou, who also seemed to just walk in.

“Her shit is basic and overrated,” Bakugou defended himself. “Nothing special and bad for your brain and ears.”

“Your go-to music playlist is fifty percent death metal and alt. rock. I don’t think you have ground to say that it’s bad for your brain and ears,” Midoriya’s snicker sounded from behind Kirishima, and he looked around to see the freckled man grinning at the snarling ash blond.

“And how does your stalker ass know that, shitnerd?!”

“‘Cause I’m a stalker, duh.”

“Oh, Bakugou-kun, Midoriya-kun! You’re both here! Todoroki-kun is looking for you!”

“I’m just saying that Y/n’s dates to all the award shows and premieres have been blond. She’s into blonds, so she would totally be into me!”

“Deku, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to protect Y/n, bro. The only thing you performed well on in the application process was the tasing part. You can’t even tase people repetitively! She’d be dead in a second.”

“Can you believe my client dropped me because I couldn’t cook a five-star meal correctly? Hello, I can make 7-11 into a five-star course; it’s not my fault they’re not refined.”

“Kirishima-kun, are you okay?”

“I deadass got into a dance competition on the way to work. That’s why I’m late, why would I lie? Of course, I had to compete; my reputation was on the line!”

“Kirishima-kun?”

“Yo, he’s not looking too hot?”

“Kirishima?!”

“Can you hear us?!”

Silence.

Kirishima found himself opening his eyes — when had he closed them? For a moment, the air turned coppery, his body feeling weak, and he thought he felt something heavy on his lap. But that wasn’t right; he was standing up, he wasn’t sitting down. Most importantly, he was in Tokyo, Japan. He was alright. He was safe.

The sweat that clung to the back of his neck was cold, clammy, and intrusive. His chest felt tight again, his hands shaking so harshly the tea's warm, dark liquid was sloshing onto the floor.

There were seven pairs of eyes on him, each a different color, each swimming with concern and other emotions. Kirishima knew his ears weren’t working right now, his face unable to meet his brain's screaming demands to smile, and he watched as their mouths moved as they questioned his sanity.

He was okay.

“Kirishima?”

Kirishima looked up, his neck craning to the side to see a tall, skinny man standing at the doorway.

Toshinori Yagi was an esteemed bodyguard, one of the best in the industry, which was saying something considering that most bodyguards went unknown and unnamed. According to Google, Toshinori gained the nickname All Might after saving multiple political and celebrity lives when the government could not. It was long after his prime, and the man had retired but has since filled as the company’s head — thus why this job was near impossible to get.

Kirishima heaved a breath, realizing that he hadn’t taken a single breath when Toshinori’s bruised eyes narrowed in his concern.

“C-Coming,” Kirishima smiled, the blood rushing to his ears mostly ignorable now, but the scorching concerned gazes of his friends feel like cinders on his shoulder.

He straightens his tie, fingers curling when he feels the cold sweat penetrating through his clothes, but Kirishima doesn’t let it show. Smiling like he does, Kirishima pushed through his friends and followed Toshinori out the door.

They walked down towards the conference rooms, rooms that held their contractors, in complete silence.

“This is an important case,” Toshinori began, his voice gentle and poorly hiding his concern. “I chose you because you are a great asset to have, Kirishima. You are strong and smart, and most importantly, are personable.”

Kirishima looked at the man, his face contorting with his anxiety. He didn’t want to be treated like glass.

“Honestly, you being so personable is why I chose you for this assignment. Todoroki-shounen was a contender at first, but he’s not much of a talker; the same goes for Bakugou-shounen. Midoriya-shounen was probably the best choice, but there’s a new assignment that asked for three, so I gave up those three,” Toshinori explained the current assignments. It both delighted Kirishima to hear that he could keep up with arguably the three most qualified workers here as it did, at times, make him feel lesser.

“Oh.”

But he was obviously not the first choice still.

“The only reason why you weren’t the first choice is because of what I walked into just now,” Toshinori interrupts Kirishima’s thoughts and words. Kirishima finds his eyes tearing away from the smooth, polished wood floor to see Toshinori stopping in front of Conference Room A, his gaze intense on him. “To be frank, I wasn’t too sure if we should have hired you all that time ago. You are excellent on the field, your skills are phenomenal. Something to be proud of, truly, but you are clearly not completely healed from your time on the force.”

“Toshinori—”

“Kirishima-shonen, I’m not saying that there’s shame in your current struggles,” Toshinori once again interrupts, his hand a soothing warmth on Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m still not healed from my past injuries, and as many people have undoubtedly told you, it’s okay to not be okay. But you barely passed the psych evaluation and only passed your field training because you scored so phenomenally on the other things your lack of a shooting score passed you.”

Kirishima felt unable to look away from the piercing blue eyes, and the lump in his throat never tasted as bitter, as sad.

He had barely passed the admittance test.

“I just need to know, are you ready to take on this assignment?” Toshinori asks in complete seriousness. “It’s a high stake, big-name client. We do not expect anything untoward to happen, but we never know in these cases. I think highly of you, Kirishima-shonen, and if you are ready to take this on, I’ll believe you, but likewise, if you’re not, I will gladly give this to someone else.”

Kirishima swallowed, his dry tongue passing through his equally dry lips.

Without question, he was not okay, not when he nearly broke down twice in a matter of hours, but it was just a bad day. He wasn’t as shaken as he was two months ago; he was going to his mandated therapy, talking to people who could assist him. Kirishima just didn’t want to be treated like glass anymore; he wasn’t glass; he was an unbreakable force.

Steeling over his nerves and ignoring how his stomach twisted and turned, Kirishima raised his gaze to Toshinori.

“I can do it.”

A smile.

“Good.”

If Kirishima was sweating because he was on a mental slip earlier, he was now sweating because he was beyond petrified and embarrassed. His hands raised up to brush against his red spikey hair, praying to God that it didn’t look dumb. His legs bounced at a speed that was bordering insanity, but he could only hear the sound of his racing heart as he stared at your frowning form from across the table.

It was you — the Y/n, the world's biggest music idol, an absolute legend in the making.

“This is our very own Kirishima Eijirou, age twenty-eight. He has been with U.A.Services for approximately six months now and is without a doubt one of our most capable and well-serviced men,” Toshinori began the introduction to the three people on the other side of the table. Kirishima could feel a blush rising up his neck and settling into his cheeks as what he presumed to be you, your manager, and your lawyer shuffling through paperwork that was very thorough on his background. “He was enlisted in the military before joining our ranks and was honorably discharged at the age of twenty-six as First Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou due to extreme injury. He excels in negotiating, scouting, and is, as you know, a skilled close combatant and was skilled in handguns—”

“I don’t think he’ll need firearms,” you interrupt, a frown on your face in contrast to the bright smile Kirishima was so used to seeing on your face. He tensed in worry.

“Y/l/n!” your manager, Sato Kimiko, scolded.

“What? It’s true! We’ll be around my fans for the majority, if not all the time! How is that right? For him to have a firearm around defenseless, and may I add, harmless individuals?!” you argued, your eyebrows scrunching in your fury.

Kirishima felt frozen in his chair, his eyes seeking Toshinori for guidance, but found himself unable to look away from you. He knew nearly everything about you, he could admit with a proud grin that he was a super mega fan of you, and he might have, at one point, looked your height up to imagine how you would appear beside him. Kirishima had known this entire time that you were two feet shorter than him, but it hadn’t hit what that meant until he was shaking your hand when he first entered.

You were tiny.

His dick and mind really liked that, and seeing your own passion spilling out for your fans was making him fall deeper into this hole he had for you.

“You don’t have a say anymore? Do you understand? You were nearly assaulted yesterday, and we are all done waiting around for something serious to happen!” Kimiko yelled, her face contorted into a look of both frustration and fear. “Either you take this, or we all leave you. I won’t have you murdered in front of me! You’re twenty-six now, stop acting like a damn brat and grow the hell up!”

The words scorched the table, blistering heat filling the conference room as you met Kimiko’s glare.

Kirishima watched with a dropped jaw as your nostrils flared, your lips pursing, and your eyebrows furrowing with unspoken distaste and anger.

“Six months tops.”

“Uh, yes,” Toshinori interjected. “Our contracts only last up to six months for new clients, but if you find yourself wanting to extend your contract after those six months, we are very much open to negotiations.”

You nodded your head, your eyes falling back onto the booklet in your hands that exposed all the information available on Kirishima. From his likes, dislikes, to his allergies and the reason why he was discharged. Each in disturbingly deep detail to make sure all things were up on the table.

“So, you can’t shoot your gun, Kirishima-san?” you speak, your voice tight, a pleased, almost taunting tone.

Kirishima stills, embarrassment bubbling in his chest as you drop the booklet onto the table, exposing his military history to him and you.

“...no,” Kirishima answers truthfully.

The lawyer shifts from the other side of you, his eyebrows scrunching as he too comes across that piece of information.

“He won’t use firearms?” the lawyer scoffs, his semi-permanent frown deepening. “How will we know that he will keep Y/n completely safe from any sort of danger that may come her way? We’ll be paying six months for a glorified security guard? We want a bodyguard.”

“And we clearly have one,” you snap back, your eyes narrowing. “If my bodyguard isn’t Kirishima-san, I’m not getting one. I mean, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

“When we were assuming that the person Toshinori was assigning to your case was a well-rounded bodyguard. Not one that was still clearly haunted by his past.”

Fuck, that one hurt.

You scowled, your head tilting as you bared your teeth slightly, “And what? He managed to get into the best agency in all of Japan in spite of that. Sounds like he’s competent. I already told you I won’t take on a team, just one individual. I trust in Toshinori-san’s guidance and his choice in picking Kirishima-san. If you disagree, that’s too bad for you.”

“Y/n! Please stop this! You’re being ridiculous!” Kimiko huffed, slamming her own booklet down, her eyes drowning with her exhaustion. “I’m so sorry, Toshinori-san, Kirishima-san.”

“H-Hey, it’s okay!” Kirishima immediately imputed, his hands raising in a sign of retreat. “I know that Y/n has always enjoyed her independence as a solo star, and how me being involved now is imposing, especially after multiple attacks.”

Kirishima felt that his smile was a bit strained, a bit too forced, especially as your eyes hawked onto him. He felt like you were examining him, like a lab rat going through its initial trial and not knowing just what was to be expected.

“Six months?” you spoke, your gaze not leaving Kirishima’s own.

“Six months,” Kirishima agreed.

You hum, your head nodding. “Fine, six months tops unless the Lieutenant Colonel can apprehend these assholes faster.”

It had been ages since Kirishima had been called by his title, and for some reason, he found himself blushing. His mouth, for the first time this entire meeting, curled into a wolfish grin.

“You got it.”

The lawyer groaned, entirely aggravated and insulted. He stood up, “You’re asking to be murdered, Y/n. Don’t come haunting me when you end up dead and mutilated. You deserve all the shit you’re getting.”

Kirishima watched with his lips parted in a bewildered expression as the lawyer walked out of the room with a loud slam of the door.

You were unfazed, and Kimiko groaned, exhausted and embarrassed as she mumbled a weak, sullen, “I am so, so sorry, Toshinori-kun.”

“Ah, Kimiko-chan, it’s okay!” Toshinori shook his head and smiled knowingly. It wasn’t as if the long time famous bodyguard hadn’t seen his fair share of childish fights between clients. “Thank you for coming as always, and we’ll do our best to make sure that Y/n is in the best of hands.”

“Thank you… and so, the rest of the contract?”

“Ah, yes, let’s continue.”

So, the contract was discussed to full detail.

For six months, Kirishima would be attached to your side. He must always remain at most three meters away from you when there is no one around, and during fan interactions no more than one meter. He had a full say about your safety. If things got rough, you were to follow his every command. Your agency would pay for his room and lodging. He was to wear black pants and a black long-sleeved cotton tee. He would be working with every venue, every hotel, every conventions security team. He would lead them and never leave your side. He was to be awake an hour before you, rest when you were asleep so long as it was safe to do so. He was your guardian angel of sorts, and you would do nothing but adhere to him.

