#ty for being invested in my years old au

[penebui]

I'm invested in your revered ghost and true cairn aus and I'd like to hear more about them.

WOAH WHAT A JUMPSCARE!! Well, since we only have one month till hnk ends you get some fun info!!! </3

Reversed Ghost AU

Cairn's head is visible in the sunlight when everything else about Ghost is see through

Ghost goes to the moon with Phos and Aechmea tries to coax Cairn through Ghost with the promise of freeing Cairn's head from the confines of Ghost, and Cairn's inclusions respond to that (despite Cairn not actually being 'there')

Ghost is a lot more... creepy and ghost-like, they often repeat certain phrases and sentiments that Cairn once said themself

That being said their voice is dual-toned, with their main voice deeper and if you listen closely, theres an echo to them that sounds a lot like Cairn's voice

In this AU, Ghost is transmasc

Ghost is still self-sacrificial, but is very protective of their arm that still has Cairn's arm

True Cairn AU

She loses her arm and is still insecure about it, but is more vocal about the problems it causes

Cairn still travels to the moon with Phos, on their on volition now

She still gets into moon fashion

Very dismissive of whatever the fuck Aechmea has going on, but she tags along with his shenanigans because she's bored and curious

She never officially gets with Phos, they moreso have a vague situationship

During the 10k years she wears a pendant with a drawing of Phos that Ghost drew for her (she never truly got over Phos)

She does in fact marry Aechmea but she also performs Lunarian's first Divorce:tm:

She still becomes besties with Shinsha and Antarc, and reminisces about Phos with them

[letiel]

A Grim's Job - Werewolf/Modern AU

CW: Implied Abuse, mentions of Death

Ty would’ve preferred to avoid public transportation. Not just today, as a rule. The train and monorail were okay, buses were worse. Whenever Khasar would drive them was best. He endured it for Kai’s sake. Being out around people did seem to help even if Kai avoided interactions at all costs. He had an iron clad personal bubble and people seemed to notice and give him space. The combination of giant, scruffy man with a bad aura and a giant black dog with a bad aura would do that but it didn’t stop people from giving them funny glances and it didn’t stop people from smelling.

The train car they were in rattled a little on its track. Ty could feel every bump under his belly and chest. When they were seated, Ty lay underneath Kai, behind his legs, to avoid being stepped on. It was the proper service dog thing to do, and it was easy to smell if Kai became distressed from this close.

He could also smell everyone else.

Four seats up there was a man with weed in his backpack. The lady standing to Kai’s left had a mango matcha smoothie. Someone needed to change that baby’s diaper twenty minutes ago. The oil on those train wheels was new. Thank goodness they regularly disinfected these seats…

Those were the good smells.

There was an elderly lady sitting a few seats away. Ty could smell her struggling kidneys and hear her choking on each breath. She had protested when the young lady had offered to give up her seat but relented after the train had started moving. He could smell the time she had left, only a few weeks. She had a lingering hospital smell about her. Undoubtedly, she had received the grave news from her doctor earlier that day.

A business man on his phone was trying to whisper to be polite, but it was obviously too urgent to wait. Some risky investments weren’t panning out the way he had hoped, and he was frantically promising more late nights to whomever he was speaking too. Ty knew from the smell of the coffee, the upcoming lack of sleep, and the preexisting heart condition the man had, that a year from now there would be a small and intimate funeral.

Ty could smell the cancer in the man at the end of the car. He was a young guy who likely had no idea what was growing inside him. It was too late to treat now; it was stage three by this point. It wasn’t a sense he could describe if he had access to his words, but Ty knew the bike messenger had maybe three months left. The man was attributing his exhaustion, upset stomach, aches, and pains to stress from his job. Ty had heard him whispering on the phone earlier to a lover, discussing vacation plans for the following year.

There was a thud sound from immediately across from Kai. There was a woman and her daughter seated there. The six-year-old was trying to entertain herself by swinging her legs back and forth, letting the heels of her My Little Pony shoes hit the pole on the underside of the seat she was too small for. She had been staring at Ty since they had sat down at the prior stop. A healthy, energetic, obnoxious little child. Bless her mother trying to instill good manners, struggling to explain why service dogs needed to be left alone.

“Can I pet that puppy?!” the little girl called across to Kai.

One of Kai’s legs squeezed a little tighter into Ty’s side. Even as dissociative as Kai could be in public there was still an instinct to protect.

“You can’t pet that puppy,” the mother calmly explained.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it has a job. Do you see that it has a vest on? That’s to tell people that its busy and needs to focus.”

“What kind of job?”

“I don’t know.”

The little girl kicked her legs some more. “Is your puppy a boy or a girl?” she called to Kai.

“Boy,” Kai said stiffly.

“He’s really pretty.”

“Thanks.”

The little girl looked at her mom and then back to Kai. “Can I pet him?”

Ty could smell Kai’s annoyance but to his credit the man managed to keep it from his very firm response. “No.”

She seemed disappointed but didn’t cry or scream or throw any tantrum.

Ty flicked his tail and then bumped Kai’s leg with his nose, wiggling his way free to stand up. He shook himself to get the blood flowing back to his legs and to fix the harness that always shifted uncomfortably when he laid down for long periods.

His priority was always going to be Kai; they were brothers, Kai was his ‘church’ and Ty loved him dearly. But Kai didn’t need him right at this moment.

Ty stretched and yawned, all long legs and white teeth and then stepped across to the little girl to put his head delicately in her lap.

She gasped and very gently pet his face with both hands before either Kai or her mother could protest. Her little fingers gently patted his nose and she scratched behind his ears, barely getting into his plush fur at all.

“What’s his name?” she asked reverently.

“Ty.”

“Hi, Ty,” she whispered, and he wagged his tail for her. Very slowly Ty wiggled his back legs forward so he could sit in front of this little girl without moving his head from her lap.

They stayed that way for a while. A couple stops passed by and she didn��t once stop petting and whispering to Ty. Even putting her face in the fur behind his ears as if everything she told him was a secret.

Her name was Elena. She was in first grade and loved her teacher and school. When she was all grown up, she wanted to be a scientist or a ballet dancer (she was still deciding). Macaroni and cheese was her favorite food but not if there were peas in it. She didn’t like peas. Elena liked trains but wasn’t very excited to be on this one today. She usually lived with her mother but for the first time in a long time, she was going to spend a weekend with her father. Elena told Ty that her father would yell a lot and throw things when he was angry and make her mom cry but that she was going to try and be brave anyway.

All the while, Ty listened, leaning into her, letting her tug on his fur and put little braids in the longer tufts until he heard the announcer and felt Kai gathering up the leash.

The train came to a squeaky halt and Ty stood up when Kai did.

“Thank you for letting me pet your puppy,” Elena said politely. She gave Ty a kiss on his nose, and he very softly licked her cheek. She giggled.

Kai grunted in response, and they stepped off the train where Ty made them stop off to the side. Elena was waving to them from the window as the train started to move again and he watched until they were gone. The weight of things settled on Ty’s shoulders then and when he walked with Kai it was with equal dissociation.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kai grumbled a little as they crossed the street. Ty knew his brother was more annoyed that he was forced to interact than upset at Ty for comforting a little girl.

It was his job to care for Kai, but it was also his job to be a herald of death.

Elena had less than a day.

It was the least Ty could do.

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 02

— female reader x hoseok

— smut, porn star!au

— sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification, role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, anal sex, sex toys, face fucking, double penetration, erotic massages, humiliation, degradation, porn star type dirty talk, squirting, creampie, lots of cum (and oil!)

— 19.7k 

… 

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. 

Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳  or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action! collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | part 2 is finally here ! ! ty to jordan who has encouraged me literally every step of the way and to ella for supplying a never ending amount of hoseok gifs and pics when i most needed it :’) i’m sorry again for cutting the chapter into two parts but seeing as this entire chunk only amounted to 1/3 of my outline for part two it’s safe to say i would have never finished this fic otherwise ;;

(!) if you are particularly sensitive to humiliation/ degradation then maybe u should skip the smut scene bc jdjffjkfkddkd cries in tears of heaux 

SCENE 03 - PULP FRICTION. TAKE 02. ROLL A.

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It’s hard to guess how a project will be perceived by the general public. Sometimes a xxx feature film everyone believed would do well sells less than expected, and with online pirating becoming such a rampant and common occurrence, it’s harder to measure the impact of your work. Views and numbers are no longer a reliable indicator of one’s popularity. You’re lucky that you’re signed under such a big talent agency because at least you’re guaranteed regular paychecks, regardless of how well you perform. But to survive in this industry you’re conscious that you need more than that.

According to Seokjin and his expert advice, fans are the ones who will keep an adult entertainer’s career afloat for longer than the average six months. It doesn’t matter how good-looking or well endowed an actor is; if fans aren’t interested and invested, there’s a slim chance that they’ll pay money from their own pockets to view your work. And in order to build such a strong and dedicated fan base, you need one of several things: regular content and an active social media account.

It’s a careful line to tread; not enough online interaction can make people lose interest, but so can overexposure.

You’re patiently waiting for what Seokjin baptizes “The Big Breakthrough” - the decisive project that will propel you into superstardom. None of your videos have ever garnered that type of traction, however, and you’ve been stuck repeating the same old recycled scenarios of plumbers/pizza delivery boys coming over to get the fuck of their life.

When your latest video is uploaded online, you do your best to steer clear from social media. As much as you want to see what people think of your performance, it’s too nerve-wracking to deal with on an empty stomach. You know that if you begin scrolling through the comments, you’ll spend all day glued to your phone, constantly refreshing the page to check for feedback.

And while you aren’t the type of person who lets negative opinions affect your morale, you are nonetheless worried that your time in the industry is about to run out. Lately, the thought lingers ominously in the corners of your mind.

In times like these, exercise is one of the best distractions, second to maybe sex.

Pia, the yoga instructor, walks you through several routines, bending your body this way and that, until your head feels pleasantly blank, devoid for once of any stress and self-doubt. The hour long hot yoga class puts your overthinking mind to rest. In that moment even the notion of time ceases to matter.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

The instructor turns off his meditation playlist while the room empties out, soft chattering replacing the chirping of birds and the sound of cascading water. Slowly, mind still fuzzy around the edges, you gather your belongings and head straight to the vending machine to get a much needed dose of caffeine.

As you dig around the contents of your purse for spare change, someone comes up from behind and taps your shoulder.

“Eep!” You catch your bag before it can slip from your grasp. “What—”

“Shit, sorry!”

When you spin around, hands clutched protectively over your chest to keep your heart rate steady, you don’t expect to come face to face with Hoseok, of all people.

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare. I, um, recognized you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

Now that the initial shock has faded, you’re free to admire the sight in front of you without any distractions.

As handsome as Hoseok looks under the bright studio lights with his hair styled and make-up applied, there’s something undeniably appealing about the way he appears now - with his hair mussed up and sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips. While you normally prefer someone who puts more effort into their appearance, there’s something attractive and unpretentious about his casual demeanor that intrigues you.

Heat surges to the apple of your cheeks when you realize that you’re being too blatant with your ogling. Your eyes settle on his face - a safe zone, one that won’t cause any misunderstandings. It’s a nice sight to look at. Hoseok’s face is pretty, the absence of powder and contour not taking away from his handsomeness in the least. His skin glows in a way that can only be achieved post-workout or after an intense orgasm.

This train of thought brings you down a slippery slope. All too soon, your mind supplies images of his long cock filling you up over and over and over again, his lips whispering praise and filth in the same breath. Your gaze flits to his mouth as you recall how red and swollen they’d been after kissing you senseless, how sticky and wet they’d felt against your own, the taste of your own succulence bleeding into your mouth as your breaths intermingled.

“You’re - yes.” You clear your throat, embarrassed by the way you’d quickly let your thoughts spiral out of control. “It’s fine, you just - caught me off guard. How’ve you been?”

Since you last dicked me down, goes unsaid.

“Just finished teaching a class a few minutes ago. I’ve got a 30 minute break before the next one starts.” He checks his watch. “Well, eleven minutes now.”

“You teach here?” You raise your brows, taken aback by his revelation.  

Not that it isn’t uncommon for adult entertainers to work two jobs - or more. You’ve run into a variety of cases since joining the industry. Some do porn on the side, as a hobby or as a way to make a quick buck. They quit the moment porn becomes tedious or when they’ve made enough money to pay back their loans. For you, however, it’s not like that. What started off as amateur cam work has now become your whole life. You can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means going against your family members’ wishes. They could go suck on a rancid cock, for all you cared.

“Yep, sure do. I teach the morning Pilates class on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Funny how I’ve never run into you before, huh?”

He takes a few coins out of his left pocket and inserts them into the vending machine. “Here, get whatever you want.”

“You don’t—”

“My treat.”

You want to argue but Hoseok’s too beguiling for his own good. It doesn’t take much for you to be won over; Hoseok’s smile widens and you’re a goner.

It’s that easy.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve seen each other naked before or if the earlier yoga session has successfully weakened your defenses, but you’re not as wary as you usually would be around people you don’t know well. Distrust runs in your veins yet something about Hoseok has you lowering your guard.  

Based on your observations, there’s nothing calculated behind his gestures and mannerisms. The blinding grin, the jokes, the way people easily get pulled into his magnetic field - it’s not a facade or an act or a fluke. It’s just the way he is.

Hoseok leans against the vending machine and watches you press in the numbers for your order. From the corner of your eye, you see him studying your profile with a degree of intensity that makes you self-conscious. You swallow down the urge to fidget.

And it’s - silly. He’s seen you bare and at your most exposed, has kissed and touched the entirety of your body from head to toe, but this quiet moment feels strangely intimate, more so than when he’d slid his cock inside of you for the first time. Perhaps it’s due to the absence of cameras and prying eyes or the knowledge that right now you’re both real people, stripped of your porn star persona exterior.

Your eyes meet.

There’s nothing predatory or hungry about his gaze. The passion and the love he’d expressed so naturally during your filmed scenes are no longer detectable. Right now he’s Jung Hoseok, not a character with a role to play. This is all him - the dark circles, the relaxed smile, the slight slouch in his shoulders.

“About—” He clears his throat. “About the other day. The guy that was with you...”

You know without needing clarification who and what he’s talking about. You run your tongue across your row of teeth, wiping away the cheap coffee’s aftertaste, and nod for him to continue.

“He give you a hard time?” Hoseok’s eyes don’t stray from yours. He looks concerned. Serious. “Afterwards I - I regretted leaving so soon. I didn’t want to - I wasn’t sure. But, regardless, I should have made sure you were okay before leaving you alone with him.”

“Oh.”

Realization sinks in. Your eyes widen and you splutter, flustered. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. Jimin - he’s my boyfriend.”

It’s hard to appreciate the concern when all you feel is shocked that someone could misinterpret your relationship for a perverted staff member preying on an unsuspecting porn actress. Although it’s unfortunately common practice in the industry, it’s so far removed from what you share with Jimin that you’re at a loss for words.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Hoseok immediately rubs his face in embarrassment. “I thought - sorry. I’m a dumbass. Ignore me.”

“It’s -”  You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

An awkward silence ensues.

You occupy the void by sipping on the bitter vending machine coffee, your eyes glued to your toenails peeking out the top of your sandals. Any other time, you’d fret over the chipping nail polish and rush to schedule an appointment at the nail salon, but your thoughts are so jumbled up that you can barely string a coherent sentence together.

Jimin - he isn’t anything like what Hoseok’s implying. Implied. You know this. But the fact that someone could mistake him as such doesn’t sit right with you. You want to defend him but at the same time you don’t know what to say.

“I just,” he sighs, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen it happen before. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I guess I’m too paranoid for my own good. I hope I didn’t offend you too much. Or him.”

“No - I’m - I understand.” You give him a small smile to let him know you don’t harbor any ill feelings over the mistake. Hoseok seems so genuinely sorry about the entire situation that it’s impossible to hold it against him.

It’s possible, you think. To misinterpret your relationship with Jimin. The situation back then had been so tense - you remember that better than anyone. Given the context, Hoseok had every right to be mistrustful, especially when no one had bothered to set the record straight.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“There’s no harm done.” You hesitate before continuing, “I’m that way too, you know. I tend to think the worst of people when I probably shouldn’t. I thought - I was worried about you at first, too. When we met. Not because - it wasn’t anything against you personally. I’m just distrustful. But I’m glad - that it was you and not someone else.”

His posture relaxes. “Thank you. I’m glad that it was you, too. And that I was able to prove you wrong about me. With the shit you hear and see happening on set… I don’t blame you for being on your guard.”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll - oh. I think someone’s calling you.”

Hoseok follows your line of sight to where a small group of his students are huddled behind the glass panel separating the Pilates classroom from the hallway leading down to the changing rooms. They’re all female and look around your age, maybe younger. The one who had been waving her arms wilts under the attention of her teacher, blush high on her cheeks, while her group of friends dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Ah. That’s my cue.” Hoseok sighs in apology, the corner of his lips tugged downwards into a pout. “Sorry. Would’ve loved to get coffee and catch up but alas. Duty calls.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll hold you up to that. And it’ll be proper coffee next time! Promise.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree easily. “I’ll buy.”

He looks somewhat offended. “What - no, that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s only fair.” You gesture at the half-empty plastic coffee cup still warm against your palm.

Hoseok opens his mouth to object but a short-haired woman pokes his head out the open door. “Yo, teach! Wasn’t class supposed to start five minutes ago?”

“I’m coming!” Hoseok shouts back, waving his student back inside. “Arrogant brat.”

“Go, go!” You urge, holding yourself from physically pushing him towards the classroom. His group of students look like they’re willing to jump you if you keep hogging his attention.

“We’ll Rock Paper Scissors it!” He says while jogging backwards. “Gotta run but see you around, yeah?”

Your lips pull into an amused smile as you watch him retreat back to his classroom. Through the glass panel, you can see the horde of girls flock around him, each vying for his attention in different ways. You’re especially impressed by how one almost succeeds in drowning Hoseok in her generous cleavage.

The sight of Hoseok dealing with thirsty college girls is so ridiculous you can’t help but giggle. You’re tempted to attend one of his classes just to watch them all trip over each other in an attempt to seduce him. Maybe you could even learn a thing or two.

With that thought in mind, you leave the gym center in high spirits, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle on whatever hurdles the day decides to throw your way. You hum along to a top 40 hit they constantly play on the radio and decide to stop by your favorite restaurant to get take-out before heading home.

As you get into your car, you turn on your phone you’d disregarded all morning and are immediately notified of five missed calls and several unread text messages. More than half are - unsurprisingly - from your agent. You’re tempted to ignore him for an hour or two longer but you know how he gets once his patience runs thin.

“Don’t tell me you were out with Jimmy again,” Seokjin groans once you decide to call him back.

“I was with Hoseok, actually.”

“Hoseok?” Seokjin instantly perks up on the other side of the line. “As in, Jung Hoseok? J-Hope? Your baby daddy? That Hoseok?”

You contemplate ending the call.

Begrudgingly you concur, “Yes. That one.”

“Oooooh. Do tell,” he eggs, the smugness in his tone so thick that you can visualize it.

“It wasn’t - whatever scandalous thought you’re thinking. He works at the gym I go to. What are the chances, right?”

“What are the chances indeed.” Despite the lack of juicy gossip, he sounds pleased. “The news I rang you for earlier involves him.”

“How so?”

“Your video with Hoseok has been the number 1 trending video on Bang Gang’s home page since this morning!” He squeals, enthusiasm making the volume of his voice raise by a notch. “People are eating that romantic insemination stuff for breakfast and lunch. The views on this are insane! We haven’t gotten such a big reaction since the Agust D teacher-student role play and that was ages ago.”

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

Unable to contain the elation that surges through your chest, your face breaks out into a giant grin.

You’re admittedly the first to say that the number of views doesn’t equate to one’s talent or prowess in bed, but you also can’t completely disregard what this particular achievement implies...

While belonging to a reputable agency has its perks, it also entails continuous competition with big names. Your coworkers are also your competitors. Every month the most successful porn stars are rewarded and praised, whilst the ones who rake in the least amount of views are cast aside and are fated to fade into anonymity.

As much as you hate to acknowledge it, you’ve never had the support or interest it takes to contend for 1st place on any popularity polls or rankings of the sort. On Wednesdays, it so happens that the number one trending video spot is usually occupied by a popular femdom porn star who’s been in the game long enough to have secured a loyal fanbase.

Seokjin understands and empathizes with your excitement more than anybody.

“Yes, I’m serious! I think this is It, you know? Your Big Breakthrough, the moment we’ve been waiting for. You’ve been doing well so far but I think we’ll be able to go mainstream with this,” he chatters on, excitement building with every word. “Director Ryu said he’d personally call you up later to congratulate you, so don’t turn off your phone and ignore your calls, okay? I think he wants to ask you to film in his next movie but he didn’t discuss the details with me. Whatever it is - please say yes. I know the guy is a little pompous old fart but he really has an eye for this sort of thing. Casting you and Hoseok in the same film was the work of God. The chemistry between the two of you is unreal, no wonder people are jacking off to this at 10 am while they eat their cereal.”

You think it’s too early to rejoice in the success of your video considering the majority of the viewers are sleeping or busy at work - but when THE SPERMINATOR retains its number one ranking for the remainder of the week, you know your achievement deserves to be properly celebrated.

True to Seokjin’s word, Director Ryu does end up calling you. He wants to work with you and Hoseok again for a new film - and possibly more.

“A multi-film contract? You want to sign one with me?”

“How could I not? You’re both naturals and work well together. More importantly, the camera loves you. And people are on board with the pairing already! I think it’s a good idea to capitalize on their interest, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you — not that you need any convincing at this point.

You refuse to be a flash-in-the-pan star. Although you admittedly had your reservations at first, the unexpected success of the last film is all Ryu needs to persuade you.

And - you like Hoseok. It goes without saying that there are far worse people to be partnered up with. Besides, it’s easier to work with co-stars you’ve starred in movies with previously for multiple reasons. Your acting is much more likely to come off as natural if you’re already acquainted with the dick that’s about to split you open - at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

When you mention the possibility of working again with Hoseok, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“So it’s not a one time thing?” He’s not looking at you directly, his attention fixed instead on the freshly brewed coffee he nurses in his hands.  

“I mean—” You smile tentatively. “Director Ryu hasn’t said for how long he’ll keep hiring us for his projects. Maybe - maybe he’ll keep the format and hire different actors in the future? He - he didn’t really say. I don’t think he has much of an idea himself. He’s very...peculiar.”

You force out a laugh, but your attempt to lighten up the atmosphere falls flat.

“I see.” Jimin brings the coffee cup to his mouth to hide his grimace.

You don’t need to see his dejected expression to know that he isn’t pleased with this development.

“Do you - is there something wrong with Hoseok?” You hesitate, unsure of how he’ll reply.

Jimin’s never insisted you step down from a project before or expressed his dissatisfaction with any of your ‘artistic choices’, although you always imagined that someday, somewhere down the line, he might. Compared to your past dalliances, Jimin is understanding and empathetic. You don’t expect him to be perfect, however, especially when you yourself are far from that. Everyone must have their own personal limits, right? It’s unfair to ask Jimin to be accepting all the time.

It’s just that...the timing is bad.

You want to take his feelings into consideration, but you’re also aware that this might be your last opportunity to get your name out there once and for all. Your previous works have never tanked, so to speak, but they’d mostly gone by unnoticed. While you’ve managed to make ends meet in the past, such anonymity cannot go on for much longer if you want to remain in this line of work.

Your lipstick wears off as you bite your lower lip. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

Jimin sets down his cup of coffee and averts his gaze.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

You breathe out in relief, only now realizing you’d been holding in your breath as you awaited his answer.  

“It’s a bit difficult,” he admits after a pause. “Watching both of you together... Not because it’s bad! You did really good last time. You always do, but - saying ‘I love you’, that kind of stuff, it’s - I don’t know. It’s not your fault, though! I just need some time to adjust. Next time shouldn’t be as strange - since I know what to expect...”

You blink slowly as your brain registers the confession. His words echo in your ears and a strong feeling of déjà-vu washes over you. He’d said something along those lines before, hadn’t he?

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal before continuing, “As for Hoseok... He seems like a good person, I guess. I don’t think he’s the problem. Whether it’s him or another guy...” He sighs. “I think I just need to work this out on my own. It’s not like I can ask you to turn down a job offer because of me, right?”

Guilt makes your stomach turn. He’s right. As much as you want to respect his feelings, you can’t bring yourself to turn down the job for his sake. Does that make you selfish? Does he think less of you for it?

“Alright...” When you reach out to take his hand in yours, his skin is surprisingly cold to the touch. “You’ll tell me if it ever bothers you, okay? Filming this - or anything else. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with what I do...”

You’re not sure what you’ll do if that moment ever comes to pass. Work is your number one priority in life. Many of your relationships haven’t worked out because of that very reason but your past lovers’ dissatisfaction hadn’t been enough to change your mindset. After all, work is what helps put money on the table, not love. You shake your head, as if the action will help you get rid of your stressful thoughts.  

Jimin nods as he interlaces his fingers with yours. On normal days, holding hands together puts your mind at rest. You love the way his hand fits in yours, the different skin tones blending into one.

Right now, his pale hand feels unnaturally cold against your own. It feels like winter itself is embracing you and you repress a shiver.

Maybe as his girlfriend it’s not the right choice to make, but — you can’t falter now. It physically pains you to admit it but Seokjin’s worrying isn’t unfounded. Your career is stagnant, your projects predictable and boring. You’re not bad at your job, but you don’t stand out amidst the sea of pretty girls hoping to make a name for themselves.

There’s no guarantee that Director Ryu’s new project will be as successful as the first. You’re no stranger to false hopes; there’s a chance that Seokjin’s wishful thinking might never amount to anything. Even so, you want to give it a shot. Not trying feels too much like giving up and giving up is not an option you’re willing to consider, not when you’ve already put so much on the line.

You’re not a quitter. Seokjin had warned you from day one that it wouldn’t be easy and you’d taken his lessons and warnings to heart. You’d become an adult entertainer fully aware of the trials and tribulations you’d have to face and had been prepared to make the necessary sacrifices in order to achieve your goals.

But are the risks truly worth it? Looking at Jimin’s dejected expression, you’re not so sure anymore.

.

.

.

They’ve really gone all out this time, you muse as you cast a cursory glance at your surroundings. A small, electric waterfall fountain sits in the far right corner and crimson colored scented candles are dispersed all around the elaborate massage parlor set-up, dousing the room in a cosy, amber glow. It’s a surprising sight because porn sets are famous for never focusing on the details. Viewers are here for the sex, not the generic backdrop of a rented room or hotel suite.

Director Ryu vehemently protests.

“That’s precisely what sets apart my works from your average pornography film. I want the viewer to be completely immersed in the movie they’re watching. Porn is too constricting and underwhelming a word. What I’m creating is a feast for the eyes, one that leaves a lasting impression after consumption.”

“Ah... Yes.” You try (and fail) to sound impressed.  

“People want to believe the sex is real, even if it’s just for an hour.” He sighs deeply, sounding pained, like explicating such a simple fact isn’t worthy of his time. “They need the escape and it’s our job to make it happen. A few extra candles might not make a colossal difference at first glance. But that’s where you’re wrong! It’s never been about the candles. It’s about the ambiance! The visual experience!”

It’s a pity the new budget doesn’t extend to your wardrobe, you remark internally as your gaze drops to observe the stylists’ pick of the day.

For the upcoming scene, you’ve been instructed to squeeze into a tight, baby pink shirt that stretches obscenely over your bust like something straight out of a frat boy’s wet dream. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for hitting the gym religiously because your clothes—or lack thereof—put everything on display. The cotton material of your shirt is so thin, you’re surprised the stitches haven’t popped out, while the denim bottoms you sport are so tiny that you could hardly qualify them as shorts. Although—you suppose that there isn’t any use debating over semantics. It’s not as if they’ll stay on long enough for it to matter.

The scenario that you’ll be acting out today is pretty straight-forward. You stop by the parlor to cash in a voucher gifted by a generous and thoughtful friend. Hoseok, who plays the role of an erotic masseuse, gives you a deep tissue body massage worthy of a five star review on Yelp.

Director Ryu is extremely proud of the pitch. His spectacles glint as he pushes them up the bridge of his long nose.

“We’re gonna call it My Bare Lady. Haha, get it?” He gloats. “It’ll be different from our last shoot - the both of you aren’t supposed to be acquainted with each other at all. In fact, there won’t be any romance. We’re aiming for something new because as artists, it’s our duty to reinvent ourselves every day. Complacency is the enemy of creativity.”

At the mention of Hoseok, your gaze flits over in his direction.

His brown hair, two shades lighter than the last time you’d run into him, is swept to the side, giving him a professional and tidy appearance. He’s swapped his workout attire for beige scrub pants and a matching shirt. The color compliments the glow of his tan and the cut of the uniform is flattering to his figure. Diretor Ryu’s speech continues despite your wavering focus.

“—visual stimulation. That’s why one shouldn’t underestimate the proper use of props. A believable setting sets the tone for the rest of the scene. If you don’t believe the role you’ve been given, then why should the audience?”

“Mhm,” you nod here and there but you’ve long stopped paying attention to his one-sided speech.

Your eyes linger on Hoseok’s arms and the dimples that appear every time he laughs. You’re not the only one who stares. A small group of admirers flock to him like bees swarming around a rare and exotic flower.

You’d noticed it before but today confirms it; Hoseok’s presence is riveting. It’s not the first time today your gaze has strayed his way. More than once, you find your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame only to quickly avert your gaze whenever your eyes meet. Each time, the right side of his mouth quirks into a half-smile, the beginning of a question forming on his lips.

It’s embarrassing to be caught red-handed gawking but, in your defense, you aren’t the only one who ogles him—and many of them are far less discreet than you try to be, some gazes curious, others downright lecherous.

It bothers you. What exactly do you and everyone else find so fascinating about his character? He’s good-looking, sure—but you’re no stranger to handsome and pretty co-stars with nicely shaped dicks. You can’t put a finger on what sets him apart from the rest.

The gaffer comes over and momentarily interrupts the flow of Director Ryu’s monologue with a personal inquiry. Thank God. You use the opportunity to slip away, grateful that someone has put an end to your misery. As thankful as you are to the director for the career opportunity, you could do without his long-winded speeches that never seem to end.  

“Hey, Hoseok.”

His smile widens, the corners dimpling the moment he spots you. “Hey! It’s been a while. Who would’ve thought we’d get to work again so soon, huh?”

“I didn’t think our last movie would do so well, honestly.”

Without its success, who knows what kind of movie you’d be participating in right now? Another re-hashed version of ‘BABYSITTER GETS CREAMED’ type scenario, most probably.

“I guess that’s a testament to your acting skills, right?”

You smile back, sheepish but nevertheless pleased. It always feels nice to be complimented, especially on days like today when you’re feeling less confident than usual.

“You changed up your hair.”

“Yeah! I thought I needed a change.” He threads his fingers through his locks self-consciously. “It looks fine, right?”

“It does!” you agree with an enthusiastic nod.

Jimin, who had insisted to be present on set today, hovers on the edge of your periphery. In the back of your mind you know he means well—that his presence is meant to be a source of support and security. On a typical day, you’re relieved that someone you trust is close by in case the situation escalates. While you’ve never had any horrific experiences, there have been the occasional uncomfortable encounters behind the scenes. Thankfully, Seokjin or Jimin have always stepped in before whichever entitled asshat could get too handsy.

But for the first time, his presence doesn’t comfort you the way it usually does.

Your smile becomes stiff.

The last thing you want is for Jimin to misunderstand the situation... Despite his claims of not having any problems with you shooting again with Hoseok, you can’t forget the stony expression on your boyfriend’s face as he had stared your co-star down, his grip around your waist strong and possessive.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok inquires, noticing your change in attitude. Worry creases his brow. He takes a step forward as if to check up on you.

