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thisapplepielife · 2 months ago

Text

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Of Wolf and Man

Eddie hears the growl, and freezes mid-step. He was just headed out to Skull Rock to make a quick deal with a jock too scared to meet at his usual picnic table in the woods, and this is what he gets for his trouble? About to be eaten by a wild fucking animal over twenty bucks worth of weed? Great, just great. He isn't sure what direction the growl came from, it sounded all around him, all at once. Like it was somehow beside him, below him, and above him. He scans as far as his eyes can see, then finally looks up, and when he does, there's a big dog standing on a rock overhead.

"Easy there, buddy," Eddie says, because he's an animal guy. He's not one to turn any species away, as a general rule. His brain suddenly unhelpfully supplies: kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species. Which isn't gonna help him survive a feral dog attack, but honestly, take that, Mr. Johnston? He did pay attention in biology class. Both times.

It doesn't matter, but what does matter, is that he can usually charm anything into being his friend for a few minutes. Racoons, opossums, the occasional armadillo.

More cats than he'll ever be able to count.

Sometimes a stray dog, or two.

And that's when he realizes this is not a dog. It's a wolf. And there definitely shouldn't be any wolves roaming around just outside of Hawkins. It has to be someone's pet that has gotten loose. Those are legal in Indiana. Or: And his wheels really start turning here, if this one somehow doesn't already belong to someone else, maybe he could wrangle it into being his own pet.

Now, that's an idea. Wayne would shit, but a pet wolf would really make him seem like a bigger, scarier freak around town. He's kind of missed the daily fear and detestation since he squeaked out of Ms. O'Donnell's class, and therefore, high school. Diploma clutched in his fist.

Either way.

Dealing with a wolf is new territory. Very, very new.

And a little more terrifying, his fantasy of keeping it as a badass pet notwithstanding.

It's huge. Especially bathed in moonlight, looming overhead, where all Eddie can see is warm, golden eyes staring down at him, and a dark, pretty coat. The wolf is watching him, as if it's taking stock of Eddie's every move.

"Well, I'm gonna go my way, and you're gonna stay right there," Eddie says, holding his arm up, palm facing the big animal, and the wolf whines in a way that almost sounds like he's disagreeing petulantly with this command.

Eddie smiles, even if he's still a little terrified, "You don't want me to hang around. I'll cramp your style. Lay down."

And the wolf starts to do just that. Big body folding down into itself.

"That's a good boy. You're very pretty, you know?" Eddie asks. And it is a pretty animal. Lean muscle, wrapped in what he assumes is a heavy coat of soft fur.

He'd like to pet him.

That's how he'll die someday. Petting something he had no business touching. He's sure of it.

And the wolf whimpers, laying down on the rock, resting his chin on its huge paws, still watching Eddie with those mesmerizing eyes.

They almost glow out here in the moonlight.

How fucking cool is that? An actual wolf. In the flesh, and not just written into a campaign.

Eddie grins at him one more time, and then takes off in the direction he was headed in before he was interrupted by a huge fucking wolf.

Once he gets to Skull Rock, and sits down to wait, he hears the howl in the distance, and smiles. Hopefully the wolf doesn't have a pack hanging around that's less docile than he was.

He doesn't think about the wolf again, not much anyway, until the wolf shows up again, standing across the highway, right along the tree line, watching him. Eddie's putting three bucks in the van's gas tank, and it suddenly feels like he's been tracked here. Shit. Has he been tracked here? Does the wolf have his scent now?

Eddie should ignore it, but he can't. He makes eye contact, and the wolf sits. Like he's waiting. Eddie goes in and pays, and when he comes out of the Fair Mart, he looks both ways, then jogs across the two lanes of worn asphalt.

The wolf is still there, sitting patiently, watching as Eddie struggles to unwrap the Slim Jim he bought for the animal for some stupid reason, not nearly scared enough that he's about to be mauled.

Eddie isn't sure what to do now as he looks down at him. Does he throw it? Drop it? Hand feed him like he would a dog?