Most importantly, according to Kimiko, there was one thing they were hoping for: Kirishima's help and discretion. For the next six months, they would be relying on Kirishima’s support to figure out who the group behind the assault was and who the mastermind was behind it all is.

Or so the contract said.

“Y/n!” Kirishima called when the papers were signed, and the day he was set to start was printed. He will begin tomorrow. “Wait!”

You stopped at the door, Kimiko and Toshinori chatting merrily between them as they exited the conference room, Toshinori’s booming voice asking if it was true that Kimiko was attending to a near forty clients to which she bashfully admitted to. You were dressed in a creme knit long-sleeved shirt, faded ripped jeans, and a pair of nude heels. The heels were big, undoubtedly giving you inches, but you still barely got to his shoulder.

“I-I’m looking forward to looking — I mean working with you!”

You looked at him closely, your eyes dragging to the top of his toes to the tallest spike in his hair before your lips pulled into a contemplative pout. You looked back to his eyes, and you steeled over, your head tilting to the side.

“I mean no offense, Sergeant, I thank you for doing your job, but I have no intention of looking forward to working with you. I don’t want you here, so do your best to ignore the contract and realize that I am the most important person, so you will follow my demands.”

Kirishima can do nothing but stare as you turn on your heel and leave.

Well, so much for a good case.

Date: 5/2 Time: 14:00 Location: Tokyo Music Stadium

If you would have told Kirishima Eijirou that he had been working for the grand, the perfect, the fantastic music idol Y/n for a month now, two months ago, he would have laughed so hard he’d cry. Not only would he have not believed it, but he would only think of a million and two scenarios where he would go the entire day flirting.

Now a month into knowing you, of being your bodyguard on a contract for six months, Kirishima could say that of that entire thought, the only thing he had been right about was that he was, in fact, crying. Not only has he never managed to speak an entire conversation with you despite being attached to your hip seven days a week, but despite your much shorter stature, you had managed to get away from him.

You always managed to sneak away from him.

Kirishima could admit that the no more than five meters rule had been wholly and utterly demolished.

And now, Kirishima was crying, not out of joy, but of pure manly fear as he raced through the backstages of the stadium, desperate to find your short-ass anywhere.

“Go, Kirishima!” someone yelled as Kirishima whizzed past him, “Find Y/n!”

“T-Thank you!” Kirishima screamed as he continued onward, the yellow-lit concrete hallway seemingly haunting the further he went into it. The earpiece in his left ear shrilled, the telling sign he was getting a call. Putting a finger to the circle in his ear, he answered the car. “Hello?!”

“Ah, Kirishima-san!” Kimiko’s voice chirped on the other side of the line. “Wonderful to hear your voice again! I’m calling to let you know that the tour bus is parked outside of the venue now. The concert was a smashing success, and she’s come out unharmed for the past month! To make matters even better, since your arrival, there have been no more assault attempts! Oh, um, sorry, where are you guys?”

“We’re just, um!” Kirishima tried not to pant into the microphone; he was still racing ahead, his head peeking into every door and room he passed. “Y/n needed to use the restroom?!”

“Oh, wonderful. Okay! Let me know when you two are on your way over!”

“Ya, okay, bye!”

“By—”

Kirishima hung up as he crashed through the doors at the end of the hallway.

It was night out right now, the full moon reflecting down on the dirty concrete with the same intensity as the streetlamps overhead. And in the middle of a crowd of around twenty people was the person Kirishima was trying to find: you.

You were still dressed in the final costume change of your concert. Even from a distance, Kirishima could see the glitter and highlight on the tip of your nose and the curve of your cheekbones. The crowd around you was clearly not hostile. Each face was bright with broad smiles and sparkling with fresh tears, each voice high and pitchy as if they were talking with some goddess and not you.

There was a slight longing in Kirishima’s chest at the sight of you interacting with your fans, your smile was so beautiful, and he wished just for a moment that he was the one that it was directed towards. If he had met you as a fan, and only a fan, he wonders if you would look at him as you did the others. Would he see the pure joy in the depths in your eyes, the love, wonder, and pride as they asked you questions and answered your own?

He wanted to be just a fan.

“Y/n, the tour bus is here,” Kirishima finally found his voice, the tenor of his voice spreading through the narrow alleyway. “Say your goodbyes.”

He had to ignore the way you stiffened immediately, the unsolicited joy in your face breaking and becoming bleak as you met his gaze. Kirishima absolutely did not feel pressure behind his eyes when you rolled your eyes and began to say your goodbyes; he did not!

The group of fans waved goodbye as you walked backward toward Kirishima; you didn’t stop waving and continuing your parting conversations with the group until the metal doors of the stadium doors closed behind the two of you. Kirishima let out a sigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment before looking down at you. You were expressionless, eyes cold as you looked dead ahead.

“You’re not supposed to run away like that.”

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t tell me what to do, Sergeant.”

“You know I can’t do that it’s not—”

“Part of your contract. Yeah, I know, but that’s your contract, not mine.”

“Oh, okay. Um, Kimiko? ...yeah, we’re heading out now. Five minutes, till.”

And then there’s only silence.

Neither Kirishima nor you bother talking the entire walk towards the tour bus, and you ignore Kimiko’s call that your lawyer would be meeting briefly before tomorrow's fan signing event. You walk into the bus and go directly to the beds, throwing yourself into the terribly padded bunk and passing out without so much as a sound.

Kirishima sinks into his own bed, it’s too small for him, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Sleep overcomes him easily these days; he’s always way too exhausted in chasing you down like some spoiled toddler you’re behaving like to dream. But that’s okay, he thinks as the comfort of sleep begins to dig its skeleton fingers into his side, at least the exhaustion stops the night terrors.

Date: 5/3 Time: 10:00 Location: Tokyo Music Tower

Now, Kirishima knew that it was a common belief and a nearly proven theory that when you met your idols, you should never ever have your expectations high on who they are as a person. Celebrities were out of touch, cruel, rude, nearly jaded. They weren’t exactly the common folk. With people willing to forget things like them being human beings themselves or the common thread of celebrities being too rich to care, any type of famous person was cold, rude, and ruthless.

He knew that.

He also knew that you weren’t like the nearly proven theory.

You were kind, sweet, a practical angel to anyone who dared to approach you. You were the exception to the rule, an outlier to them all. You spoke politely to all your fans, domestic and foreign, and you treated each fan like the most special person in the world.

You were a good person.

But Kirishima knew, just as you reacted to any cruel person you encountered, you had an edge. Your words were as vicious as your name was known. He genuinely enjoyed watching you put assholes into place, but he sulked, knowing he was always at the receiving end of the sharp, bitter tongue of yours.

For a month and a day now, he had been the number target of your bitter words and scorching hate, but he admitted that he enjoyed it when it wasn’t directed at him, if but a little bit.

“I’m not renegotiating my contract!” you groan, your palms slamming into the depths of your eyes. “I already told you that I don’t need all that money!”

“And I’m telling you that you need to increase the wages that you pay the rest of your team instead of all those charities or else people will begin dropping you!” the lawyer countered with similar fire, his scowl angry enough that Kirishima felt like he had to tear his gaze away from this horrible battle. “You won’t be the best of the best forever, y/n, get over your stupid savior act and look over the changes!”

Kirishima looked over at you, his eyebrows pinching as he watched you fold your arms, your cheeks pushed out to a puff as you looked at the stack of papers with the title page fully covered with the word Contract of Y/n and Co. on it. Well, it seemed that the rumor of you spending your paycheck on things that weren’t you was right, how entirely manly.

“Oh fuck off,” you growl, pushing out of the chair and storming away.

Kirishima glanced over at Kimiko, who was looking pale and exhausted, undoubtedly exhausted from the past thirty-minute battle between the lawyer and the idol that neither made a single step forward nor a step back. How you had the energy to fight so passionately was beyond him. Kimiko nodded minimally, her lips parting in a sigh as Kirishima stood up and followed after her.

“The only way that brat is going to listen is by force,” the lawyer sneered, his voice fading into the room that Kirishima exited. “If that’s how she wants to play, so be it.”

Fortunately for Kirishima, he catches up to you. There are tears of fury dripping down your cheeks, and he feels unable to speak as he discovers a new layer to you.

...how interesting.

“It’s my money,” you speak, but Kirishima is unsure if those words are meant for him or for the void, the earth that you would much rather converse with than him. “I already pay them all a much greater paycheck than they should be getting considering their client pool. Why do I have to bend to their stupid will when I’m the one making the money.”

Kirishima blinks, wondering just what people might want to raise with their contracts. But, he knew you were right. By her account, Kimiko had a client list of many successful individuals, and he may not know anything about the lawyer, but if he worked with Y/n, his name must be good. Guess they weren’t like you.

“People are selfish assholes,” was the only thing that Kirishima could think of, and was something he spoke before he could stop himself.

But you stop in your storm, the anger that clouded you somewhat dissipating, clearing just enough for you to turn to him, your sharp, beautiful eyes for the first time filled with rage that was not pointed at him, and an emotion that made him think of… amusement?

“Yeah,” you agree, a half-smile cracking onto your face, and Kirishima feels his soul begin leaving his very body. “People are selfish assholes, huh?”

“Very much.”

There’s a calm, a snorted chuckle, and Kirishima finds himself stumbling further into the abyss of his feelings for you.

The next ten hours seem to pass in a blur, Kirishima feeling like he was on Cloud Nine as he stood behind you, three meters as he watched fan after fan approach you. Signatures were made, pictures were taken, and Kirishima found that he never once had to approach.

Maybe, he thinks, just perhaps, the two of you can overcome this.

Ten minutes after the official signing is done, Kirishima can’t find you, and he curses loudly into the echoing floor.

So much for change.

Date: 5/17 Time: 23:00 Location: The Parking Lot - Mt. Lady Studios

Kirishima was, for the lack of better words, completely fucking done with you.

Don’t get it wrong, he still was a complete and massive fan of yours. He would never once betray his loyalty to you and your musical career, but he was slowly starting to realize just why the lawyer was set to dying of a heart attack any time soon. Despite your early entrance to stardom and the stuff of legends, you had kept your fiery, stubborn individualism.

Kirishima thought it was absolutely hot and sexy at times, especially the times where you strut around in revealing clothes because ‘this is your body,’ or the lingerie campaign you completed two days ago as part of some fundraising event. There were significant perks to your strong handle and claim to keeping your indestructible personality, but it came back to rub them all back in the worst of ways when once again, you escaped from Kirishima’s side.

To be fair, most of the time, Kirishima was a very level headed individual; he was near impossible to rile up despite popular initial belief. I mean, he was good friends with Bakugou Katsuki, who riled up just about anyone he talked to! He needed to have steel calm emotions, or at the very least portray that he does. But even the unbreakable after tireless attempts can, at times, be broken.

It had been a hard morning.

Kirishima had woken up in a panic, the sweat of his night terror soaking through the sheets of his bed, and his head felt like lead. They had been in the tour bus for the entire day because you were going from the tip of Japan to the bottom of it, thus meaning that you couldn’t run away from him, concluding that when he went to bed that night, he was merely tired, not exhausted.

“K...Kiri...shima?” the voice whispered in his ears when he bolted from his bed and tumbled to the ground, his chest heaving in his panic as he cried.

He only slept for four hours that night, the ghost of his comrade haunting him too much for him to ever drift back to sleep. The only thing he was grateful for when he stumbled down to the hotel lobby for breakfast was that he had an attack while in his own room and not in a tour bus with ten others.

But the lack of sleep and the twisting of his guts from his still unburied memories meant that his exhaustion was dialed up larger than he thought was capable. Today was an interview day plus a miniconcert at said interview.

That meant that for an hour before your interview and two hours afterward, Kirishima lost you and had to hunt you down. You weren’t making it easy on him and had started moving with the crowd you gathered to evade him.

But today, Kirishima was exhausted.

Today, Kirishima wanted to sleep.

Today… Kirishima broke.

“Let’s go,” Kirishima spoke in a low, commanding voice. His eyes were hooded as he looked down at you, the crowd of fans parting like the red sea as he stands behind you, larger than life, imposing.

You ignore him.

“We’re leaving, now.”

“Aw, did you make that just for me?! This beading is gorgeous!”