“I’m okay!” You wave your hands around in the air, if only to maintain the distance separating your figures.

Despite your energetic reassurances, Hoseok looks unconvinced. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You wrack your head for an acceptable excuse. “Maybe I have pre-performance jitters? It’s nothing serious, though!”

It’s not too far from the truth, either. You feel more nervous than usual... Maybe because you’re aware that today’s shoot will most likely make or break your career. If the results prove to be disappointing, you don’t want to imagine what that means for your future.

You shake your head, refusing to accept any talks of early retirement.

But what other choice will you have, your inner voice argues. If no one is interested in viewing your works, no production company will want to book you for their movies. Even if you’re able to shoot half a dozen films after this failed attempt, the interest and support from viewers and higher-ups will soon dry up.

Hoseok’s features soften.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but if my opinion means anything... I think you’re really amazing.” His deep brown eyes reflect sincerity. “I haven’t had this much fun performing with anyone before and it’s not just ‘cos you’re fucking hot.” He laughs to cover up his embarrassment. “Maybe it’s a bit of a reach to compare the two, but porn is a bit like dancing in a way. There’s a choreography to follow, a certain rhythm and mood you have to get into. But the most important part is the chemistry and trust between you and your partner. And you - when I perform with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m acting at all. Not many people have that ability. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty special.”

“T-thanks,” you stutter in reply, taken aback by his candor. “I appreciate that.”

You’re not the only one caught off-guard by Hoseok’s frankness. He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles to fill up the momentary lapse in conversation. A bashful smile inches its way across his face, but surprisingly he doesn’t break eye contact.

You quickly change subjects, unwilling to acknowledge the slight fluttering in your stomach.

“...So, you dance?”

It’s not the smoothest transition, but Hoseok’s face instantly lights up.

“Yes! I mean,” he pauses and clears his throat. “Not professionally. I minored in dance. But it’s something I definitely enjoy, you know, to blow off some steam. Ah, wait a sec—”

He takes out his phone to show you short video clips of his dancing. He pulls up his instagram account and scrolls through an eclectic mix of mirror selfies showcasing his bold fashion choices, dog pics, and videos of him working out and dancing.

“Here’s a recent one.”

You don’t know much about dance but in spite of your little knowledge in the subject, your eyes stay transfixed on the screen in front of you. “Whoa...”

The way he moves is enthralling, for lack of a better word. You know from experience that his body is flexible and agile, lithe and strong, but seeing it in action like this leaves you speechless, momentarily robbed of coherency. You can’t even describe it. His execution of the choreography is sharp and powerful, yet his body doesn’t look rigid. On the contrary, his movements are surprisingly fluid and he never misses a single beat. You watch in astonishment as he pushes himself off of his knees after bending backwards in one fell swoop.

“Eh? Is it even possible to move your body that way?” Surely if you try to mimic him, you’ll look like a flailing chicken. “That can’t be safe...”

Hoseok laughs at your shocked expression. “It takes a lot of practice. You should come to a workshop one day! My friend teaches beginners. He’d be glad if you could join. The more the merrier, right? You don’t need to know any of the basics... And if you’re worried about people poking fun—don’t. Dancing isn’t a competition or anything.”

“I dunno.” You hand him back his phone after watching the video loop back for a second time. “I think my back would crack if I attempted any of that.”

“I think you would do really well! You’re pretty flexible and I don’t think you need to worry about stamina. Your core muscles are also really well developed. Based on what I’ve seen, you have a good sense of balance and beat awareness, so even if you’ve never danced before, you have the body and disposition for it.”

“Well... I guess I—”

“Hey.” Jimin interrupts, plump lips curved into a polite smile. You try not to let your surprise show; you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. He kisses your cheek and slides his hand into yours, clasping it between his own. “Sorry to interrupt, doll. Seokjin wanted to have a word with you before the shoot.”

“Oh.” You blink, your eyes darting back and forth between Jimin and Hoseok. “Um...if you don’t mind?”

“That’s straight,” Hoseok steps back, shoving his hands down his pockets. He shoots you a tentative smile. “I’ll catch you later.”

You feel bad for ditching him mid-conversation after he’d been so nice, but you know how annoying your agent can get when ignored for too long.

Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours. When you look up, he’s pouting, his lips pursed and brows drawn together.

“Is something on your mind?”

You can see the hesitation flicker across his face. When he finally meets your gaze, his expression is troubled.

“It’s nothing...” He looks away again and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

“Hm.” You swallow down any further inquiries, worried you’ll upset him.

“What was that about, anyway?” he asks casually, trying his best to look uninterested. “You and Hoseok look like you’re getting along well.”

“Yeah.” The memory of your previous conversation makes you smile softly despite yourself. “He’s a nice guy.”

“I can imagine.” Jimin mutters under his breath. Before you have time to question him again, he straightens his spine, his features twisting into an apologetic expression. “Look, I gotta help setting up the cameras. I’ll see you after the shoot.”

“Ah... Alright.” You fight to keep the disappointment of your face. Since you only have a few minutes before filming begins, you’d been hoping to spend it with him.

As if reading your mind, Jimin leans in and kisses you, his plush lips soft and familiar against your own. You expect him to pull away after a few seconds but his left hand slots itself behind your neck, bringing you in closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand angles your head to the side, giving him more access, and he doesn’t waste any time before brushing his tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You respond to the kiss as if on auto-pilot, but your thoughts are all jumbled in your head. Jimin’s always been a good kisser but he’s rarely kissed you quite like this. His style is more of a slow-burn, the kind that slowly creeps up on you and leaves your whole body numb with pleasure. Every press of his lips feels like a silent prayer of worship and each swipe of his tongue tastes like adoration. You like that he takes his time, like you’re not just a quick meal to curb his hunger but a delicacy worthy of being savored.

Right now, this kiss feels unfamiliar. Urgency replaces devotion. Perhaps it’s because he’s short on time, but his touch is hurried and sloppy. He bites your lower lip, hard enough for it to hurt, and licks into your mouth when you mewl out a gasp of surprise.

“I wish I could just mark you up,” he pants against your parted lips. They feel tender when you smack them closed.

“The makeup artist is going to strangle you for messing up my lipstick.” You fake a scowl. You’re not half-wrong, though. Once she sees how swollen they’ve become she’s bound to take out her frustration on the closest available victim. “If you marked me for real, she’d probably kill you. Don’t tempt her.”

He chuckles and pulls back, letting his hands fall to his side. His eyes dart to somewhere behind your shoulder, his smile curving into a smirk.

“You’re right.” He sighs, looking back at you. “But that’s easier said than done. You’re hard to resist... Anyone would agree.”

Something dark clouds his eyes but whatever it is, it’s gone in the next blink.

You laugh, pleased nonetheless by his flattery. “Didn’t you say you had to help set up? You’re going to end up in trouble because of me…”

Jimin snorts but backs up all the same. “Don’t worry about me. Besides, you’re worth getting in trouble for.”

Someone behind you gags dramatically. “Absolutely sickening.”

When you whirl around, your agent shoots you a disgusted glare. “I was wondering what was taking you so long but I should’ve known you two were out here fabricating babies. Have you no shame?”

“I’ll see you after the shoot!” Jimin says quickly, eager to get away from Seokjin and his sharp tongue.

“See you.” You smile sweetly, ignoring Seokjin’s grumbling. You feel a pang of jealousy as you watch him scurry out of sight. If only you could avoid Seokjin’s pre-performance motivational speeches...

“Anyways.” Seokjin looks noticeably less irritated once Jimin is gone. “I wanted to check up on you before filming could begin. How’s your ass doing?”

You don’t bother hiding your grimace. “Squeaky clean and stretched.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He sounds proud. “Don’t make that face. It’s your first anal scene after all. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

By ‘be prepared’ he means following a strict diet prior to shooting, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a colonic, stretching out your asshole for a good thirty minutes using a fuck ton of lube, and constantly rehydrating yourself throughout the day to the point where you’d gone to the bathroom more times than you could count on one hand.

You’re never this thorough with prep before having anal but apparently that’s the difference between fucking in the privacy of your own home and on camera.

“There’s a reason why cleanliness is one of the fundamentals of anal sex, especially when shooting porn. It’s a pain...in the ass...but this way, no one sees something they’d rather not see,” had explained Seokjin after giving you a non-exhaustive list of detailed steps to follow. You suppose there’s logic behind his reasoning. Due to the magic of 4k-quality videos, viewers can now easily see everything, down to the sweat droplets dotting your hairline and any makeup-covered skin imperfections, so you don’t want to imagine what they’ll notice once the camera zooms in on your back entrance.

“Eventually you’ll get used to squeezing water out your bum on the regular.” He shrugs. “You’ll also start to avoid certain foods on your own. The dietary restrictions aren’t that bad, all things considered, and your body will thank you for eating more spinach than you’re used to. Greens are good for your health even if they taste like yuck.”

Athough his suggestions are well-intended, you don’t need another 25 minute speech on all the know-hows of filming anal sex. The first time had been more than enough.

“Thanks for the advice!” you interject right as he opens his mouth to continue his counseling. “That reminds me I need to get this butt plug out of my ass before we start shooting.”

Seokjin sighs. “That would be preferable, yes.”

He doesn’t need to know that you’ve taken out the butt plug in the bathroom half an hour ago. Any excuse will do, as long as you’re spared from listening to his passionate discourse on the benefits of high-fibre food diets and his long list of enema tutorial video recommendations.

The fussing, you think, is unnecessary. You’re not worried about the upcoming sex scene, even if it will be the first time someone other than your partner sees you in that position. No, what troubles you is the possibility of the audience growing tired of seeing you onscreen now that they’ve witnessed you take it up the ass. Boredom is the reason why so many of your peers are forced to end their careers prematurely, after all. Why else is Seokjin so adamant about you pacing yourself and not filming everything there is to film right off the bat? You’ve always held off shooting anal, double penetration and the likes, for that very reason. Although you have no qualms with the act itself, you’re worried that you’re now one step closer to retirement.

The thoughts sit on your shoulders like a heavy weight as you get ready for the scene to come. You listen to Director Ryu’s instructions as he describes the scenario’s key points, your character’s motives, and what sex positions you should include before the scene comes to an end.

“The rest is up to you,” he says with an encouraging nod. “I want the words to come from the heart! Let yourself be a vessel, a way for your character to express their innermost desires.”

“Leave it up to us.” Hoseok’s smile radiates confidence.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Director Ryu approves, clapping his hands together. He misses the way his two leading actors exchange exasperated glances over his shoulder. “Good, then we’re all set? Remember where the cameras are positioned, please, or else we’ll have to reshoot to get the right angles.”

“Got it.” You nod, eager to get this show on the road. Between him and Seokjin, your ears are about to fall off from the incessant chattering. Even the camera men are starting to grow restless.

Speaking of... You meet Jimin’s gaze, the sides of your mouth upturning the moment you spot him. As usual, he looks slightly out of place standing between the other crew members, his white, ironed dress shirt neatly tucked into his black pants providing a stark contrast with his co-workers’ unkempt appearance.  

Jimin mirrors your smile and your shoulders immediately relax. A lot of people may not understand why you’d allow your boyfriend on set while you’re fucking someone else, but his presence brings you a strange sense of comfort that’s hard to put into words.

The sound of your name being called pulls you from your line of thought.

“Can you scoot over to the right? Just a little.” Director Ryu orders while glancing at the monitor. “Yes, that’s much better. And can we fix the lighting, please? My shadow’s getting picked up by the camera.”

Now that the start of the shoot is right around the corner, your stomach cramps up with a nervous kind of anticipation. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth and even when you swallow, the unpleasant feeling doesn’t go away.

You clasp your hands together in your lap to hide the minute trembling of your fingers. It’s strange, you think. Ever since you started working with Hoseok, you always get too wrapped in your thoughts. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least not all the time, but --

“You all good?” Hoseok asks, low enough that the mics won’t be able to pick up his questioning. “Do you need some water?”

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He hesitates but doesn’t push. “I just wanna run this with you one last time. I know we already signed the consent forms but I’d feel better talking with you about the scene directly.”

“Oh.” You remember he’d done something similar last time, too. “Sure.”

“Anal aside, are you okay with the use of degrading names during the scene?” His eyes never leave yours, like he wants you to know how serious he is.

“I’m okay with you calling me a whore.” Your shoulders loosen up. It’s easy to relax when you’re on familiar territory. Working in this industry requires complete transparency. There’s no shame in discussing your kinks just like there’s no shame in admitting the acts you’re not comfortable performing. “As long as I can call you a slut.”

“That’s fine.” His lips quirk up, but not in a mocking or dismissing way. “I don’t really have any hard limits myself, except for what you’ve already seen on paper. Degradation is fine with me. Call my dick tiny all you want, I won’t take it to heart.”

You laugh, forgetting to keep the volume down. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

“So degradation is fine. Is humiliation okay as well? Situational and verbal?”

“I like that.” You bite your lower lip as you remember your encounter with Min Yoongi a month or so ago, how turned on you’d been from his words alone. “I’ll admit I haven’t dabbled too much in BDSM on the porn scene, but I enjoyed what I’ve done so far.”

“That’s good to know.” He raises his brow. “Ever since we received the pitch for today’s movie I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it, uh, more interesting. So to speak. But I didn’t want to take any initiatives if they made you uncomfortable. Oh, also I meant to ask if there was anything you wanted to include in the scene aside from anal sex.”

Somehow you’re not surprised he’s put thought into this. Last time you’d worked with him, he’d been overflowing with suggestions as well. Maybe because the previous filming formats aren’t as flexible, but it’s not often you meet someone so willing to exchange ideas before filming.

The change is more than welcome. For the first time, it feels like your opinion actually matters. The two of you quietly go back and forth discussing different possibilities while the filming crew finish setting up the set the way Director Ryu wants it.

“Alright,” Ryu calls, settling into the director’s chair. Somewhere in the background, the gaffer wipes off his brow. “Everyone ready to rooooollll?”

Hoseok takes a few steps back and reaches for a nearby clipboard.

Miraculously, you note distantly, the swarming of butterflies in your stomach is now gone. Your palms are no longer clammy and cold with perspiration. When you swallow, there’s no lump of nerves stuck in your throat.

Hoseok sends an encouraging smile your way right before Director Ryu yells “ACTION!” and he schools his features into a more polite, appropriate expression.

He doesn’t speak up right away, just walks over to where you’re sitting on the massage table in a leisurely manner. You open your mouth to fill the silence but he beats you to it.

“Welcome to Happy Ending Clinic, where we ensure every client leaves feeling 100% satisfied. We guarantee high quality services personally adapted to suit the needs of our every client,” Hoseok says in lieu of greeting, the lilt in his voice smooth and practiced, like he’s used to repeating this introduction multiple times throughout the day. “My name is J-Hope and today you will be in my care.”

“Nice to meet you.” You’re careful to keep your back ramrod straight, hoping the stiffness in your body will be picked up by the cameras.

The role you’re playing today is more reserved and awkward than the usual unabashed and bold characters you’re used to acting. And while it’s not your first time pretending to be coy and shy for the cameras, such behavior isn’t second nature.

His smile, whilst professional, radiates warmth. You suppose it’s meant to be reassuring.

“I will do my best to make this session unforgettable.”  

His gaze sweeps over the clipboard sitting in his hands.

“Hmmm... ______, is it?” When you nod in affirmation, he continues. “It says here it’s your first time visiting our establishment.”

You’re surprised at how naturally he adapts to the role he’s been assigned to. The words that roll off his tongue sound like his own.

“Yes... Honestly, I - I didn’t think it was necessary, but my friend insisted - I mean, she recommended I visit this place...said it would do me some good.”

You wring your hands in your lap. You’re lucky the character you’re playing today is supposed to be a little shy and rigid. Otherwise, you’re not sure Director Ryu would have let your awkward stuttering slide.

“That’s not a problem.” The lines of Hoseok’s mouth bend into a reassuring smile. “Let’s see... It says you’ve booked an hour-long session?”

“Yep.”

“Then with your permission, I’d like to take fifteen supplementary minutes to find out which massage course is best suited for a novice like you. It’ll be free of charge, of course.”

You nod, eager to get the show on the road. Given your character’s disposition, maybe you should have pretended to mull over the proposal for a few seconds more - if only for appearance’s sake - but you’re tired of all this talking. Impatience gets the best of you.

“Oh! Yes, that sounds fine.”

He pulls out several colorful mock pamphlets and hands them over for you to peruse their contents. You try not to let your astonishment show.

It’s the first time you’ve seen a prop team this devoted to their task. Although the insides of the brochures remain blank, you still can’t believe someone actually took the time to print out fake brochure covers. You appreciate the effort, even if the covers do look like they’ve been made by someone who’s looking to major in ‘graphic design is my passion.’

You hold one up at random and pretend to read through it, hoping that whoever will watch the movie later will ignore the ugly block font that spells out ‘NAUGHTY MASSAGE : FOUR HANDS EDITION.’

“Inside, you’ll find a detailed explanation on the various vegan, cruelty-free products we use. All of our treatments are oil-based and you can choose the scent of your choice. If your skin is particularly sensitive, we have essential oil-infused body butters that work just as effectively and leave the skin silky smooth to the touch. Depending on your skin type, you might be interested in testing—” He takes out several jars all while explaining the different health benefits of ylang ylang essential oil.

Once again, you’re caught off guard by his convincing performance. Even though you’ve been given several pointers by the director before filming, Hoseok is the one who ultimately calls the shots. Inwardly, you wonder how he manages to come up with such original lines on the spot. Despite not being a professional actor, Hoseok’s intuitive choices are beyond your expectations.  

The thoroughness of his explanation makes your head spin. Cruelty-free products? Body butter? You have no way of knowing whether his statements are fabricated for the sake of the vague storyline - but you suppose the credibility of his words doesn’t really matter in the end. It’s the small details he sprinkles here and there that help you immerse in the scene.  

His proficiency in acting makes all of your worries melt away. It’s hard to believe he’s only a rookie, just starting off his career, and not an acting veteran with dozens of movies under his belt.

Not wanting to be entirely overshadowed by your co-star, you furrow your eyebrows, determination set into your features.

“I’m sorry... I’ve never done this before. They all look the same to me.”

“Ah.” Still, Hoseok’s smile stays amiable and professional. “Well, let’s go about it this way - why do you think your friend insisted you visit our establishment?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping to the floor in order to avert his probing stare. “I - um. I haven’t had - I mean, I guess I’ve been stressed lately. More pent up than usual. I’ve tried exercising and meditating and mas- uh...well everything, honestly. But nothing seems to work. I’m snappy all the time and...frustrated.”

Today, the character you’re playing is a bit more bashful, too timid to voice her desires into spoken words. “It’s all about the tension! The build-up!” Director’s Ryu’s voice echoes in your mind as a reminder.

“I see,” Hoseok nods, taking your comments into consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the quality of your sleep?”

“A five...” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t wake up during the night, but it takes me a long time to fall asleep.”

“Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

“Pain? No, not really.” You roll your shoulders back, conscious of the way your perky chest juts out, nipples prominent through the cheap fabric. “My neck does feel sore from time to time but I think it’s because I work an office job. They say staying hunched over in front of a computer all day is bad for your health.”

His gaze roams your figure, quietly assessing. “It is.”

“May I?” he asks, taking a tentative step closer. “I think I’ll need to gauge your level of sensitivity for myself. We’ll adjust the intensity of the massage depending on how much pressure you can withstand and how your body reacts to different types of stimuli.”

Your brows lift. “Oh. Sure, why not.”

“Move back a little. A bit more.” You obey his instructions without second thoughts. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

Your legs dangle awkwardly over the edge of the massage table. You can probably close them if you wanted to, but you don’t miss an opportunity to expose yourself in front of the cameras. The shorts you’re wearing are more like tiny scraps of denim put together with the help of a few stitches. You’re certain that if someone were to really look, they’d see the outline of your pussy lips.

Hoseok walks around the table to stand behind you. The sensation is somewhat familiar—right away, you’re reminded of the first encounter with Hoseok, the one where he’d wrapped his arms around you and whispered words of love into your ear. You close your eyes and let the images flash by in quick succession. The memories all come rushing in at once—an artist’s lips painting your skin like a brush would canvas, a potter’s agile fingers molding your body from clay, a lyricist’s tongue composing sonnets into your weeping, open cunt. Your body remembers it all.

When he finally touches you, his hands radiate warmth the shadow of his memory does not.

A shudder runs down your spine.

Oblivious to your inner thoughts, Hoseok carefully gathers your hair into a ponytail and moves it out of the way. His mobility no longer restricted, he lets his slender digits travel down the slope of your neck, the pads of his fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders.

“You’re unusually tense here.” Concern colors his voice as he increases the pressure.

Suddenly the discomfort you’re to convey to the audience is no longer feigned. “Ow!”

The wince that mars your face is authentic. You try to wiggle out of his grasp to relieve the sharp ache in your shoulders. Hoseok’s grip is strong, however, and he keeps you exactly where he thinks you ought to be.

“Hmm...”

He massages your arms one by one. The circular movements he traces across your skin are a lot more gentle this time around, and you allow yourself to slowly relax under his touch. He manipulates your body like one would a rag doll, pulling your arm over your head.

“Can you reach behind, towards your neck? How about a little lower? You should feel a stretch here.” He taps at an arm muscle.

“Yeah… I can definitely feel it.”

You suspect that Hoseok’s stunt as a Pilates instructor is what’s helping him sound so experienced and natural.

“Good.” He lets out a pleased hum. “Hold the position for as long as you can.”

His hands reach around your body to squeeze your perky breasts. You gasp at the rather rough way he handles your tits. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been told to forgo a bra, but you’re much more conscious of his every action - from the way his fingers splay out, cupping the fullness of your breasts between them, to the way he kneads your mounds with his entire palm as he gropes you from behind.

“How often do you masturbate?” he asks in an almost offhand manner, his tone is more clinical than casual. The question is crude and direct enough to distract you from the way his fingers encircle your nipples through the cotton fabric of your shirt.

You recall Ryu’s earlier directions: unlike your first movie together, this tryst is not romantic in nature. The scenario that you’re acting out this time doesn’t involve sweet kisses and whispered declarations of love. Feelings aren’t on the table.

You pretend like the bitter taste you swallow down isn’t disappointment.

“Um.” You struggle to remember the initial question. Luckily, your mental buffering comes off as bashful and true to the character you’re playing. “I, uh, I guess masturbate often?”

“But it isn’t enough, is it?”

His question comes off as slightly patronizing. Before you can formulate a suitable answer, Hoseok’s fingers tweak your hardened nipples and your back bows under the pressure. You oscillate between the desire to thrust your chest out in offering, and the pressing need to flee the sharp sensations his skilled hands provoke.

“I - um!” You squirm helplessly as he continues playing with your breasts. “It isn’t!”

“Just as I thought.” He pinches both of your nipples and pulls at them until you cry out in half-pain, half-pleasure. The thin material of your shirt doesn’t dull the ache; if anything, the cotton scratches your skin, rubbing the nubs raw.

Despite your very visible discomfort, Hoseok doesn’t let go. You can only sit there obediently while he has his fun, knowing that if you wiggle too much it’ll only worsen the pain.

“Ah!”

Only then does he release them. You fight against the urge to cover your sore nipples. Your flimsy shirt hadn’t provided any protection against his rough onslaught, none at all.

“You’re quite sensitive,” he observes, giving your breasts one last squeeze.

Finished with his appraisal, he steps away and picks his clipboard up. He makes his way around the massage table, coming back into view, and scribbles something onto the paper with a ballpoint pen. He looks so absorbed in his work that you almost fall for the act.  

You worry your bottom lip, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. Without a bra, your hardened nipples are clearly visible through the thin shirt. They jut out in a distracting way; Hoseok’s eyes drop down for a split-second in appreciation before flickering back to the clipboard in his hands.

“Your body is wound up. It’s tense in places it shouldn’t be.”

“Is that...a bad thing?”

“No. Your case is not abnormal.” He shakes his head and offers you a reassuring smile. “Although... Hm. When was the last time you achieved an an orgasm?”

You look away, mumbling your answer in an embarrassed voice. “Last night.”

More scribbling. He taps the end of the pen against his chin, pretending to be lost in thought.

His eyes glint when he asks, “How many times did you cum?”

It’s not real - none of this is - and yet you can feel warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your chest. It’s a strange sensation, stuck somewhere between humiliation and arousal, and it makes your entire body heat up from the inside out.

“Just - Just once…”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap towards his on command. He looks relaxed, unbothered, like he’s discussing the weather forecast and not your masturbation habits. You want to look away but something in his stare pins you in place.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes! I’m not - I wouldn’t lie.”

“Good.” He smiles pleasantly, nodding to himself. “So. You came once. Did you use your fingers? Or, perhaps, a toy?”

He’s still staring at you, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while you confess your sins. Your thighs clench together and you struggle to focus on the conversation at hand.

“F-fingers.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you imagine Hoseok’s fingers replacing your imaginary ones. They’d fill you up nicely, too. Compared to your own, they’re longer, capable of reaching places yours can’t. All you’d have to do is hook your arms under your knees and keep your legs spread wide open. He doesn’t even need to take your clothes off; he could pull the seam of your shorts and underwear to the side and fuck you just like that. “I only used my fingers.”

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. Somehow, that makes the fire between your legs burn hotter. It’s like - he knows you’re too cockhungry to settle for just fingers. And if a mere stranger can tell how desperate you are to get fucked, what about the rest?

“Interesting.” Hoseok’s eyes darken by the minute. “And do you prefer clitoral stimulation to penetration?”

“I-” You pause and struggle to formulate your response. Your ears feel hot. In fact - your entire face feels like it’s on fire.

The embarrassment you feel doesn’t make sense - you’ve never had any qualms discussing sex. You can talk candidly about any topic for hours on end, from the condom brands you prefer to advice on how to maintain a rash-free pussy, to the point where some people might think you’re over-sharing or being too crass. Discussing intimate topics shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s not even a real dialogue anyway, so why do you -

“Yes?” Hoseok leans forward, interrupting your train of thought. The corner of his mouth is upturned, like he can’t help but be amused by your discomfiture.

“I like, um.” You close your eyes, hoping that it’ll somehow make the admission easier. It doesn’t. The darkness makes you feel even more exposed, like all your secrets are laid bare for him to see. Your voice quivers when you answer. “I - I touch - I mean, sometimes I’ll - my fingers aren’t long enough. So just rubbing the outside is - fine.”

“Ah. You like being stuffed full, I take it?” Hoseok’s vulgar vocabulary makes your eyes snap open in shock. He smirks, not expecting you to answer. “Poor girl.”

You shake your head, your reply dying in your throat. With every word he utters, your thoughts become fuzzy, muddled.

“What did you imagine last night while you were getting off? A stranger fucking your face? Big men taking turns using your cunt? Tell me. In detail, preferably.”

“I don’t see how-” The sharp look in his eyes makes you swallow down any protest. Still. You can’t get your mouth to work correctly and you look back at him helplessly.

“Is there a reason why you can’t tell me?” He tilts his head to the side, the smirk on his face growing, canines flashing. “Oh. I see.”

You flinch, your face impossibly hot.

“Were you thinking of today’s session?” He chuckles, delighted. “That’s quite naughty of you. Although, I can’t blame you, can I? We are known to deliver the best orgasma. It’s only natural to imagine what would happen.”

That’s right, you think. You’d spent all night fantasizing about a faceless, nameless stranger’s hands all over your naked body. How long had it been since you’d felt someone’s touch? Their tongue buried deep in your cunt, fucking you until your thighs trembled? Even your best dildo couldn’t hold a candle to a hot-blooded, throbbing cock.

Hoseok taps the pen against the clipboard, the staccato sound filling the silence.

“One last question.” He makes sure he has your undivided attention before continuing. “No need to look so worried. I won’t ask you what lewd thoughts you get off to, although maybe in future sessions I’ll expect that of you.”

You don’t linger on the implication there - that you’ll undoubtedly come back for seconds - and nod your assent for him to go on.

“Did you cum hard while thinking of getting fucked by me today?”

You inhale sharply, struggling to hold his stare. “I… The sheets were so wet afterwards, I had to change them.”

“I see.” He jots something down on his clipboard but his reaction doesn’t give anything away. Nervously, you pull on a loose string hanging from the hem of your short. “Hm…”

After a few seconds of silence he speaks up again, done with his assessment.

“Well, normally for first timers such as yourself we’d recommend starting with a more soothing body massage. But I think in your case a more thorough massage is needed. It’s not a cause for concern!” He adds quickly, as if to assuage any growing fears. “But in my professional opinion, I think the massage I have in mind for you might be more beneficial than the beginner level massage.”

“Um, what does this massage entail exactly?”

“We call it the full treatment. In other words - it’s a deep tissue penetration massage,” Hoseok explains calmly. “It includes an internal massage. We’ll use a variety of methods but rest assured - all techniques are tried and tested! You’ll be in safe hands.”

You pretend to mull it over.

Hoseok waits for your nod of confirmation before instructing, “There are towels at your disposal.” He motions to the pile of fluffy white towels folded neatly on the bench. “Feel free to use them. While you change into a...less restricting outfit, I’ll go retrieve the rest of the massage equipment. See you in a bit!”

And with that he’s gone. The privacy he grants you is, of course, just an illusion. Even without looking in their direction, you know that the cameras’ lenses are all focused on you, waiting to capture the impending striptease. You’d forgotten about them but Hoseok’s absence reminds you of their presence.

Per Director Ryu’s earlier instructions, you make a show of taking off your clothes. Teasing the camera comes naturally to you thanks to your prior experience as a cam girl; you know exactly which angles are the most flattering and which ones, on the other hand, emphasize your flaws.

Your back arches as you peel off your shirt, drawing attention to the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. Not long after do you shimmy out of your shorts, exaggerating the swing of your hips for the audience’s viewing pleasure. You try not to show your surprise when the dampness of your crotch sticks to your folds as you pull them down your legs - you hadn’t expected how much a simple tit massage and few exchanged words would rile you up.

The denim pools around your ankles and when you bend over to retrieve the useless item of clothing, you’re acutely aware of how your wet, waxed pussy peeks out from between your thighs. You stay in position, giving the camera ample time to zoom in, and while the stretch isn’t painful (thanks to your yoga lessons!), it is a rather awkward position to maintain.

Once you straighten up, you take a few seconds to fold up the shirt and itty bitty shorts before setting them aside. Normally, you’d leave your discarded clothing strewn about but you can’t imagine your character behaving in such an uncouth way.

With that thought in mind, you wrap yourself with a short towel. Rather than covering your intimate bits, it’s so short that it emphasizes your nakedness. When you go to sit on the massage table, the towel rides up, leaving you exposed and you have to fold your hands in your lap to preserve a semblance of modesty.

It’s easy to convey nervousness while you wait for Hoseok’s return. While you’ve never attended any drama school, you have watched plenty enough Netflix dramas to know which physical cues are more or less effective - constant fidgeting, shifty eyes, audible gulping. Since it’s your first time putting your knowledge into practice, you’re not certain how convincing your acting is, but hey, isn’t it the effort that counts? You’re not here to audition for the starring role in Hollywood’s next summer blockbuster, after all.

Hoseok knocks twice before entering, stopping your self-depreciation in its tracks. He’s abandoned the earlier clipboard for a large, nondescript, white cardboard box that rattles with every step he takes. It sounds more ominous than it actually is.

If Director Ryu is truly aiming for realism, he wouldn’t make Hoseok carry back the items in a fucking box, you think privately. Who even does that? Although you suppose realism isn’t the be-all end-all, no matter how much the director insists. Sometimes viewers like to be metaphorically edged and endlessly teased, and all this guessing only adds to the build-up, making the climax more than worth it. They could, of course, fast-forward to get to the juicy sex scenes, the crux of the matter, but you’d like to believe all this extra effort is worth it.

You blink curiously back at Hoseok, feigning ignorance.

“Oh good.” He beams in your direction, his eyes drinking in your scantily-clad figure. “Now that you’re more comfortable, please lie down for me.”

He sets the box to the side, opens the lid, and takes out a bottle of oil while you settle down on your stomach and carefully rearrange your towel so that it covers your bum.

“I’ve chosen bergamot essential oil for today’s massage. It’s a nice, citrus-like scent that’s not too overwhelming because it’s been mixed in with sweet almond oil. Its many virtues include, but are not limited to, increasing the body’s energy flow and enhancing feelings of joy and freshness.”

“That sounds lovely.” You sigh dreamily. Getting massaged and getting dicked down in one go? Hell yeah. That one is a no-brainer for sure.

There’s a shadow of a smirk on Hoseok’s face when he rounds on you, like he’s somehow privy to your thoughts. That, or your eagerness is too transparent. You’re betting on the latter.

His voice lowers an octave, the low timber making shivers run down your back.

“Shall we begin?”

He moves your hair to the side, leaving your neck and back exposed. He then pulls down your towel so that it uncovers the expanse of your back and covers more of your bottom half instead.

“Is this alright?” he inquires. As if testing the waters, his fingers trace down the line of your spine, stopping right before your lower back dips into a curve.

You moan your assent. “More than.”

Hoseok takes the bottle of oil and drizzles its contents over your skin like a painter splattering ink onto a blank canvas. He spreads the lubricant all over your back, rubbing your skin in circular motions until you’re coated with it. You let out a few pleased sounds here and there that are not entirely faked or exaggerated. He definitely knows what he’s doing with his hands.

Honestly, you feel sorry towards your co-star who’s stuck doing most of the work while you’re splayed out like a starfish. It feels a bit unfair that you’re getting paid more than him when he’s the one putting in most of the effort. Had you any shame, you’d give him half of your pay for his services. Alas.

“Tell me if it hurts anywhere,” he warns, not unkindly.

Your back stiffens. You expect Hoseok to replicate the rough treatment he’d inflicted to your breasts, but contrary to your expectations, he kneads your body gently, almost tenderly. The contrast between this touch and his earlier ministrations messes with your head. When his hands outline your flank, his fingers prodding the sides of your breasts, you swallow a hopeful sigh as you wait for him to envelop your soft mounds and roll your sensitive nipples between his skilled fingers.

Betrayal brews in your gut when he fails to indulge your fantasies. You’re tempted to grab his wrist and guide his hand to where you need it the most but you miraculously hold yourself back. Since the scene doesn’t call for that much impatience and desperation on your part, you’d hate to be the reason why Director Ryu asks for a re-take.

Thankfully, he soon puts you out of your misery. Hoseok retreats, done teasing the sides of your breasts for the time being. You’re not sure it’s relief or disappointment that swims in your lower belly, but Hoseok doesn’t give you time to dwell on the question. Almost as soon as he retracts his hands from your back, he redirects his attention to your legs. His hands, warm and slick from the oil, glide over the back of your calves and thighs with ease. His thumbs rub circular shapes into your flesh as he slowly works his way up, the pleasant sensations leaving your whole body boneless.

“You loosen up well.”

Hoseok’s fingers skirt the hem of the towel. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he toys with the fabric.

“Will you open up for me, pretty? You look tense right here.” He flips the towel up, revealing your bare lower half. He wastes no time before gripping the meat of your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He spreads your cheeks apart, cool air blowing against your exposed holes, and lets them jiggle back into place after giving the camera ample time to capture the view. “Hm. Looks like you haven’t been properly stretched out in a long time... We’ll fix that today.”

Bolts of pleasure run through your body. The whole situation is ludicrous and yet, for whatever reason you cannot pinpoint, moisture gathers between your thighs with every passing second, adding to the mess dripping from your folds.

“Um, like this?” You part your legs open slightly, as if unsure. In situations like these, the biggest challenge is to act diffident and coy when all you want is for your co-star to blow your back out.

He tsks, the sound sharp and reproving. It goes straight to your core and makes your belly clench with unspeakable need.

“How am I supposed to fuck your holes open in that position?” He has the audacity to sound impatient. “Work with me here.”

He grabs your ankles and separates them himself, ignoring your yelp of surprise. Unaccustomed to the stretch, the muscles in your thighs strain with the effort to hold the position.

A whine slips out your mouth. He’s so mean.

While you expect Hoseok to act somewhat distant and objective because of the role he’s playing, his fluctuating behavior gives you nothing but whiplash. One moment he’s cordial and friendly, the epitome of what a  professional should be, the next he’s treating you like you’re his plaything, not his client.

His grip around your ankles is firm and unyielding. He’s got you spread impossibly wide, your legs dangling dangerously off the edge of the table with your waxed holes exposed for inspection.

“That’s good, just like that.” His hands let go of your ankles when he’s sure you won’t move from the position he’s steered you into. He strokes up your legs, the touch feather-light and fleeting. “Keep your legs spread wide. I want to see your cute little holes on display.”

His crude remarks make your body flush with heat.

Even if this is the sort of place that offers sexual gratification, Hoseok’s wording toes several lines. As his client, he should be focused on giving you pleasure, so why do his comments make it sound like you’re here for his entertainment instead?

Despite your character being fully aware of what type of establishment she’s visiting, you reckon Hoseok’s words are enough to make her squirm in embarrassment. There’s something filthy about the way he orders you around and bends you to his will. Even you’re not indifferent to the impersonal way he handles your body like a doll. Flickers of arousal lick up your spine, and with your legs extended so far apart, it’s not difficult for Hoseok to notice how much you’re wound up.

The position is far from proper. Hot streaks of humiliation burn through you when you imagine how easy and slutty you must seem to whoever is watching. You don’t dare move from the pose he’s maneuvered you into, not because you’re scared of the consequences, but because his presence demands obedience. Even without explicitly saying so, he’s made it clear that for the next hour or so, you’re his to toy with.

“Good girl. You open up so nicely.” Hoseok purrs, satisfied with your compliance. “Now let me see what I’m working with here.”

He swipes his index finger through your glossy folds, the action forcing you to stifle a startled gasp. It’s nothing like the erotic oil massage you’d experienced minutes prior. The touch is inquisitive, clinical, assessing. Like he’s testing out a new product before purchase.

You want to stay still but you’re so wound up from his incessant teasing. The slightest caress makes the hairs on the back of your nape stand straight. Hoseok is all too aware of this fact. The tip of his pointer finger comes in contact with your clit, the touch more delicate than a feather's caress. Hoseok watches with thinly veiled amusement as you jerk against the table.

“You really are sensitive,” he all but coos. “What a treat. Don’t need any oil when you’re leaking all over the table like a faucet. How long has it been since someone touched you here, hm?”

The teasing lilt in his voice borders on condescending. Heat simmers under the surface of your skin as you struggle to collect your thoughts.

“Eight months,” you squeak just as two of his fingers dip into your slicked up entrance.

“No wonder you’re all worked up.” He slides his digits right up to the knuckle, the glide so easy it’s embarrassing. “Needy holes like yours should be used more often.”

He fucks his fingers into your pussy one, two, three times, before pulling away, chuckling under his breath when your hips push back, greedy and desperate for more. Using the same hand he’d used to test out your cunt Hoseok slaps your ass once, the sharp sting making you still at once.

The damp mark on your ass is a testament to how fucking soaked you are. You can’t imagine what kind of mess the cameras are picking up on - but maybe you don’t have to.

Hoseok wipes his fingers off on you, using you to clean himself off. Although you can’t see anything because of the way you’re laying down, everything feels wet and filthy. He rubs your own juices onto your skin, reminding you of the intensity of your need.

And just when you don’t think his mouth can get any filthier, he proves you wrong.

“I can tell you haven’t been stretched recently,” he sighs, almost disappointed. “You’re just gagging for a pounding, aren’t you? It’s a shame your fuck-hole is too tight to take a big cock or I would have given it to you right away.”

Your lower body clenches as his words wash over you.

The idea sounds downright delicious. Hoseok is right. Even if it’s just for the sake of the storyline, there’s nothing more you want right now than a good, hard fucking. It would take him less than ten seconds for him to pull his hard cock out from his scrubs and make a home for himself between your thighs. Images flash through your mind of Hoseok’s hands on your breasts, in your hair, around your throat. You want him to cover you, smother you, as he forces you down against the table and takes his fill. You want his lips on your skin, hot and possessive, as he uses you like the cocksleeve he needs you to be.

God, you want that. You want to be used hard, to be fucked full until you break. You need this - your character needs this.

You whimper, high-pitched and needy. “Please. Please, I want it. I want - I want your cock.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hoseok all but scoffs. “Why don’t you just sit still and relax for me? I’m going to massage you until you’re nice and loose, alright? First-timers like you could get hurt if they’re not prepped properly but I’ll get you ready, don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be able to take big cocks in all your holes like a pro.”

“Shit.”

You bite back a moan, startled at how much you’re turned on.

Porn dialogue is rarely arousing. You’re the first to tune out your partner whenever they talk for longer than a minute. It’s because you hear the same exact shitty lines repeated so often that you’re half-convinced there’s a porn acting for dummies handbook being circulated around.

Although… Maybe if Hoseok’s lines had been delivered by someone else, they wouldn’t have the same effect on you. That’s the difference, you think to yourself. Hoseok’s delivery. The cockiness that infuses his every word, the way he confidently carries himself… He does it all so convincingly - nothing like the wooden and awkward memorized performances you’ve witnessed from fellow actors.

While you’re lost in thought, Hoseok rummages inside the cardboard box. Without his touch or words to distract you, it’s harder to ignore the building arousal between your legs. As the seconds tick by, your shameful desire only worsens.

Before you can crane your neck or voice your confusion, Hoseok returns, humming under his breath.

“We’re gonna try a different massage technique now. This method will help with lubrication,” he explains evenly. “I’ll use a special vibrating tool that will massage hard to reach areas.”

“Um…” You swallow, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds. We’ll start off slow and I’ll gradually up the intensity once I deem you ready for the next stage. How does that sound?”

A click, followed by a low buzzing, fills the room.

You gasp when the vibrating object comes in contact with the back of your knee. Hoseok’s free hand settles on your leg - a nonverbal reminder to keep your legs wide open for him as well as the cameras.

“See? Nice and easy. Nothing to be scared of.”

He rotates the tool in slow, even circles. You force yourself to relax and accept the foreign massage, disregarding how strange it feels to have small vibrations travel up and down your leg. After a few minutes of him repeating the same motions on your other leg, he slowly makes his way up your thighs, the rounded tip of the tool dangerously close to your drenched pussy.

A pleading whine reverberates in your chest. The electric whirring of the vibrator is not enough to soothe the burning between your thighs. If anything, it makes it worse. You need more, you think urgently.

Hoseok moves to the side of the table so that the cameras can get an unobstructed view of your clenching hole. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he made you lie down. From his voice alone, it’s impossible to tell how affected he is. More than once you’d caught yourself wondering… Does he like what he sees? Is he enjoying himself?

A dark streak of satisfaction crosses over you when you notice the hunger in his gaze, his pupils blown so wide his brown eyes look black. Drool pools in your mouth when you spot the sizable tent in his scrubs.

The fact that you’re at the perfect height to suck his dick doesn’t slip by you. He could flip you over onto your back, your head hanging off the table, and use your mouth to his heart’s content. You whimper at the thought of him fucking your face, your mouth reduced to a fleshlight for him to get off. You could probably cum like that - his cock buried deep in your throat, his fingers pressed against the side of your neck to you struggle around his length, while his other hand reaches down to grab at your breast, using it as an anchor to fuck into you harder.

“Shit, you’re really making a mess of my work table.”

Hoseok’s gaze is trained between your legs. He wets his lips and adjusts his hold on the vibrator. The sudden movement changes the angle, positioning the tool right over your dripping entrance, closer than ever to your swollen clit. The vibrations suddenly feel louder and stronger than before. If this keeps up, you reckon that it won’t be long before you’re hurtling towards the edge of a precipice.

A moan slips past your parted lips, loud and wanton. Embarrassed by the sheer need that colors your voice, you quickly shut your mouth closed, hoping that your desperation goes by unnoticed.

Hoseok chuckles, the sound sharp and mean. He comments on your obscene behavior, how you’re acting so slutty it’s a wonder you’d kept this side of you locked away for this long without people suspecting your love for cock. Every word infiltrates your mind, leaves no corners untainted, until all you can think and breathe and smell is him.

“Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of sluts parade in here and pay for my time,” he says, his dulcet tone making the degradation sweeter. You hang onto each and every word, letting yourself fall deeper into a haze of arousal and submission. “But it’s been a while since someone like you showed up. Just look at this… Your little fuck-hole can’t even take a bit of teasing without getting me dirty.”

The buzzing between your thighs switches back and forth between strong pulses and rapid, little vibrations. You keen, shaking from head to toe in pleasure. Your thighs are wet, sticky with your juices, and your clit is hard and aching for attention.

You don’t even want to know what state your sopping pussy is in. Every time your body jerks and trembles, you feel the pool of arousal that’s gathered underneath you. It’s - embarrassing. That you’re this soaked and close to cumming when he hasn’t even touched your clit or fucked you with his cock.  

In the midst of your pleasure-induced haze, your eyes meet his. The lines of his face are drawn into a smug expression, his gaze smoldering. Embers of arousal light up his dark eyes, and you can only stare back at him, clit throbbing, as he ups the intensity of the vibrations.

“Fuck! Oh God, oh I’m-” Your legs thrash, hips lifting off the table in an effort to escape the shocks of pleasure zapping throughout your body. Mercifully - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Hoseok brought the vibrations down a few settings, until the whirring had quieted down to a low thrum.

“Feeling good, huh?” The grin he sends your way is positively wicked. “I think you’re ready to take more.”

More? you think weakly. Any more and you’ll explode, like popcorn kernels in a microwave.

For a second you think he’ll bring the vibrator up to your clit. Maybe even slide the long, phallic-shaped vibrator inside your pussy so that it’ll stretch you out like he’d promised. What you don’t expect is for him to bring it down to your other hole, the powerful vibrations rattling you to the core.

Your surprised gasp is so loud, not even the buzzing of the toy drowns it out. Hoseok places his available hand on your left hip and pins you to the table, the gentle weight keeping you steady.

“That’s right,” he soothes, voice smooth like silk. It sounds patronizing, almost like he’s calming down a dog startled by thunder or explaining right from wrong to a small child.

“Um.” You let trepidation inch its way into your voice. “You - what are you doing? That’s not - that’s dirty.”

“What is?”

“My,” you pause, humiliation coiling tightly around your spine. Hoseok presses the toy harder around your rim, its coat of arousal making the tip slide over your sensitive skin. You’re tempted not to answer but you know Hoseok wants you to voice the dirty words. “My asshole. It’s - dirty. Please - I… I don’t think you should touch it. It’s not right.”

You mumble the end of your sentence like you’re embarrassed to say such a scandalous thing out loud.

Hoseok laughs, sounding both mocking and endeared. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m going to loosen up all your holes. Because that’s what you’ve always wanted deep down, isn’t it? To service cock. Even if it means letting me play with this dirty hole of yours.”

The vibrations intensify with the click of a button. Your whole body spasms, limbs flailing pathetically as the sensations run down your back all the way to the tip of your toes.

You bite down a whimper. How does he know? How can he tell? All you want right now is a nice, hard cock buried inside of you - and at this point you don’t care which orifice he sticks in it. You’re just so - empty. So empty it physically aches.

Hoseok dials down the intensity of the vibrator and with his free hand, squeezes a copious amount of oil onto the toy, slicking it up.

Surprisingly he doesn’t bother prepping you with his fingers before easing the toy into your back entrance. From your position, you can’t tell if Director Ryu signaled to hurry things along or if his own impatience played a part. Either way, your sharp intake of breath is genuine.

You try your best to relax your muscles but the toy is thicker than expected, its sides bumpy and ribbed. Even though you’d stretched yourself out beforehand with a sizable dildo, the girth of the toy still makes your breath hitch. Your bottom lip hurts as you scrape your teeth over it.

“Relax for me. That’s it.” Hoseok whispers soft words of encouragement. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Finally, after what seems like light years, the toy is fully inserted, only the base of it peeking out from between your parted cheeks. You feel full, deliciously so. It’s only now with the weight of the toy inside of you that you realize how much you’d missed being stuffed to the brim.

“There you go.” Hoseok smacks your right ass cheek hard enough for the sting to go straight to your clit. “How does that feel?”

“Full.” You smack your lips together. Eloquence is not your strongest suit in the present moment and your lack of coherency only humiliates you further. It’s like he’s rendered you cock-dumb. Reduced you to a lust-driven creature that only has dick on the brain. “I feel good.”

“Of course you’d enjoy that.” The cockiness in his voice is undeniable, like he’s drunk off the power he has over you. “Needy sluts like you only care about getting filled up, huh?”

It sounds like a rhetorical question but you answer it anyway, just in case he wanted an answer.

“Yes! I’m a needy slut. Please - could you…?” You wriggle your hips, trying to entice him into action. The rocking motion jostles the toy nestled inside of you, causing you to choke out a moan. “Hng! Use my pussy this time, please?”

Hoseok clucks his tongue and slaps your ass again to keep you still. It moves the lodged vibrator, knocking it against a spot inside of you that makes you gush. Your pussy clenches up in an imitation of an orgasm - but you know from experience that you haven’t cum just yet.

Fuck. You’re so fucked and he hasn’t even given you his cock.

Your head thumps down against the table as you take in deep, steadying breaths. You can’t think straight; every thought seems clouded by a dense smog of lust. Your body feels like a live wire, all your nerve endings crackling with electricity. How much more can you endure before you shatter beyond repair?

Hoseok takes pity on you. “The vibrating massage should have helped your muscles relax. Your tight cunt should be able to fit this in by now.”

He slides another silicone toy into your pussy, this one wider and longer than the first. Your hands grapple for purchase as your body accommodates both toys, one in each hole. You’re so wet that there’s no resistance despite its impressive size and you suck in a breath as Hoseok keeps pushing it in, inch by interminable inch.

If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to how stretched you feel now. The wall separating the two toys is stretched thin and when you tense your abdomen, you can feel both of them nudge against one another. Your stomach feels - bloated. As if there’s a bulge where the toys are nestled deep inside of you.

It’s quite frankly obscene.

You’ve never felt more turned on.

“Whoa.” He grips both of your legs and widens them even further, displaying your stuffed holes for the cameras. “Your hungry cunt ate up my biggest dildo like it was nothing.”

The fact that he admitted it was a dildo - and not some vibrating tool - just adds to your mortification.

“Okay. Two holes down, one to go.”

He releases his hold on your legs and raises a brow at you. The smirk is back on his face and that, paired with the ravenous look in his eyes, makes you want to run and hide. He looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring you whole for dinner. “Why don’t you turn around for me? It wouldn’t be a full body massage if I didn’t rub down the other side, right?”

His chuckle spurs you into action. It’s not that you’re not embarrassed by the idea of baring yourself completely for him like some sort of cult offering, but the need to get dicked down trumps all.

Your mind feels fuzzy and your body sluggish. There’s a fire inside of you that not even double penetration has managed to extinguish and it roars to life as you manœuvre into the position he’s ordered you to get into. The toys jostle inside of you, reminding you of the depraved lengths you’d go to because you’re starving for cock.

He’s right about you, you think as you settle onto your back. You’re a needy slut. All you want is for your holes to be filled. And when they’re empty, your body aches with the need to fill them back up again. Toys will do but they’re a poor substitute for what you really want.

Thankfully, Hoseok’s own patience is running out. You’ve barely gotten into a comfortable position when he’s fishing out his cock from his scrubs, not even bothering to remove his clothes.

Drool pools into your mouth at the sight. He’s just as long as you remembered him to be. Not too thick or veiny, but prettily flushed and glistening with translucent precum. How long has he been hard? The erection looks painful. Distantly, you’re comforted by the knowledge that you haven’t been the only one suffering from this prolonged foreplay. God is fair, you rejoice internally. 

Your mouth opens of its own accord and your tongue lolls out, hungry.

Hoseok doesn’t comment on your pathetic state -  a testament to how worked up he probably is. He guides his cock into your waiting mouth with barely repressed urgency.

His cock is heavy on your tongue, the perfect weight. He pushes in until he can’t go any further, the position you’re in giving him better access to your throat. You fucking love it.

When you swallow around his length, he hisses between his teeth. “Shit.”

He gives you little time to adjust. As soon as he’s certain you can take it, he starts to thrust his hips. His cock drags across the rough surface of your tongue as it’s pushed and pulled out of your mouth at a rapid pace. Each thrust of his hips makes you gag, drool running down the sides of your face, and the obscene sounds of your choking echo in your ears.

The rough treatment should revolt you, make you squirm or shy away, but you’ve never felt more alive. Your mind feels pleasantly blank - like your sole purpose in life is to be a glorified cum bucket, a receptacle for his cock and cum. Even when he buries himself all the way to the hilt, so far down your throat it feels like he’s reached your stomach, you’re eager for more. Logically speaking you don’t even know if you can handle more, don’t have the mental faculty to figure out if more is physically possible, but your body knows that it’ll never be sated, not fully, not until he cums inside you.

“Greedy girl,” he rasps between heavy breaths. “Look at you… I’ve plugged up three of your holes but you’re still gagging for it, aren’t you? Filthy slut.”

His words are meant to degrade and humiliate you. Instead of disgust, you can hear the admiration ring in his voice. His awe satisfies you and you hollow your cheeks, suctioning around his girth just to hear him curse under his breath. You live for the way his hips stutter and how his deep breathing is interspersed by the occasional grunt or moan. It feels good to know that you’re bringing him pleasure, that your hole is satisfactory.

Hoseok reaches over your body and grabs something from the discarded cardboard box you can’t see. You soon find out what it is though - the oil is drizzled over your torso and chest, liquid spilling down the sides of your body. He throws the bottle to the side, more interested in spreading the lubricant over your tits until they’re slick and shiny.

It soon becomes clear that he’s abandoned his earlier massage techniques in favor of a more rushed treatment. Gone is the slow build-up. He rubs your breasts, grabbing and squeezing them like stress balls, and pinches your hard nipples tightly between his fingers, pulling them out until your back arches.

The next time he slams his erect length into your mouth, your breasts bounce from the force of the thrust. Hoseok’s eyes remain transfixed on the lewd way your breasts jiggle; because he keeps your nipples clamped tightly between his fingers, your tits have no other choice but to swing around every time he rocks his hips back and forth.

Every time you gag and choke on his cock, tears prickling your eyes, you feel the fire between your legs grow stronger. Shame and arousal course through you, your head dizzy with lust. You can’t move, can’t scream, all of your moans of pleasure muffled by the cock buried in your throat.

He laughs derisively, pulling out after a particularly hard thrust. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock and your eyes zero in on it, finding it impossible to look away.

“You slut.”

He makes a disapproving noise low in his throat before slapping you across the face with his cock.

It doesn’t hurt anywhere as much as a real slap but it’s so unexpected you gasp, your jaw throbbing in pain. The imprint of his cock is wet and dirty against your cheek. He keeps his cock hanging a few centimeters above your face. It taunts you, beckons you closer. The seam of your mouth stays wide open, your appetite evidently knowing no limits.  

“Heh. You’re really something… Never seen a whore so cock-hungry in my life. And trust me when I say I’ve seen plenty.” He sneers, walking away.

For a long second, you fear he’s gone and left you high and dry and that the scene will end like that. Except - no. He’s positioned himself at the other side of the massage table. You shudder as you realize that can only mean one thing : he’s going to grant you the fucking your body craves. 

Hoseok’s lips twitch into a knowing half-smile. He grips his stiff cock in one hand, the length of it soaked with your spit and precum.

You gulp, suddenly intimidated. Perhaps it’s the angle, but he looks taller than you remember him to be, bigger, his shoulders slightly broader. His cock looks more imposing, too. Despite just having choked on it, it’s long; his hand sits loosely at the base of his cock, leaving a few good inches poking out of his fist. Your mouth goes dry, your insatiable hunger reawakened. 

The impatience marring your features is probably disgustingly obvious because Hoseok makes another comment about how desperate and pathetic you look once you’re deprived of cock.

Using his left hand, he slowly removes the toy from your ass. The slide is painful because you’re clenching so hard down on it, unwilling for your hole to become empty once again.

A whimper escapes your parted lips. Hoseok laughs at the betrayed look that crosses your face at the loss of the thick dildo.

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He slaps your entrance with his cock, his grin wolfish as you wail in reply. “Stay still if you want my cock.”

Immediately you freeze, taking his words to heart. Deep down, you know that he won’t be that cruel but you’re so exhausted from the never-ending teasing, that you’re not willing to take any chances.

Hoseok holds up one of your legs and pushes it over his shoulder.

“Good girl.” He breaches your ass, both of you moaning as his cock works its way inside of you. It’s a tight fit; you can feel his cock bump into the vibrating dildo in your pussy, the feeling overwhelming you. He grunts, fingertips bruising your skin as he hold back from cumming too quickly. 

His hips work up a steady rhythm, the both of you already so close to finishing. You know that a lesser man would have cum ages ago, but Hoseok troops on, eyebrows creased in concentration. He looks - hot. Ridiculously hot, even in that dumb fake masseuse uniform.

His once perfectly combed hair is now disheveled, strands of hair falling over his eyes and dripping brow. There’s something about all of it - the wild glint in his eyes, the rough way he’s fucking you, the domineering aura that he exudes - that makes you absolutely lose it.

You clench up on his cock without warning, your insides squeezing around him even more tightly because of the toy still lodged in your dripping cunt. The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, leaving your thighs soaking. Hoseok fucks you through it, his cock relentless, drawing your pleasure out until your body goes limp. 

It’s the kind of orgasm that on a normal day you could only hope to achieve.

Except Hoseok doesn’t stop to let you rest or take a breather. He brings your other leg over his shoulder, testing the limits of your flexibility, and uses the new angle to plow into you with renewed force.

“Ah - ah fuck wait!” You cry out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations traveling through your body. “Oh my God, oh shit! You’re so fucking deep, ah!”

Hoseok chooses that moment to turn on the vibrating dildo. He doesn’t even start at the lowest setting, sets it straight to one of the higher level ones, and your whole body jumps. Both of you moan as the toy comes to life. The vibrations rattle your insides - and that, coupled with the fat cock that’s splitting you open relentlessly, threaten to rearrange your insides.

Arousal builds again quickly inside of you, pulsing steadily alongside your heartbeat.

You feel so fucking full you think it’s possible you’ll burst. Before, when you had both toys buried inside of you, the stretch and the fullness had been pleasant. You had even been able to tune it out for the most part once you’d got used to it.

But with the way Hoseok is now fucking into you with reckless abandon, it’s impossible not to be reminded of how stuffed your holes are. Every thrust of his cock in your ass bumps against the vibrator, pushing it harder against your bundle of nerves. 

“I knew the minute I saw you,” he growls, his pace punishing. “No bra, pussy ripe for the picking. Whores like you could never be satisfied with the beginner massage. No, I knew exactly what you needed.”

He adjusts his grip on your ankles and the change in angle keeps the vibrator pressed directly the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh God, there there! Please, keep going. It’s so good. Fuck me!” You chant, out of your mind with pleasure.Your words are raw, unrefined, and in any other circumstance, you’d laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he hisses between grunts of pleasure. “Why don’t you go ahead and cum for me. Make yourself useful and tighten up this hole of yours so I can feel good.”

He reaches down between your legs and fiddles with the switch.

You scream. Your eyes roll back and your entire body locks up. Intense pleasure that you’ve never experienced before thunders through your body. If your previous orgasm was like a building wave crashing to the shore at long last, this one is a fucking tornado determined to rip you to pieces.

Maybe you might’ve passed out. You don’t know. But when you regain consciousness, Hoseok’s cock is pulsing jet after jet of hot cum inside of your pussy. You feel it spurt inside of you, coating your already slick walls with his essence. 

He pulls out quickly so that the camera can zoom in on the way the cum oozes out of you in thick globs. Instinctively you clench your walls to keep more from leaking out, but it only pushes more of the mess out, painting your inner thighs white.

When you glance up at him you notice his shirt is soaked. There’s a huge dark spot that starts from his chest to his pants. He doesn’t seem to mind the stain.

“You came so hard you passed out,” he informs you while tucking his spent cock back inside his scrubs. “I came inside of you while you were out of it but I figured you wouldn’t mind. That’s what you came here for, right?”

The smile he shoots your way looks more like a smirk. You bite your lip. He must’ve taken out the dildo - or it might’ve gotten pushed out during your orgasm, you don’t know - and you feel your holes gape a little after being stretched and used for so long. You’re tempted to snap your legs shut but you know the cameras need to record your debauchery.

“I’ll let you change. You can meet me out front to schedule your next appointment. Hm let’s see… Considering how well you reacted during this session I think we’ll have to take more, hm, drastic measures next time. I’m curious to see how far your greedy cunt is able to stretch with enough incentive. I’m positive that with you anything is possible. We’ll try fitting two cocks insides for starters and maybe - ah. I’m getting carried away.” He chuckles. “Anyways, meet me at the counter in ten minutes and we can go over the details then.”

“I…” You wet your lips. “I’d like that.”

A silence ensues and for a second you think your acting was bad or you’d said the wrong thing.

“CUT! And that, my friends, is what you call art!” yells Director Ryu, clapping his hands like a seal.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and sit up despite your muscles protesting loudly. God, your ass feels sore. Hoseok had really done a number on you.

“Hey, are you all good?” He asks, drawing closer to you in concern. He must have seen your grimace.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. It’s just - it was kind of intense. In a good way! I’ll probably be sore later but that’s because I’m not used to these kind of scenes yet.”

“You were really hot. I couldn’t tell this was your first anal scene at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Really.” Hoseok sighs dreamily. “I think I saw Jesus when I came.”

“What?” You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter. “It was a good nut, I take it?”

“The best.” He looks over at you, dimples on his cheek as he returns your smile. “I blacked out for a second and went to heaven.”

You bask in the afterglow for a few minutes longer than you usually would. Hoseok makes no move to leave either, even if logic dictates that you’re both better off washing up instead of letting the mixture of sweat, cum, and oil dry on your skin. You know from experience that it’s hard as fuck to clean up once it hardens - not to mention it stinks.

“Babe!”

You’re roused from your peaceful state of mind as your boyfriend approaches. He’s smiling but one side of his mouth looks stiff. He hands you a towel, eyes trailing down your figure, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. You hurriedly wrap the fluffy material around you, eager to hide the cum still dripping out of your swollen cunt and the red marks littered over your body from Hoseok’s rough treatment.

It’s not - you’re not ashamed. You never are. It’s just - you don’t want to hurt Jimin. Even if it does come with the job, it can’t be easy for him to see his girlfriend getting fucked by someone else.

“That was so good! You did great. The camera really loves you. I can’t wait to see how the final cut turns out,” Jimin compliments and you preen despite yourself, conditioned to suck up praise. “Are you hungry?”

Just on cue your stomach lets out a grumble.

Jimin’s eyes crease into crescents as he smiles. “I knew it. You’re always famished after a scene. It’s a good thing I booked a reservation at our favorite restaurant, right?”

You nod, thankful yet again that you have such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend. “I’m famished now that you mention it.”

Hoseok observes the exchange silently and his presence makes you embarrassed for some reason. Maybe not embarrassed but - something. You can’t put a name to the emotion.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” You say as you gather to your feet. Jimin is instantly by your side, his hand wrapping around yours tightly. “It was nice working with you again! Thank you for your hard work.”

Hoseok’s lips quirk into a half-smile. He’s still eyeing the both of you in a strange, intense kind of way and the scrutiny makes you fidgety. You try not to make your desire to flee the scene too transparent.

“It’s always a pleasure. I look forward to working with you again.”

The words he utters are tactful and diplomatic - nothing like the carefree familiarity he’d showcased minutes prior. You don’t blame him, given the circumstances.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you turn away to leave. To your relief, Hoseok doesn’t appear dejected or offended. Just - curious, maybe? Pensive? Like he’s in the middle of solving a complicated and intricate puzzle and that puzzle involves you.