To be fair, Kirishima isn’t really sure if he’s crying right now or if steam is protruding from his ears like some stupid cartoon. The only thing he knows is that it's been a bit longer than a month, and his client is the most perfect person in the world except to him and some lawyer. All he knows is that he has been continuously mocked, shamed, and disrespected by his client, and at this moment, with his mind and body aching with the memories of the morning, he can no longer stop the tsunami of emotions and thoughts that shove out of him.

He grabs your wrist and begins pulling you away.

“We’re leaving now, sorry to disrupt your time. Come see Y/n another day.”

Kirishima isn’t even aware of your screams, the banging of your small fist against his back as his hand encompasses your bicep easily. He walks and walks and walks until he stops, his mind slightly put back into place.

“—FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! LET GO OF ME, SERGEANT!”

Oh, right.

He lets go of you immediately and nearly snorts at how you stumble into his back. So small, so delicate, and so completely weak.

“You want to know my problem, y/l/n?” he asks, voice eerily calm, much calmer than he actually is. “My fucking problem is that I signed onto this case with a single rule: keep you in sight and protect you. It’s simple, almost too easy, isn’t it? But easy and simple is everything that this assignment is!”

Your face contorted into a flash of anger and embarrassment, your nose scrunching as you found your footing, “And I told you that I don’t give a crap about that contract! I didn’t want it in the first place, but no one listens to me!”

Kirishima snorts, his body shifting so that he can look at you properly; your face is seething, your teeth bared and eyes wild, but Kirishima has faced worse.

“It’s not in my contract to listen to you, unfortunately,” Kirishima points out, his eyes narrowing. “I would have a better time listening to you, trying to find an agreement that worked if you used that brain of yours and figured out a way to compromise with me.”

“Compromises aren’t—”

“You think I wouldn’t?” Kirishima almost whines, his voice tight with emotions, fingers fisting in his hair, “You really fucking think that after a month and how many days of me spending stupid hours trying to find your ass, most of the time never knowing if you’re dead or not, I wouldn’t want a better solution?!”

“Like hell they’ll kill me! And if they do, I don’t fucking care!” you stubbornly insist, finger buried against the swell of your chest.

“Oh my god,” Kirishima can’t stop the bitter laugh from escaping, “you’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?! I’m not the ridiculous one here!” you cry, your eyes bursting with unshed, bitter tears. “So what that I run away from you? Can you imagine living the past ten years of your life trying to be something that the media wants you to be? No! You can’t, Sergeant! Those times where I’m running away isn’t to be some dick, but to give me time to be me!”

“You’re a goddamn idiot!” Kirishima barks, his anger curdling in his chest like a raging fire. “If you had looked at my damn file correctly, instead of focusing on the stupid shit like me not being able to fire my gun correctly, you would be more than aware of the fact that you are one of my favorite artists!”

“Wh-”

“I am one of the best in my company! I am easy to get along with, personal, manageable, flexible even, but from the very first moment you laid eyes on me, you’ve hated me! You talk down on me, you shit on me, my job, the reason I’m here! Listen, I would fucking love to be anywhere but here right now. I have literally never hated my job before, but you just made that a reality. But the worst part of this all is the fact that you seem to think I would have kept you away, prohibited you from doing things that I already know you love! You stand there and tell me that I would try to force you to do shit you don’t want when I have merely been asking for you to take me there with you! I don’t care if I have to stand away and watch, but I want to be there! I’m supposed to be protecting you, but you’re being nothing more than a stubborn brat who refuses to see the efforts I’m trying to make, and frankly, I’m done.”

Kirishima’s chest is burning with the lack of oxygen, his eyes narrowed and filled with raging fire as he stares down at you, his neck craned so that he could be closer, more daunting, intimidating.

“Fuck o-off,” you snap suddenly, a lone tear, your voice tight and shoulders tense as you storm off.

“So predictable,” Kirishima calls after you, but it’s not filled with the previous anger he had but the sinking misery and regret.

And for a moment, it’s quiet.

Until a single name is screamed.

“SERGEANT!”

And then the all too familiar sound of a fist colliding with skin.

The anger in Kirishima’s blood evaporates immediately, and horror sinks in as he turns towards where you had stormed off. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

The parking lot is filled with an ugly yellow light that seems to set the stage for what was to come down. His footsteps crashing down against the black pavement were mute in his ears, and his eyes were focused on your limp body slung over somebody's shoulder. There was one person behind him, the other one already hopping into a van; Kirishima was the devil on their heels.

“Come on! Let’s go!” the one in the van screamed, his voice full of gruff apprehension and fear.

The van turns on.

Kirishima grunts, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he sidesteps the man who was lingering behind the one carrying you and quickly slams his shoulder into the man's sternum, knocking him out the moment he collapses onto the ground.

He lets out a roar of such, his eyes glowing with anger and a single mind track to take down the person who held you, ready to throw your unconscious body into the back of the van.

Kirishima doesn’t even know when he manages to get to the man's side, one hand on his shoulder, the other on you, and with the strength and anger of a million fighting warriors, he ripped you from his hold and sent him stumbling into the trunk. Your shallow breathing brushes against his neck, and Kirishima is hyper-aware of the cursing men who chose to abandon their unconscious comrade on the floor.

With his arms filled by your unconscious body, Kirishima can only watch the van scurry out of the lot, the license plate immediately burning into his mind.

T082-23

When the man on the floor finally wakes up, he’s in police custody, and you’re just waking up. There's a bruise on your cheek, and you begin crying immediately.

Kirishima watches from the distance, his heart aching and guilt climbing up his throat as he watches Kimiko hold you close, her arms warm and tight.

Well, shit.

So much for the month of no attacks.

Kirishima sits in a waiting room, his head relaxed against the wall as he waits for your discharge from the hospital. They suspect a concussion, and they’re running some tests right now. The police are there too, trying to get information from you on the failed kidnapping attempt as well as beginning the initial trials of interrogation of the abandoned kidnapper with a broken sternum, ruptured spleen, and three cracked ribs.

He was not surprised when the police officers came to talk to him, and he gave them the license plate.

But they also gave him an essential piece of information.

(“Well, when we asked for a motive, it seemed that it wasn’t his idea,” the detective admitted, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “His boss said that, and I quote, Y/n will end up dead and mutilated as is deserved. She deserves all the shit she has coming her way, end quote. Any ideas of who it could be”

Kirishima rubbed a hand across his face, the words striking a bit too familiarly to him, but from where. He shook his head, his eyes focusing on his bouncing knee.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said, his tone pointed in a clear indicator that this conversation was now over. The detective nodded, his frown slight as he left. The moment he was gone, Kirishima pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Kimiko? Yeah, I think we might have our first suspect.”)

For now, he was waiting for you.

An hour passed before you shuffled into the waiting room. There was a bandage on your swollen cheek, but besides the obvious attack, your eyes looked strong, and it seemed like there was no concussion.

“I should be fine,” you speak first, your jaw tensing as if it physically pained you to speak (whether it was because you hated talking to him or because of the injury, Kirishima had no idea). “I will be fine; I just need some sleep.”

Kirishima nodded, his body completely exhausted, and his mind filled with nothing but regrets on how he handled his anger earlier. He needed to apologize. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he had definitely crossed a few too many lines.

“Should we go?”

You chewed on your lip, your eyes looking down at the white tiled floors of the hospital — so bleak, so anxiety driving.

“I actually wanted to talk before we left.”

Oh?

“Of what, if I may ask?”

Your eyes raise back up before looking away again, “the contract.”

Kirishima finds himself nodding, his hand gesturing towards the empty seat in front of him.

“Sure.”

And with a heaving sigh that sounds like you were on the verge of tears, you sit before him.

The contract was then discussed.

It was decided that you could continue to interact with fans as you wish, so long as you took Kirishima with you. He didn’t care about the long hours, the manic fans, or the impending doom of a group of people who meant business. He needed to be there.

Everything else stayed the same, but Kirishima looked at you one last time that night in the hospital, his body leaning towards you as he did his best to keep his face void of emotion and any lingering teasing.

“I’ll only accept this new negotiation on one term.”

“W-What?!” you pause, thinking. “Fine, say it.”

“From here on out, I think we should be friends, yeah? I’m on your side, after all, it’s a bit weird if we stay just acquaintances.”

The tension and horror leave your body, and Kirishima, for the first time ever, bears witness to the most relaxed, meaningful smile he has ever seen you give. It had been one hell of a shitty night, but at that very moment when the seventh turned into the eighth, Kirishima felt a new warmth flood through his chest, his heart racing at the sight of your glorious smile.

“Of course, Kirishima.”

“Oh, and y/n?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry about all that I said. It was unmanly of me and out of line.”

“It’s okay. To be fair, I was a bit of a self-absorbed brat, too.”

The next day, a picture of Kirishima holding you bridal style is trending.

Date: 6/12 Time: 19:00 Location: Hime Onsen

An Interview with Y/n | Vogue Japan 4.5 million views • Premiered 2 hours ago 874k [liked this] 12.3k [disliked this] Timestamp: 05:32 / 10:33

[Interviewer]: Now, Y/n, we must congratulate you on your latest achievement! Your latest self-titled album, ‘Y/N,’ has been nominated for a record high of twelve awards for the upcoming Japan Record Awards, which will be coming up in about a month! Tell us how you feel about this?

[You]: It was quite a surprise actually! I didn’t realize that it would have done so well in the critic's eyes to get this type of award. I am proud of myself and am excited to see all the other amazing artists and musicians who were nominated as well.

[Interviewer]: Now, your album is all about staying true to yourself, whether that be in love or war. It depicts your own highs and lows while also highlighting beautifully universal things many of us face. Without question, you have always been adamant on staying connected with your fans and keeping a simple rule: no bodyguards.

[Y/n]: Oh, (laughs) yes! That is definitely a new thing, huh?

[Interviewer]: A new thing and a beautiful thing at that, too! Look here!

[captioner notes: interviewer displays many photos of Y/n’s bodyguard, including the most famous one where he’s holding y/n after the failed kidnapped attempt]

[Interviewer]: This is a beautiful — don’t giggle! — a beautiful man, Y/n! What do you have to say for yourself?! Did you finally succumb to keeping untrue to yourself for this beautiful man?! If so, it is perfectly acceptable. By chance, is your contract with him done? I would personally love to have this man on my team.

[Y/n]: (laughing) By all means, take him! (Y/n looks behind her, her bodyguard is there) I’m kidding, I’m kidding! (pauses) No, actually, sorry. Kirishima is an outstanding bodyguard, and I have no intentions of leaving him so soon. Uh, while I did say I had no wish or intentions to have a bodyguard, obviously that was not the best solution, so I hired Kirishima. He is a wonderful addition to my team and still allows me to be authentically me, so it’s still all good.

[Interviewer]: Ah, okay, well, Kirishima-kun, if you ever need a new client, call me. But moving on, yes! Would you like to discuss the series of increasingly concerning attacks?

Kirishima stood in the softly lit hallways of a sauna.

Today was one of the last remaining days you had off, and in celebration of your upcoming award season, you had decided that it was mandatory to visit the hot springs. Everyone on your team — the backup dancers, band, and hair and makeup — were ecstatic to learn that they were being involved with it too.

This high-end resort had accommodated your entire team to receive their own private spring with an all-inclusive menu too.

It was thanks from the owner for the free PR and, of course, because they were some of your biggest fans. So, in thanks, everyone got to enjoy the springs.

Well, everyone but Kirishima, that was.

As of the past month, things between Kirishima and you had improved a lot.

With Kirishima no longer needing to run a marathon daily to find where you were, he would find himself walking at your side. He no longer felt like you hated him. There was respect and actual friendship between the two of you. You joked with him, showed him memes and TikTok, sent him snapchat streaks, and invited him to watch weird shows with you. You even complained to him about the things that annoyed you, namely Kimiko’s attention being stolen by other clients and the rude conversations you would have with the lawyer.

It made Kirishima’s chest warm up knowing that you were friends now.

A stressful month had passed into a friendlier one.

But there were some things that Kirishima would not have expected to… arise.