The idea scares you. Mostly because you yourself don’t know what he’ll find.

As soon as you’ve rounded the corner, Jimin excuses himself. “I have to finish helping the guys. There’s still some equipment to put away. But we’ll meet out in the back like last time?”

“Sure.”

He kisses your cheek and scampers away.

Seokjin is waiting for you in the next room over. He’s holding a water bottle, your favorite silk robe, and a dark chocolate energy bar. You’re so sweaty that it feels silly to wear the robe but you shrug it on anyway, knowing that Jimin will feel better if you’re not parading around the set naked.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and it’s only then that you realize the extent of how fucking hungry you are. Non-stop sex sure is tiring, you note while ripping open the energy bar with your teeth. Seokjin calls you a savage under his breath but those types of comments are so commonplace that it’s easy to tune him out.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” you say after swallowing down a mouthful of granola. After eating spinach exclusively for the past three days, the sweetness on your tongue tastes like a slice of heaven.

“Not with that mouth, you won’t.” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I know where it’s been.”

Still high from your mind-shattering orgasm, you giggle and pretend to kiss him just to watch him squirm. It’s not until much later, after you’d washed up as best you could with the help of baby wipes, that you check your phone. You respond to a text or two before finally checking your social media page out of habit more so than anything else.

.

(2) new notifications

JHOPE94 has followed you!

JHOPE94 has mentioned you in their story.

.

It’s the same account Hoseok had shown you earlier in the day. You follow him without much thought, grinning to yourself when you read his bio “hope on streets and in the sheets ;)”, and click on his Instagram story.

You’re surprised to learn he’s one of those people who uploads multiple pictures about just about anything - his Starbucks’ coffee cup with JAY written in black sharpie, several mirror selfies, a snapshot of his shoes, pictures of the film crew setting up the scene. You click through the pictures, a little flummoxed by the random collage, and pause when you get to the picture you’d been tagged in.

It’s you. Squinting, you realize that he must have taken the candid picture in passing. You’re sitting in the hair and makeup chair, the makeup artist applying a layer of gloss on your lips. The row of lights that border all around the vanity mirror give your figure a halo spotlight effect.

JHOPE94 : not in heaven but i saw an angel today :))

.

.

[thecelestial-art]

ok but like, here me out,,,,, avatar high school au but its just me projecting my personality and trauma

my instagram

Aang

Freshman

He's trying his gosh darn hardest

The group baby

Appa is a therapy dog so he spends the day with gyatso in his classroom :)

Hes a saint bernard 

The best man

Despite katara being the ‘mom friend’ he runs the god damn show

Momo is a shit head sphinx cat 

The gang dropped movie nights for “knitting nights” so they could all learn to knit him sweaters

Hes very fashionable

he hates it

sokkas best friend

Aang makes costumes so when halloween comes around momo is very scary as dorothy 

Track and field babey

Does not curse

He has a hard time keeping up with world events

Straight (i'm not wrong)

he and toph have an ongoing tradition of going in full dress to waffle house before school dances. 

it got to the point where now all the workers know them by name

they also accidentally crashed a white lotus meeting and just kept going

Azula

Band kid

Sophomore

Rich girl with 2 friends

Pre eng

i know most schools dont have this program, but mine did and holy shit. those were some overachievers 

The most annoying mf on the planet

Not a single teacher likes her

The know it all that will fight if you don't agree with the facts

She was the ww2 kid

Capitalist in the worst fucking way

Closeted lesbian, when she figures that shit out she gets a lil better

The one who can drive

Mai

Bisexual

She's really good at math?? Like shes the gay who can do math

But cannot drive, bitch failed her permit more times than she can count

She nearly went to an all girls boarding school at one point

Sophomore

Colorguard!!

She has beat the shit out of people she's walked in on making out in the bathroom

Genuine friends with the faculty??

She takes programming/coding as a filler class but she's pretty good and continues to pursue it.

Her tumblr looks sick as hell

has caused a teacher to cry

Ty lee

Bisexual

Lesbian earings actin mf

Sophomore

Cheerleader

She is the nicest mother fucker and everyone loves her

Despite acting like an airhead she's really science orientated

When she takes biology she passes with flying colors

Very invested in social justice

She would never hurt a fly but she will fuck you up

The one with a healthy relationship with her father

has comforted a teacher she found crying in the parking lot

Iroh

Now runs the jasmine dragon where zuko works after school w/ katara 

Knows every single kid who comes in and tries his hardest to make sure everyone feels appreciated

Former war criminal

In a book club

The white lotus? Yeah this is the white lotus

Idk if it would be the same as the show, or if its just an old person shit talking group

Zuko

Junior

His dad got full custody of him and his sister when he divorced their mom

But at 13 he got kicked out for another bullshit reason and ever since Iroh has had custody of both of the siblings

But bitch boy ozai has visitation rights but only wants to see azula

Theatre kid!!

I mean he was gonna join jrotc to appease his dad but he figured his shit out before he really joined

A republican turned leftist

Hes queer he just doesnt know which label to use

Himbo rights

He and katara are best friends idgaf about ships but they are bros

orchestra kid! (yes this is me self projecting bc we have similar trauma) 

Violist 

Teachers have no idea what to do with him bc on one hand he's very reclusive and on the other his sister has the worst opinions so they don't know

Katara

Sophomore 

Still the mom friend but this time she goes to therapy

Bc she literally raised her brother after her mother died?? And then became a parental figure to her FRIENDS???

Biggest political activist, genuinely does her best at educating herself and others about civil injustices

Also really obsessed with cults and true crime

Choir kid

She takes AP history, english, and second language classes

Is trying her hardest in math and sciences

Huge stuffed animal collection

Student council vice president

she originally ran for president but jets gang voted him in as a joke

The teachers pet

Swim team bitches

Best friends with the school janitors

This is my au so fuck off she and zuko are chaotic friendgroup parents and annoying best friends i love them

and maybe something more???

 who fucking knows theres a betting pool in the white lotus and so far aang is winning 

Sokka

Junior

Bisexual

Gym and History teachers LOVE him

On the swim team and the fishing team

Started crying when he took his drivers test

Goes to gsa w/ toph and loses his fucking mind

He's the reason suki’s car is disgusting

In all advanced/ap classes in math and science

Was the kid who carries a portable speaker around until suki put him in his place

Still has to use his hands to figure out left and right

Yue

Technically she doesn't go to school with them she goes to a nearby private school

She met the gang at a football game and has been invited to every group outing since

Junior!!

Very invested in world politics

When she joins the group at school events she ends up making friends with all the staff

Debate team kid!!!

She's not a rule breaker she just knows their limitations ;)

at one point missed school for like 2 months and everyone thought she died

turns out it was just fucking pneumonia and sokka is one dirty liar

Suki

oh? you mean yue’s best friend bc we dont respect pitting women against each other in this household?

Junior

Bisexual icon!!!

Oh god what sport would she do??

Probably basketball??

Or she would just do martial arts outside of school

And have a ‘female empowerment’ club or somethin

100% believes in self government in society and that the current gov exists purely on the theory that all humans are inherently evil

Bitch for bernie

Her car is DISGUSTING

She asks if she can hit peoples juul and then throws it in the trash

The gym coaches really like her but she fucking hates them

Is very close with her school counselor??

She never wants to run but she keeps getting elected to homecoming court

Toph

Freshman 

Former homeschool bitch

Joined the wrestling team and the fishing team??

She doesn't even like fishing she just thinks it's hilarious 

Very good a pottery and that's her arts credit

She and iroh have lunch together every thursday

If she catches wind of you putting gum on desks they will find your body in a ditch

She makes sokka and suki take her to prom 

She hates it she just likes to fuck with people at prom

Sometimes she just tells people she doesn't believe in something bc she cant see it

has been wearing the same sandles for the past 3 years bc “they’re reliable”

Cryptid hunter

Goes to gsa bc its better than any fucking reality tv show

Has nearly burnt the house down making ramen

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[halfhappyhooligan]

a voltron au? in 2020? it’s more likely than you think

look. LOOK. i know that voltron is stupid and we hate it but lets be honest: everything up until season 3 was pretty good and had lots of potential !!

today i was rewatching voltron and a thought struck me: what if, instead of shiro being cloned, he was chipped and turned to the side of the galra?

so here it is, i did not blink since i thought of this

(warning, i have not seen voltron in a while and this is just knowledge i have stored in my moss brain and stuff i know from rewatching the first season)

au where shiro goes evil bc of what happens @ end of season one instead of the clone thing bc 1) haggar rly could not have made thousands of shiros after bumping into team voltron like what twice? its hella improbable and 2) just… weird

so instead they insert a chip in him that helps them spy and control him just like kuron (the clone) did minus the unlikely storytelling

eventually after the convo with sendak when he was in the pod trying to temp shirp, he does have thoughts about helping zarkon

(“im already infiltrated with the arm, i could just speed up the process by leaving now. save the team the trouble of investing in a leader that’s doomed to fail from the strart.”)

shiro ends up leaving team voltron in season 2 after zarkon goes crazy w the black lion n stuff

^^ this adds to Keith’s reasoning of joining the Blade of Marmora (shiro is his main stability and one of the main reasons he even stuck around with team voltron, so with shiro gone and keith questioning his place as the leader and paladin of the black lion, he decides the BoM is just.. what’s best for him) 

obviously lance isn’t happy with this (“you just told me that i’m a valuable member, now you don’t think YOU are? what logic is that?”)

ofc keith goes anyways

lance becomes paladin of the black lion

allura takes on the red lion

who has blue lion? ...idk this isn’t that thought out (maybe matt after pidge finds her family) (which will happen earlier in the plot since we can forget about the miniplot of black no longer responding to shiro)

enter lotor only this time he has a sidekick and what omg its shiro wow

shiro has that bigger version of his arm that was once offered to him

he’s stronger and scary, but his eyes aren’t the same, he has the strength of a galra but lacks the passion 

in the fight between lotor and zarkon, (and after, of course lots of self doubt and questioning) shiro comes between them and convinces lotor NOT to kill zarkon

then zarkon kills lotor

everyones like oh shit bc surely someone who’s life was just spared wouldn’t kill the person who seems to have the most power

but he did. bc he’s zarkon. and he’s fckn crazy.

shiro doesn’t go back to team voltron bc its too much too easily

instead he takes the place of lotor in the group of gals 

he convinces them all to rebel against the galra

eventually they teach him all about quintessence and all the shit lotor had planned that they can’t do anymore

(lotor wasn’t harvesting alteans in this universe bc what the heck even was that subplot that had little to no relevance to the main storyline?

instead he was trying to find a way to technologically bring back alteans (kinda like how allure’s dad was originally preserved in s1)

i know nothing about How Stuff Works and i dont remember much about quintessence n shit but the basic idea is that when tying in some of a persons artifacts with technology stuff and some quintessence then boom. a weird route from astral projection land to the team is created and ppl can come back or smth idfk

but lotor was never able to get the comet so shiro decides he and the gals will get that comet and try to bring back as many alteans as they can

^ all this while infiltrating as many galra fleets as possible + saving planets under galra empire

they personally visit every planet that lotor was in charge of and release them from galra control

they are able to bring back an altean (its romelle) and she talks abt her friend who lives on the balmera and they go to the balmera and its revealed that it was shay’s great grandmother so romelle asks where shay is and shay’s family is like with team voltron of course

so

they take her

obviously team voltron, the BoM and the Rebels r very hesitant to make contact but they decide to try it out

keith refuses to meet, instead he’s on the team that stands guard

reunions !! 

romelle and shay hit it off and hunk makes a dinner much like roselle’s past (allura and coran also hang out and they all vibe)

lance talks to shiro abt everything to do with keith and shiro is like dude do u??? like him?

and lance is like what? no ofc not—oh shit.

and keith ✨overhears ✨

pidge matt and shiro catch up n shit

meanwhile keith is like Hey Lance Uhhhhhh What The Fuck

they end up being like hey since we’re all here and we hate zarkon what if we make a plan to end the galra’s reign Right Now

so they do

and y’all.. it’s hella baller plan

except something is going wrong and in the middle of an attack zarkon is able to get the upper hand 

due to haggar’s magic and lance’s mental and emotional instability, zarkon is able to get in his head

everyone is trying to talk him down but they’re all under a lot of pressure

allura is also conflicted bc she wanted to be black lion bc she wanted to rub it in to zarkon’s face that she was stronger than he and that she could beat him at his own game

but the negativity and instability feeds into zarkon’s power and makes him and haggar stronger as they pull in voltron to finally take over the team and regain their status as the most powerful alien race

hunk realizes this and is like okay can y’all stop being negative? its clearly affecting them in a good way and it makes us an easier target

and pidge is like im literally a child pls i don’t wanna die i just got my family back it can’t end like this

shiro realizes what’s going on and he goes to save them

he uses all his energy, pulling in the positive memories (everything: first learning about space, becoming a teacher, meeting adam, meeting keith, first making team voltron, his friends and family--all of it) to push back zarkon and haggar’s powers and battle once more in the astral realm 

in defeating zarkon, shiro loses his life

afterwards keith enters the ship in a hurry and is like where the fuck is shiro where’s my brother what did you do what happened

and team voltron is like hey man.. we are so so sorry

and keith cries because the last thing he ever said to shiro was mean

lance feels like its all his fault since he was supposed to be a good leader

they talk about separately while hunk pidge and allura discuss

krolia is like keith we, ur family, are here for u

and axca is there and shes like um?? hey?? sry for trying to kill u bro

and he’s like i absolutely do not wanna talk i just lost my closest friend

they talk about it later

axca tells keith abt shiro finishing lotor’s work and abt bringing people back and well.. 

they use the methods to help keith visit shiro in the astral realm

shiro is like oh uh hey i was just having a drink w adam we r happy

and keith is like shiro u fuckhead why would u sacrifice urself

shiro sighs bc cmon keith you KNOW why “remember what i always said? we can’t focus on what went wrong..”

“we’ve got to figure out how to make it right” keith finishes

keith breaks tf down crying and screams apologizing

“i love u shiro. ur a like a big brother to me.”

and shiro is like yeah i know and ilyt but hey. everyone’s safe and happy. im safe and happy. & you deserve to be too. you don’t need me anymore.

so the galra rule is over and everyone goes to their respected planets

romelle and the other alteans as well as some galra babes hang in earth

romelle and shay r in an apartment together and have a garden

allura realizes she may not have been the strongest leader for voltron, and  couldn’t stop zarkon on her own but that physical strength doesn’t define her as a whole

her heart is strong enough to care for everyone, so thats what she does

allura starts running an inn for alteans filled with painted sceneries like altea in case anyone ever needs a reminder of home

when lance reunites with his family its a real tearjerker

rachel finally gets her jacket back and veronica is like So.. Axca 👀

the McClain’s host a huge party for everyone and it’s filled with lots of hugs and loud music and even tho lance was way too tired, he danced all night

he wouldn’t trade his family for the world—genetic and chosen

when hunk reunites with his parents they don’t let him out the house for hours, he tells them all about his new best friend shay as well as hundreds of his favorites stories from space

they are so, so proud of him

hunk spends the next days playing minecraft and animal crossing with pidge, giving their brains a rest from being on hyperdrive for 3 yrs straight

when pidge gets home she finally gets grounded by her mom, only being allowed to leave the house to see her old teammates

(same for matt and her dad)

(her mother cries so hard when they opened the door to the home)

the holt family holds movie nights filled with popcorn, cuddles, and tears

keith moves in with the holt family, and finally accepts that he has a home as well as a family

he often goes on trips with the BoM but mostly just stays on earth

after a Team Voltron sleepover in the altea inn keith and lance decide to get an apartment together and live their lives in love and in peace

everyone gets together once a year in celebration of shiro and the sacrifice he made for them

they use the ship to visit Astral Shiro and once they even met adam

everyone laughs and catches up and just... live their lives

everyone is happy

pls ignore any and all errors lmao

again, just a thought !! maybe i’ll write a fic abt it idk for sure but yeah

feel free to add anything <3

[gemsofthegalaxy]

Fic asks 4, 13, 15, and 20 :)

4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

Oof. I'm not sure if I should go for one that's solidly abandoned, or one that I secretly hope I might finish some day??

For instance, I have an abandoned fic called "Broken Record" that starts in high school with Steve and Bucky and follows them into college/Bucky being pushed to join the military by his dad, but it's fully abandoned because despite me downloading and starting to fill out worldbuilding for it, I have no clue where the fuck I was going with it. No idea. I'm sure I originally moved on because I got drawn into other things, but I didn't leave enough for myself to really return to.

On the other hand, I have this, like, 60k-80k fanfic for Phantom of the Opera (snort) that I actually quite like and I have a bit of an idea of where i was going next, and I could probably wrap it up if I really really wanted to. I just. Don't... Every time I re-read it I'm like "where's the rest?" and proceed to not finish it.

13: Do you prefer writing multi-chapter fics or single-part fics? Do you prefer reading multi-chapter fics or single-part fics?

HMM. Right now I'm definitely in a multi-chapter mood and I've been that way for at least a year or so now. I used to prefer one-shots, tho. I find neither is really all that easy to write, there are just pros and cons, but I kind of have a preference for multi-chapter fics because I tend to get really invested with them, or I'm more likely to, anyway.

15: Which fic that you’ve written relates to you and your personal life the most?

INTERESTING... honest to god, it's probably either Starships, a super old fic of mine, human-au Pearlnet, where they get drunk on summer vacation. Or, the pride one-shot that will be going up tomorrow. They're both very like, grounded in my experience and reality. Y'know, they're fics about going to parties and hanging out with friends. and that's a lot more relatable than being an undercover stripper, or even doing drama therapy.

20: Which fic have you put the most work into? Which fic have you put the least work into?

hmmmm... maybe More Than Survive, because it took me two years and quite a bit of effort to write. I guess it's like, how you define "work"? Going by time/effort, Juno Steel and The Undercover Vixen I wrote in like three days- but it came a lot easier than 99% of my other fics, so I wanna say I put "less work" into it. interesting question, ty!

Ask me fanfic questions if you'd like!

[bigskydreaming]

How do you think the major DC/Batfam events would of happened if editorial hadn't stopped the DicKory wedding and they've just been a couple this whole time?

Oh god.

I don’t even know. But now I desperately WANT to know, and like, why has nobody ever written this story lmao nm we all know why.

But for starters, none of the stuff with Blockbuster, Tarantula, etc would have played out at ALL the same...assuming Dick was ever even IN Bludhaven, like, if he and Kory had married, why would they have left the Titans and not still been in New York, y’know? (Bonus! Dick never ever ever ever ever became a cop!)

But then too there’s the stuff that happened with Kory’s homeworld and her responsibilities to her people when they were refugees......no matter how much Dick had tying him to Earth at the time, this is not even just his girlfriend anymore, this is his WIFE, dealing with the potential end of her entire people....there’s NO way he’s gonna wait at home and expect her to go off and deal with that all on her own, he’s like no, I’m going with you, this is our ‘in sickness and health,’ let’s not argue about this when we could be using that time to travel instead, your people need us.

Jason’s return would have played out dramatically differently IMO, because as long as Dick was around and present in any capacity at the time, I think Dick would be in a LOT better place, a lot more centered here....and no matter how paranoid or pessimistic Bruce might have been about Jason at times, Dick would have had Kory there to counter that, and point out and remind him of all the things he loved about Jason, all the ways he KNEW Jason, no matter how much they both had changed....because Kory would remember that sweet kid who was so eager to go help the Titans save his big brother and she’d have just enough emotional distance and objectivity from her in-laws’ issues to be able to keep THAT image of him front and center and make sure to remind Dick of it too.

Ma’ri would likely have been born by the time Damian came along, assuming her birth happened around the same time most of the other OG Titans became parents, with Cerdian and the twins as well, and Lian already being a toddler....maybe even Jake might have been born by now too....

Which would have created a whole different dynamic as Damian would have been raised that year Bruce was gone by both Dick AND Kory, had a father figure AND a mother figure to compare not just his later relationship to Bruce to, but his relationship with Talia too as well.....not feeling as lacking or insecure by whatever choices Talia made in regards to him, assuming that most of the rest of DC events and choices other than Dick and Kory stay relatively the same and DC sucks at writing her. Its likely Damian never dies.

Before that point, again during the year Bruce was gone....things could have gone dramatically differently, smoother for the entire family just by virtue of Dick having Kory’s support and could bounce things off her as a sounding board the way he didn’t have anyone at the time.....the transition of Robin to Red Robin could have gone a lot smoother and with less resentment, Dick might have had the mental and emotional SPACE and presence of mind to be a lot more understanding of Tim’s insistence Bruce was alive instead of just focused on the pain he’d feel if he gave into temptation and believed Tim only to have those hopes crushed later down the line. Again, in this AU I’d posit that due to Dick and Kory never breaking up, Dick never grows distant from the Titans period, which makes it all the more likely they’d have remained a constant presence in his life at this time and he’d have been more willing and trusting about relying on them to help out in Gotham, because the way he did things wasn’t the way Bruce did things and that was always a strength in the past, they’re different men, they have different approaches and trying to do things the way the other did was NEVER going to work for Dick or be to his advantage.

All of which means Dick had help and OPTIONS for dealing with Jason and getting through to him, that is, if he wasn’t already closer because of how differently his initial return had gone down. Cass likely wouldn’t be in Hong Kong, because she’d have more reason to be around if it wasn’t just her and her brothers and Babs (who wasn’t even IN Gotham by that point). I’ve always headcanoned though that Cass and Kory would get along GREAT, and be really close, and again, if Ma’ri and potentially Jake are already born by that point, no way Aunt Cass is leaving her niece and nephew behind in this trying time in particular.

And then again, maybe Steph never died or was believed dead either, because War Games didn’t play out the same with Dick not in Bludhaven and with Kory’s potential intervention.

(Of course, by that line of thinking, its possible Tim was never fired as Robin and Jack Drake was never murdered and we’re just gonna gloss right over this here, see, because despite my frequent Tim Ire, he IS a part of this family, dammit, and no second rate sperm donor is gonna stand in the way of that, so whoops, in this AU Jack Drake tripped and fell down the stairs and like. He still died. Oh no, very sad, much regrets, Siri plz send flowers, end tweet.)

And then of course, eventually you get the next generation old enough that Ma’ri, Jake, Cerdian, Lian, the twins and a Robert Long from a parallel Earth who just dropped out of the sky one day because Who Cares and never left, like....are all bursting at the seams to start their own team and go out and have their own adventures, and Ma’ri turns on the Grayson charm to be like “Pleeeeease, Uncle Dami, enable us, please, it’ll piss off Grandpa Batty, and you know you love making him do the scrunchy face of doom, c’mooooooon, we just wanna borrow the Batplane for a little trip and we’ll bring it right back and wash it and everything, NOBODY HAS TO KNOW.” 

Kory, from the other room: I already know.

Ma’ri: Curses! Foiled by my lack of an indoor voice yet again.

Uncle Dami just winks at his niece though, in that way of his that isn’t actually a wink cuz he’s still Damian, and he doesn’t Do That, but he does twitch his eyebrow in a downward direction at least, and that’s basically the same thing, it totally counts: Don’t worry, Little Star. You had me at enable.

And just. Yeah. More of that. All of that. Selina and Bruce probably actually walk down the aisle at some point too, by the power invested in me Cuz I Said So.

In conclusion:

This would be amazing and excellent and DC sucketh for denying us it, The End, roll credits, and SCENE.

[yuzukult]

effortlessly pt. 10 || jungkook & reader

title: effortlessly (the finale) pairing: jungkook x reader words: 4.0k genre: fluff, romance, school!au, smut some chapters notes: ;u; patience is key, epilogue coming out soon! p.s. hope you guys stay for my next jungkook series! ;u;

series: part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || epilogue 

The seasons come by quickly— Autumn, Winter, Spring. Last summer had come to an end with you leaving the admissions office with a plan and an answer; a decision that was made up completely by yourself.

You’re grateful for Jungkook because he doesn’t probe you about your decision and promised to wait patiently until you’re ready.

Autumn comes around with its descending leaves from the now naked trees, filling the roads with shades of golds, reds, and browns, sparse in air, leaving every scene on your walk to school like a sepia photograph. It’s the season of football, pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin spice flavored anything, really, and Halloween. Then Winter approaches with a scare; a blanket of snow dropping over the school yard, the fields, and every corner of the entire city. Light jackets now replaced with thicker and longer ones, you can’t help but groan at the difficulty of tying your shoes with how stiff yours are.

“Ugh, why did I buy this again?”

Jungkook laughs merrily at the sight, mostly because you just look so small and cozy in your coat, struggling to reach down to your toes. He taps his thigh for you to place your foot, a grin stretching cheek to cheek. You comply as he responds, “Because it’s December, silly. You’ll be freezing standing outside wearing your little leather jacket that you think is going to make you feel warm.”

“It’s more of a fashion statement than warmth, Jeon.” He’s tying the laces of your Doc Martens, fingers nimble and cold, and thighs shivering from the remains of the snow that gets on his pants, the wetness seeping through the fabric and onto his skin. “Well, you’re going to catch a cold wearing that thing around. That’s why you need this.” When he finishes, he drops your leg down, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head snugly. “So please don’t get sick because that means that I also have to play sick to stay home and take care of you.” Jungkook is effortlessly caring.

Jungkook hates the cold. Only because it takes away a location for him to swim— outside. But this year, he doesn’t seem to hate it as much. Maybe it’s because now, you’re his, and he can replace the time he dedicated to swim outside to spend time with you instead.

Especially when he gets to see you in the Christmas Village, mouth gaping wide with a bright smiling following after, face brightened by the colorful string of lights that surround you. “Wow,” Amazed, your eyes twinkle at the view. “Now this is something to talk about.” He hates himself for not taking you here every other year, the guys convincing him that it was too romantic for two friends to go to, but he can’t help but wonder what if he took you years before and learned how much he was in love with you earlier?

You spend the holidays at his house, meeting his grandparents and extended family while your parents decide to go on a trip to Hawaii. It’s become a tradition, really, your parents ditching the whole family bonding thing, and you spending that time with Jungkook’s family instead.

His mom loves you. Although your sleepovers have slowly become stagnant because of her suspicion of you guys doing more than just movies and sleeping, she wouldn’t want anyone else to be with her son other than you.

The Jeon’s have everything set for the holidays; from the tree with presents pleasantly wrapped placed intricately underneath, to the decoration that drapes the fireplace, to the strings of tinsel and garland that cascades down the staircases, and the wreath that hangs on the front door. Ms. Jeon is obsessed with Christmas and favors nothing more, perfecting the holiday over the years for her family... well, mostly herself.

Even though Jungkook spends day and night complaining about his mom, telling her that she’s dedicating too much money and time for this ‘stupid holiday,’ he’s still the best son and tends to her every need. When she struggles in the kitchen, he’s already by her side, asking her what she needs a hand in. Or when she can’t reach a portion of the tree while decorating, there’s an annoyed expression on his face but he utilizes his towering height to help her get those spots. Jungkook is effortlessly a family man. 

“So, Jungkook, I heard you got into University?” His cousin, Sooyeon, asks. She is several years older than the two of you, almost completing her undergraduate degree. “I did! I got in with an athletic scholarship.” He’s genuinely happy, the way he shares this information, like he’s finally proud of himself and how far he’s gotten in life. The obstacles he’d overcome, the effort he had invested into the sport—they all were worth it in the end. Jeon Jungkook was reaching for his dreams.

It’s New Year’s Eve and Hoseok is hosting another party.

Underaged drinking is almost a rite of passage before entering University, and although you aren’t much of a rule breaker, it feels like something you need to do. Break out of your shell, despite the discomfort of knowing the consequences because once you get into college, none of this was going to be the same anymore. You won’t get to see Hoseok standing on the table, hollering out and swaying along to the song that plays. Jimin won’t be complaining about girls who reject him constantly. Yura won’t be there to call you out on your actions. And Jungkook, whilst he promises to stay by your side forever, there’s a possibility that it won’t happen.

“You look so pretty tonight.” Jungkook compliments you in a slur, cheeks rosy from the alcohol. You look down at your current attire; a silver sequined satin cami paired with a black leather jacket and jeans. Glancing up at the boy, you laugh at the sight of his cheeks, hand reaching up to pinch them. “You think so, Jeon?”

“If I’m being honest, I think you’re always pretty.” He hums against your hand, turning his face to give it a peck. “And I’m happy I get to be here with you. I hope you never go, and I hope nothing comes between us. It’d be nice, you know, if we...” He drifts off, mind fogging with thoughts that made him giddy because he’s giggling incessantly.

“If we what, love?”

“If we got married. Then we’d be best friends then high school sweethearts that made it.” Jungkook’s words soar you to the moon. He shares the same dream, whether or not it happens.

When the clock strikes 12, in spite of his current intoxication, he doesn’t forget you. Cupping your face in his large, warm hands, lips puckering up, he smooches you all over, laughter erupting from you. Jungkook is effortlessly a happy virus.

“Has Jungkook asked you to prom yet?”

“What?” Skimming through the pages of your notebook while in homeroom, you’re only half paying attention to anything Yura is saying. You’re on a mission to find something and even Yura can’t stop you. 

Winter is still lingering, mostly waiting for Spring to make its appearance and nobody else is more excited for it to come than Yura. Only because it’s prom season, of course. 

“Jungkook,” She reiterates, this time louder. “Jeon Jungkook? The love of your life? Is he asking you to prom?”

“Oh, prom.” Stopping at a page, your finger browsing through the highlighted and colored writing while furrowing your brows, focusing on the task. “Uh... no?”

“No?!” Yura exclaims, startling you out of your actions. She’s got your attention now. “It’s two months away. You won’t have enough time to find a dress or test out how your makeup is going to look and the shoes! What about your shoes?”

“Well, if it has your panties in a knot, why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You regret telling her that because she does. Your comment during a time of not fully investing the entirety of your attention has brought you to this: a locker filled to the brim of red roses. There’s a card in the middle of it all, so you grab it, tear it open where in the sloppiest writing it says: turn around.

There Jungkook was, in all his beauty, standing in the middle of the hall with a box of donuts in hand, opened with the writing: i donut want to go to prom with anyone else but you!

It’s not that you hate it. No, you disgustingly love it, but you wished you had Jungkook all to yourself. He’s too great, and him standing in his uniform with donuts from your favorite bakery, you can almost feel the piercing glares from other girls down the hall. But he’s yours, nonetheless, and you didn’t wish for anything more. 

Yura’s exaggeration on how long it’ll take to find a dress isn’t so much of an exaggeration when you’re shuffling through dresses in the department stores with her for the next two months, the quantity of gowns dropping by the hour. You’re grateful you found something just two weeks before the date.

Although you think the prom theme being “Hollywood” is the tackiest thing you ever heard— the sight of Jungkook standing outside of your house with both a corsage and boutonnière in hand with his hair styled back, black suit and tie with a white button up underneath, your breath hitches. He makes you feel like you’re in the presence of a celebrity; he has the ability of grabbing the attention from an entire room, despite leaning against such an old car in need of a new paint job.

In spite of it all, he seems in awe as much as you are. He thinks you’re gorgeous like this— like he’s the one who is lucky, not the other way around. You lean over, hair blown out and in a black gown that hugs your curves and compliments only the parts you wished for it to, wiping the little drip of drool that falls out the corner of his mouth. “You good, bub?”

“More than good,” he says, voice raspy. “You look... stunning.”

“Speak for yourself.” Jungkook is effortlessly handsome like this, and you wish you could keep this view all to yourself. But tonight is a time to be far from selfish.

You want to flaunt Jungkook, more than he wants to flaunt you, you convince yourself. Mostly because when you step into the gymnasium that’s fully decked out in decor, everyone’s eyes are on Jungkook. 

“I think they’re all looking at you,” He would say, but you’re not stupid. Your arms are linked with a God-like man with a personality that represents it. He does nothing but help you walking in your unfamiliarity in heels, introduce you to some of his classmates that you’ve never met before, yet manages to dedicate enough time for just the two of you, dancing the night away, whispering sweet nothings into your ears before pressing his lips against your forehead delicately.

Jungkook wins Prom King that night while some pretty girl in your grade named Nayeon wins Prom Queen. He doesn’t devote his dance to her though, he apologizes and takes your hand instead.

When he takes you home that night, the only expectation you had was to go home, shower and change into your sleepwear and sit by the window sill to talk the hours away with Jungkook from across the way.

But it’s prom. So you drive with him down the shore, wearing a spare hoodie he leaves in the trunk of his car for days that get cold after practices, and holds your hand while you stomp barefooted in the sand. He’s so pretty under the moonlight, you take note, the way that it shines on the bridge of his nose, brightens the shade of brown his orbs are, and brings warmth into his smile and laughs when you share stories about your high school years. 

The two of you make love in the backseat of his car with the sunroof opened, under the moon. Although it feels corny to do and such a cliché concept to have sex on prom night, it doesn’t feel that way with Jungkook. You argue that his car might not be able to take the constant movements, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He just wants to shower you with kisses and love throughout the hours that pass by.

When you come back to school the following Monday, Yura sits backwards nervously in her chair, staring at a letter that sits on your desk. Furrowing your brows in confusion, you gesture the piece of paper with your chin. “What’s up with that?”

“It’s... a letter, from Le Cordon Bleu. Pretty much to the equivalent to an Ivy League for culinary schools.”

Oh. Now you understand why the air felt weird. Quickly, you shuffle into your seat and slide off your backpack onto the floor. “Okay, well. What are you waiting for? Open it!”

She whimpers. “I’m scared.”

“Well, you told me to stop being scared and just do it. So, bitch, do it.”

While protesting, she does as told. Tearing the envelope open and the unraveling of the sheet of paper was nerve wrecking, possibly even more for you.

“I... got in.” Holy shit. “You got in?”

“Guess who’s going to France, bitch!”

It’s a reality, this sight of your best friend; the brightest smile on her face, cheekbones defined from the excitement in her. A dream she had, a dream that you never even knew had been a priority in her life, was coming true. 

Whether or not it was jealousy, you were proud of her regardless. Yura was able to attain her goals before even graduating high school. After further research, you learned that there were many locations for this school, and her dream was to be able to expand her knowledge throughout all those countries.

You’re tired of hearing him talk about his plans for the future where it sounded like none of the routes included you. Jungkook goes on from when the sun rises to the sun sets about what he wants to do in life, where he wants to go, and where he hopes to be at whatever age. You could listen to him talk for hours like it's a song on repeat that you never grow to hate, but today, it felt inconsistent. He had all these things he wanted to do but where were you?”

“Where do I even fit in all of this?” You finally get the courage to blurt.

Jungkook’s forehead is creased in disbelief at your outburst. “What are you talking about?”

“Well,” you start, fumbling with the fabric of your shirt, “you haven’t even mentioned me once. It’s like you’re also planning for your escape out of this relationship.”

He’s fuming. It’s been a while since he’s been this mad, especially since your last huge argument had nearly been a year ago. Otherwise, with Jungkook, there had been small disagreements that were recoverable but it feels different this time. “You don’t get to be upset with me for planning a future without you because if I’m being totally honest, you still haven’t told me what you decided that day you walked into that office, and I’m feeling rather insecure about whether or not you trust me!”

“Don’t hate me,” eyes glassy and voice wavering, your bottom lip is quivering, on the verge of tears of pure fear that Jungkook would resent you for your decision. “I told the recruiter to give that position away to someone else.”

“And why would I be mad at that?” He says, pulling you into his embrace, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek before nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry I lashed out. I’m glad you came to that decision, I’m glad you’re telling this. Even if it’s not on the sidelines of the swimming pool with me, nagging at me what to do. Because you’ll still be there to support me.”

Your shoulders slouch, still feeling guilty wash over you like a tidal wave. “I just didn’t want you to be upset because of how much effort you went through to get me there. To even get me that offer.”

“I didn��t do anything, love.” Before a tear can escape further down your face, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb after he pulls away. “You did that all yourself. They found you, knew who you were, and loved you. I just led them to find you. So, what did you decide on instead if you didn’t take that apprenticeship? Are you attending another University?”

“No,” You respond abruptly, rubbing your head into his chest again, muttering your next words into the fabric of his shirt. “She told me that it doesn’t take away my opportunity to still attend University there. So I enrolled there as undecided.”

There’s silence between the two of you before he finally speaks up. “Undecided?”

You don’t want to face him. Especially if the expression on his face may show disappointment, and that’s the least thing you want to do to Jungkook on your list. “Yes.” You mumble. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I thought at least going to college and trying to figure out while I’m there would be at least a start in the right direction.”

Grasping you by the shoulders, he tugs you away to clearly see your face. Finally meeting his gaze, his face showed the opposite. A gleaming smile pulling on the edges of his lips with eyes that shine and sparkle underneath this lighting, you’re stunned by his reaction. “I’m so proud of you!”

“What?” Lips swollen from the crying, you pout, almost bursting out in hyperventilating tears because you didn’t want this to end before college even starts. “You chose something. You made a decision on your own, solely based on what you felt was the best for you, not because you wanted to make someone else happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you.” Jungkook is effortlessly unselfish because he wants you to be his personal coach, yet he’s telling you to do what you want to do. “I just want you to be happy. I’m happy if you are.”

“But... I should be honest with you.” He’s the one who seems uneasy now, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously. “I... not only accepted the scholarship, but they want to send me to the States for a couple months in the summer for training with Taehyung.”

You’re not stupid. What that’s code for is that there’s a chance they’re going to keep Jungkook there, offer him another University scholarship elsewhere in the States, and continue his training. How could they not? With the way he swims, his drive and ability to adapt to any situation, he’s desirable to any team. He might not be yours anymore, and as much as you wished you could keep him all to yourself, he’s Jungkook. Who wouldn’t want him?

You learned that ever since you met him. Jungkook is so wonderful, he’s meant to be shared, and everyone should know him. He’s the spark in your life that you never knew you needed until you meet him. 

It only sucked because it felt like once you finally got him, it’s already time to let him go. 

Yet when you see him standing by your side in the crowd of people in your class, on a large patch of grass that they call a football field, cap and gown in the shades of your school colors, you can’t hate anyone for wanting a piece of him. He’s only eighteen but he’s managed to accomplish so many of his goals in such a short span of time. He’s able to catch the attention of an audience bigger than the crowd at Madison Square Garden. He was able to swoon the majority of the female population in your high school. Jungkook did what even he thought was impossible, he did more than exceed his own expectations.

So when you’re standing with your diplomas in hand after throwing your cap in the air, the grin that’s glued onto his face does everything to your heart. How lucky were you to experience a first love like Jeon Jungkook?

There wasn’t much time left. Graduation is over, degrees now in hand, and futures that are waiting for your attendance.

It’s Summer again, the excruciating heat beaming from the sun’s rays reappearing, an entire year passing by since your confession to Jungkook. Although you’d rather be spending your anniversary in the next few days leading up to it, there’s a different occasion tonight under this familiar sweltering heat.

Jungkook leaves tomorrow at noon for America yet he’s procrastinating the remaining stuff he needs to pack for his trip. Well, he says it’s a trip, but you have a feeling that his stay is going to be longer than anticipated.

If you’re being truly honest with yourself, you’re scared. Eighteen, best friend/boyfriend who had been with you your entire life is leaving for the unknown. Your other best friend is leaving to pursue her dreams elsewhere as well, alone and without anyone to support her physically.

But you can’t help but think about yourself. What did this mean for you, someone who was losing the most important people in her life that were all going to hunt their aspirations, while you were just... undecided?

Laying in the field of grass, head resting comfortably on Jungkook’s arm while his other sits on his chest, the two of you admire the sunset in the midst of your silence. The hues of red, pink, orange, and yellow fill the sky, dancing and blurring into one another, gifting you a sight that you’re grateful to view with Jungkook. It was going to be a while before you got to see him again, and you’re hopeful that it’ll feel just the same.

“Three months,” He’d repeat constantly, every time he sees the pain in your expression. You both had gone so long without truly being each other, and now that you finally fessed up your hidden emotions, it’s hard to let go. “It’s only going to be for three months. Then you’d have me again.”

“But you don’t know that.” You’d say, heart tightening in agony. “There’s so much of this world that wants you, Jungkook. University is just one of the potential first stops. Someone is going to take you away, whether you like it or not. You just have too much talent and potential.” Jungkook doesn’t agree with you, but he doesn’t voice this. Not tonight, at least, if it’s the last time he gets to be with you for a while. 

Just like the sun, Jungkook eventually has to go away. He leaves for the States with Taehyung to train for the summer, projecting that he’d be back in time for the fall semester to start University with you. Even through texts and phone calls you get from him, he can’t give you a date when he’d be back, but he misses you dearly. You want to stay hopeful that he does return, attending classes with you again, study-dates, meeting up for coffee afterwards, have lunch and dinner, and continue your sleepovers, maybe even find an apartment and move in together. 

Yet again, Jungkook... he’s effortlessly Jungkook. The guy loved by everyone, yet has the hardest time loving himself. The guy who has such a promising future, one that’s almost a guaranteed dream come true for him. There’s no need for exchanges of ‘I love yous,’ because you know he does, yet you don’t want to hold him back, so you let him go. Whether or not he comes back for the fall semester, you’re not sure, but one thing you do know is that Jeon Jungkook will be your first everything, and your current everything.

[thevagueambition]

Atla, Zukka and Sokka :)

ATLA

Favorite character: Zuko, 100%. He’s a character I relate to a lot, eg the whole “hard work vs natural talent” thing... I even have a costume, although I didn’t get a chance to use it when I meant to so I haven’t really done so yet OTL

Least Favorite character: Hmm, god, I don’t know.... Bumi, maybe? As a comedic character he feels a bit too “haha crazy” and he doesn’t really (imo) work well as a dramatic one... 

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Zukka

Hakoda/Bato

Roku/Sozin

Tyzula

Jetko

Character I find most attractive: Zuko. Particularly s3 ofc lol

putting the rest under a cut for length

Character I would marry: idk. not big on marriage really

Character I would be best friends with: Sokka

a random thought: The true hero of ATLA is Iroh and I feel ashamed of not having mentioned his name yet in this

An unpopular opinion: The age difference between Kataang is 2 years which is the exact same age difference between Zutara and neither are particularly weird regardless of the fact that I don’t care about either ship

My Canon OTP: Don’t have one. Sokka/Suki is cute I guess is the closest I come to having strong feelings on a canon ship

My Non-canon OTP: Zukka

Most Badass Character: Toph but also low key Sokka bc he’s a non-bender

Most Epic Villain: That old blood bending woman who gave us all nightmares

Pairing I am not a fan of: Zutara, but that’as as much about fandom behavior back in the day as anything else

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Korra, all of LoK 

They gave Toph too little to do in s3 and she SHOULD have had her Zuko outing like all the others >:( Actually Zuko and Toph have a lot in common in certain ways and that was never fully explored

Also obviously SOOOO many characters in this series who were written as straight when they shouldn’t be lol. We get it, it was a kid’s cartoon in the 00s, but they didn’t have to agressively pair off everyone in neat m/f couples by the end of the series

Favourite Friendship: Aang & Zuko

Character I most identify with: Zuko, as mentioned above. He’s also the same MBTI type as me haha (INFP). Also, Sokka mix of being simoultaneously really clever and extremely stupid is a gigantic mood.

Character I wish I could be: Idk... Iroh, in some ways, certainly. Honestly, by the end of the series all the main kids are pretty admirable people. Who wouldn’t want Aang’s kindness, Katara’s righteousness, Zuko’s determination, Sokka’s cleverness, Toph’s independence, Suki’s leadership, etc? Hell, Mai’s bravery and Ty Lee’s loyalty? I love all the main kids.

Zukka

When I started shipping them: Only a year or two ago, actually! I think last time I rewatched The Boiling Rock I was like 👀

Originally when I was an ATLA fan I was still in the “we must adheer to canon” phase of my existence in fandom and then for a good while I was still affected by my... hesitance to look like a, idk, stereotypical slash fan, in the sense that back in the day people were REALLY hostile to slash ships that seemed, idk, contrived. Zukka also just wasn’t a big ship back in the day I don’t think, Jetko has always been more popular. 

My thoughts: The cammaraderie that developes between them over their stay at The Boiling Rock is incredibly compelling to me and I think that... the ways in which Sokka holds Zuko accountable through “jokes” but still allows him the space to prove himself is really interesting and probably... something that is actually better for Zuko than either Katara’s rage or Aang’s kindness? Idk. 

Also they both have pretty complicated relationships to masculinity and what it means to be a man in their respective cultures and their sort of struggles with that and how those struggles look different due to circumstances like their parental situations and different cultural expectations... Zuko’s is less directly about masculinity per se because the Fire Nation has less strict gender roles, or at least ones that don’t code certain activities as purely masculine endeavours (eg warfare) but certainly there are shades of Ozai’s treatment of Zuko and Azula that are gendered as well as about birth order and it’s interesting how Zuko and Sokka both impose restrictions on themselves about how they should behave and what they should live up to culturally.

What makes me happy about them: I think they complement each other really well. They have a lot in common but are pretty different about their approach to things... I also just really like battle couples lol 

What makes me sad about them: Their respective trauma is part of what makes them compelling but it’s certainly also sad, so in that sense...

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: So much of it is modern AU and i don’t care for it lol. Completely ignoring any sense that the Avatar world must have some elements of homophobia bothers me to exist in the ways it does, but as does completely overplaying it, idk. It’s a balance not everyone strikes well. Also obviously when people demonise Suki or Mai to account for them not being in the picture that’s bad.

Things I look for in fanfic: Honestly, more than anything? Good characterisation. This is a ship that lives and dies by good characterisation. I also really like when they’re set during the time at the Western Air Temple.  

My wishlist:

Swordfighting duels!! Practicing swordfighting together!! Bonding over swords like the dumb teenage boys they are!! Yes I know about the innuendo that only makes it better!! 

Hakoda not just being cool with it but realising about Zuko’s abuse and being like Actually I Am Your Dad Now

I always want fic where the gaang find out about how Zuko got his scar and that with Zukka is even more *chef’s kiss*

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Hmm ending up with, huh? I like Jetko for the drama but not necessarily as endgame. Sukka is pretty cute so I’m down for that but Maiko is.... look, it made sense for the time that Zuko was back in the Fire Nation because but I 100% don’t think it’s something either of them benefits from afterwards. They’re better off as friends imo also Zuko’s gay

My happily ever after for them: I want them to travel the world together tbh? I never quite know how to account for Zuko becoming Fire Lord in my thoughts about him post-canon because... well obviously I hate monarchy and I don’t actually think Zuko would be particularly comfortable being the leader of a nation, so... I don’t know. Maybe after some years, maybe a decade, of guiding the nation back towards stability Zuko starts reforming the country towards something more democratic and becomes less personally involved in the affairs of running the country? I don’t see them as people who would or really could be tied down by each other because they each have responsibilities to their respective communities and I don’t necessarily find “and then they lived in the Fire Nation palace together for the rest of their lives” compelling... 

Sokka

How I feel about this character: I love him so much. His character developement is so compelling and as one of the very few prominent non-bending characters he is also compelling in the ways that situate him within the world and forces him to look for other things to contribute with. Again, the ways in which he is undeniably very clever but simoultaneously kind of dumb is also just... Very Good and Relatable lol. He was someone I overlooked a bit for a while but I think Sokka’s Master really awakened me to how great he is and on rewatches he became one of my faves. Also, you just gotta love any character that uses sarcasm as a shield lol. 

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: Zuko, primarily, as discussed above. I’m fine with both Yue and Suki as canon ships but I’m not really invested in it. When I was younger I liked Sokka/Toph somewhat but actually Toph is a lesbian so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You could always do Suki/Toph, kill two birds with one stone you know

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: Gotta love a good father-son relationship <3

My unpopular opinion about this character: I don’t know what the popular opinions about him are tbh. I’ll use this to say I think ADHD!Sokka makes sense though

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Hmm, idk... the episodes he had that were focused on him were very good and did a good job of exploring his inner life in the face of how often he’s a comedic character, so it would have to be more in terms of his relationships with other characters. More interactions with Zuko would have been good ofc ! :3c

Favorite friendship for this character: Hm, probably Aang. Protective Older Brother Mode for a character that isn’t even technically his sibling is Very Good.

My crossover ship: I don’t really have crossover ships

[hayjeon]

Snow and Ice 01 [m] (ft. Jungkook)

→ friendswithbenefits!au with Snowboarder!JK and figure skater!reader during the Olympicssss!

→ 11.1k | part 2 (coming soon!)  

A/n: I know that winter olympics is exclusive to winter sports and vice versa with summer, but let’s ignore that for the sake of the fic ;) (ie. mentions of gymnasts) 

also this was meant to be a oneshot, but after getting somewhere around 18k...i decided to split into 2 parts! sorry, but hope you guys enjoy what I already have! :D not heavily edited sry but enjoyoyyyyoyyoy

“How fucking hard is it for the boys to seriously not sound like a bunch of monkeys at 3am in the damn morning?!” You grouch, stomping out of the restroom to Irene. 

She’s already dressed in her gym outfit, and tying her shoes. “God, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “I think they’ve made a bet or something to see who can make it the longest after bottomless drinking.” Stretching, she groans, “They were up even up til 5am I think, after you fell asleep.” 

You roll your eyes, slipping off your robe and pulling on a tight spandex pair of leggings and sports bra. You grab your water bottle and join your teammate as you walk down the hall of the rooming area and into the gym. “It would be nice for once to try and get a normal week of life before the games start. By the way, are we doing cardio today?” 

Irene nods, tying her hair up high. “Start off with 60 minutes running and then help me stretch? We’ll go practice on the rink later after lunch.” 

You nod and throw the towel on the handle as you step up onto a machine. It’s 6am, but already, dozens of other athletes are busy at work, pressing the weight machines and cardio machines to life. You can see that the gymnastics girls are taking up most of the easy weights, and the hockey players fiddling with the heavier weights. Seokjin, one of the guys from your university’s snowboarding team, walks up to you with a smile, starting up the running machine next to yours, and matching your brisk walk. 

“Good morning,” he grins, “How are you feeling?” 

You roll your eyes, cracking your neck. “God, Jin, I wanted to kill the guys on the fourth floor. Literally, they’re the loudest herd of chimpanzees when they’re drunk.” 

Seokjin laughs, upping his speed. “They made a bet to see who could drink the longest from the keg. It was interesting to watch but my coach would’ve killed me if she were here and saw me sleeping anytime past 1am. And even though our coaches can’t be here in the lodgings,” he shudders, taking a swig from his bottle, “I’d rather not find out what she’ll do to me if she ever knew the truth.” 

You laugh, increasing your speed and matching his long strides with quick ones of your own. “Good thinking, you’re smart.” 

He grins at you and the both of you ease into your daily routines. 

Everyday is like this, even when you’re not in the Olympic village. This is your second Olympics, and your second time representing your country for women’s figure skating. Being said, getting here meant that every day was a routine, just like today’s, monkey boys living a floor above you or not. 

Wake up at 5am, and cardio for an hour, stretch for 30, practice jumps on mats for 30, and then actually skating for another 2 hours, before returning to stretch out the sore muscles, and then finally getting to eat your first meal, which was probably a salad, chicken breast, and maybe a fruit smoothie if your morning cardio was more productive than usual. Then it was a bit of rest and loosening the muscles with a warm bath, and then back with weight training and more skating until it was night, and the lactic acid buildup was making your muscles all shaky and unsteady. Rinse, repeat. 

It’s easy to throw popcorn at your tv screen and sneer, “Idiots,” when a representative of the country makes a mistake during the games. Somehow, everyone sitting at home in front of their televisions, munching on their bottomless fried chicken and coke became masters at whatever sport they were watching this time of year. But becoming an olympian meant that this was your life: training, practicing, and winning. 

You amp up the speed on the machine into a full sprint as you think of the way you only got a silver medal the last time you competed. The bratty Jennie Kim had won the gold, and managed to shove it in your face every single time you two saw each other. She was here too, you could practically smell the hatred and the evil emanating off her skin whenever you were in a 50 mile radius of her. 

You sigh as your music lets you drift off into a place, a place where you don’t have to think about how sweaty and tired you are already. The music that you chose this year for your routine was classy, and so was the show that you prepared. 

It took months of training, and was also the reason you had to go so hard on cardio this year: there were four triple-axels, triple toe-loops you had to master during the routine, and that didn’t even include the two triple salchows towards the end of the routine. None other than Kim Yuna had attempted and succeeded at doing a routine like that completely without failing. 

All while looking like a complete goddess. 

Beethoven’s 9th symphony was a fairy-like, dainty work of art, with swells of the orchestra booming in the background to create an ominous feeling to it. To master this routine, you’d had to also go through hours of acting classes, to get “in touch with your deepest emotions,” like your coach Minho had convinced you. 

Your mother had gotten her hands on the most gorgeous outfit, a turquoise, shimmering deep blue-green that make your skin glitter and shine and complimented your eyes and matched incredibly well with the silver accents and accessories embroidered onto the dress. 

You don’t really remember how you got here. It just started as an innocent day at the rink, where you’d convinced your mother to let you do something more interesting than learning the piano or the violin, and she’d let you choose between gymnastics and figure skating. You were mesmerized by the pretty outfits as a little girl, so she’d taken you for lessons. 

And then the lessons slowly became rehearsals for the junior figure skating team, and then your coach labeled you as team captain, and then you were being sent off to do shows all around the country. You were then competing and winning gold medals as fast as ever, and at the ripe young age of 17, you were crowned as the next Female Figure Skating Olympian to join your country’s team, to train and compete in the next winter olympics. 

That was how you were thrust into this world of competing and working yourself to the bone at age 18. It just...sort of happened, and at one point in your little 18 year old life you did have a moment to turn around and survey how the hell you got here in the first place. But, it was too late, and you were way too invested, switching out hours of studying or playing video games or with dolls for training on the ice in your childhood to back out now. 

Your workout comes to an end and you’re already sweating bullets and chugging down buckets of water by the end. Irene finishes a couple of seconds before you do and waits for you as you cool down and step off. You both take a couple more minutes to towel off and cool before you step into the mirror room, and begin to stretch. You place your ankle on top of the poles for steadiness and begin stretching your upper body, cooling down in the air conditioned room. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n?” A voice sounds in the entrance of the stretching room and all the heads in the room turn to see who it is. 

You don’t even have to look to know who it is. 

He cockily wipes his face with a towel and throws it over his shoulder, spraying a steady stream of water from his bottle into his mouth as he saunters over to where you’re stretching. You roll your eyes and ignore him, switching sides and propping your other leg up 90 degrees as you curve your torso towards it with your hand stretched towards your toes. 

He walks up to you and in the mirror, you can see the other girls in the room whispering and giggling at the presence of the handsome Olympian. 

Jeon Jungkook. Age 22. Also his second time competing in the Olympics. Gold medalist if we’re talking about olympics, but all time World Champion in the Men’s Snowboarding medium and Guiness World Record holder for highest score last year, beating out previous record holders and his own best scores with the recent win. Endorses like a thousand snowboarding and athletic brands like Northface and Tim Burton. Also the owner of his own resort on the side. He was a celebrity within the Olympians, and also voted one of the hottest Olympians ever. 

“Looking good,” he rakes his eyes up and down your body, grinning sleazily. “How long has it been, 3 years? 4 years?” 

You huff as you take down your leg from the pole. “If you could ever for once figure out how to do math, you’d know that it’s been 4 years since the last olympics, Jeon Jungkook.” 

He smirks when you finally respond to him, walking over to lean against the pole as you sit down and begin stretching your hamstrings. “Congrats on your win during the World Championships, I watched and cheered for you during it.” 

You roll your eyes. “Are you here to make fun of my silver medal too? I have enough knowing grins from Jennie Kim to last me a lifetime.” You switch legs, leaning forward and pressing your knees against your chest. 

He laughs, “Hell no, I would never dare to make fun of the ice queen.” 

Straightening up, you narrow your eyes at him. He’s been calling you that since you can remember. “Get lost, Jungkook. Go do your weights or whatever.” You resume stretching, extending one leg far behind you as you sit comfortable in a split. 

He stands, watching you from above. “Suit yourself. Know I’ll be back though.” 

He walks cockily back, lifting the edge of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his brow, which is completely stupid because he has a towel. It’s so obvious he does it to get a ruse out of the other gymnasts and skaters stretching in the room, which it does. 

Irene inches up to you and joins you in your stretches. 

“Don’t ask,” you groan and switch sides. 

She shrugs, laughing at you in the mirror. “Wasn’t gonna. That exchange spoke for itself. He definitely has the hots for you.” 

You roll your eyes and groan as you get up, and Irene joins you to help you stand and lift your leg up as high as she can reach, way up over your head. “Uh,” you cringe at the stiffness of your thigh muscles, “He does that to everyone. Seriously. I’ve seen him even give some of the referees sleazy looks. It’s just in his blood.” 

She whistles as you switch legs. “Well whatever his blood’s doing, I bet it’s working real hard.” 

“Ew!” You exclaim and laugh, letting her switch sides with you as you help her with her standing splits. “Never!” 

She laughs, finishing her other side. “Alright grumpy, let’s go get you some breakfast before you rip my head off and get even more hangry.” 

_____________________________________________________________________

You both get washed up and changed before heading over to the Dining Hall. It’s basically another stadium, with the lower levels transformed into a buffet style area and tables and chairs all looped together like high school all over again. 

Hoseok, one of the male figure skaters, joins your table and Seokjin appears a couple minutes after, his plate piled high with all the food he could find at the buffet. 

Hoseok cringes at the sight, “Jeez, dude, how many calories even is that thing?” 

You and Irene peer over to see a buttload of eggs, rice, noodles, meats, and salad piled onto his tray. The both of you sigh at the sight, watching dreamily as Seokjin shoves the food endlessly into his mouth. It was your own personal mukbang broadcast. 

“Uhhh two-touszhndf-mpmph” Seokjin mutters, and Hoseok glares again, cringing at the food that flies out of Seokjin’s mouth. 

“Two thousand?” You balk, resting your chin in your hand as you push a cherry tomato around on your plate with your fork. “Did you increase it since last time?” 

Seokjin nods, washing his huge mouthful down with a swig of orange juice. “I don’t know what it is about this weather, but I’m starving.” 

Irene sighs, setting down her cup. “God, I just wanna eat a big heaping bowl of french fries and a oozy, greasy cheeseburger right about now.” Hoseok nods in forlorn agreement and you nod too, pouting at the sad dressing-less salad in front of you. 

Seokjin talks again, food flying, “They have some! Over there! Can’t you sneak one? Our coaches aren’t even here.” 

Irene doesn’t even bother looking. She shakes her head. “No, it’ll affect our jumps. Really. Even the slightest bit of change in our weight will throw our center of gravity off. Plus, have you seen our outfits? They’re tight as fuck.” 

You nod, sighing as you swallow the last piece of cabbage. “Mine’s so tight I have to wear a stick-on bra instead of having it padded, like normal.” 

Hoseok cringes, “Hell ya, mine’s so tight I have to clench my ass cheeks everytime I do a sitting spin, or else the spandex gets too tight and gives me the absolute worst wedgie.” 

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Guys, shut up. You know who has the worst, tightest outfits? The swim team.” 

The three of you stop talking, and burst in laughter as Seokjin rolls his eyes. You imagine the swim team in their tiny little speedos, junk squeezed tight and asses practically fighting to get out. You snort, “HAHA, don’t those guys ever like accidentally moon someone or like slip out of those things? I feel like they’re so small on their hips, it’ll fit around me.” You giggle, and Irene joins you, laughing at Seokjin’s disgusted expression. 

He’s about to respond when a voice interrupts. “Talking about the swim team’s speedos?” 

You all turn to see Park Jimin, captain of the Men’s Ice Hockey team turn up with a few of his teammates to your table. He sets his tray down next to yours, and laughs when Irene nods. 

Seokjin resumes, “Okay they’re not that tight, like I won’t lose any sperm because of it. They’re just...snug.” 

Irene cackles. “How do you even know?! You’re a snowboarder!” 

He shrugs, chewing thoughtfully. “Sometimes when you’re boarding you need a little extra waterproof protection.” 

The entire table explodes into laughter and disgust, and you join in, finally feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders. 

“Man, this makes me remember how it was in camp all those years ago, doesn’t it?” Jimin adds, and you guys all reminisce to the high school days, where athletes would attend a “athlete-morale” camp over the summer every year, which was just a sorry excuse for job-less coaches to shove down inspiring speeches and “team-building” activities down your helpless throats. 

A lot of you separate into your own conversations, launching into giggles and yells of memories you all shared together. That’s how you knew so many of the Olympians here. Even though you all had different schedules and different sports and areas of interest, somehow most of you had gathered at this camp every summer without fail. And every summer, the lot of you would suffer and bitch and complain together about how stupid and useless the lessons and activities were, and plot ways to escape your cabins at night to sneak away and do some drinking or exploring. Given, you drove your camp leaders crazy. They’d never seen a group of athletes like you guys, they said as they warily sent you home after a week of sleepless nights. 

Jimin nudges you. “How have you been?” 

You grin, turning to him, “Good, you?” 

“Same as ever,” he grins, smiling the sweet smile where his eyes would crinkle. 

“Actually you look a little different, you lost a lot of your baby fat.” You reach over and pinch his cheeks, and he frowns at you humorously as you laugh. “I remember we used to call you acorn because your face was so round.” 

He groans, “Seriously, I never forgave Yoongi hyung for coming up with that name.” 

You laugh, sipping your coffee. “I hear you and your team won silver in nationals, congratulations.” 

He sighs, “Thanks, y/n, but you know in our world, only the gold is worth congratulating for.” 

You nod, “I know how that feels.” Shrugging, he agrees with you, sending you a sad forlorn apologetic smile. He probably heard down the grapevine that you’d gotten silver.

“But at least this year, you’re gonna win gold right?” 

You shrug, picking at your cup. “I don’t know...the routine is really hard and I’m still jet lagged and not feeling my best. I’m getting nervous, and that anxiety was exactly why I stumbled a bit during my routine last year and lost the gold to Jennie.” 

“Ah Jennie,” he recalls, “Pretty, but sort of a bitch.” He shrugs, and Irene cuts in. “Sort of? Nope, she’s such a bitch.” 

The two conversations between yours and Jimin’s and Irene’s with Hoseok and Seokjin merge as Irene rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, it was ridiculous. Jennie’s routine wasn’t half as great as y/n’s but there was a slight stumble, which wasn’t even a stumble, and Jennie won. Which is ridiculous because Jennie actually tripped and had to leave out a spin on one of her turns to make sure she didn’t actually fall.” 

Hoseok tips his head. “Y/n, you stumbled?” 

Before you can even answer, Irene does it for you. “It was literally just a slight stumble, at most she switched her blade and landed with a bit more spark than usual.” 

You shrug, nodding at Irene to thank her for explaining it. You’d had to explain it way too many times now. “Whatever, it’s past now, and there’s not much I can do about it. We’re both here now, so it’s just important that I stay focused.” 

Seokjin nods. “Don’t worry, y/n. You’ll win. I’m sure of it.” 

Hoseok snorts, “How?” 

Seokjin makes a funny face, “Didn’t ya’ll know that I’m a genius and got voted the #1 most handsome face of the Olympians? If anyone knows things like that, it’s me.” He says, and everyone chuckles at it. Same ol’ Seokjin. 

“Speaking of which, here comes #1 most “daddy” Olympian.” Hoseok comments, glancing at the entrance of the dining hall. By instinct, you turn with Irene in your chair to see Jeon Jungkook sauntering in with the rest of his snowboarding team. 