Namely you growing to be comfortable enough to walk around with nothing but a thin pair of panties and a large shirt. You curling into his side whenever you watched a show together in the bus, the way your lips brushed against his neck when he leaned down to hug you, or the very so not obvious teasing you would do when you changed in front of him. It was as if you were watching his every reaction, enjoying the way that his eyes horribly tore away, or the silent hitch in his throat whenever you speed his heart up.

The biggest surprise arose the night after the failed kidnapping attempt:

You had come to his room, hours after you were supposed to have fallen asleep.

Your eyes were sunken, still a bit tired, and the bruise on your cheek was looking bad. In your arms was a white binder undoubtedly filled with the introductory packet you had received at your initial meeting. Kirishima had opened the door in his sleepy state in nothing but gym shorts. He had barely started dozing off, his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of what could have happened if you hadn’t managed to scream, and so he kept tossing and turning.

Seeing you outside of his room, his head dropped down to look at you properly, and his fist rubbing at his eye fell, “Y/n?”

“Did I wake you?” you asked, your face filled with a shocked, near uncomfortable, and embarrassed expression he doesn’t recall ever seeing on you. “I’m so sorry! I’ll wait until—”

“No,” Kirishima grunts while he shakes his head, his voice raspy and dry from his lack of use. “I’ve been tossing and turning, um, what is it? Do you want to come in?”

“I-If that’s okay?”

Kirishima breathes out a bit, his shoulders relaxing as he smiles softly, “Come on, let’s talk about what’s on your mind.”

The door clicked behind your tentative steps with an echo, and Kirishima watched as you walked into the hotel room with wariness and caution.

“Would you like some tea?” Kirishima offered, picking up a shirt from his dresser and pulling it over his body. The fabric was tight against his chest and shoulders, but felt more appropriate to wear around you.

“No, I’m okay,” you politely decline.

You stood in the center of the room, unsure of where to sit, stand, or lay.

“Go ahead and make the bed,” Kirishima offered, taking the chair by the desk. “I promise it’s still clean.”

You laugh slightly, smile strained but grateful as you sit at the edge of the bed, binder resting on your lap.

“Thanks, I wouldn’t want to sit on a dirty bed,” you joke, but it sounds weak to Kirishima’s ears.

“So, what questions do you have?”

“Hm?”

“You have my portfolio,” he shrugs, leaning forward so that his forearms rest on his knees. “I have a feeling you have some questions.”

“Oh, right,” you whisper, your eyebrows scrunching as you open the binder to the first page, but your eyes are focused on the desk. “What’s the medication for?”

Kirishima turns his head to follow your gaze and comes across the yellow tinted medicine containers.

“My PTSD,” Kirishima answers honestly, his voice soft with emotion, but there was no shame in it. “My service had a difficult end.”

“That’s actually… that’s what I came to talk about,” you rush, your hands slamming the binder closed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, obviously I won’t push it! God, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” Kirishima interrupted, his smile sad, but he stood up, his body a tower in front of yours as he urged you to sit back down. “It’s okay; I don’t mind talking about it.”

“B-But what if I say something that makes it all worse?”

A pause.

“Then I’ll tell you that it’s too much.”

A nod.

“Are you… are you still experiencing a lot of symptoms?” you ask, your fingers tightening and untightening around the binder.

“Some days are worse than others,” Kirishima admits, his shoulders shrugging. “I don’t experience much anxiety while in crowds anymore; I don’t have many flashbacks to those days anymore, not since February at least. I do still get… I still get night terrors and dream of that day. It’s nowhere near as bad as the first few months after the accident, but it’s still here.”

“What happened?” you asked after a bit, morbidly curious.

The file had all the details that proved Kirishima to be a master of firearms during his entire time on the force. He was a powerful combatist, and his ranking was a clear indicator of the respect and skills he had. Still, it was the quick honorable discharge, the near year-long hospitalization, and the current inability to use a firearm that concerned you.

What had happened?

“I was involved in a grenade explosion on my last day on tour. I was the only one who managed to survive the blast,” Kirishima easily stated, his voice quiet.

“Oh my god, I… holy shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, it’s all good. There were only two others around, and one of them was already dead.”

“Was that um, Major—”

“We called him Crimson Riot, actually,” Kirishima smiled, a chuckle light on his tongue as he leaned back onto the chair, nodding. “Yeah, that was him.”

“Crimson Riot,” you repeat, nodding. “Did you watch him… watch him die?”

Kirishima presses his lips tightly together, and for a moment, you’re unsure if he’s going to cry, answer you, or tell you to leave. There’s a whirlwind of emotions on your optimistic and typically jubilant bodyguard despite your asshole tendencies that make your stomach twist.

“Yes,” Kirishima finally answers, and you nod.

It’s hours into the morning before you finally depart back to your room, the horrors of Kirishima’s past still pounding into your ears. Kirishima wouldn’t notice, and neither would you, but on his shirt and yours, there’s a few drops of tears the both of you shed when you said goodnight.

Sergeant Kirishima Eijirou, while on an active warzone, had accidentally struck and killed his superior officer, his friend, his role model Crimson Riot, thinking that he was nothing more than an enemy target as he sat wounded behind a wall. He died on his lap, and as someone came to help, a grenade landed two meters away before detonating.

“K...Kiri...shima?” Crimson Riot had whispered as he fell to his knees, blood gushing and seeping through his clothes, spilling onto Kirishima’s lap. “I’ll be okay.”

For whatever reason, since that night, Kirishima felt something in him shift. He still took his medication, still had his virtual therapy sessions when he could fit them in, and even had painful night terrors of that moment, but it was becoming less frequent.

He wasn’t made of glass.

There had been more instances after the kidnapping attempt, but unlike the last times, Kirishima was prepared. He had stopped each one, keeping you safe and sound. As of one week ago, he had officially been given a firearm to keep strapped to his thigh at all times now.

It was an unfamiliar weight, one that still twisted his stomach and made him nervous, but he knew the reason why it was needed. Since the gun had been added to his gear, the attacks stopped. He was definitely not ready to be firing it anytime soon, but it had deterred the attackers for the time being.

Kirishima paused when he heard his earpiece ring, and he dropped his phone where he had been watching your interview despite being there himself.

“Talk to me,” Kirishima answered, his finger pressing the accept button.

“Kirishima!” came the distressed voice of Kimiko, “We just got a tip!”

Kirishima stilled, his eyes scanning the empty hallways that stretched throughout the private hot springs.

“I don’t know, but a person with connections with this mastermind said something about how there were two more events he was staging. Today is one of them!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened, his lips parting to answer Kimiko when instead there was a large, loud crash in the water from inside your room. He assumed the worst.

“Y/n!” Kirishima shouted, hands throwing open the sliding door and racing through the storage room, the shower, and exited out into the hot spring.

Steam curled through the wind, the white wisps of steam feeling warm and light against Kirishima’s skin, and Kirishima panicked when he couldn’t see your shadow or figure in the hot springs.

“Where is she?! Is she alright?!” Kimiko panicked, her voice panicking already. “I’ll call the—”

Kirishima turned on his heel, ready to complete a full sweep of the outdoor hot spring when he crashed into something smaller than he was… smaller, softer, and definitely the shape of a woman. Kirishima felt his entire body stiffen when his rough palms felt the undeniable feeling of wet, warm skin.

“Oh my god,” he heard you shriek. “KIRISHIMA!”

“She’s all good, Kimiko,” Kirishima stifled out, his voice tight, his head slamming backward so that his eyes were concentrated on the starry night sky.

“...sorry… uh aha! Another client of mine is calling, goodbye!” Kimiko’s apology was meek and small before she hung up.

Kirishima’s mind was racing a mile a minute, but his body was frozen, unmoving like a rock when he realized that pressing to his stomach was, without a doubt, your breasts.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“What are you doing in here, pervert?!” you splutter, your hands pressing to his stomach as you step away. “Are you a pervert or something?!”

“I, no! No! Of course not! Fuck, shit, I’m so sorry! I’ll go! There was a tip that something was going to happen right now, and there was a crash and—”

“What are you looking at?” you exclaim, squeaky frustration heavy on your tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with the sky! Look me in the eyes? Have you never been to a co-ed hot spring before?!”

“Y-Yes, sorry!” Kirishima apologized, bowing slightly in apology before he peered down. Still, his face bursted in a flame as he watched the way your jaw dropped in disbelief, the dewy wetness of the hot spring clinging to your body. You were, obviously, soaked, and Kirishima bit his tongue as hard as he could to keep the whimper from expelling past his lips when he saw the light gleaming off your breasts. But he watched your face shift between a million emotions, each one appearing too fast for him to read, too fast to register, but he saw the way a single-arm wrap around your breast and the other shoving into his stomach.

“PERVERT!”

“What?!”

“That was a test! This is my private room! I have the right to not be willing to be looked at right now!” you shrieked as Kirishima spun around, allowing you the complete privacy of his gaze.

“You told me to look at you!” he squawked. “Y-You told me, and I listened because of our contract!”

Kirishima could feel his body trembling, his mind reeling in disbelief that he definitely saw you in your entire nakedness, and if the swirling heat in his stomach had anything to say about it, he liked it. Fuck.

There was a soft laugh and the sound of sloshing water as you probably (he wouldn’t know because he wasn’t looking) reentered the spring.

“I know, I was teasing,” you sing, and he can tell the water is gliding around your body. “Turn around, Kiri, let’s talk.”

“Haha, um, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Kirishima admits, although sitting in this steam-filled space with just you sounds so very nice.

“Why not?” you asked, voice sounding a bit upset.

“I’m supposed to be outside, doing my job?”

“Augh, but these private springs are so boring alone,” your voice whines; the water sloshes, and Kirishima winces at the slight throb on his tongue as he continues to look at not your direction. “Turn around, Kiri.”

Not too long ago, you had taken to calling him Kiri, a subtle change, a not unusual nickname people gave him. But just because it was you, his stomach flipped and twisted, and now with the image of your tits in mind, his dick throbbed.

Gulping, Kirishima turned, his gaze bashfully looking down at you before glancing away. You were chest-deep in the hot springs, tendrils of your wet hair sticking to your neck. Was he dead? Maybe dreaming?

No, his dreams were never like this.

“Do you want to come in?” you continued to ask, your body moving towards him in the water until you reached the edge of the pool, arms testing into the black rocks. “You’re the only one not in one, and since I hate being in these alone, I figured you’d like to join.”

Kirishima wanted to join. More than anything, he wanted to take his clothes off and jump into the springs with you, for you, but that would be unprofessional. Entirely and utterly unprofessional.

“Please?” you ask softly, pleadingly, and Kirishima makes the mistake of locking his gaze with yours.

“...fine, but I’ll be on the other side of the spring,” he concedes, his steps near clumsy and oafish as he stumbles backward to the shower and closet.

“Such a gentleman pervert,” you tease, fingers curling as you wave at him until Kirishima finally closes the door behind him.

The empty room is nearly deafening in its silence and the future as Kirishima slumps against the sliding door, excited apprehension rippling through every cell of his skin as a smile spreads across his face. He walks to the storage room, and despite it being a private room, there were two closets. The closet not already occupying your clothes had the things needed for him, and thankfully, it fit.

He undressed slowly, folding his clothes and placing them into the cubbies. Fully naked, he approached the showers, and under the lukewarm showerhead, he cleaned his body of any grime, dirt, and sweat.

Feeling refreshed and clean, Kirishima began his descent to the hot spring, his heart hammering when his fingers grabbed the handle of the door.

“I’m coming in,” he announced, a healthy amount of fear, excitement, and heat drumming through him.

“I’ll keep my virgin eyes away from your body, don��t worry,” came your slow tease, and Kirishima snorted softly.

Kirishima stepped back out to the hot spring.

Just like the first time, the entrance to the spring was warm, the steam seeming thicker than last time, clouding the outdoor room and his sight. You were at the furthest out part of the pool, your back towards them as you worked your fingers through your scalp.

Discarding his slippers at the edge, Kirishima climbed into the pool.

The pool only went as far as his thigh, and he sank into the warm water. It felt wonderful on his body, relaxing his muscles just enough for him to wonder when was the last time he had managed to visit a hot spring.

“I’m in,” Kirishima said, his arms rising up out of the water, resting onto the black stone. “You can turn around now.”