The guys are gorgeous, with languid body movements, but strong bulky builds underneath all their protective waterproof jackets. Their jaws were chiseled and their looked rugged in that hot way. Jaebum, the one on Jungkook’s left was Irene’s favorite for a while, and was handsome and charming enough to even appear on a couple of variety shows and drama cameos. The snowboarders were actual celebrities back home.

You roll your eyes and turn back as quickly as possible, but not before Jungkook’s gaze settles on yours with a smirk. “I don’t even understand how that vote was even cast.” You grumble, sipping your coffee. “Seriously, out of all the other athletes, Jungkook? Gross.” 

Jimin laughs. “Well, who do you think would have been #1 then?” 

You groan, cringing. “To be honest, you or Seokjin.” 

All of you laugh as Seokjin pumps his fist, “Yes!” He cries out, food flying out of his mouth again, to Hoseok’s horror. “I knew it. Y/n think’s I’m hotter than Jeon Jungkook!” 

“Shut up!” you hiss, laughing as you try to get him to sit down, but it’s too late. At the sound of his name, Jeon Jungkook is drawn to your table like a fly to a light and grins as he walks over. “Incoming,” Irene hisses as she smiles up fakely at Jungkook. 

“I heard my name, are you guys talking about me?” He drawls, grinning as he perches a hand on the back of your chair. You ignore him and eat your yogurt. 

Jimin laughs, lifting a hand to shake hands with Jungkook. “’Sup dude, it’s been a while. Lookin’ good.” He smiles and you watch in disgust as Jungkook laughs, tainting Jimin’s innocent and beautiful presence with an entire bucketful of gross cocky frat-boy confidence. 

“I’ve been cutting a little bit, trying to not bulk too much these days,” Jungkook shrugs, flexing his arm a little to the delight of the gymnasts a few tables over. “I started getting a little less air once I started bulking up. But you’re lookin’ better bro, you guys training a lot?” 

Jimin nods, clapping the teammate next to him on a shoulder lightheartedly. He grins his charming smile again, his eyes crinkling on the sides. “Yeah, our couch has been pushing us real hard these days, but it’s been working. We’re all at our best weights of the season, and feeling real good for the upcoming games.” He smiles at you, glancing sadly at your poor little salad. “Y/n, you must be having a hard time recently too, right? Coach has us on a strict diet, but yours is probably stricter, isn’t it?”

You sigh, pushing around your cold chicken breast around on the plate for both guys to see. “I eat less than a thousand calories per day, all divided into six tiny meals. Helps keep off the weight so that I can jump higher. I can’t remember the last time I had an all-you-can-eat korean barbeque dinner. Maybe it was when I was in elementary school? Legit over a decade ago.” You shake your head as you picture the cold piece of meat as a sizzling hunk of delicious pork. 

It doesn’t help. 

Jungkook laughs, inviting himself to take the empty seat next to yours, his arm draped over the back. “Well, I for one, think you have an amazing body.” He winks at you and you pretend to gag as everyone chuckles at the table. 

“Gross!” you exclaim, pointing your fork menacingly at him. “Don’t you have some other girls to flirt with besides me? I’ve had enough fratboy for a day.” 

He grins, hand splaying across your back, warm against your skin. “Trust me, y/n, you’ll never have enough of me.” He winks and bids everyone a dumb cocky drawled “Later guys,” and walks off with his boy band team. 

Hoseok grins at you, “Was I high off my painkillers for a second or did Jeon Jungkook actually flirt with you and basically imply that he wanted to bang?” 

You choke on a piece of lettuce as everyone around the table nods, Irene and Seokjin chiming in with a simultaneous, “Totally.” Before turning to eachother with wide eyes and high-fiving. 

“Gross!” You exclaim again for the second time that morning, washing it down with a swig of water. “Me with Jeon Jungkook? I feel my ovaries shriveling up at the thought of sleeping with that frat-boy pig.” Jimin just watches you carefully.

Hoseok shrugs, “I bet if you sleep with him, it won’t just be your ovaries shriveling up. I hear he’s great in bed.” 

“Ugh! God Hoseok! Can you like not?” You cringe, and he laughs. 

“I can’t help it! He’s cute!! If he swung this way, I’d jump on that even before he could even know he was gay.” 

Everyone laughs and shakes their head at Hoseok’s blunt gayness, and you just grin uncomfortably as you turn back to your salad. You look up to see Jimin just watching you with a shy smile as he continues eating without a word. 

After breakfast, it was time to stretch a little more and actually start skating. You say bye to the rest of the crew and make your way to the gym again with Irene. You cringe, massaging your shoulder as you walk over. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, kneading the sore muscles. “My shoulder is all messed up...” 

Irene turns with a worried expression. “Oh shoot, I knew that not sleeping with a neck pillow would mess with your trap muscles. Did you bring your muscle cream with you?” 

Rummaging through your pack, you frown, “No...shit it really hurts though.” 

She pushes you towards the dorms. “Go and get it before we get on the rink, Coach’ll kill you if she finds out you didn’t treat it before getting on the ice. You know how she is. One little painful thing and she’ll go crazy on you and make sure you get it treated and ban you from the ice until it’s better.” 

You nod, biting your lip. “Don’t wait up for me!” You jog in the direction of the dorms. 

It’s a bit chilly, but the cardio helps a little as you make your way up the lavish road towards the towering buildings. The olympic villages...were always nice on the outside, but pretty dumb on the inside. 

Athletes were organized into country teams and shoved into tiny little apartments by gender, provided with college dormitory-style like rooms with two or three beds shoved into them with skinny little closets for your coats and stuff. You sigh as the dorm doors open to a rush of cold air, and scan your nametag before jogging over to the elevator, staring at your phone and logging your breakfast calories. 

The elevator opens and you nonchalantly walk inside, but right before the doors close, a hand comes in and slams the door crevice, forcing the doors to open automatically. You frown at the noise and look up to see who it is, and your jaw drops as you see Jungkook smirking at you as he steps in the elevator. You roll your eyes and drop your neck back to your phone as your typing fingers become a little harsher at the screen of your phone.

He grins at you, “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Trying to have some alone time,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at nothing in particular. He grins and somehow in his brain interprets it as an invitation to move closer and peer at your phone screen. “Sexting?” 

“No, god Jungkook,” you yelp, twisting the screen away from him, “You’re still super gross.” 

He laughs as the doors open and he trails after you. “This isn’t even your floor.” You grumble, walking down the hall towards your room anyway. 

“This isn’t even my building, but you knew that already.” He shrugs, grinning at you. He knew you too well, and he knew that too. God, you just wanted to strangle him in that pretty little neck of his. You unlock your door and he hovers, watching you rummage around your room for the bright blue container of your muscle cream.

“So, you have a thing with the hockey player?” He leans against your door, eyeing you with a cocky smirk.

You huff and drop your duffel, giving up on finding the muscle cream you were positive you packed. Hands on your hips, you face him with a glare.

“Just because I exchanged a couple of words with Jimin doesn’t mean I’m dating him, Jungkook. I’m not like you, fucking the first thing he sees.”

He hisses between his teeth, throwing his head back as he chuckles. “Oooo that burned. Straight from the ice princess. You really chose your sport didn’t ya? Double meaning and all.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes and turn back to digging through the drawers. “Why the hell are you here? I need to apply my muscle cream.”

Grinning, he produces a condom packet from his pocket. “Guess what? These are Olympic grade. I would hate to waste them when they’re giving ‘em away so freely.” Shrugging, he gestures between the both of you. “We can see if they work as well as they’re supposed to?”

When you don’t reply, he grins again, letting the door shut behind him and lock as he saunters over to you.

“So whaddyou say, for old times sake?” 

You groan, whirling around and facing him head on with a glare. 

“Jungkook,” you grit, “we slept together twice. Four years ago. There is no old time’s sake.” You wave your arms dramatically. 

He laughs, leaning back comfortably on your bed, and you groan. “Yeah it was four years ago, but equally as good. I mean,” he wonders, flipping the condom around in his fingers, “who knew that the goody little ice princess was actually such a freak in bed?” 

You finally find the annoying little blue container and spin at him with hands on your hips. “Stop talking about that night. It never happened, okay? No one can know.” You twist open the container and unzip your jacket to reveal your sports bra and turn away from Jungkook to apply it. 

He watches you struggle to reach the spot near your shoulder blade. “Need help?” 

You glare at him over your shoulder. “No.” 

He shrugs, “Your legs are flexible, but you know your arms not flexible enough to reach it and everyone’s out for training now. I’ll do it, no funny business.” He stands, and you glare at him but let him draw nearer as he takes the container from you. 

“Turn around,” he says gently, and begins to slather on the cream into your shoulder and neck, rubbing it in so that the stickiness is absorbed completely into your skin. You wince as he rubs too hard and he apologizes, setting the container down and concentrating on not rubbing too hard. 

“It wasn’t only four, you know,” he mutters, and you pause, frowning. “What?” 

“We slept together twice four years ago during the games, but we also slept together a couple more times after that. Just not at the games.” He stops rubbing, and you jerk your jacket onto your shoulder again, standing up from the bed with a glare as you pack your backpack. 

“Dont,” you warn, teeth gritted, “talk about that in front of anyone, ever. It could jeopardize our careers. Do you understand?! A few drunken nights together doesn’t mean anything! No matter how hot you think you are!” You storm off, jamming your shoes on and stomping outside. 

The only thing you hear before the door slams shut is his cocky voice calling out, “So you think I’m hot?!” 

Turn, Triple toe loop, land, Bielmann spin, stop, smile, turn again blade change.

You chant the routines in your head as you glide over the ice with the music. Although there were still 2 weeks left ahead of your actual performance, it was still crucial that you skated your program more than 10 times a day so that it was completely muscle memory by the time you stepped onto Olympic ice. 

Your teammates watch carefully from the sidelines with your coach, who’s carefully scrutinizing your every move. You finish with a flourish, chest heaving as the swell of music ends. 

Irene claps happily and Hoseok also joins her, cheering your name as you crumble over, hands on your knees as you heave with the effort of skating heavily for so long. Your coach steps onto the ice, patting your back as you put on your skate guards and take a seat. 

“Good job Y/N,” she nods, stepping aside to let other skaters take to the ice. “Why don’t you go home today and stretch a little? You’re looking a little stiff.” 

You nod, and on the corner of your eye, you see Jennie Kim step onto the ice. “Sure thing, coach, but let me stay behind and watch this one.” Coach Kim follows your gaze and softens. “Y/N,” she urges, “I don’t know if it’ll help you to watch her program.” 

“It’s fine!” You reassure her with a smile and join Hoseok and Irene on the benches as the music begins. 

Jennie was a phenomenal skater, everyone agreed. She was beautiful and thin and charming and knew exactly how to flirt on the ice. What you lacked in with performance skills, she excelled in with expressions and smiles, and what she lacked in technical jumps and clean cut programs, she excelled in making it look even more effortless and flirting with the audience enough to grant standing ovations and performing with a lot of emotion. 

As the three of you watch her run through her program, she completes jumps and spins that you never expected her to be able to complete. “How the hell did she learn to do the triple lutz triple toe loop combo?! I thought last show she had to cut it out of her program because she couldn’t land it properly!” You hiss, and Irene shrugs, her jaw hanging open too. “I don’t know...” she says lowly, watching Jennie glide over the ice as if she were weightless. “That...that’s impossible to do within what...six weeks? Even Rose couldn’t do it like that.” 

Hoseok gasps, “Oh my god, she faked that she couldn’t do it so she’d lower your expectations.” 

You frown and watch her finish her routine, one she stops and gets claps from other people also watching from the stands. Your coach pats you on the shoulder. “Although her routine is a lot more complex than we thought it would be, if you execute ours perfectly, you’re bound to get a hell of a lot more points than she can. Your training is gonna pay off, don’t worry about it.” 

Chewing on your lip, you nod, crossing your arms and worriedly walking out of the rink. 

Your steps are heavy as you head towards the gym. Jennie and you had once been peers, two young girls who began skating together for fun and ended up enjoying it and being actually good at it. But then, somehow, somewhere within all the competition, you both had stopped doing eachother’s makeup and hair between performances, and instead had resorted to smirks and jeers as you challenged eachother. 

Your gold medal or championship trophies matched the number of ones she had, and the both of you were neck to neck during every single match you could ever think of since you both became teenagers. 

This was probably going to be your final or second to last Olympics, and then you would end up doing promotions for companies or becoming a trainer for the rest of your life. If you wanted to live comfortably, you would have to skate like your life depended on it, and Jennie did too. Whatever medals the both of you won today would go down in history and determine the next years to come. If you didn’t win that gold medal this year, you were determined to just retire before it became even more embarrassing. 

The gym is full, with the sun high up in the air at 2pm. You can see a group of hockey players fiddling with the weights alongside the swimmers who were working the machines. The gymnasts and the female swimmers were already stretching in the padded room, and the running machines full of all types of athletes. Immediately, when you enter, the white shirt stretched over Jungkook’s back muscles is the first thing you see. 

Ignoring the clenching feeling of anxiety in your gut, you head over to the stretching area to begin cooling off. 

Feet out, leg as high up as you can, you coax yourself, mimicking what your coach would be telling you as of now. You can feel the stiffness, all the way back to your calves and the muscle cream from yesterday wasn’t helping all that much. Facing the mirror, you balance a hand on the beam and lean forward, lifting your leg up high far above your head as you balance on one foot, preparing for one of your spins. 

Through the mirror, you see him come in, his head swiveling as he surveys the myriad of other girls stretching and then smiling wide as he jogs over to you, throwing his sweaty towel around his neck. Gross. 

“So,” he says, leaning against the bar with a greasy smile. “Did you think about what I said?” 

You roll your eyes and continue stretching. “How many times did I tell you that there’s absolutely nothing to talk about?” 

“How many times after that night did you even have sex at all?” He scoffs, moving around to face you when you turn to switch sides.

“Did you like, even go out after that?” He prods, watching you stretch through the mirror. He wipes his sweat with the small hand towel, spraying some water from his bottle into his mouth and shaking out his sweaty bangs.

You switch legs, making another face when it strains a little. He notices, “oh, uh, do you need some help with that?”

You finally acknowledge him after twenty minutes of ignoring him. He was persistent, you had to give him that. Rolling your eyes you nod, “Do you remember how?”

“No,” he scoffs, but steps forward anyway, cradling your ankle in his larger hands. He’s hot, the cool temperature of the stretching area doing nothing to cool off his skin. He steps forward so the both of you are almost a hand width apart and places your ankle daintily on his broad shoulder. He then steps even closer, supporting your lower back with his hands and slowly pressing in to help stretch the calves and hamstrings.

You wimper a little because he’s almost an entire head and a half taller than your petite size and the leg on his shoulder is pressed almost to your chest. Squeezing your eyes shut you breathe in and out, the both of your bodies rocking slightly to accommodate the inflation of your lungs into your chest.

You can feel the heat emanating off his chest as he stands there looking down at you with the hardness of his body pressed up against the back of your thigh. It’s hard to not let your mind wander at that, flashbacks of drunken irresponsible high school days when you’d go to bed with him fucking you from behind and wake up to him kissing between your legs. And then you’d finish off with a nice hot bath and some good food. Back when you had no responsibilities, no worries, and no burdens on your shoulders.

The moment causes your mind to go a little hazy and in the fleeting few seconds of feeling vulnerable and the flood of hormones at the familIr feeling of his body against yours you whisper, “I haven’t” in response to his questions before. It’s too quiet to be heard over the high quality air conditioner whirring almost silently in the corner, but nonetheless his proximity lets him hear the two words.

He doesn’t say anything though, and lets your leg down from his shoulder and helps you get the other one onto his right shoulder. Rinse and repeat. But just as you open your mouth to say something more, a hand on the small of your back smooths over the curve of your hip and up your thigh and over to your ankle. Holding it delicately there, his hand grips it wth a firm and warm grasp, as he angles his head down to meet your questioning gaze.

“Me neither.” He whispers, and steps forward to press himself tightly against you. Your back presses against the bar and your hands flutter up from it to grip his forearms. You distinctly feel his hardness pressed against your belly. 

“Seriously? Don’t lie to me Jeon Jungkook. The last time we slept together was months ago.”

“I’m serious!” You give him a glare. 

“Do you…?” He trails off, and begins blinking like he does when he gets nervous.

The question lingers heavily over the hum of the running machines and air purifiers lining the training area.

His hands release your ankle and sets it gingerly on the ground, and he steps back, the warmth of his body and his chest and his hands and his breath leaving you all at once. You stumble a little back, your back resting on the bar.

Space, he was giving you space to decide.

You sigh, flexing your hands that are beginning to sweat. Your performance wasn’t for another two weeks. What did you have to lose?

Thinking about the way Jennie glided over that triple-toe-triple-lutz combination with no effort at all made you rage all the way inside, insides glowing hot from the annoyance of being fooled by her again. What was just one night of sex going to do? Your coach told you to relax and make sure you weren’t too stressed out and anxious...this...this was just an interesting way of doing it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t kill her.

“Fine,” you huff, stepping forward, gathering your things and heading out, as he jogs after you with a surprised look. “But on one condition, Jeon Jungkook. You cannot tell anyone. Are we clear?” 

He smirks, running a hand through his hair. “Clear as ice.” 

“Fuck,” you wimper as the the door slams shut behind you and Jungkook crowds your personal space. He’s breathing heavily, yanking harshly at your jacket zipper until it falls to the ground and your sports bra is all you’re wearing on top. He unzips that too and lets it fall to the ground, kissing you senselessly, lips moving against yours and drawing out your breaths and moans. 

“God I missed this,” he breathes, grabbing your waist and hoisting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist you tongue at his neck as he sets you on his bed and strips off his jacket. “Did you miss me too?” He smirks as he sucks on your nipple crewdly and you moan in response, hips bucking up into his. 

“No--oh my god” you keen when he yanks down your legging and rubs at you through your underwear. Your hand flies down to grip his wrist, eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. “Oh-- fuck, please don’t stop.” 

He just chuckles and yanks your underwear band aside to reveal your dripping core, sliding his fingers in you with no obstruction at all. “Oh shit, Y/N, you’re so fucking wet,” he grumbles, nipping at your breast as you mewl and twist under the onslaught of sensations. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe, panting harshly as he kneels up to peel his shirt off, revealing white milky skin, textured with taught lines and lean muscle. You help him untie the strings on his sweatpants, nimble fingers working desperately at the waistband until Jungkook gets impatient and just yanks it down his hips along with his boxers. 

While he grabs a condom, you yank off your panties, pushing him to sit up against the headboard of the bed. You straddle him, throwing a thigh over his hips and resting your hands on his shoulders for leverage. 

Were his shoulders always this broad? 

You shake away the thought as he grips himself and guides himself to your center, rubbing his sensitive tip against your wetness and smearing it around to make it more comfortable. You busy yourself with sucking a hickey against his collarbone, licking and biting until the clean flesh becomes red and inflamed and shiny with your spit. 

“Ready?” He breathes out, pupils blown out as he pants up at you. You nod and lower yourself on him slowly, and Jungkook moves his hand from gripping himself to settle and help you guide your hips down onto him. The both of you moan when you bottom out, panting and gripping each other desperately. When the stretch isn’t so bad, you rock your hips slowly back and forth, not yet bouncing up and down on him yet. 

The movement stimulates your clit against his pelvis and you moan, throwing your head back and looping your arms around his neck as you continue to swivel your hips on him. Jungkook sits there, eyes heavy lidded as he watches you with a slight smile on his lips. His hand raises to curl your hair over your shoulder, his hand following and resting on your neck as he leans down to kiss against your neck, tongue laving heavily, hot and wet against your skin as  you cling to him. 

He’s marking you too, focusing on the area right where your jawline meets your ear and nibbling against it, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, making you moan. “Jungkook,” you whine, and he seems to understand what you’re asking for when his hand settles on your hips again and he begins to guide you up and down his length. 

The extra stimulation gets him going and he cringes. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grits his teeth and his hairline begins to dot with sweat at the effort. “I...I’m gonna cum s-soon.” 

“Already?” You gasp, opening your eyes to ask him. He nods, biting his lip as he groans, his jaw falling open. “I-it’s been a r-really long t-time. And you feel s-so fucking good. Hngh.” He groans as you squeeze around him in response to his praise. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “Just wait for me, hold on.” You reach down and rub your clit in wide circles, gathering the wetness from where you and Jungkook meet, and pressing into your clit with the pads of your fingers. Jungkook just buries his face into your neck, panting harshly against your collarbone as you continue to swivel your hips, moaning and rubbing like your life depended on it. 

With the feeling of Jungkooks lips on your nipples and his hands roaming your body, and his dick reaching parts of you that your fingers can’t even think of stimulating, and along with the 7-month-long hiatus from sex with him, you find yourself reaching the edge fairly quickly. 

“O-oh shit, Jungkook,” you whisper, letting him take over in rubbing circles on your clit, “I-I’m gonna---” You bite down on his shoulder, dampening the moans that tumble out of your mouth as you topple over the edge. At the sensation, Jungkook cums almost simultaenously as he finally lets himself go, and his moans spur you on as you quake over him and both your hips stutter at the overwhelming rush of pleasure. 

You pant and tremble as the sensations run through your entire body, your eyes rolling back as you moan and mewl and say whatever the fuck is coming out of your mouth right now at the feelings. But apparently it’s not completely and utterly horseshit that you’re muttering right now because Jungkook rocks up into you, riding out his own high and groaning your name loudly as his orgasm subsides. 

He laughs a little when he finishes, and the action makes him move a bit inside of you and you cringe, muttering a “ew you’re so sticky,” as you climb off of him. He stands after you, following you into the shower and flushing down the condom. Grinning and leaning against the doorway, he watches you climb into the shower and hose down your body. 

“How the hell were you hooked up with your own room? And bathroom?” You mutter, using the body wash there to clean off all the sweat. 

When he doesn’t respond, you turn, but a hand snakes around your waist. “Let me,” he murmurs, grabbing the soap from you and running along your back, his warm hands scratching over your skin. You let your head fall back at the sensation as he focuses a little too much on your breasts, swirling over the nipple with circular motions and gentle hands. “Again?” 

“Let’s save water,” he grins and you let him. 

You don’t save any water that day. It was 44 minutes too long. 

“Let’s go get some food,” Jungkook whines, as you both finish, collapsing on the bed with panting breathes as you come down from your high. His hands cradle your waist as you take a moment to gather yourself before you prop yourself up. 

“Huh?” You wrinkle your nose down at him, propping your arms on his chest. 

He laughs, sitting up and grabbing his shirt. “You said you were hungrier earlier. And we barely ate today, after gymming in the morning. I’m starving,” he whines, pouting at you and  you laugh, rolling off of his bed to grab your clothes. 

“I can’t,” you whine, pouting at your belly and poking the skin there. “If coach finds out I’m eating anything other than the diet we’re limited to, she’ll kill me.” 

He rolls his eyes, shrugging on a hoodie. “Oh god,” he groans, pulling on his baggy pants with easy. “You’re literally skinnier than some models that I’ve slept with.” 

You glare at him when he mentions the models and he laughs guiltily. “Sorry,” he grins, “But it’s true. You can afford to eat whatever you like. C’mon, just one meal won’t hurt.” 

You sigh, pulling on your leggings and a clean pair of underwear. Somehow...you ended up having a stash of underwear hidden deep within Jungkook’s drawers. 

“Fine,” you grumble, but the grin on your face says otherwise. It’d been ages since you ate anything other than the planned dietary foods prepared for you by your coach and  parents. This...this time wouldn’t be too bad. No one would notice. 

“Where’s my phone?” You grumble, digging through the bedsheets and your bag as you search for it. 

Jungkook shrugs, shaking out his hair. “I’ll meet you outside, gonna pee before we go.” 

You shrug him off and he leaves, and you finally find the device and slip it into your pocket. You also grab Jungkook’s really baggy hoodie and pull it over your thin workout spandex long sleeve and leggings, relishing in the way his smell floods your senses as the warm and soft fabric tumbles down your body all the way to your mid-thigh. Grinning, you turn to open the door, calling out, “Jungkook I--” 

Standing down the hall, with a packet of yogurt hanging from his lips and eyes as wide as yours, is Seokjin. His hand lingers on his doorknob, and he balks at you as you stand in Jungkook’s single room, in his clothes, and takes one glance at the messy room full of your stuff and mussed up bedsheets, and connects the dots immediately. 

“Seokjin...” you breathe, eyes darting to the main entrance. 

“What the fuck?” He sputters, pulling out the plastic packet from his mouth and stomping up to you. “You’re the girl that Jungkook’s been fucking?”

You bite your lip, trying to rack up any excuse, but you come up blank. “Oh my god, Seokjin, you can’t tell anyone! Not even Irene, if coach finds out she’ll kill me---” 

He whisper-yells at you. “Have you even met our coach? He’ll rip our balls off one by one if he knew Jungkook was slacking off in any way.” 

“Also,” he adds, frowning, “How dare you?! I thought you said he was gross.” 

You grin sheepishly. “It just happened...the stress and all, and there’s a lot of time in 3 weeks for 24 hours...” 

He shakes his head trying to get the image of you out of his head. “God,” he hisses, “I’ve been trying to set the two of you up for years! And all you two did was give me shit for it. Little did I know you two were already getting it on,” he glances behind him, to the vicinity of his room, whipping back around to you furiously. “And right next to my room?!” 

You sigh, gripping his arm. “C’mon Seokjin I know you won’t tell, but I need you to say it out loud. Please, promise me you won’t tell.” 

He sighs, groaning at you before relenting. “Alright, fine. But only because you gave me really yummy vitamins next week and medicine for my constipation.” 

You grin, reaching up to hug him. When he leaves for his room, Jungkook finally emerges from the restroom, grinning. “Whatcha two talkin’ about?” He grins, cocking his chin at Seokjin’s door. 

You march up to him, punching him hard. He doubles over, winded. “What the fuck Jungkook?!” you hiss, “I thought you said no one’s home before 3!” 

He winces, groaning and clutching his stomach. “Jeez woman,” he croaks, “Who the fuck taught you how to punch?” 

You smirk, “Get up. I’m hungry now.” He grins as he leads you to the front door. He reaches down and pulls the hood of his sweater up and around your head, bunching it low over your eyes. “Good,” he comments, doing the same to his own. “We can’t get caught sneaking out. I know of a way.” He winks and leads you down the elevator and towards the edge of the campus. 

“Where?” You hiss, jogging after him. 

He grins at you, pulling you alongside him with a warm hand that curls around yours. “Just trust me.” He walks straight for where the trash deposits are, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of rotting food and boxes of cardboard strewn messily in the garage. But in the corner, you can clearly see a door marked with a red EXIT sign. 

“That’s the only one that doesn’t lock, all around campus,” he explains, slowly and gently opening it and glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before jogging out with you. “The others have cameras or guards, but this one I guess was forgotten with all the other construction that was going on.” 

You hmm in agreement and relish in the way Jungkook’s hand feels against yours. It’s a lot bigger, and his long fingers curl all the way to the middle of your palm, where his thumb strokes gently and warmly against your smooth skin. Feeling the way your hand is freezing cold, he pockets both your hands in his jacket pockets, nesting both your hands in the warm comforts of his down jacket. 

After a bit of walking, you make it to a decently crowded pedestrian area where he leads you to a corner of the street, where a tiny snack shop sits. Your mouth waters at the sight of a couple people inside, drinking hot soups and chowing down on instant ddukbokki’s and kimbap’s and ramen bowls that made your stomach churn with anticipation. 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, as Jungkook grins at you and leads you up to the stands, taking a seat in the corner. He still doesn’t let go, letting your intertwined hands rest on the plastic foldable table. “How did you find this place?” you whisper, after he orders a heaping pile of food for the both of you. 

“It’s a secret passed down through the snowboarding team for generations,” he winks, grinning when the cook brings over a steaming pile of rice cakes and korean pancakes and kimbap for you both to start on. You use the skewer to grab a piece and pop it into your mouth, humming and grinning at the wonderful taste of spicy and sweet that bursts within your mouth. Moaning at the sensation, you skewer a few more pieces into your mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he explains. 

“The hyungs would sneak out every chance we get. Our coach is a little...stiff and strict, but he lets us do this sort of in an apology for how strict he usually is.” 

You nod, chewing and washing it down with a sip of hot soup. “And does he come with you?” 

Jungkook shakes his head, using his free hand to grab a kimbap and chew on it. “Nope, he lets us have our thing. It’s like a tradition. I think this year, the team plans to come back here at least a few more times before we have to go back.” 

You grin, happily finishing up the plate of rice cakes. Staring at the empty bottom in horror you gulp. “Oh shit, when did I finish this whole thing?” You frown, trying to count the calories in your head. “Fuck, I’m screwed.” Dropping your skewer, you feel tears of shame brimming in your eyes.

Jungkook just frowns and shakes his head. He calls out for another order and you protest, but he just retorts, “Even the people with the best bodies let themselves have cheat days for goodness sake. You need this, Y/N. Don’t just de-stress with sex, rejuvenate with some food too.” 

You melt under his worried words and grin, sheepishly nodding when he hands you a new skewer. 

“Thanks Jungkook,” you whisper, taking another sip of the delicious ramen. “I love this place.” 

He grins, his hand curling around yours tighter. 

Once the both of you finish eating, he takes you around a bit more to explore, and then the both of you stumble back into his dorm. 

“Oh my god,” He mumbles into your neck as you unbuckle his jeans and slip a hand down his boxers. “Your hands are freezing,” he grits, licking and kissing at your neck as you pump him tightly in your fist. 

You giggle, letting him undo the zipper of your jacket and slide your jumper off of your torso. His hands fall heavily on your breasts, cradling them and letting their weight fall into his palms as he presses you into his warm bed. “Yours too,” you pant, the end of your declaration hitching up into a moan as he moves his mouth down to suck harshly at your nipple before tenderly running his warm tongue over it. 

“Let me warm you up,” he moans, and you remove your hand from his pants as he gets busy getting rid of yours. Once completely off and your leggings and panties thrown haphazardly over his shoulder, he hikes your thighs up over his shoulders and licks a warm stripe up your slit. 

Your head falls back onto the pillows, abs tensing as Jungkook gets to work, his warm mouth and tongue laving all over your lips and slit, maneuvering in patterns that make you twist and turn like putty under his hands. Your own hands are gripping at his forearms crossed over your belly, anchoring you to the bed, nails digging into his cold skin and scratching at the nape of his neck where you hold the strands of his hair tightly. 

“F-fuck,” you moan, hips jostling against his arms, “I-I can’t...Jungkook, just put it in...” you beg, core clenching as he boldly pushes you right up against the point of tipping over. But no matter how good you taste and how beautiful you sound and look right now, Jungkook also agrees that the best way to watch you cum is when you’re writhing underneath him. 

“Fine,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at you. 

So he licks one last cheeky stripe up against your clit, the rough pad of his tongue stimulating you enough to make you jump before he gets up, carding off his shirt and pants as he climbs up your body and meets you in the middle with a sloppy kiss. 

He hastily puts on the condom and slides into you with no intrusion, settling his warm weight on yours, chest against yours and hips gently rocking into your core. You moan and clutch at him desperately, throwing your arms around his neck and curling your legs around him like a vice. 

Jungkook lets out a strangled moan of your name, stuttering, “Sh-shit, don’t clench, y-you’re so fucking tight,” he grits, and when you see the way his jaw tenses in the effort to not cum too fast, you can’t help but lean up and nip teasingly at his ear and scrape your teeth against the sharp jawline. 

“C’mon,” you whisper, whining as he begins rutting into you faster, “Hurry,” you moan, and Jungkook leans up, detaching from your neck to sit up a bit better and piston his hips into you, angling himself just enough so the tip of his cock slides and taps right against the spot that has your toes curling and your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. You moan and pant and whine like an animal in heat as Jungkook wipes the sweat off his brow, and gets this steely look on his face as he drives home. 

The both of you finish, eachother’s names on the tip of your tongues and moans as you huskily whine and pant, bodies trembling with the overexertion of so much sex and the overwhelming pleasure of both your climaxes. 

Jungkook collapses on you, breathing heavily, and you let him stay there, kissing small innocent, apologetic kisses into the soft flesh of your chest as he comes down from his high. 

You begin giggling, as he does so, cringing a bit from the oversensitivity of the orgasm and laughing at the tickling feeling of his lips smoothing so softly over your skin. 

“One more time?” He asks, and he instantly feels the way your breath hitches and shudders at the suggestion. 

You smirk down at him, bringing him in for a kiss. 

“Of course,” you whisper against his lips, smiling as he grins and meets you halfway again. 

You didn’t go home at all that night. 

tbd! 

[pickalilywrites]

Request for a part 2 of the rivetra magicians au?

ty for asking for it ^^ i love this au and it’s always nice to revisit aus i’ve written before!

Is This Your Card? 

Rivetra. Magicians AU. 

Something Like Magic series: Part I

3631 words. 

Buy me a ko-fi!

Levi has done this routine hundreds of times. It’s one of his easier tricks, just rearranging the cards about quickly while distracting the audience with something in the background. He should be able to do this with his eyes closed, and yet something feels strangely off as he shuffles the deck. He can’t place his finger on what it is, and he can’t stop and check to see what it is lest he ruin the illusion. Instead, he continues to shuffle the cards from one hand to another – one of the fancier ways of ordering the cards that he tries to avoid because he finds it pretentious – but he finds nothing. Irritated, he finally allows the deck to sit in his hand and holds up what should have been the volunteer’s card.

“Is this your card?” Levi asks gruffly, already knowing the answer.

“No,” the volunteer says, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He squints at the card, leaning closer as he checks once more. “That’s not my card. I picked a different one…”

“Sir,” a voice speaks up from behind Levi. It’s not one that Levi is familiar with, but he knows he’s heard it before. When he turns around, he sees a woman with a mischievous grin, and he knows exactly who it is. “I believe this is your card.” She holds up a card – ace of spades – showing it around for everyone else to see. Showy as always.

“That’s my card!” the man says in surprise. He looks at the woman, grinning from ear to ear. He must think it’s part of the show, this woman appearing out of nowhere and displaying a trick even more impressive than anything Levi has done so far tonight, oblivious to the fact that this show woman is only here to sabotage Levi’s show.  “You’re amazing! How did you do that?”

“Magic,” the woman replies, giving the man a roguish wink.

“Ral,” Levi growls.

“Ackerman!” Petra says cheerfully. She gives a quick wave to his assistants behind him – Farlan and Isabel. “Nice to see you guys too!”

“Ooh, Petra!” Isabel says excitedly, ignoring the worried look from Farlan and the seething glare from Levi. When the young woman utters the famous magician’s name, people in the audience begin to crane their necks to look at the woman who had just arrived. “We didn’t know you were here! I didn’t even see you!”

“Well, you know me,” Petra laughs, shrugging. “I like to surprise people.” She even has the audacity to smile graciously at the people now clambering over each other to try to get a peek at her, waving at her fans that are snapping photos of her on their phones so they can show their friends. If she wanted this sort of attention, she should have held her own show elsewhere, Levi thinks.

“Isabel’s right. I didn’t see you at all,” Levi says. He should have noticed her sooner – her ginger hair is difficult to miss – but then again, she’s not dressed in those ridiculously flashy outfits that she typically dons for her shows. Out in the streets, she’s dressed plainly; her attire consists almost entirely of monochrome – a black coat, gray jeans, and snow-white ankle boots. The only pop of color on her is a vibrant red scarf. The color should clash terribly with her hair, but Levi would have to grudgingly admit that she looks pleasant, the color of the scarf bringing out shades of auburn in her hair that Levi hadn’t noticed before.

“Well, I didn’t want to distract you guys,” Petra replies. She looks at him, her smile barely suppressed. “But I guess I didn’t do such a great job, huh? I really couldn’t help myself though.”

He’s about to snap at her, tell her that she hardly tried at all, but he feels a tug on his sleeve. Levi whirls around, glaring, only to find Farlan behind him.

“We still have a show to put on,” Farlan says, his eyes flickering to the crowd around them.

“Fine,” Levi mutters, yanking himself away from Farlan. He glances back at Petra, who only gives him a cheerful smile. He does his best to face the crowd with his best face, but he feels his expression turn into a scowl when he hears them whisper her name, some even rude enough to ask her to step in during the show at some point and do tricks of her own. Although she has the sense to decline, Levi’s mood doesn’t improve. In fact, it gets worse as the show goes on. All his tricks go according to plan this time – levitation, vanishing acts, and transformations – but even he can tell that his execution is messy. Not that the audience cares. Their attention is on something else, someone else – the ginger-haired woman behind him pretending to be engrossed in his little magic tricks. Then again, Levi also finds himself distracted by the woman, his attention always flickering over to her rather than staying on the objects he’s meant to be manipulating. He’s almost grateful when Farlan taps him on the shoulder, whispering that he and Isabel will take over the remainder of the show.

Levi watches the rest of the performance from a distance, wanting to get as far away as possible from the woman as he could. He swore not to even give the woman a fleeting glance, but he finds his gaze straying towards her more than once or twice during Isabel and Farlan’s performances. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s far too invested in the act on stage.

He’s relieved when the show finally ends, and the crowd disperses. If he’s quick enough, he can find Farlan and Isabel, and the three of them can slip away without having to be trapped in a conversation with that woman. He thinks he’s about to get away with it too when he shoves past the crowd and makes it to Farlan and Isabel until he feels an arm loop through his.

“Hey, Levi. You were walking awfully fast there. It was like you were trying to get away from me,” that voice says. He’s not surprised when he looks to his side and sees Petra there, her amber eyes twinkling playfully at him. “But you know you can never escape an escape artist.”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbles. He looks at her with a sour expression, wondering why she’s here at all.

“Petra!” Isabel’s voice is heard loud and clear over the crowd. The redhead's hand pops out from the sea of people, waving the two magicians over. When Levi and Petra arrive, Isabel grins widely, greeting Petra as if they’re old friends. “Did you see my routine? What did you think of it?”

“Oh, absolutely, I loved it!” Petra gushes. “Although, I think you could be a little more discreet when you’re stealing. The man probably didn’t notice you slipping his watch into your pocket, but I sure did.”

“Oh, come on,” Isabel says with a laugh, not at all ashamed at being caught. She pulls out the watch – a slick black obsidian piece with gold accents – and grins at the others. Compared to other watches that are riddled with gears and gizmos, this one looks quite plain, but it’s five times more expensive than the average wristwatch. Levi’s told her to quit stealing a while ago – they’ve been making enough bank that they no longer had to resort to petty thievery to survive – but even he has to admit that Isabel’s got a good eye for money. “If that guy didn’t notice, it’s fine. You’re just too perceptive, Petra!”

“Maybe,” Petra laughs. She turns over to Farlan, giving him that same friendly smile as if the two have been friends for years. “And you, Mr. Church, were amazing as always. I think that woman’s eyes were about to pop out of her head when you were able to guess the name of her grandmother.”

“It’s all in the job,” Farlan says with a shrug. He begins to smile at her, but Levi clears his throat and Farlan quickly wipes the smile from his face.

“Well, you’re good at what you do,” Petra tells him. She tilts her head up at him, reaching up to tuck a lock of her ginger hair behind her ear. “Do you think you could read my mind right now?”

Farlan doesn’t reply. He stares at her for a long time, studying her face. He takes longer than he usually does with his subjects. At most, he takes a second or two, but he stares at Petra for almost a minute before he opens his mouth. “I think some things are better left as a surprise, wouldn’t you agree?” he finally says, but he looks at her with such intrigue that Levi’s not sure if Farlan had just given up being able to read her.

She smiles again – how is she always smiling? – and asks Levi, “How on earth did you manage to get such a good mentalist? Gunter’s quite good, but he likes to over embellish details at times.”

He should know better than to snap at her, but he can’t help it. “Is that what you came here for? You wanted to charm Farlan and Isabel away from me?”

“Oh, Levi, if I wanted to steal your friends from you, I would have done it ages ago. I’m very charming, you know,” Petra jokes, the corner of her mouth quirked upward. She doesn’t seem at all intimidated by Levi’s harsh glare. “I actually came here to watch your show. I’ve told you before, I’m a huge fan.”

Levi glances at Farlan from the corner of his eye and sees the blond shift slightly. Both of them know that the woman is holding back. “What else?” Levi asks her. “You wouldn’t be here for a show you could catch on YouTube later tonight.”

“But the video resolutions are so bad,” Petra says with her eyebrows raised. When he doesn’t laugh, she sighs. “Fine, you got me. I actually have a proposition for you, Levi, but I just want you to hear me out. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to.”

Levi opens his mouth to respond, but Petra holds up a hand.

“Hey, let’s discuss it first before you say no. I might be able to change your mind,” she laughs. Her eyes flicker over to Isabel and Farlan before returning to Levi. “Want to do this over a coffee? I’m buying.”

“We’d love to!” Isabel says, but Farlan holds her back, shushing her.

“We actually wanted to check out this restaurant that we saw a little earlier,” Farlan says, his hand clamped over Isabel’s mouth. He yelps when the feisty redhead licks his palm, and he pulls away, glaring. Isabel simply sticks her tongue out at him. Returning his attention back to Petra, he smiles apologetically and says, “Maybe we could all grab coffee together another time?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to?” Petra asks, but Farlan is already pulling Isabel away.

“Yeah, it’s fine! Have fun!” he says, dragging a grumpy Isabel behind him. He waves at both Petra and Levi. “Levi, we’ll meet you back at the hotel tonight!”

Petra watches them leave for a bit before turning back to Levi. Her hands are shoved in her pockets, and she looks at him almost bashfully before asking, “So, shall we go?”

Normally, he would decline immediately. However, his interest is piqued, and he’s not one to say no to a free coffee. It had better be good coffee though.

“Let’s go,” Levi says, walking right past the arm she offers out to him. He only turns back when she points out that he doesn’t even know where they’re going.

In the end, he follows her to a little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. It’s a little bit brighter than he would like it, and he despises the cheerful pop music that plays overhead, but at least it’s quiet enough to talk over it easily. Some people sit in the corners playing board games while others chatter on the phone. It’s certainly not a place Levi would have chosen. He prefers darker, quieter atmospheres where he can enjoy his caffeine in peace, but he can’t say he’s surprised in Petra’s coffee shop choice. After all, this place seems to suit her bright personality, he thinks as he waits for her to retrieve their orders, a black for him and a macchiato for her.

He looks up when a steaming cup is placed before him. “Before we get started, tell me how you got that card?” His frown deepens when he sees her smile as she sits down across from him.

“I just took it from your pocket when you were playing around with the cards, shuffling them here and there. It wasn’t actually that difficult to get close to you,” she replies. She holds her coffee with both hands, using it to warm up her fingers. She blows on it lightly, the foam drifting to the edge of her cup, before taking a sip. Before she continues, she licks the foam from her lips. “You’re very good, though. I had to watch videos of you hundreds of times before I figured out your technique. I’ve never tried to do your card tricks myself. I don’t think I’d ever be able to match you.”

He looks at her through narrowed eyes, wondering if she’s patronizing him. Her shows are in an entirely different realm than his. While Levi has practiced street magic for years, he’s only known Petra to do stage magic dressed up in sparkly outfits while the overdressed audience sits with a glass of wine in their hands. He doesn’t know why on earth she would even want to do card tricks when she usually does more showy tricks. Surely, she must be making fun of him, he thinks, but she’s being genuine in her compliment as far as he can tell. Grudgingly, he finally says, “Thank you.”

“And that’s an interesting deck of cards you have too,” Petra says, sitting up straighter in her chair. She sits on the edge of her seat, leaning forward so that part of her hair falls in her face. “I was wondering if you would let me look at it, actually.”

“Why?” he asks, immediately suspicious.

The woman across from him only shrugs, sitting back as if to seem less threatening. “Just curious. I think it’s a very beautiful deck. A little worn, but very beautiful.”

His hands fly to his pocket where he hides his cards. He’s thinking against giving her the deck, but he’s finding it hard to find a reason to deny her request. It is only a deck of cards after all. Reluctantly, he pulls out the deck from his pocket and sits it down in the center of the table.

Petra sets down her drink before reaching across the table and taking the deck of cards. She pulls the cards from their shabby box and admires the design. The motif on the back, once a slick black, is now faded so that it’s almost gray. The edges, once sharp, are now blunt and the corners rounded. Even the pictures of the kings and queens and aces are no longer crisp, their design so faded that one must stare at them to really see what they once looked like. Still, Petra smiles as she looks through each one before finally putting down a card – the ace of spades, the very card she had taken from him earlier today.

“Want me to read your cards for you?” she asks him.

Levi raises an eyebrow. “Do you do tarot readings now?”   

“Not at all,” she grins.

“Tch.” He takes a sip of his coffee, feeling a little less agitated when he tastes the bitterness. “Are you just here to waste my time?”

“That wasn’t the plan, but I can fit it in my schedule,” she jokes. It seems that she derives pleasure from his irritation because she only grins wider when he scowls at her. She puts the cards in a stack face-down and begins to arrange them into a pyramid. “It’s not anything that needs to be settled now. We can definitely talk about it more later. I just wanted to suggest it to you.”

Ah, Levi despises it when people talk in circles like this. He’d rather they just say what they mean. Irritated, he snaps, “Spit it out already then. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

She seems undeterred by how harshly he asks his question. Instead, she calmly finishes placing another two cards on the pyramid. “I was thinking about a collaboration,” she finally tells him, smiling at him hopefully. She clasps her hands together. “Your guys and my guys. I think it’d be grand.”

The proposition is so ridiculous that Levi has to stare at her for a second to make sure that she’s serious. When it appears that she is, he begins to shake his head. “No. No, no, no,” Levi says. He pounds on the table, hard enough to make the delicate card pyramid shake but gentle enough to ensure that it didn’t. “It’ll never work.”

“Never say never,” Petra says. She plays with her coffee cup, tracing her finger lightly around the rim. “You don’t think a collaboration would be a good idea? I think it’d be great to combine our talent. We could put on a show that would be unlike any other.”

She’s far too insistent about this show, he thinks. It’s too suspicious. “And why would you want to work so closely with me?” he asks. He glares at her, but her gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you want to know my tricks? Do you want to steal them from me? Are you excited to try them out in front of others when you eventually drop this idea of a collaboration and run away with all my hard work?”

She looks as if he’d hit her with every accusation. Petra doesn’t say a word, just sits there silently staring, and she finally opens her mouth. He’s sure he’s caught her red-handed, that he’s found her out and her true intentions behind meeting him today, but she closes her mouth and stands up, her chair screeching against the tile. For the first time, she looks angry, her expression livid and her eyes full of fire. Leaning down, she hisses, “I wanted a collaboration because I’m a huge fan of your work. I’ve always admired you even before I started to pursue this career. I thought it would be an honor to meet you, and I thought it would be incredible to work side by side with you, but I see you’re far too secretive. I just wanted to put on a show with you, Ackerman, and make something almost like magic for people to see.”

He blinks, stunned. He’s seen her show before and knows she’s got talent as an actress, but he’s not sure if she’s gifted enough to feign such fury. Had she been honest this entire time? “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says stupidly.

Petra opens her mouth once more and he’s sure that she’s going to shout at him, but she only sighs. Tiredly, she brushes her hair behind her ear and pushes in her chair gently. Her fingers tap the back of the chair. “I…I know you’re very protective of your work, so I won’t push this on you.” She doesn’t look at him as she talks anymore, her eyes flicker to the house of cards and the ceiling instead. “We both love what we do, so I understand you…so think about it, alright? Just contact me if you ever change your mind.”

Levi furrows his brow, wondering why she was still leaving the collaboration open. He’s about to ask her if she’s sure it’s a good idea – they’re not exactly on the best of terms and he’s only made things worse – but she’s already shuffling out of the café, her bag slung over her shoulder.

Sighing, Levi rests his head in his hands and wonders if he had overreacted. Was it really wrong of him to be so suspicious? There is that expression about a magician and his secrets, after all. He looks up, frowning at the house of cards Petra had left behind. He lifts a finger to gently prod the structure and the entire thing comes tumbling down, the cards fluttering onto the coffee table. He’s about to sigh again, thinking about the mess he needs to clean up, when he notices something curious. The cards have all fallen face-down except for one – the queen of hearts. Gingerly, Levi picks it up, inspecting it and he notices that there’s something scribbled on the side of it. A phone number. When had she put that there, he wonders.

He wonders if it would be a good idea to call after everything that had happened. He’s still not sure a collaboration could happen even if he were completely willing. Levi looks at the card once more, his thumb running over the neat numbers written in blue ink. He puts it down the table before pulling out his phone, entering the numbers. He puts the phone up to his ear, listening to the phone ring, and wonders if she’d be willing to listen to an apology. And maybe they can set up another coffee date, he thinks. They should discuss the collaboration further at the very least. He’s just hoping that she’ll be willing to forgive him.

[ravenclawbaz]

i saw you close your eyes

final part of my fake dating au!! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

word count: 3086 warnings: none

*i wanna thank all of you guys for reading this!! it means a lot to me that people are (hopefully?) enjoying the things that i’m writing :) i have a few new things planned that i’ll start working on when i get a chance! (also if you were wondering, the title of this came from the song i saw you close your eyes by local natives. i just chose it cause i was listening to that song when i started writing this and somehow it fit??)

Part 3

Simon wakes up to the sound of the shower curtain being pulled open, followed by the light pattering of Baz’s feet on the bathroom tile.

Simon considers staying in bed and avoiding confronting Baz, but his decision is made for him when he starts to sweat under his heavy blankets. He rolls over and sits on the edge of his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

The window was open last night, meaning Baz must’ve closed it when he got back from the Catacombs. Simon stumbles over to the window, still disoriented from having just woken up, and pulls it open, leaning out of it and breathing in the fresh air.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Baz says from across the room. He throws his towel at Simon, then sits on his bed.

Simon turns around at the voice and catches the towel before it hits him in the face, but throws it on the ground when he realizes what it’s touched.

“You seem oddly normal today.” Simon leans his back against the window sill with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You sure know how to flatter a guy.” Baz jokes and pulls on his shoes. Simon rolls his eyes and walks to the bathroom, choosing to enjoy the fact that for once Baz isn’t acting like he wishes Simon was never born.

“What are your plans for today?” Baz yells from the outside the bathroom and Simon ignores him. Can’t a boy go to the bathroom in peace.

Simon answers once he is back in the room, “I’ll probably just hang out with Penny. Maybe visit Ebb too.”

“Boring. Shouldn’t we be together if we want people to actually believe that we’re dating?” He finishes tying his shoes and sits up straight to look at Simon, who is still leaning against the window. 

“I’m not gonna be with her all day. We’ll do something that ordinary boyfriends do after lunch.” Simon uncrosses his arms to put air quotes around the word ‘boyfriends’, as if he needs to remind Baz that they aren’t actually dating.

Baz nods in understanding, instead of responding, and grabs his jacket from where it’s laying on the ground.

“I’ll see you at lunch, then.” He says before he slams the door behind him.

Simon listens to his retreating footsteps until he can’t hear them anymore, then turns around and looks out the window to watch Baz walk to the dining hall. He’s walking faster than is necessary, but that’s a whole thing with Baz. Always walking like he has somewhere important to be; head held high, completely silent besides the quick click of his shoes against the floor.

Simon’s the complete opposite; all uncoordinated movements and loud steps that can be heard across the school. That’s one of the reasons he knows him and Baz could never be together, really together, in the dating kind of way. They say opposites attract, but that doesn’t apply with these two.

He sighs and finishes getting ready, pulling on Agatha’s old lacrosse sweater and grabbing his bag, like he’ll actually do any schoolwork. He skips breakfast and heads straight to the Great Lawn where him and Penny meet every Saturday. It’s unusual of him to skip breakfast. On any other day, he could inhale the contents of every student’s plate within mere seconds of entering the dining room, but all this thinking about serious things has made him lose his appetite.

He throws his bag down and sits next to it, picking at the bark on the tree he’s sitting by until Penny shows up.

“Why weren’t you at breakfast?” Penny arrives about 10 minutes later and sits down next to Simon, flattening her skirt over her thighs. “I brought you a scone.” She hands him a scone wrapped in napkins and starts pulling books out of her bag once he takes it.

“I wasn’t feeling too hungry this morning. Did Baz sit with you guys?” He unwraps the scone and takes a bite, unable to resist it despite his lack of hunger.

“Thankfully no. I don’t think he’s at that stage with me and Agatha yet. Do you know how terribly awkward that would have been? Especially without you there.” She leans toward Simon and nudges her shoulder into his, giving him a suggestive look. “So, tell me how this thing happened between you two anyway. I want all the details.”

Simon laughs nervously and looks away from Penny’s gaze. Would this be a good time to bring up what he wanted to talk to Penny about? He glances back at her and decides that, yes, this is Penny. Anything he has to say, she’ll be willing to listen. And no matter how dumb it is she’s always the one who will able knock some sense into him.

Simon pulls the grass at his feet and rips it apart, “Actually, Pen, there’s something I need to talk to you about?” He raises his voice at the end, forming it as a question so Penny can turn him down if she wants to, though of course she wouldn’t.

She raises her eyebrows at him in a look that tells him to go on, so he does. But not before sighing and ripping up a bigger chunk of grass.

“I think I like Baz.” He lets out a breath and slowly turns to face Penny.

She doesn’t say anything at first, but all of the sudden she’s laughing louder than Simon has ever heard her laugh before. He gives her a moment to catch her breath, looking at her in confusion through her whole fit.

“Si - Simon! What the hell? I thought we were getting serious here!” She points at him with an accusing finger, “Something we never do, by the way!”

He’s still staring at her, wondering what’s so funny about him just confessing that he may have feelings for his enemy.

“I would hope that you like him. You two are dating after all.” Oh, right. Simon mentally shames himself for forgetting the one piece of information that is the most crucial in this situation: Penny thinks he’s actually dating Baz.

He lets out another laugh, more nervous than the one before, then takes a minute to explain the situation to Penny. She listens the whole time, not interrupting Simon, and to his surprise, not looking that upset about it either.

Once he’s done explaining, she sighs and rests her hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Simon. Trust you to get yourself into a mess this big.”

“Well? What do you think I should do?” She takes a minute to think, taking her hand off Simon’s shoulder and bringing it up to twirl her finger through one of her curls.

“Hmm. Honestly Si, I think you should tell him. I mean, have you seen the way he looks at you! You can’t be that oblivious.” She stuffs her unopened books back into her bag and hangs it over her shoulder. “What do you mean? And where are you going?” He grabs her hand as she stands up, looking at her questioningly.

“I have studying to do that I am not going to be able to finish with you moping around. And you have a boy to snatch.” She pulls her hand out of his and winks.

She’s only run about 5 yards away when she turns back to yell at Simon, “Oh, and you lost the bet! Your punishment is that you have to tell Baz how you feel, or you can go to dinner with me and my mum once a month for the rest of the year. See ya, Si!” With that, she’s gone before Simon can register all that she’s said. Damn him for not coming up with the consequences of losing the bet earlier. And there goes another win to Penny, making the score 0 to however many Penny has won, he’s lost count.

—-

It’s almost lunch when Simon heads back inside the gates. After Penny left, he stayed outside to think some more. Mostly about how in hell he is going to confess his feelings to Baz, his enemy. And the rest of the time he spent sleeping against the tree.

He loiters around in the courtyard until he sees Baz walking to the dining hall and runs to catch up with him.

“Hey Baz.” He kisses him on the cheek and links their fingers together. If telling Baz goes wrong like Simon suspects it will, he at least wants to enjoy the time he does have left with Baz as his fake boyfriend.

“Hi Snow.” Baz smiles at him. It almost looks real. He really is good at pretending to be Simon’s boyfriend.

They join Penny and Agatha after they get food, and jump right into the conversation.

Contrary to what Penny said earlier, Baz does fit in with them. He always knows the right things to say, and for once seems like he actually wants to be talking to Simon and his friends.

As for Simon, he stays quiet. He’s been getting more anxious the longer lunch goes on, and the closer he gets to having to alone with Baz. Having to tell him how he feels.

He runs through a million scenarios in his head as to how Baz will react.

One of them is Baz lunging at him and sinking his teeth into Simon’s neck, killing him quickly. Too bad Simon wouldn’t be able to win that bet dead.

Another is Baz leaving. Not saying anything, just turning around and walking right out the door. Possibly never coming back.

None of the scenarios that Simon pictures end happily, with Baz being okay that Simon likes him and possibly even reciprocating those feelings himself.

Simon is pulled out of his thoughts to Penny snapping her fingers in front of his face. She’s leaning over the table and her shirt is dangerously close to dragging through the leftover food on her plate.

“Simon? Are you listening? Agatha and I are leaving, we’re going to go to the library. We’ll be there if you need us.” She gives Simon a look that says ‘we’ll be there if things don’t go well with Baz’.

She must’ve told Agatha, because she looks at Simon with the same concern in her eyes. He would usually be more worried about something like that, but there are more pressing matters to invest his worry in.

“What do you want to do?” Baz stands up and clears Simon’s plate along with his own.

Simon follows Baz out of the dining hall and shrugs. It’s not like he can just casually bring up that his plans for the day are to confess his completely real feelings to his vampire roommate, who also happens to be his arch nemesis.

“Come back with me to the room then, I’m going to practice on the pitch but I need to change first. And as my boyfriend, you have to come watch me play.” Baz slows down so Simon can catch up, and grabs his hand, only to let go of it a second later with a look of disgust on his face.

“Why are you so sweaty? It’s disgusting.” There’s the Baz that Simon knows, snarky and never giving a shit about other people’s feelings. How Simon could fall for someone like that is beyond him.

“Sorry.” He pulls his hand farther away and brings it to his mouth to chew on his fingernails.

“That’s gross too. Why do you do that anyway?” Baz says.

Simon just shrugs, “I dunno. Just a bad habit I guess.” He stops, uncomfortable with the way Baz is staring at him, and shoves his hands deep in his pockets.

It’s something he’s been insecure about since he started to get made fun of for it by the other boys at the home, but it’s also something that he can’t help; similar to the lack of control he has over his own magic. And it does help. It keeps him distracted from all the stress he’s been put under by the Mage, and right now it’s helping with his problems with Baz.

The rest of the walk back to their room is quiet, only broken by the shouts from the younger students running around outside.

Simon and Baz have never walked up the stairs together, but it’s an awkward experience. The stairway is too narrow for both of them to go side-by-side, so Baz lets Simon go up ahead of him. This only results in Simon becoming hyper aware of the way he’s walking, knowing that Baz has a full view of his ass.

Simon goes into the room first and sits on his bed while Baz changes into shorts and a jersey. Baz is sitting on the floor across from Simon’s bed lacing up his second cleat when Simon decides that it’s now or never, and starts to speak before he can think about what he’s doing. He’s had enough time to think.

“Baz, there’s something I need to tell you.” He looks at Baz, who pauses tying his shoe and looks up at him.

“And what is that?” He raises his eyebrow, but thankfully does so without looking like his usual condescending self. He sits patiently, his knees drawn up against his chest, held there with his arms crossed over them, giving Simon time to gather his thoughts.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but here goes,” Simon exhales loudly and rubs his sweaty palms on his thighs, “This is going to sound really stupid to you, and you have the right to smack me or whatever you see fit when I’m done telling you, but we’ll have to go into the hall for that. Roommate’s Anathema and all.” He chuckles nervously.

“Stop stalling. You can tell me.” Baz interrupts.

“Fine. I like you. And not in a friend way, or enemy way, whatever we are. In a ‘I wish that we weren’t fake boyfriends kind of way’.” Simon looks anywhere but Baz, eyes trained on the books lining his desk instead. “I know it sounds dumb. How could I like the guy who’s supposed to be my enemy. I mean, we’re supposed to kill each other! And it took me so long to realize, too. A few years of fighting with you, and a whole conversation with Penny before she talked some sense into me. If you want to go in the hallway and beat the shit out of me, maybe throw me down the stairs for old time’s sake, that’s fine.”

Simon is so lost in his rambling that he doesn’t notice Baz has gotten up off the floor until he’s standing right in front of him. Rather than saying anything, he just grabs Simon’s hands and pulls him up so they’re both standing.

Baz is taller than usual because of his cleats, and Simon has to tilt his head up to look him in the eyes.

“Simon, you’re an idiot.” Baz is smiling. More like grinning, actually. It’s kind of scary, all his teeth on display like that.

“I know, you’ve told me.” Simon deflates at the insult and realisation that Baz is holding onto him so he can drag him into the hallway and throw him down the stairs. He deserves it for having feelings like this.

“I don’t think you understand.” His grip on Simon’s wrists tighten, then Baz lets go of one of them. He brings his hand up under Simon’s chin, tilting it up lightly until they’re making eye contact again.

“I’ll show you.” Baz whispers. He closes his eyes and leans in.

Simon is frozen. Baz is kissing him, softly. He thinks that has to be the softest that anyone has ever been kissed. Simon realizes he’s not kissing back, but Baz has already pulled away. Simon uses all the courage he has to wrap his free hand around the back of Baz’s neck, the other one still tight in Baz’s grasp, and pulls him back in.

This time Simon kisses back. It’s definitely not as soft as the first time, either. Even kissing has to be a fight between them; Simon pushing at Baz with all he’s got while Baz does the same.

Baz moves his hand from under Simon’s chin to hold his cheek, and brings the other one up to grip at the nape of his neck. He twirls the short ends of Simon’s hair in his fingers, making Simon sigh into Baz’s mouth.

They finally break apart after what seems like years of kissing and rest their foreheads together. Simon’s hand is spread wide on Baz’s back; they’re pressed against each other and Simon can feel Baz’s hip bone digging into his stomach. He doesn’t care though, he just brings his hand around from Baz’s back and drags it across his stomach. The way Baz’s eyes flutter closed and the sigh he lets out at that prompts Simon to keep doing it.

“Why’d you call me an idiot?” Simon asks.

“Hm?” Baz opens his eyes to look at Simon, “Oh, because you are.” That earns him a light shove on the shoulder, but he just smiles. “I called you an idiot because it amazes me how long it took you to realize I like you.”

“Not fair. I was a little busy trying not to get killed, if you hadn’t noticed.” Simon crosses his arms and fakes an angry look.

“I notice everything about you, Snow.”

“You can call me Simon, you know.” He keeps his arms crossed, but nudges his shoulder forward into Baz’s upper arm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Baz smirks and brings his hands up to shove back at Simon, and not a light shove. Simon falls back and lands on the bed with a grunt, his arms coming uncrossed to try and brace his landing.

He props himself up on his elbows and watches as Baz follows him onto the bed; swallows thickly when Baz settles on top of his thighs, his cleated feet on either side of Simon’s body.

Baz places his hand next to Simon’s head, the other resting on Simon’s hip, and lowers his body until their faces are only a few inches apart.

“I thought you were going to practice.” Simon can feel Baz’s breath on his face.

“It can wait.” Baz mumbles, before leaning in and closing the distance between him and Simon for the third time.

[docholligay]

Re: Imaginary Friends bc I can't reply for some reason - WOW this was amazing. Re: Imaginary Friends bc I can't reply for some reason - I'm so invested in Haruka and her family, I just want her to get to be happy! Would honestly love to see the Michiru POV I bet it's fascinating. I'm so worried about you everyone here, amazing job, great atmosphere!

Thank you so much! I might post the old Michiru POV fic to the patreon, if there’s any interest there. 

vassekocho said: This is sooooo good. I love Haruka’s inner voice, the small mistakes she makes, the ways she reminds herself she doesn’t belong (even if she clearly does). Mako and Mina cameos are great, I always enjoy seeing other girls in your AUs. The ending line sent chills down my spine, and as sudden as it is it’s also the perfect open ending to a horror story. Filing this away as one of my favorites.