“God, took you long enough,” you tease, your body twisting so that you were facing him again.

To Kirishima’s complete and utter surprise, you stilled, eyes dragging up and down his exposed chest, eyes locked on the series of tattoos all over his right pectoral, and trailed down his right arm. His lips felt dry as your eyes shifted back to his face, to his arm, and back to him. The smile on your face felt weak, but it sent a spiral of dizzying heat through Kirishima when he noticed the hushed lust.

For a while, the two of you remained at opposite ends of the hot spring. Eyes closed, hummed melodies passing through the song. You asked Kirishima about how he felt, if his medication was due for refills, if therapy was okay (he was doing better, a refill was due in two weeks, and therapy was going the same). He asked you about your relationship with Kimiko, with the lawyer, and if you had any real friends within the music industry (Kimiko was like an older cousin to you, the lawyer was a pain to deal with at times, and surprisingly, you did meet some genuine friends). You questioned how his friends were doing, if he had any contact with them despite their busy schedules.

So Kirishima found himself retelling stories of his coworkers turned close friends. Each story he told left both of you with sore stomachs from laughter, and tears at the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.

“Was the tip story true?” you asked once the quiet overcame and grew old. You shift through the water, getting a bit closer to Kirishima.

Kirishima coughed, suddenly feeling a tad bit shy about his posture, but decided to keep from moving.

“You honestly think I would have barged into here just because I wanted to see you?”

Truthfully, had Kirishima been a man without morals, chivalry, or disrespect for you, he would have. Definitely would have.

“Let a girl dream,” you smile, like a luring siren as you wander closer by just a step. “It would go against everything I know about you, but it’s fun to tease.”

“You’re a bigger brat than I thought you would be,” Kirishima smiles back, trying his best to not show the way goosebumps were bursting against his skin, his eyes locked on yours, trying to not get distracted by the way your wet skin made his mind spin.

“I don’t think I’m a brat,” you counter, getting close enough that he could feel the currents of the water with your movement. But you were far enough that Kirishima felt like pointing out the fact you disregarded his keep apart rule would be a mistake. “How am I a brat?”

The sound of the water rippling through the springs along with the growing noises of the bugs began a melody around the two of you, and all Kirishima could do was stare at the way you blinked your eyes slowly — like a feline stalking a prey.

“A lot of ways, really,” Kirishima breathes, his heart rising up to his throat as he felt your hands gingerly place themselves on his knees.

“Yeah?” you ask, parting through his naked legs, and Kirishima felt his breathing stop when your exposed chest pressed against his. Your lips were ghosting so far from his but tantalizingly close enough that he felt drunk off your sweet breath. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Kirishima sucked in air, his arms resisting movement, and his eyes glanced down at the way your mouth was millimeters from his. His dick was very much interested in what he could do about it, and when your hands grazed up his thigh and onto his chest, Kirishima could feel something rumble in his chest.

He moved to eliminate the space, but there was a crash in the following spring, pushing you away from him long before he could claim your mouth.

“FUCK!” the person in the opposite spring screamed, and Kirishima��s eyes closed in his muted annoyance as you sighed.

His eyes dropped to the water, giving you the privacy to rise out of the water and make your way over to the wall.

“Jenny, are you okay?” you called.

“Give me a warning the next time you try fucking your hot bodyguard in the middle of a private onsen!”

“We weren’t fucking you prude!”

And with that, Kirishima took this as his embarrassed cue to leave.

He stood at the entrance of your private spring for about twenty minutes, entirely uncomfortable with the still hard dick in his pants, rubbing and chaffing against his jeans as he stood there. Eventually, you exited the hot spring, face glowing from the steam and eyes avoiding his gaze as you walked back to your room. Your robe was tight on your body, the hair on the nape of your neck pressed to your skin.

Kirishima sighed as he watched you enter your room, your smile short as you nodded a simple goodnight before letting the door slam shut behind you.

Rubbing his face, Kirishima listened to the voices in his intercom talk about how nothing had happened tonight. An attempted unwelcome visitor tried to get into your room, but they had stopped him. They didn’t fight, but they had run away the moment they caught on to the fact that they weren’t exactly authentic.

Kirishima sighed as he slumped into his room, collapsing on the too small bed as he found himself looking at the ceiling in deep concentration.

What was he going to do now?

That was undeniably sexual, his still semi-hard dick damning evidence to the known fact that he wanted you. By god did he want you. Wanted you beneath him, over him, splitting yourself down onto his cock while you gripped your arms and legs around him, fucking down onto his driving cock.

Kirishima groaned low in his chest, guilt blooming in the back of his throat as his palm rubbed his pulsing cock.

Bad, Kirishima, bad.

“Kirishima-san?” a voice broke through his earpiece, and Kirishima nearly jumped out of his skin. “Are you there?”

“Hi Kimiko,” Kirishima sighed, his dick deflating instantly. “Everything all right?”

“Ah, yes! Sorry about earlier, the false tip and the sudden abandonment!” Kimiko embarrassingly apologized. “My client was ringing for the fourth time, and while I care deeply for y/n, I had to take it!”

“Mm, no worries, Kimiko,” Kirishima smiled politely despite the lack of visual contact. “How can I help you?”

“Ah, yes,” Kimiko asserted, her tone changing from apology to one of formality. “So, about the visitor incident I’m sure you were brought attention to, it seems that the vehicle they came in was with the driver's plate: T082-23. Does that sound familiar?”

“Not currently,” Kirishima sighed, his body stretching into a sitting up position. “Does it to you?”

“No…” Kimiko admitted, and Kirishima could feel the worried frown on her face. “Well, I just wanted to call and give you that information. It was passed along to me, and they mentioned they hadn’t told you. And since I was going to give you the schedule for the upcoming JRA’s award day, I figured I’d let you know!”

“No problem! Let’s go over the schedule now?”

“Yes! I have a client meeting in America right after this! Can you believe it? An American celebrity wants my help?!”

“That sounds amazing, Kimiko!”

“Okay, so this is how the day’s going to go!”

Date: 7/10 Time: 18:00 Location: Tokyo Hotel Room 101

Kirishima watched as an entire team was getting you dressed up.

Two people were doing your hair, three people doing your nails, one person doing your makeup, and five getting one of your three outfits for the night ready.

According to you, as you had strutted around in these outfits nearly two weeks ago were your red carpet and beginning of the award show outfit, your performance outfit, and of course, the after-party outfit. Each one was different, yet when adorned on your body was a perfect replica of who you were.

Most importantly, the two of you had decided to ignore every single instance of tremendous sexual energy and desire that basically leaked from both of your pores. It was for the best to ignore it. There was no point in pursuing it, especially when there was a known hunt for you, and Kirishima was the last line of defense between you and whoever it was.

Whoever it was, pfft.

Kirishima was willing to bet on who it was already.

Since the night of the initial kidnapping that finally closed the gap between you and Kirishima, there was something that the caught criminal said that stuck with him.

Everything you had coming your way, you deserved, he had said in bitter spite.

The interesting thing was that it was the lawyer who had said that, multiple times at that. The lawyer seemed to have everything to fuel him to rage against you. Everything you said or tried, the lawyer was on your heel, barking at you that it was wrong. Kirishima had also seen the contracts between you and the lawyer, and the amount that he was paid to be your attorney was not large at all.

The mass majority of the funds you earned were always funneled towards charities and organizations you trusted to help people in need — in fact, it was almost 80% of your total earnings. A meek, barely larger than 20% was split between you, your lawyer, Kimiko, your music crew, and any other unforeseen expenses. The lawyer was also in a situation where he was not in demand with clients, and if you weren’t heeding his expensive tag, he needed a new contract with you.

A contract he was always demanding to discuss with you that you denied to change.

Attacks tended to happen days after you and the lawyer tumbled, not enough to rouse suspicion if you weren’t looking, but Kirishima was. He just needed damning evidence now.

Something.

Anything.

And for some reason, his gut was screaming at him that something big was going to happen tonight, that tonight was going to be the last attack—the one to end everything.

So he had told everyone about it. Kimiko, the security at the JRA’s, even you. It made him nervous.

It made his hand sweat, the gun strapped to his thigh feeling like hot iron as he stood about as you laughed with your makeup crew.

Kirishima swore, promised, and vowed he would protect you.

He was going to.

And when the gold dress was tied to your body, fitting you beautifully, Kirishima found himself unable to look away like strands of your hair framed your temples.

“What do you think, Kiri? Will I be on the Best Dressed List?” you asked, tearing Kirishima’s attention away from the bodice and skirt of the dress. Your eyes were bright, hopeful, yearning for a positive reaction from him.

“How could you not be?” Kirishima admitted, his grin toothy, and he shifted against the wall.

“You’ll make me blush,” you grin back, eyes batting just a bit as you clasp your hands together. It takes everything in Kirishima to keep from striding across the space between the two of you and kissing you silly. “Are we ready to go?”

Kirishima wet his lips, unwillingly tearing his gaze from you, and whispers into the intercom.

“Ready to move out?”

“We’re all clear.”

Straightening back up, Kirishima smiled at you, his head motioning towards the door.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see you make some history?”

“Damn right I will.”

Kirishima smiled as he exited first, carving the path for you.

Paparazzi were on you immediately, the lights flashing and terribly bright as he helped you through the throngs of them. His hand pressed to your back as they screamed demands, most of which you complied with until Kirishima stated that you would be late. You, unfortunately, couldn’t be late to the awards show.

Ushering you into the limousine, Kirishima follows in shortly after you, scrunching up in his seat as he sits opposite of you. However, your typical light and bright demeanor are gone; instead, you seem almost anxious as you open your handbag.

“You okay there?” Kirishima asks as he realizes you pulled out a distinctly obvious metal flask.

“Awards make me nervous,” you painfully admit; you're weakly smiling as you knock back a shot of the drink. “I hate winning and losing; the alcohol makes me less… of a wreck. Do you want some? I think it’s apple soju, I don’t know, a good luck gift from Kimiko.”

Kirishima grins, his eyes rolling as he decides to decline the drink. “Sorry, love, I think that I need to be completely sober for today.”

You scrunch your nose, obviously displeased, “Lame, who shows up to these awards sober?”

“Me,” Kirishima laughed, his head tilting back and scraping against the ceiling of the limousine.

“Such a prude, sober, pervert,” you sigh, taking yet another swig before putting the flask back into your bag.

“Such a brat.”

Just like every previous instance, your eyes seem to glow in glee at that name, your lips curling into a pleased smirk as you shrug. It's a sight that makes Kirishima’s mouth dry and heart racing. Fuck, he should not be thinking about fucking you in the limousine right now.

But before the heat in the limousine could simmer to one of undeniable boiling, you had arrived.

Kirishima cleared his throat, sending a quick wink your way as he exited the car first. The first stop was for him to join the lineup to guide you through all the different photo and interview sessions. No one wanted pictures of him emerging from the limo after all.

There's a moment where after Kirishima closes the door, your eyes filled with worry and excitement as he winked goodbye, that things changed. He stood up, his eyes already scanning the area for anything suspicious, when he saw the all too familiar van.

T082-23.

His eyes widened, his head looking around for anyone else, but there was no one to help. No one could do anything as the car continued to drive away, disappearing from Kirishima’s line of sight. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands instinctively went to his thigh. He had his firearm… he had it.

With nothing but a quick report to the head of security via his com, Kirishima pushed on ahead, waiting for your descent down the red carpet.

When you eventually emerged from the limousine, Kirishima found that at this moment, the entire world faded away as a gloved hand assisted you out of the vehicle. You were elegant, stunning, a realistic vibrant portrait within his world of greys. As you took photos for the cameras, he was by your side a few strides away as you talked to reporters.

You really came to life right now.

You were beautiful.

“For all the pain in the world that she is, she’s quite charming from a distance, huh?” a voice spoke to his side, and Kirishima froze. His eyes widened completely when he noticed that standing beside him was none other than the lawyer.

The lawyer was dressed in a nice suit, glasses perched on his nose, and for the first time Kirishima had seen, the scowl was not quite so hard.

He was here.

Every warning bell sounded in Kirishima’s head.

This was the man he was so sure was the reason behind your every attack. A man fueled by insufficient funding, a need for a new contract that would never be approved without your signature.