Thank you! Haruka’s inner voice is really tough for me to write in, and this is by far the longest I’ve done it for, so it makes me so happy to know it worked for you

simplymindspace said: I shall most certainly post my thoughts on this when I have more time later today/nite. But just, DAMN DOC. JUST DAMN.

You’re the only one I can be this forward with BUT IF WORDS FAIL YOU A SKETCH IS FINE

skylineofspace said: I really love the way you build characters in your stories, by putting in details that are off from what one might think as the default of a situation, and then tying them together with a reveal. It works really well for both Haruka being adopted and for Michiru’s goal at the end.

 Thank you so much!! When I started this AU, a lot of my “stock” solutions for Haruka and Michiru didn’t quite work, so in some ways it was really challenging to make my own conceptions of character hold against this setup, especially when we CAN’T see what Michiru is thinking or feeling. But I think I like what I ended up with! 

Keyofjetwolf said: “and another half of my brain, the part that was the worst at math” ACTUAL LOL

THANK YOU I THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY FUNNY

: MOUSE IS HERE TOOOOO (I now realize that Mouse has appeared a hell of a lot more than I realized, which I feel particularly daft about. STILL. MOUSE.)(Though maybe Ghost Mouse? I’m thinking very possibly. Did Michiru kill you, buddy?)

MOUSE ENDS UP A LOT OF PLACES ahaahah 

GHOST MICHIRU IS LONELY AND HAS WANTS AND DOESN’T REALLY CARE WHETHER YOU SHARE THEM HARUKA I love that you’ve made her dangerous.

I was just thinking about Michiru, and what if she’d spent a hundred years watching and waiting, and finally saw something she wanted? Something she craved. 

“She had the same look in her eyes, and they were even stranger in full color, like they’d seen everything, and wouldn’t tell you, they would just let you drown.” This is one of those lines you come across every now and then, where it’s just so fucking good you kind of want to scream. God.

THANK YOU SO MUCH I LIKED IT TOO

“She was talented and set to marry Mamoru Chiba” WELL I’D PROBABLY FLING MYSELF TOO HONEST

AHAHAH

“Of course we want to come to your giant palatial mansion, holy shit rich kid.” Mina was about as nice about this as usual. ANOTHER LOL

THANK

“Ow!” She threw off the sheet. “Oh my god, I’ve been hit by a popcorn ball but also inspiration. Let’s do some ouija board shit!” Oh my god Minako you fucking idiot, this is amazing, my anxiety just shot through the roof.

I AM SO GLAD. Horror and humor are the two hardest things to write, i think. 

The glass moved again, not waiting for a hand. C..A..T..G..O..T…Y…O…U..R..T…O…N..G…U…E..? –Michiru finally gets to speak and this is what she says. MICHIRU KAIOH YOU ARE DEAD BUT YOU SHOULD ALSO BE ASHAMED

MICHIRU PLS

Man, I have so many ouija board shit, this really sticks with me. I’m glad you went there.

I LOVE TO SCARE YOU SO SO AM I

“Mina’s right. I’ll go into the basement for a pretty girl.” I love this. LOVE this. That despite everything, despite KNOWING better, Haruka’s convinced herself on some level that Michiru’s not dangerous. And it’s such a stupid fucking thing to do, but Haruka – EVEN MORE HERE PERHAPS THAN USUAL – as a goddamn martyr complex and wants to save the fucking world and everyone in it. And she, too, is lonely, and wants to love and be loved, and she wants a girlfriend and god, she’s just SO UNSPEAKABLY STUPID about this, but so understandably, and I adore it so fucking much. If there were one genre that would be yours, I think we’d agree it would be horror. And I love how the person is much at the root of it. Haruka’s being haunted, but it’s her own nature that’s really doing her in here. Those are ideas that are always so present your horror stories, and it makes them just so delicious.

THANK YOU. Yes I feel like horror is personal, and this moment, that sentence, is the linchpin of what I think this is for Haruka. That she can’t leave it alone. Despite everything she knows about MIchiru she feels BAD. She feels like she can save her. And that strange goodness that Michiru, if we could hear her side, could barely understand, well, that just makes her bolder. 

“I don’t know what she wants. But I think it’s me.” WAIT THAT’S IT THAT CAN’T BE IT WHAT THE FUCK HOLLIGAY WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE F

AND YET

Shadowsarefriendstoo said: This is a fucking masterpiece. Those layers add a depth to this otherwise fairly simple storyline in a way that sent actual chills crawling down my arms. Not just in the…spoopy scenes if you will- but those tiny emotions mentioned, the parallel and that lingering sense of insanity are so seamlessly woven throughout the writing. Gah, I just love it. Haunting beyond Michiru’s ghost who was being really fucking extra and creepy as well. Good god, she’s dead and she’s still the more dominant of the two.

Thank you so much!! This means a lot to me, and thank you for reblogging it! 

[insanitysscribblings]

Reyna Writes: Partners Under Covers - An Alyadrien Week Prompt

IT IS THE 18TH HERE, WHICH MEANS IT’S OFFICIALLY DAY #7 OF ALYADRIEN WEEK HERE, SO NOW I CAN POST THIS AND N O O N E C A N S T O P M E.

For Alyadrien Week #7: AU

Waiting to post this was fucking t o r t u r e, since I had it finished about a week ago, but oh well.

Normally @siderealsandman is my enabler in stuff like this, but this time around, it’s more @bullysquadess‘s fault. :P

Enjoy! <3

~Reyna

When prompted, the neighbors of one Adrien Agreste would have a lot to say about him, all good things:

“M. Agreste? Oh, he’s so kind, I just love him.”

“Adrien? Yes, he’s such a joy to have in the neighborhood! Always volunteers at the neighborhood barbecues, and he never has a bad thing to say about anyone!”

“Oh yes, Adrien Agreste. Just between you and me, if I didn’t have a partner, I’d certainly like a shot at him…hell, I think Jean would probably agree!”

Former part-time model Adrien Agreste made his living by teaching piano lessons for kids, teens, adults—basically anyone who wanted to learn—at the local rec center, where all the townsfolk gathered to learn a variety of skills, be it the piano, cooking, dancing, or even quilting. And he was never without business—when he wasn’t teaching at the rec center, people were practically lining up for private lessons outside his two-story home, which was grander than a few of the houses, but modest enough, considering his gigantic inheritance when his father passed. He was always ready with a helping hand and a smile, which would make him an easy target when it came to shady individuals, but he was just so pure that anyone who tried to scam him seemed to end up giving up with a thousand apologies, which he always accepted. Adrien Agreste was simply too pure for anyone to mean him harm.

That…and his lawyer was not someone to be trifled with.

“Oh, Adrien, hello!” Called Mme. Dumont as she spotted Adrien exiting his house; she hurried to meet him at his gate, and Adrien stumbled to an abrupt stop to avoid running into her, which meant his briefcase went flying, its contents spilling out.

“Oops,” Adrien chuckled, stooping down to hurriedly gather up his fallen possessions. “Hello, Mme. Dumont. How’s Noah doing?”

“Oh, his fever has dropped significantly, thank goodness. By the way, thank you so much for that soup recipe!” Mme. Dumont gushed, leaning over to help Adrien. “It was just as you said—just a bowl-ful, and his cough cleared right up! You’re amazing!”

“I actually got the recipe from the guy who teaches cooking classes at the rec center, but I’m happy I was able to help…ah,” Adrien cut himself off as his neighbor’s hand closed around his last item before he did. He inwardly sighed as Mme. Dumont held the lighter up to her face, shock crossing her expression.

“Adrien! I didn’t know you smoked!” She cried predictably, and Adrien had to work not to roll his eyes. Of course, of course—picture-perfect Adrien Agreste couldn’t have such a filthy habit as smoking. For shame!

“I don’t,” he admitted, gently plucking the lighter from his neighbor’s hand and stuffing it into his pocket as he straightened up. “It’s just a memento, really. It was my father’s.”

Ah-ha—as soon as he played the ‘orphan’ card, it was suddenly all tragic expressions and sympathetic pats. Worked every time.

“Where are you off to today?” Mme. Dumont inquired as Adrien unlocked his car with the press of a button, following him as he tossed his briefcase into the passenger seat. “You don’t normally leave your home around this time of day…”

Mme. Dumont was inconveniently nosy. However, she also happened to sleep early, so Adrien didn’t mind it as much during the day, so long as he remained unobserved during the night…

“I have to see my lawyer today,” Adrien informed her, privately amused at the scandalized look on his neighbor’s face.

“Is that no good cousin of yours still giving you trouble over your father’s estate? Why, if I were still practicing, I’d have a good mind to—”

“I appreciate your concern, Mme. Dumont, truly, I do,” Adrien assured her with a pat to her shoulder, “but I really should go. If I’m late, my attorney will have my head.”

“Oh, of course! You drive safe now, dear! If you need a pick-me-up of some hot chocolate and cookies, you know where to find me!”

“Of course, Mme. Dumont,” Adrien replied courteously, instead of reminding her that he was twenty-five years old, not one of her young children. He knew she meant well, really, but sometimes the doting from her—from everyone—got to be too much.

As he got into and started his car, Adrien let himself breathe. At least he had an excuse to meet the one person who never took any of his shit today. Honestly, bless his cousin for being so stubborn—whether he knew it or not, Adrien really owed him for contesting his father’s will and tying them up in litigations that would take months to solve, if he insisted upon being so adamant. Really, Adrien wasn’t about to complain—even if the proceedings could be considered tedious at best, he did have one hell of a lawyer.

“You’re late.”

“Nice to see you too, Alya,” Adrien replied, raising an eyebrow as he entered the boardroom, ruffling his hair in that casual way that didn’t fool Alya for a second. “Did I miss anything important?”

Alya adjusted her glasses, eyeing him shrewdly.

“Of course not—we can’t very well accomplish anything without you here, now can we?”

“Please note,” said the unpleasant woman that Felix Agreste had hired to be his lawyer—the leggy blonde with the big mouth and a tongue as sharp as her nails, “that both my client and myself are present on time.”

“Punctuality won’t make up for a shoddy defense, sweetheart,” Alya shot back, examining her nails in a bored fashion as Adrien took his seat beside her. The opposing lawyer—Bourgeois, was it?—made a disgusted noise, muttering under her breath as Adrien’s cousin sat still, gazing dispassionately at the pair of them. Really, Alya was convinced the man was a robot—they had already met several times to go over every fine point in this goddamn will, but he still had yet to make any sort of facial expression that resembled a human’s. More and more, Alya began to wonder if he was even really invested in trying to weasel Adrien’s inheritance out from under him…or if this was just an elaborate ruse of some sort.

Alya glanced over at her client; he caught her eye, a corner of his mouth lifting up, a familiar glint in his gaze.

Oh, right—the only people that were doing the japing was them.

“Well,” Alya began, flipping her notepad open to a heavily graffitied page, most of it concerning the case before them…but a few of the written comments were slights against the other lawyer and Adrien’s cousin when Alya got bored of arguing the same point over and over again without getting anywhere. “Shall we start from the top?”

Despite how utterly pointless these meetings were, Adrien had to admit, he loved watching Alya work. There was something about watching a woman in slacks, a vest, and a button-up shirt argue fiercely but concisely, fire simmering in the hazel eyes behind her glasses as she shut down every point Mlle. Bourgeois tried to make with cold facts that she must have memorized at this point, for she barely glanced at her notepad the whole time. Not that this was surprising—not only was Alya excellent at her job, but the argument was so redundant at this point that Adrien himself could probably recite his father’s entire will from memory, including the finer details, like what kind of suit his father had wanted to be buried in (an Armani double-breasted charcoal black suit, with a red ascot and pocket handkerchief to match).

“Look, you can try and press your point until you’re blue in the face, but the fact still remains that Felix Agreste is not entitled to a single euro more than what Gabriel Agreste had already bequeathed to him and his family,” Alya stated, getting up from her chair now, her palms flat against the table as she scowled darkly at Mlle. Bourgeois, who looked ready to tear Alya’s eyes out…hmm, maybe that was why her nails were so sharp.

“And it is still our stance that, since M. Agreste’s death was so sudden, that there could be foul play to consider!” Mlle. Bourgeois insisted, punching the table with a surprising amount of force. Adrien glanced over, watching Alya roll her eyes.

“Oh please, not this again,” she huffed, falling back into her chair and crossing her arms. “The police launched a full investigation—the man died of a heart attack. Besides, everything was already in Adrien’s name when his father passed—if you’re honestly going to push the ‘foul play’ angle, then that makes your client just as suspicious, if not more so.”

“How dare you!”

“Hey, I’m just using your own logic against you. Don’t like it? Find another offense.” The ‘I dare you’ was implied in Alya’s tone, and Adrien absolutely loved it.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and the bailiff poked his head into the meeting room.

“Time’s up,” he chimed, and Adrien glanced at his watch in some surprise. Wow…amazing how two hours flew by, just like that. “Has a settlement been reached?”

Mlle. Bourgeois growled under her breath, swiping her belongings off the table and cramming them into her designer briefcase. Adrien watched Alya throw the bailiff a smirk.

“That answer your question, Claude?”

The bailiff shook his head, stepping into the room.

“Well…regardless, you’ll have to break for today,” Claude insisted. Mlle. Bourgeois gave another growl of discontent, but Alya merely shrugged, jerking her head for Adrien to follow her.

“Same time next month?” He joked, shooting a grin at the blondes across the table from him as he stood up. Neither of them looked amused, but it didn’t much matter to Adrien, who let the door fall shut behind him with a click.

He followed Alya outside the law office, to the alley. There, Alya fished out a cigarette pack from an inner pocket of her vest, sticking one between her lips while holding out her free hand. Obligingly, Adrien drew out his lighter and handed it over.

“You know smoking’s bad for you,” he said, smirking as Alya lit her cigarette and exhaled smoke, rolling her eyes at him at the same time.

“I started smoking because of you and your bullshit family drama,” she accused, dropping her professional manner as she pointed the cigarette at him before taking another drag. “And anyway, what the fuck? Every time I see your goddamn cousin, he looks more and more like he just doesn’t give a shit. If he doesn’t care about the money, then what the fuck is he wasting all our time for?”

“You got me,” Adrien replied with a shrug, unable to help the way he watched Alya’s lips curve around the cigarette as she smoked. “At this point, his lawyer cares more than we do.”

“Oh, she doesn’t care, either” Alya contradicted him with a slight shake of her head. “She just likes to argue with me. It’s the only way she knows how to relieve her sexual tension with me.”

Adrien slowly raised an eyebrow.

“Is there something I should know about?” He drawled, resting his forearm against the wall above Alya’s head, leaning over her as she glanced up at him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Are you literally sleeping with the enemy?”

She lowered her glasses enough so her eyes were without a barricade as she shot him a deadpan look.

“Oh please. I’m a fuckin’ professional, I’ll have you know.” She paused to take another drag, her expression turning thoughtful. “…I wouldn’t kick her out of bed, though…”

“Oh?”

Alya shrugged casually, exhaling smoke away from Adrien as she pushed herself off the wall.

“Guess I just have a thing for blondes.”

Adrien felt himself warm at this, sternly ordering himself to keep the stupid grin he could feel forming off his face as Alya turned her back to him, snuffing out her cigarette with the heel of her dress shoe. She turned to him, folding her arms.

“You free tonight?”

“Lonely?” Adrien teased, snickering as Alya’s head titled to the side.

“Focus,” she insisted, glancing around surreptitiously as she lowered her voice. “We might have a potential job tonight.”

Okay, now Adrien’s interest was piqued.

“I’m listening…”

“Not here,” Alya said, quirking her eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was mentally sane. “Later.”

Before Adrien could press for more details, Alya was moving past him. A tremor went through him at the briefest touch of her hand on his waist before she was behind him now, shoes snapping smartly against the concrete as she made her way back to the front of the building, her smoke break apparently over. Adrien watched her go, the flash of red that was her ponytail disappearing too soon for his liking, yet he knew it was necessary. It was important to keep up appearances, after all…

Turning back around, Adrien slipped his hand into his pocket, where he felt his lighter drop when Alya touched him. Along with his lighter was a folded slip of paper, curt words in Alya’s handwriting written across it. Adrien took in the message quickly, smirking at the reminder to burn the scrap of paper when he was done reading. He snorted and clicked his lighter to life, setting the scrap ablaze, watching it burn in between his thumb and forefinger for as long as he dared to before letting it go, leaving the ashes to scatter in the breeze.

As if he had to be reminded of how to do his actual job.

“You’re late.”

“Hmm…déjà vu,” the agent known as Chat Noir purred as he slunk up behind his partner where she was lying on the roof, shamelessly admiring the way that black spy suit clung to her curves. “I’m beginning to think that maybe you just set your watch five minutes too early for everything.”

Vixen only paused in her watch to shoot him a dry look over her shoulder, eyes framed by the black domino mask she wore instead of her usual glasses, before she refocused on her task, her binoculars aimed at the CACEIS bank across the street.

“Just watch my back, Chat. I can still trust you to do that much, yeah?”

“Of course,” said Chat, adjusting his own mask as he continued to ogle. “I’ve been watching your back since I got here.”

Vixen didn’t seem to catch his meaning for a minute; once she did, her head tilted to the side, and she turned to scowl at him…or she tried, in any case. Her smirk kind of ruined it.

“Would you focus? We actually have an objective tonight.” She turned back around to resume her watch. “And though I know my ass is phenomenal, it ain’t the objective.”

“Says you.”

Vixen scoffed.

“If you don’t focus, Tiger, you’ll only get to look tonight,” she warned him, the threat effective enough to get Chat concentrating on the goal at hand.

“Right…so our target is CACEIS tonight?”

“Yep,” Vixen answered, and Chat watched as she changed the focus on her night vision binoculars. “Apparently, they recently gained a very wealthy patron, who just opened an account worth no less than five-hundred and twenty-thousand euros”

Chat let out a low whistle.

“Damn…and we’re stealing from this patron because…?”

“Because he’s an asshole who embezzled all that money from a charity and quickly moved it before it could be traced back to him. I think we should do our damnedest to give it back,” Vixen informed him, tensing after a second. “Ah-ha.”

“Did Monarch just give you the signal?”

“Yep—cameras are down. We have about five minutes to get in, make the transfer, and get out without anyone noticing.” Vixen got up, tucking her binoculars back into the pouch at her side, turning to grin at Chat. “You ready to fly?”

Chat Noir let out a snort as Vixen dug something out from the small duffel bag hanging at her side.

“Remind me again why we’re the ones doing the B&E this time?”

“Because Ladybug and Paon were the ones that gathered intel this time around,” Vixen reminded him, yanking something familiar out of her duffel bag and turning to take careful aim at the building. “While they’re good with snatching physical things, my particular skilled touch with computers is necessary tonight.”

“Believe me, I know how skilled your touch is,” Chat remarked, smirking as Vixen gave an obligatory eye roll. “I’m just saying it’s strange, since they usually do the flying…”

Vixen ignored him, closing one eye as she breathed slowly…

She took the shot. The grappling hook flew through the air, clamping onto the top of the building.

“Come on,” she beckoned him, securing the other end of the rope to the antenna next to them before she stepped onto the ledge of the roof, clipping her harness to the rope to zip-line across the street. Chat sighed as he approached.

“You know this part makes me nervous…”

Vixen gazed up at him, looking amused for some mysterious reason.

“Wha—” Chat began to ask, intrigued by the mischief in her gaze…but he soon got his answer when Vixen yanked him forward by his collar, the tip of her tongue tracing up his neck before she gave his ear a light nip. Promptly, Chat forgot about anything that wasn’t the tingling of his earlobe, and the blood that was rapidly rushing south…

Vixen snapped her fingers in front of his face, her smile all fox as she tugged him closer, wrapping his arms around her.

“Just focus on that for a few seconds while we fly,” she teased him, patting his thigh. “Come on, climb up.”

Chat obeyed automatically, and for the next few seconds, he amused himself with memories of the last time he and Vixen had had the privilege of being alone…hands dragging across skin, lips pressing against each other, tongues tangling, hips thrusting…god, it had been too long…

“Chat? You can let go now.”

Chat Noir blinked; he hadn’t realized they were already on the roof of the bank until just then. Reluctantly, he made himself climb down from Vixen’s back, though he still stood very close to her as she unhooked herself from the rope above them. She turned slightly, pressing a hand to his chest to make him step back a step.

“Down, boy,” she urged him, though amusement still glinted in her gaze. “We still have a job to do, remember?”

Chat let himself pout.

“You started it,” he pointed out, a frustrated growl trailing the end of his sentence. Vixen gave him an apologetic smile before she stepped away.

“I’ll make it up to you later, Tiger.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Vixen put a finger to her lips and waved him forward. They stealthily made their way across the roof, to the skylight glittering in the starlight, in the center of the roof. Chat grinned, tugging his glass cutting glove over his normal work glove…which was essentially a clawed glove with a strong suction cup sewn into the palm, used for breaking and entering. A simple glass cutter would’ve done the job just as well…but aesthetic.

Chat Noir cut a hole into the glass big enough for him and Vixen to wiggle through, using the suction section of his glove to cling to the glass and very, very carefully pull it out. As he was working, Vixen was busy securing another length of rope so they could rappel inside. Just as she began to feed the rope through the hole, however, Chat had to catch her arm, going utterly still…for a guard had chosen that exact moment to appear.

He seemed to be on his normal rounds, sweeping the dark hallway with his industrial flashlight, suspecting nothing…or he didn’t, at least, until a smaller flashlight suddenly clonked him on the head. Chat’s eyes went to Vixen, who was looking down at the open pouch over her chest, mouthing silent swears as the guard rubbed his head and cursed himself, crouching down to get a good look at what had nailed him. He picked up the flashlight, staring curiously…and then his head began to lift…

There was nothing for it; it had to be now or never. Chat chose now.

Swiftly sticking his legs into the hole, he let himself drop. The guard only managed a yelp that hopefully hadn’t carried too far before Chat landed on him. He didn’t struggle as Chat crouched over him, wondering if he needed to put the guard in a chokehold. A quick check told him that the guard was still alive, but unconscious, and he breathed a sigh of relief, climbing to his feet—

Pain lanced through his ankle, and Chat hissed. Fuck, he had managed to fuck up his ankle. That was just his luck.

Doing his best not to put too much weight on it without making it obvious that he was hurt, Chat grabbed the knocked out guard, jerking his head for Vixen to join him as he dragged the guard to a nearby nook, where he hid him behind a large potted plant.

“Are you crazy?!” Vixen hissed behind him, and Chat jumped; he hadn’t heard her come down. “You could’ve seriously hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine,” Chat lied, hiding his grimace behind a confident grin. “Let’s go—we only have a couple more minutes before the cameras cut back on, right?”

Vixen huffed. It was clear she wanted to stand here for another minute to chew him out, but they had a mission to accomplish, and so she just swiped the flashlight that had fallen earlier, briefly checking the mini-map of the bank she had on her, swiftly glancing around.

“Stay on my tail,” she ordered him, tucking both items away and waiting until Chat had his night vision goggles in place before she pulled on her own, speed-creeping down the hall to their right. Chat followed her as swiftly as he could, cringing as his ankle throbbed. He was going to need some ice later…

Vixen abruptly stopped and pushed him back into the wall beside her; a guard appeared, but he was turning right, and once he was a decent way down the hall, she pulled Chat after her as she went left, leading him to a door down the hall. It appeared to be an office of some kind; there was a name stamped on the window—Marcel Dubois. The name was registered, but then ruled as inconsequential, because their goal was the computer that sat upon the desk within.

Lifting his goggles, Chat Noir gestured for the flashlight as he pulled out his tool bag of lock picks. As he worked, tongue clenched between his teeth, Vixen angled the light, watching him work; her presence was a physical touch upon his back, making him shiver—

The lock clicked, and Chat grinned triumphantly.

“Give me sixty seconds,” Vixen muttered to him as she passed, darting into the office and carefully sliding her skilled hands over the computer. It whirred to life under her touch, and for forty-five seconds, Chat watched Vixen’s eyes fly across the screen, processing information incredibly fast as she hacked into the system and made the necessary transfers—

Suddenly, all the lights in the building seemed to flash on, and an alarm sounded, as obnoxious and unappreciated as the sudden bright light that stung Chat’s eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Vixen swore, her gaze cutting to her stop watch. “Monarch promised me at least another minute before the cameras cut back on!”

“It could be that they just found the unconscious guard, or the hole we left in the skylight…” The nearby rumbling of footsteps and voices had Chat edging the door shut, locking it for good measure. “Yeah, it was probably definitely one of those two things.”

“Fuck.” Vixen glared at the computer screen in front of her, fingers digging into her hair, dislodging red locks from her ponytail. “The transfer isn’t finished yet!”

“We don’t need to panic just yet. It’s not like they know we’re in here—”

“Hey! Who’s in there?!”

There was a thump against the door, a grunt, and the unmistakable jangle of keys.

“Check that,” Chat mumbled, hastily making his way over to the desk. In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have been leaning against the door in the first place—his dark clothes against the window kind of made it obvious that there was someone in there. “Time to go.”

“Just a few more seconds!”

“We don’t have a few more seconds!” Chat reminded Vixen, as if the rattling of the handle wasn’t ominous enough.

“Almost…yes!” Vixen cheered as a message appeared on the computer screen, signaling that the transfer to an untraceable account was complete. She slammed her hand on the power button of the computer just as Chat yanked her from behind the desk, shoving the window open. Mercifully, the fire escape was right where it was meant to be, and Chat helped Vixen out onto it, climbing out just as someone burst into the office behind them.

“HEY!” A furious voice called, but Vixen and Chat Noir didn’t even stop to catch their breath—Vixen slid down the ladder, jumping back as Chat followed suit—

“Urgh!” Chat groaned, his right leg giving out from under him as his ankle quit on him, in too much pain to properly support him. Beside him, Vixen gasped.

“You are hurt!” She accused him, and Chat winced at her tone. He was going to pay for this later…

“I’m—ow, fuck—I’m fine!” He insisted anyway, even though his right leg began to violently shake underneath him, refusing to support his weight at all. But he couldn’t focus on it—there was crashing behind them; they were being pursued. “Just go, I’ll catch up! Go!”

“Like hell!”

Ignoring his protests, Vixen ducked down in front of him, pulling his arms over her once again, lifting him with a huge grunt. Chat took a moment to be impressed by her raw strength before another shout behind them alarmed him—

“STOP! GET BACK HERE!”

Vixen did not obey—even with Chat’s full weight, she full-on sprinted from the alley, darting across the street, apparently oblivious to the loud honking as she darted out in front of traffic. Chat chanced a glance back, and he nearly wept with relief at the sight of the bank guards being impeded by a large bus that got in their way, blocking them from view.

Oh thank god. That was way too close.

“Vixen—Vix, you can put me down, we lost them,” he said, but Vixen ignored him, despite the fact that her breath was heavy as she raced to the other side of the street; she refused to put him down until they reached the discreet, dark car parked on the corner two blocks away. Vixen threw open the door, pushing Chat inside before she climbed in behind him. The slam of the door was the cue to the driver, who quietly started the engine and sped down the street, effortlessly blending into downtown traffic.

“Wow,” said the woman in the passenger seat, blinking startled blue eyes as she gaped at the two of them. “What happened to you two?”

Chat met gold eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Rough night?” Asked the driver, and Chat let out a sigh. Maybe not ‘rough’…but it definitely could have gone better…

“Just….drive…” Vixen huffed, panting through her exhaustion. Chat noticed Ladybug and Paon exchange a glance, but neither of them said another word.

Chat’s ankle was throbbing, his boot way too uncomfortable now. He undid the laces and eased it off, hissing in pain. Without the pressure of his boot, he felt a little better, but his ankle still pulsed unpleasantly. Oh god, he dearly hoped it wasn’t broken…

Chat Noir glanced over at Vixen, who was staring at his ankle as she worked to catch her breath. She glanced up to meet his gaze, her eyes tight, and they stared at each other, as if to mutually register just how close they had cut things tonight.

After a moment, Chat offered a small smile.

“So…your place or mine?” He joked in an undertone, hoping to lighten the mood. Vixen just stared at him, and Chat cringed inwardly, certain she was about to shut him down—

“…Mine,” Vixen answered, looking away after a moment to stare out the window. Chat let out a breath of relief, tugging off his mask. In front of them, Paon chuckled.

“You guys just can’t get enough of each other, huh?”

“Shut up, Bird Boy.”

“You should’ve told me you were hurt.”

“It wasn’t a big deal—”

“We literally risk our lives to pull off these heists, Agreste,” Alya cut through his bullshit reply, her eyes sharp as she glared at him, looking sheepish as he sat on her bed while she knelt in front of him to take care of his ankle. “You have to tell me when you’re compromised. That’s the only way this works.”

“Okay,” Adrien replied, wincing as she shifted the ice pack on his ankle. “Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

Alya huffed, accepting the apology, but still thoroughly irritated with him as she wrapped his poor, abused ankle. What the hell had he been thinking, dropping on that guard like that? If they had been armed guards, he would have been in serious trouble!

She secured the end of the gauze, inspecting her handiwork grimly.

“You’re gonna have to stay off it for a few days,” she said, folding her arms as her elbows rested on his knees, frowning up at him. “You’ll be seriously lucky if it isn’t broken. Jesus, Adrien, of all the stupid things to do—”

“Alya,” Adrien cut her off, and Alya felt her expression soften despite herself as he slid a hand over her cheek, “I’m all right. We accomplished the mission—Monarch will get to work on moving the money as soon as possible—and we made it out of there without getting caught. Everything’s fine.”

Alya sighed from her core, still frowning, but it probably had lost its fierceness at this point. It wasn’t fair for Adrien to comfort her like this when she wanted to be mad at him for being so reckless; he somehow always knew just what to say to ease her concerns and help her breathe again. The bastard.

She only allowed his touch to placate her for a moment longer before she took his hand away from her face, lacing her fingers with his as she worked to make her expression severe again.

“Be more careful,” she ordered him. Adrien smiled a little at her.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “So…”

Alya lifted a brow.

“So?”

“We accomplished our mission…”

“Yeah?”

“And you did say you’d make up for a certain, very distracting thing you did to me earlier…”

Alya’s lips curved into a devious smirk.

“Really? In all the excitement, I seem to have forgotten…”

“Well I remember,” Adrien insisted, raising his eyebrows. “Vividly.”

That brought a laugh out of Alya. God, he had such a one-track mind sometimes…

“You seriously want to have sex while you’re in pain?” She asked him, leaning forward so that their noses almost touched, giving him an exaggerated wide-eyed look. “I didn’t think you were such a masochist, Agreste.”

“It’s less that I’m a masochist…” Adrien began, carefully scooting forward so that Alya’s torso was practically in his lap, his head tilting to the side as he leaned over her. “…and more that you drive me crazy just by being near me, Césaire.”

“Is that right?” Alya teased, nudging him back so she could climb up, settling herself properly into his lap as she smirked down at him. “Well, I guess I do owe you for distracting you earlier…”

“Yes you do,” Adrien was quick to press, his cheeks flushing red as Alya traced those perfect cheekbones of his with her thumbs. “I expect to be repaid in full.”

“Well…what kind of lawyer would I be if I didn’t cater to my client’s wishes?” Alya asked with a grin before she swooped down and captured Adrien’s lips with her own.

After all, picture-perfect Adrien Agreste had a reputation for having the fiercest lawyer in Paris. And, heist society notwithstanding, Alya had a reputation to uphold.

...

I am weak for espionage stories and have descended into Alyadrien Hell and nothing can pull me back.

I even have a WIP called Alyadrien Hell. The next prompt involves them having sex in a closet because of misplaced underwear.

...You’ll see. ;)

Hope you enjoyed! <3

~Reyna