“What are you doing here?” Kirishima asked, subtlety never being something he was ever good with. “I’ve never seen you anywhere except to argue with Y/n about contracts. This doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to be discussing it.”

“Kimiko wanted me to give her a new contract proposal to give to y/n. However, to be fair, it’s quite easy for anything to come down to an argument with y/n,” he shrugs, and Kirishima watches a cloud of emotions pass between the man’s eyes. “At least between her and me, we’ve never gotten along, but I suppose that’s how it is for any type of family who works together.”

Wait.

“What?! Family member?!”

“Yes, I know it’s strange to believe. I am quite ugly, and she is not, but we’re family.”

Kirishima’s mind was racing now. It didn’t make sense. If he was family, why would he be in such pursuit of potentially murdering you? If you were family, he was sure that you would help out? If he needed a raise like he thought, wouldn’t you have helped?

There was no way you wouldn’t.

Was he wrong?

Who was it?

“Kiri!” your voice broke into his mind and tore him back to reality. You waved at him, then passed a stuck-out tongue to the lawyer in a teasing fashion. “Let’s go in?”

Kirishima looked over at the lawyer who greeted a woman, who was also walking down the red carpet, a celebrity he could name no less, with a warm kiss.

Oh fuck.

He needed to call Kimiko; he was so very wrong.

You had won two awards so far, and at this very moment, Kirishima was being ushered back to his seat in the audience as you were being escorted to the main stage to perform your latest song. You had removed your gold dress for a black, sleek gown. Your lipstick changed to a dark red, and your hands trembled in the white lace gloves you wore.

“Oh, Kiri,” you wheezed almost, your hands shaking as the announcers on stage were announcing the last awards before your performance. “I’m getting nervous. What if I mess up or sing off-key? I’d be the laughing stock!”

Kirishima laughed gently, his hands easily encompassing your waist as he stilled your frantic moves. “Y/l/n y/n, if there is anything I know for sure about you is that you are one hell of a singer and a performer. The awards you’re nominated for tonight speak for themselves! You never fail at your performances, and even if you somehow manage to sing off-key, I’m sure that no one would notice! Your biggest fan in the world won’t notice, at least.”

Not more than seven days ago, when you had cried about the impending nerves of being an artist, Kirishima had come to claim the title of being your biggest fan in the world. It had made you chuckle through your tears before coming near a hysterical laugh as the two of you held each other close.

“You’re a nut, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, hands resting on his lower ribs, but your smile was bright, warm. You paused a bit, fingers pulling at the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll sing just for you then, but I think I should take another swig of that soju.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Could you tell that Takeyama is completely drunk off her ass?”

“...she’s drunk?!”

“Exactly, I’ll be fine,” you breathe, taking a new smaller flask from the purse Kirishima was holding for you and taking the final swig. Your face contorts at the bitter liquid. “Ew, Kimiko really fucked me over with this one. Why is it blue?! Have you ever seen blue apple soju?!”

“No?” Kirishima startled, his eyes looking at the indeed splash of blue liquid tainting a small part of your gloves. “Who gave you that one? What happened with the other flask of yours?”

“Oh, Kimiko sent it along after I lost my other one; it’s her own flask,” you said before the backstage crew whisked you away to begin your set, and without you, Kirishima was sent to the audience.

Kirishima felt trapped as he was ushered into his seat, his eyes scanning the entire audience for something suspicious, a familiar face perhaps. His broad shoulders continued to bump into his neighbors, their disgruntled noises doing nothing to stop his worry.

“And now, Y/n,” came the strong voice of the male announcer, and the light dimmed.

Kirishima watched as the spotlight came down upon you, a golden halo of colors against your darkened gown as the instrumentals began to play in the background. And he saw you take a step forward, the building motifs suddenly silencing when you finally sang the first note.

Despite the panic arising in Kirishima, the unknown of who was behind it all, what was going to happen, he stilled at the unmatched strength and ambiance of your voice.

You sang as you did at every stage, to every audience.

There was a reason why you were considered a legend.

And then, with one last sound, one last melody, and your hand holding your microphone dropped. Your chest heaving, tears falling down your face, and the roar of the audience was silent. You looked through the audience, unable to see, but for some reason, you just knew where Kirishima was.

You smile.

But as the looming sounds begin to fill your ear again, you find that the world is hazy.

You swallow, eyes unfocused as you bowed, hurrying to leave the stage.

Kirishima watched as you took a final stumbling step off the stage, something he felt was going to be written off as you stepped on your dress. But his mind whirled.

The lawyer felt like a setup; the contracts made no sense, the blue soju.

How were they related?

What connected them?

“Oh, fuck,” Kirishima whispered, horrified, and immediately his finger pressed to his earpiece. “Find Y/n! Now!”

Kirishima was racing through the back of the venue, the announcers' voices still ringing through the dirty, bleak hallways. You had just won but was written off as being somewhere backstage; after all, the show must go on.

Voices screamed in his earpiece, each declining to have found you. No one had seen you after you stepped off the stage. No one knew who had taken you.

Kirishima noticed the doors closing at the end of the hallway, and with a dreading sense of doom, Kirishima removed the gun from his harness. And with the devil on his heels, he ran.

Kirishima panted as he looked before him.

You were passed out, draped limp, confused, and woozy against Kimiko’s body, and two men knocked unconscious beside them. To anyone else, it looked as if Kimiko had saved you, some guardian angel within this world, but if Kirishima’s gut meant anything, he knew better.

“Kirishima-san!’ Kimiko squeaked as Kirishima raised his gun, his body tense, unwilling to take a chance on her. “I don’t know what those two were doing! I was saving her, I swear!”

“Don’t do this, Kimiko,” Kirishima whispered, his head shaking. “I figured it out.”

There was a shift in Kimiko’s face at that; the scared unknowing hero melted into one of anger, resentment, one of someone who knew they had been outed.

“So, you figured it out,” she bitterly spoke, her arms that were supporting you from behind revealing to be a firearm of your own. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“I can’t say I figured out your reasoning; honestly, it doesn’t make sense to me, but I felt like it was you,” Kirishima carefully states, his heart roaring at the implied danger of the firearm against your chin. “Don’t do anything stupid, Kimiko.”

Kimiko stares, her lips forming a small o before changing into one of a large, near unattached grin.

“Anything stupid? If anyone is doing anything stupid, it's this selfish prick!” Kimiko spits, her arms tightening around you, making you whimper ever so gently in pain. “She thinks she’s so great, so rich, so smart! Just because she wastes most of her money on stupid shit like charity! Everyone thinks working for her is a dream, but they’re all blind idiots!”

Kirishima’s eyes widen as he notices the glazed, unfocused of your eyes as you shift your attention over to him. Were you listening?

“What’s wrong with the contract?” he asks, a small attempt to diffuse the situation.

“The fact she pays me next to nothing, and yet she works me half to death!”

“You have multiple clients, don’t you?” Kirishima splutters, unsure as to what was wrong. “Why is this one contract so important you wanted to frame her lawyer?!”

Kimiko laughs; it’s pitchy, almost hysterical as she bends over, your body slumping further onto the floor. “That was a lie! All a fucking lie! Do you know that I knew no one when I first started? Y/n is a name everyone wants. I don’t need to do anything to get her things! The world wants her! But the other clients? None of them stayed, none of them wanted me past a month! The salary was okay when she was a snot-nosed brat, but ten years later?! NO! She won’t fucking listen. She never fucking listens to anything but herself! So she has the option to give me the eighty percent, or fucking die here!”

Suddenly the gun in Kirishima’s hand feels like a ton, the skin on the back of his neck crawling and slicking with sweat.

“You know how much those charities mean to her,” Kirishima whispers. “She won’t do it.”

Kimiko trembles for a second, her arm holding the firearm lowering as she looks at the wall, shaking.

“Oh my god… you’re right,” Kimiko realizes, horror and uncertainty flashing across her face. “I guess… she has to die, oh my god, she has to die.”

At that moment, the world slowed down, and Kirishima swore he could see the atoms, the electricity flowing through the space between them. Kimiko’s arm holding the gun raising back up to your temple, her smile detached, horrific yet gleeful.

His body trembled as he doubted himself, his mind unsure if the finger on the trigger was going to be strong enough to fire away. Could he do it?

Was he ready?

Actually ready?

Save her, his past whispered.

Save her, his nightmares screamed.

Save her, his heart yelled.

Kirishima raised his arm, his focus blaring, his past just for a moment, forgotten.

BANG!

“The effects of the rohypnol have already worn out. Thankfully she wasn’t given a whole pill. If she experiences any nausea or throws up, please bring her back, should anything else happen, she’ll be okay.”

The words of the doctor rang in Kirishima’s ears. For tonight, they were going to be discharging you to him. Thankfully, it was all happening in Tokyo, so Kirishima’s apartment was near, and if Bakugou was true to his word, it was clean.

With the help of hospital security, he had managed to get your tuxedo concealed body into a car, and the two of you rode off to his apartment. You’ve been silent the entire time, eyes downcasted as you sit pressed to his side, feeling like a small child compared to him. You knew that he was much larger than you, a near two feet taller, but this felt unmatched.

Kirishima’s jacket was warm around you, it’s sheer largeness another dress on your body, and despite the horrific turn of events, you were feeling warm. You couldn’t remember much of what transpired after stumbling off stage, but you did remember Kirishima bursting through the doors, a look of anger and fear blistering off his person in such a way that made you whimper when you remembered.

You remembered the onsen basically every night, cursing your stupid makeup team for interrupting a night that definitely would have ended with you fucking Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being a coward and not just saying fuck it and fucking him afterward despite the brief awkwardness.

He wanted you, it was clear as day, and you wanted him as well.

Tonight.

“Sorry about how small my apartment is, or if it’s messy, I don’t actually know if my friends have been keeping up with it,” Kirishima apologized, guiding you into the apartment by the small of your back. “You’ll be safe here tonight, and I promise we can get back to your own place tomorrow!”

“Oh, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” you smile, feeling flushed as you cross the entryway to the apartment. His apartment, despite not being home in so long, is clean. The halls aren’t messy, and a hint of lavender is saturated to the air. The dim hallway lights were barely bright enough to cause you to squint as it was dark out. “Thank you for having me tonight, especially after everything.”

At the hospital, you had been given a pair of sweats and a cotton t-shirt. The change in outfit from your event dress was definitely needed, and even though you were sure your makeup was streaked down your face, you felt good hidden in the depths of Kirishima’s jacket.

“Are you hungry?” Kirishima asked, handing over his guest slippers, which you gratefully accepted. “I might have some microwaveable food leftover.”

“Ramen doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit as Kirishima unbuttons the first few buttons on his white dress shirt. You were instantly captivated by the movement, your eyes shifting back to his face when he began to walk off towards the kitchen.

Kirishima talked warmly, keeping the conversation going merrily and bright throughout the entire time in the kitchen. He undoubtedly knew you weren’t entirely okay, and at moments like this, you were entirely grateful for his sweet personality.

To be fair, you knew that you had been quite unfair to Kirishima in the beginning. Looking back at the first entire month of knowing him, you were horrified and impressed that Kirishima didn’t demand to be dropped. You had been selfish, stubborn, a bottom line brat, and he took it day after day. It wasn’t that you disliked him back then; hell, you had been in a near state of delirium when he entered the door during your first meeting because you had no idea such huge men existed to the caliber of his hotness.

But you resisted and might have been harsher than needed.

It was okay now; after all, if he was genuinely bitter about that entire month still, the onsen said otherwise.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be filled with warm broth, soft boiled eggs, and ramen noodles. Kirishima did, in fact, have ramen, fresh eggs, and some vegetables. In a grand act of preparing you the most sufficient dinner he could, Kirishima presented this under budget ramen and laughed when you said it was terrific.

But it was growing late.

The two of you still sat at his table that was full of a card game, your empty ramen bowls, and cups of water. The clock on the oven read 23:38, and the city lights were slowly dying.

“Are you ready for bed?” Kirishima eventually asked you.

You looked up from your joined hands; your fingers had been playing with his thick and long fingers for some time now. The apartment grew steadily quieter as you studied and attempted to memorize each callous and scar on his hands. They were definitely marked and nicked, the sign of the warrior he once was.

“Depends on the bed,” you tease, lips rising into a small smile as you compare your much tinier hands than his. Your fingertips barely passed the edge of his palm. “What does a big guy like you sleep in? A twin? Tatami mat?”

Kirishima laughed, his hands twisting in yours, wrapping it around so that he raised your hands up to press a kiss to the center of your palms.

“A futon, brat,” Kirishima explained, his smile small but sharp with his humor. “Let’s get you to bed?”

You frown.

“Where will you be sleeping then?”

“My couch is just fine.”

“I’m sure your stuffing in a trash bag had holes in it.”

“That’s okay,” Kirishima laughed, standing up and quickly taking you to your feet as well. “It’s just for a night, I’ll live.”

Your face warmed immediately as he guided you down the hallway of his apartment before finally coming into what was definitely his room.

Kirishima’s scent was faint in this room, cinnamon, wood, and warm spices. It made your eyes flutter as you observed his room from the entryway as he began to set up the room.

His eye for interior decoration was quite… different. You smiled brightly as you glanced around; the diverse and rather boyish decorations around the room warmed your heart. It seemed exactly like what you would think of for Kirishima.

“Well, that’s all!” Kirishima exclaimed, his hands landing on his hips in triumph as he looked around. “The bathroom is the next door over, and I’ll leave a toothbrush out for you. I also left out a new t-shirt of mine if you want to change!”

You nod some more, watching as Kirishima seems unsure of what to do next. He looks around, coughs a bit before nodding.

“Okay, I’ll be leaving—”

“Um, can we talk?” you interrupt, arms wrapping around your body. “I have some things I want to say.”

“Oh, sure!”

“You can sit,” you say, motioning toward the bed. “I have a few things to get off my chest.”

Kirishima pauses for a bit, his eyes looking you over before he eventually nods, and he sits down. The bed slightly creaks under his weight, and you feel your body warm-up at the sound. You want to hear the bed creak more, to rock under the weight of you and him pressed against the sheets as you cried his name.

“What is it?” he asks gently, observing you.

“I just…” you huff, words failing you, your tongue feeling heavy. “I wanted to say thank you for saving me.”

“It was my job to do that,” Kirishima smiled warmly, his arms crossing again.

He was relaxed.

“I mean, I can’t even begin to believe that it was Kimiko who was behind all that, even though we know it was… I know it was,” you trail off, shivering slightly as you remember your ex-managers demented laugh in your ear. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Nothing would’ve happened to you,” Kirishima spoke with finality. “I promised to myself at the first meeting I was going to protect you, hell the entire world would. You’re not going to be taken down by pathetic people like that, not you.”

“Really?”

“One hundred percent.”

“I feel like I should repay you in some way, though,” you rub the back of your neck, eyes fluttering just the slightest bit flirtatious. Kirishima looked at you with full mooned eyes, his arms unfolding and his palms resting onto the bedspread.

“You repay me plenty already,” came his whispered answer, so quiet, so pure you almost smiled. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lip, wetting the drying skin as you take a step toward him. The shoulders of the jacket slowly fall from your own shoulders, pooling just above your elbows as you stop before him, hands resting daintily on his broad shoulders.

“And what if I want something?” you ask, finding yourself stemming with energy as his legs part, allowing you closer access to him.

You step in closer and closer until your outer thighs are ghosting against the inner part of his.

“I think it’s in our contract for me to do everything that you request if I remember correctly,” Kirishima whispers, his bright clear red eyes turning a burnt shade: dark and ever consuming.

“And if I want you to finish what you started over at the onsen?” you press, fingers curling against the muscles of his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

His nose was brushing against yours, cold yet burning against your own skin.

“I’ll gladly show you what I wanted to do that night,” he grunts, eyes deadly, and for the first time, his hands held your waist.

You took a second to recover, your skin sparking with the electricity of his touch, and you suppressed a shiver as you opened your eyes.

“Do it,” you cement your fates, “coward.”

And just like that, in a movement so euphoric, Kirishima’s mouth crashed against yours.

His mouth was hot, dangerous against yours -- a live wire sparking with uncontrollable energy and heat as your mouths danced. Hot puffs of air were passed between your mouths, your fingers shaking with an undeniable release of tension and want.

The kiss was sloppy, desperate, so needy with unspoken frantic determination to fuck each other until the other could no longer move.

Kirishima’s hand removed the jacket from your arms, letting the expensive material fall onto the floor with a heavy thud. Despite the lack of warmth the clothing provided, the feeling of Kirishima’s hands rubbing against your bare arms sent your mind spiraling.

“Get on the bed,” Kirishima commands against your mouth. “Let me fuck you.”

The words were nearly embarrassingly desperate, but the tone of his voice spoke of the absolute domination he wished to assert on you. He wanted you in one exact way, and you had a feeling you knew what it was. But if he had been paying attention, Kirishima should already know that getting you to listen was not easy.

“No,” you grin against his mouth.

Kirishima pulls away instantly, his lips red and swollen as he replays your word in his head. He looks frazzled, absolutely delirious already at the simple, passion-filled makeout. As soon as his eyes clear away the fog, your grin drops, and instead, you look at him with fierce determination and defiance.

“No?” he repeats.

“No,” you confirm.

Your chest feels light, your head spinning as the hands on your waist tighten, and his eyes flash dangerously. The tip of his tongue pushes past his lips before quickly disappearing again.

“Of course, you’re a brat in bed too, such a fucking princess,” Kirishima shakes his head, but his mouth curving into a shark-like grin.

Menacing, promising, sending chilling shivers down your spine.

The world spins faster than you can keep up, your mouth opening to shriek as Kirishima easily lifts you up, and has you lying against his lap.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, princess,” Kirishima begins, his large fingers hooking into the waistband of the sweats you have on and the panties you’re wearing. “My princess gets rewards for being good. If she can behave properly, she gets to be fucked with dick, her pussy gets to be fucked just the way she pleases.”

You can’t help but stifle a moan that threatens to spill out with his words and the way his hands move down the curve of your ass, exposing the naked skin to him. The waistband of both your panties and sweats stay high up your thighs, and it’s almost embarrassing to know you’re still so clothed despite what’s to come.

“And just what does the Sergeant do to bad girls?” you ask, unable to keep your tongue down, your hips rolling against his lap in undeserved friction.

Unexpectedly, abruptly, a hand comes down harshly onto your bare ass.

The contact is rough, stinging against your ass as you cry out in slight pain.

The hand not currently rubbing a warning circle into your ass twists the hair at the top of your head, lifting your head up so that your ear could near his mouth.

“Bad girls get punishments. They get what I want to give them. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Holy shit,” you whimper, heat flaring between your thighs at the thought of Kirishima doing anything to you regardless of if you were good or bad. You rut your ass back against his hand, longing for a heavier touch, a plea for something more.

“What does the princess want?”

“Nothing,” you bite, and the crashing smack of another spank has you moaning loudly at the stinging pleasure-filled pain.

“You moaning like a whore at a simple spank says otherwise,” Kirishima chuckles darkly, his fingers pinching your stinging ass as your body bucks against him. He spanks you again, again, and again. Each slap is intentful, powerful, wanting to get you to admit what you want, and you cry against your hands each time, your eyes fluttering as the pain feels good.

“Of course, a slut like you would be getting off on this,” Kirishima seems amused, his thick finger pressing to the slit of your cunt, spreading your dripping essence against your cunt. He presses against your entrance with just the tip of his finger, and you shriek in a sound for more, your hips jerking backward to get his finger into you, to fuck you with those thick fingers to do something about the growing desperate heat.

“Kirishima!” you scream, your body sweating and twisting on his lap, desperate to find some way to get him to finger fuck you.

“Ah, there we go,” he sighs in delight as his fingers swirl at your entrance, increasing the teasing and making your mind spin. “Tell me what you want, brat.”

“You!” you wail, two of his fingers carting between your wet, sloppy heated lips. They graze your clit, stimulating you further as you can do nothing but instinctively jerk against his hold, trying to get him to give you the needed pleasure to build up to an orgasm. “I want you to fuck me so good! Please, Sergeant, please, I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”

“But you haven’t proven to be a good princess,” Kirishima tuts, his hands disappearing from your pussy despite your crying pleas. His hand grabs your ass, though, massaging the abused skin, grasping it tightly.

You moan, embarrassed at the sensation of his massive hand easily cupping your ass cheek, your fingers fisting into the fabric of his pants as you shake your head.

“Are you going to prove that you’re good?” he asks you, his tone like that of a parent chastising a child. “Gonna prove to me that you can be good?”

You shake pathetically against his legs, but you can’t keep yourself from shaking your head. You can’t prove to him that you would be.

“I can’t!” you whimper loudly, your body twisting on his lap to look up at him, your eyes filled with tears and pleading need. Kirishima looked down at you with lust filled eyes and an undeniable need to be followed.

“You can’t?” he repeats, his head tilting, eyes narrowing, and his fingers dug into your ass. “Or you won’t?”

You tremble on top of him, unable to answer because you weren’t ready to hand over the reins just yet. You didn’t want to submit so fast, you wanted to make his own head dizzy with need but the stubbornness to continue punishing you the way he was promising.

“I won’t,” you gasp, eyes fluttering at the way he finally drops your head.

You gasp loudly as you find him shoving you off his lap, and with your panties and sweats sitting so awkwardly high on your legs, you find yourself tumbling off his lap and onto the floor.

“Guess if you don’t want to behave, I’ll treat you like some fucking pussy pocket and dispose of you once I’m done,” Kirishima easily breathes, and you look up at the now standing man as he tears his shirt off.

Your mouth waters, your cunt throbbing at the sight of the rippling muscles and dark lines of his tattoos on his upper body. You watch fascinated, like one does to a masterpiece, as he undresses until he’s in nothing but his socks. And at the sight of his dick, you can feel at once all the blood in your flushed face drop directly into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking enormous, his girth barely fitting into his hand, and the angry red head spilled its precum against his abs. A black happy trail connecting Kirishima’s abs to his vein throbbing cock.

Holy fuck, he could quickly kill you with that.

Kirishima doesn’t ask any questions as he watches your awkwardly dressed state of a body on the floor. His head is tilted upwards, a small pleased smile on his face as he looks down on you, his hand slowly, leisurely fisting his cock as you can do nothing but stare.

You make some insane noise at the back of your throat at this sight, your thighs trembling with need, and you're pushing off your side, your ass burning, and your balance off as you open your mouth, offering all you could to him.

And thankfully, Kirishima allows it.

He’s much too tall for you to suck him off on your knees, so he sits back down onto the bed, letting you scamper between his legs, mouth open wide like some needy pet.

“Such a good little slut,” Kirishima sighs, sinking his cock into your wet, hot mouth. “Such a fucking cockwhore, all it took was a single glance for you to lose your will.”

You whine against his dick, your jaw tight with the stretch, your tongue lapping so desperately around the cock that was no more than halfway in yet couldn’t go in any further.

“Suck me right, and I’ll reward you by fucking that pretty little pussy of yours,” Kirishima grunts, his fingers pressing into the side of your neck as he ruts his hips up into your mouth, shoving his cock even further into your mouth. “And don’t you dare look away from me while you suck me off.”

It feels like fire.

His cock driving down your throat hurts, the taste of his salty pre-cum slathering all over your tongue and dripping out of your mouth with the saliva you can’t control. His cock hits the back of your throat, and you continue to bob your head, continue to fuck him with your throat as animalistic, praiseworthy noises begin spilling from Kirishima’s mouth.

You whimper at the sight of his head dipping back, and you nearly whine when he shoves the fingers he had gathered your juices on into his mouth. He moans at the contact and with his pleasure with your actions so obvious as you choke against his girth. That was hot, holy fuck, you wanted him to fuck you, please fuck you.

Your eyes close as he begins to fuck faster into your mouth, his delight in hearing you choke around him his driving force. Tears start pouring from your eyes despite your best efforts, your throat and inner thighs burning with lust and need as Kirishima groans, his cock twitching deep in your throat.

Slap!

“Hey!”

Slap!

You gag harshly as your cheeks sting with his heavy slap, your teeth grazing underneath his cock, right against a thick, twisting vein.

“Did I tell you to close your eyes?” Kirishima practically growls, his hands grasping the back of your neck, the other one slapping you across the face yet again. “No. I said… fuck… I said, keep your eyes on me!”

Tears weep down your face, your eyes struggling to keep focus on him as he continued to fuck deep and intensely into your mouth, shoving himself further into you until you could feel his thighs grazing your chin. Oxygen wasn’t flowing anymore; your gags and chokes the only time the burning element could manage to flow through you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to care. He seems to delight in the way you are, despite it all, are moaning and looking at him in a pleading way for more.

More, you plead.

And he delivers.

Kirishima pulls his still hard, not yet cummed, dick out of your mouth and stands.

You splutter with the sudden intake of oxygen to your lungs, burning you from the inside out as you splutter on the ground.

“W-What’s going on?” you hoarsely stammer, your jaw and throat aching from its prolonged abuse. “E-Ei?”

However, Kirishima seems dead set on getting you naked, and you squeal in flustered excitement as he rips the shirt off of you and his mouth pressing against yours again. His mouth crashes against yours, and you moan into his mouth immediately.

His tongue curls into your mouth and your tongues press and rub against each other. Each passing second growing more desperate, needier, more intense as your clothes are ripped one by one off your body.

“Holy fuck, I’ve wanted you for so long,” Kirishima nearly whines, his mouth trailing down your neck, biting and sucking against every centimeter of skin he passed. “Wanted to fuck you against the wall, in my bed, and now I get to do that.”

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you beg, your voice bordering a wail as your arms wrap around his neck, letting him lift you up off the floor. Despite you being so much smaller than him that when he held you to him, your cunt wasn’t pressed to his angry leaking cock, you continued to desperately roll your hips against his abs, the friction welcomed and easing the building pressure. It was an action conveying just what you wanted. “I need you in me, Sergeant!”

“Just cuz… holy fuck,” Kirishima breathes ragged, his body twisting around, and you cried when the cold sheets pressed into your back. “Imma fuck you, Imma… god, just fucking watch.”

Your head thrashed back onto the pillow as Kirishima’s teeth sunk into your collarbone, then captured your sensitive nipples, his fingers dancing against your clit and teasing your center.

“Now!” you cry, fingers digging into his shoulder. “Put it in!”

This time, Kirishima didn’t need to be told twice.

His larger body was suddenly pressed entirely against yours, dwarfing you immediately as your arms wrapped around his back as his cock slammed into you. You screamed at the sudden intrusion, your pussy stretched beyond its typical limits by his girth, his size, his power.

Your cunt throbbed around him, your face buried within his pecs as you, despite the searing pain, shove your hips up towards him. Fucking into him, sucking him further into you.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima groans, “you’re amazing.”

“Talk less, fuck me more!” you screech, your body spasming, twitching so hard from the splitting pleasure and the lava pit in your stomach, and Kirishima does that exactly.

His hips begin to meet yours in equaled power, slamming into you so that the bed creaked beneath you. He fucked you until he had to hold a hand on your hip so you could stay there, and you kept a hand on the wall to continue to push yourself down onto his cock.

You screamed with pleasure, cried for more, Kirishima’s shark-like smirk getting bolder, darker, hotter with every slam of his hips until his tattooed right arm shot down. His hand wrapped around your throat, choking you.

“You’re so loud, princess,” Kirishima moans, clearly liking your loud noises, “but you’re going to wake everyone in Tokyo.”

His hand around your throat is enough to have your legs trembling around his waist, your choked and muffled moans and splutters drowning out even more as he pressed a kiss onto you. He kissed you, licking your mouth, and devouring your every word and thought. Your core twisted, tightened, and burned. It throbbed and clenched with it’s impending orgasm, and your body began to tense to the heavens as his cock throbbed deep within you.

“Who saved you?”

“E-Ei did,” you garble.

“Who’s fucking you?”

“E-Ei is!”

“Who’s going to fucking cum when I tell her to?”

“Me! Fuck, me!”

Kirishima laughs, his arms wrapping around your waist, and in one final, fleeting burst of strength, fucks into you with his own power, needs, and desire, and you can only take it. “Cum, princess,” he whispered almost sweetly against the top of your head, and it was all over. Your teeth sink into his chest as you scream, a blinding white light erupting through your vision as you cum around his cock.

Kirishima whimpers, his cock still pushing deep into your cunt, until you can feel the warm spill of his seed in your womb.

He collapses to the side of you, taking you with him so that you were resting on his sweaty chest.

“Holy shit,” Kirishima whispered after a bit, your body already warm and too lethargic to notice the star-like tone to his voice. “That was fucking… holy shit.”

“Does this mean you like me?” you half tease, half wonder.

There’s a pause, a silence, and you wonder if maybe he had fallen asleep.

But he didn’t.

“I’ve been in love with you for some time now, I think,” he admits, his hand beginning to rub small circles into your back.

You find that despite the exhaustion, warmth floods your cheeks.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I guess we’re going to have to discuss a more… permanent and maybe different contract tomorrow morning, huh?”

Kirishima chuckles, and you find yourself smiling into his chest.

“I think we do.”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

3K notes · View notes

huenjin · 4 years ago

Text

domestic disturbance.

summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.

pairing — bang chan x reader

genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au

word count — 21k words.

warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut

smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!

note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x

"Did I have to come in today?"

"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.

"What does he want now?"

You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.

Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.

He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"

You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.

"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."

"Did you just wake up?"

"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly.

"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.

"What now?"

"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."

"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly.

"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.

Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.

Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded.

"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.

"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.

"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.

"What did you tell them?"

He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."

"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.

"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"

"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"

"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"

Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"

You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."

"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows.

"Wh—"

"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."

"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."

"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.

"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."

"When hell turns cold, yeah."

You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.

The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."

"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.

"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"

Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"

"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.

"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"

Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."

"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."

You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.

"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."

"But—"

"It's Christmas in a few days!"

"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"

"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil.

"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"

"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."

"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly.

"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"

"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."

"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.

"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."

"But—"

"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."

"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.

"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.

"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.

"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.

"Fine. I'm in."

"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation.

"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,

"This could be an accident."

Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."

"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."

The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.

"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do.

"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out.

"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."

You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"

"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with.

"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."

"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file.

"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."

"And?"

"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."

Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."

"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."

"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.

"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."

"As if!"

"We could just go now and investigate—"

"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."

"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.

"It'll draw the media in like vultures."

"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?

"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you."

"Undercover? Undercover as what?"

Twenty fours hours later, you are here.

A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it.

"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."

"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."

"Don't make me throw this chair at you."

Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.

Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"

"Of course. We can't be rude to them."

Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."

"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"

"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.

"Now let's go, honey!"

The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."

The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."

He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."

Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.

On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.

You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.

"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"

"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.

"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."

Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"

"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."

Family? With you? Fuck.

"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.

"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.

"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder."

Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.

"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"

"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."

"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright.

"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel.

Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."

"I'm sor—"

Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."

Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"

"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.

"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.

"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."

"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun.

"Bye!"

Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand.

"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"

"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."

"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."

"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."

"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.

"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."

"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"

"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."

"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."

"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."

You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.

"Why?"

"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.

"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare.

"Why?"

"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.

"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"

Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room.

Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you.

But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.

"Chan?"

He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."

"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."

"Maybe."

You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.

"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."

You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something.

You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.

"What are you searching for? I could help you."

"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."

"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."

You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"

Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back.

"I don't mind."

"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."

Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.

"How do you go about this?"

"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.

The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree.

Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights.

He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.

"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"

"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"

"You're doing so well, don't worry."

And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.

The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.

"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.

"Did Jisung really give us all that?"

You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."

"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."

"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute.

His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.

And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.

It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.

Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.

In his kiss, you are home.

"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"

Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.

"Mistletoe!"

"What?"

"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side.

"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."

"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"

You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.

After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.

The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.

Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people.

"At least it's good meat." You mumble.

"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.

"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."

"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.

You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it.

"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."

Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"

She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."

"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"

"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"

"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling."

Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.

Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"

You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"

"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."

Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."

"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.

"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."

"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"

Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"

They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.

"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.

"Called it!"

"Tell us everything!"

You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."

"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.

"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.

Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."

Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."

"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.

"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes.

"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.

"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right.

The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.

Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."

You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?"

Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."

You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."

"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter.

The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.

"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.

Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does.

You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"

"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."

"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."

"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"

The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh.

"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"

"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.

"But?"

"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."

"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it.

Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"

"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."

"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.

"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"

"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad."

"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"

"Yes, please!"

"Hey—"

It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you.

You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"

"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."

"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?

"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."

"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help."

You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.

"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.

"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."

"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself.

"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"

And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.

There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.

"Chan—"

Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud.

"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."

"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"

You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.

"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."

"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."

"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."

Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.

"Are you done?"

"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars."

Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."

Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars."

Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.

You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?

Chan makes you understand.

You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.

It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you.

He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt.

In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.

He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely.

You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.

Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.

His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.

Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.

His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.

His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.

He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you.

"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.

“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.

"Chan!"

His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.

"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.

You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure.

"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."

His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."

His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.

Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.

Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you.

Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.

"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."

Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips.

"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"

The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.

"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."

He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.

It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.

Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip.

"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.

"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."

"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.

"Please, please, please—"

The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it.

He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."

He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."

Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."

He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.

You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.

Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering.

"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.

"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.

"Good girls don't swear."

"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"

His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."

"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.

Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.

You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.

Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.

"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.

Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.

“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs.

"You're doing great, love."

He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.

Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids.

He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.

He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."

And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash.

He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"

You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.

You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan.

"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.

Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.

Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it.

"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.

You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.

“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.

When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.

You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."

Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.

Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein.

“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."

You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.

You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.

He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.

Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him.

"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans.

Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."

Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.

As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.

You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.

Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.

He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.

“Then, come.”

Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”

Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.

Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.

In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.

You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.

Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.

"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"

"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."

"I'm firm on this theory."

"What theory?"

"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."

"But Somin?"

"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."

"You're the nagging kind of husband!"

"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.

Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.

"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.

"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."

Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.

And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds.

"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"

"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not a mistletoe."

"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky.

"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.

Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you.

"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"

"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.

"The moon is beautiful."

It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house.

The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.

"Is someone…"

"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead.

You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.

Who in the world is this child?

"Is everything alright?"

The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.

"Where's your mum and dad?"

"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.

"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."

And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him.

Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage.

An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension.

You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.

This morning however, the sun shines brighter.

Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"

Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.

"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns.

"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"

Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.

"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"

"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.

"Did you crack the case?"

"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"

Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"

"Huh?"

"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."

You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"

"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal.

"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."

Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.

"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"

"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.

"Be home by 6:30?"

"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.

You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."

Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."

He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting.

"Any luck?"

"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.

"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease.

"Would my wife do that?"

"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line.

"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."

"He has an alibi?"

"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."

You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.

"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."

You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts."

You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.

You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."

You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.

You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.

"Oh, Hey," you stammer.

"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.

"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."

"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.

"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."

"Of?"

"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."

"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.

"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."

She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."

"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.

"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best."

Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.

"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."

Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.

Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."

You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"

"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"

"It's not a sex tape."

"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."

"Likewise, Chan."

"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."

"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."

Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"

"Almost everyone."

Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.

"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.

"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly.

You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.

"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?"

You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."

"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."

"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"

"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"

"Don't twist my words," you laugh.

"Do you want to get married?"

You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"

"Both."

"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."

Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?

"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"

You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."

You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."

"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions.

He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.

"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.

A step too late to realise as always.

You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.

You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.

"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive.

"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"

"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.

"It was you!"

"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.

Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"

You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."

"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."

"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"

"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."

You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."

"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."

Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.

"Who are you, huh? A cop?"

"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."

"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.

"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.

"Well, well, aren't you fast?"

"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.

"Enough talk!"

You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.

"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand.

"That fucking hurts, you bitch."

You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"

"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.

"Are you done?"

"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off.

You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."

She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.

"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"

"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her.

"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."

"Did you reach home?"

Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.

"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."

"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"

"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."

"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"

"Did you reach?"

"Oh, yes?"

"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat.

"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.

It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.

The moon is beautiful.

"Chan?"

"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"

"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."

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