"Hi. Me again. I probably wouldn't have seen you if it wasn't so bright out tonight," Eddie says, making one-sided small talk, nodding his head towards the big, full moon overhead.

And then Eddie holds out the meat stick, an offer.

The wolf makes eye contact, and then gently takes it from Eddie's fingers, like he's being careful and Eddie grins, "That's a good boy."

And the wolf looks right at him, tail lightly dancing around, as if he understood that. Maybe he just got the tone. Dogs are good at that, right? Maybe wolves are, too.

But it still unsettles Eddie, just a little. It's too human, and the fact that it's a full moon suddenly isn't lost on him. He gets the lore behind that. And it kickstarts his imagination. Thrusting it into overdrive. Was it a full moon last time? Eddie thinks maybe it was, as brightly lit as the woods had been, even late at night.

But, it can't be. That's absurd. He needs to just go. Accept this for what it was, just another experience in his long line of animal whispering.

He's got band practice to get to, anyway. They always expect he'll be late, but still. He should go.

"Okay, I gotta go," Eddie says, and then adds, "Stay out of the highway, it's dangerous."

And he watches the wolf slink back into the trees, until he's gone from sight.

Eddie tries to ignore the persistent feeling, the one pulling at his brain, but he's only able to ignore it until the next full moon, when the wolf is back, lurking near the trailer this time, as if this time he was able to track him home.

Eddie lives like six miles from the gas station. He doesn't know the range a wolf has, but that seems far. Especially figuring in the wolf also being out Skull Rock the first night. He's covering ground, that's for damn sure.

The wolf comes right up to the dead patch of grass they call a lawn, and lays down, looking up at Eddie.

"Hi, again. I'm Eddie. And I think you're a werewolf," Eddie says, and the wolf whines, "Are you a werewolf? Are you a person?"

The wolf snuffles, and Eddie thinks that could be a yes. Or not. He doesn't exactly speak wolf.

"Who are you?" Eddie asks, as if the wolf can tell him that. "Are you someone I know?"

He doesn't get an answer, but he leaves the porch and sits down on the ground, crossing his legs under him. Right in front of the relaxed animal.

"Can I pet you?"

And the wolf leans in his direction. Eddie takes that as a yes, and buries his hand in the wolf's scruff, scratching him, deep and thoroughly.

His fur is rougher than Eddie had anticipated. But thick. Layers and layers of gorgeous, brown hair.

And the wolf gets closer and closer until he's resting his chin on Eddie's knee, where he falls asleep.

Eddie grins.

He has a pet wolf.

Hot damn.

And that cements the routine. A full moon is in the sky? Eddie has a temporary wolf pet. He feeds it, and pets it, and quickly finds out it loves to roughhouse. Launching itself at Eddie, taking him down to the dirt. Rolling him.

Butting at his head, his face, under his chin, licking him.

The first time he did it startled the shit out of Eddie, but after that, it's been expected. Eddie laughs, and the wolf barks. At least, Eddie's calling it a bark. It isn't the same as a dog barking, but it feels similar in usage.

Eddie finds an old rope in Wayne's shed, and they play tug-of-war until Eddie's sure his hands will blister. But if the wolf wants to play, Eddie isn't gonna pass up the chance to play with a wolf.

Eddie bought a pack of tennis balls at Melvald's, and sure enough, the wolf loves to chase them and bring them back to Eddie. A wolf that will play fetch. Who'd have thought?

It's probably because he's a human. Or half-dog. Eddie isn't sure. But, if he is a werewolf?

"Hey. Listen. If you are a person, and you do understand me, you could come find me, you know? On any of the other days that you aren't, you know, grrr," Eddie states, holding up his hands in monster fashion.

The wolf whines, and Eddie lets it go.

He's cool with just having a once a month wolf pal. It's honestly the best of both worlds. Exotic pet, but he doesn't even have to get a permit for it. Win-win.

The wolf howls.

"Too loud," Eddie admonishes.

And then it looks sad. Goddammit.

"Turn around," Eddie commands, and the wolf does exactly that. Eddie throws him a treat.

"Sit," and he does. Another treat.

"Beg," and that's the limit, apparently, because those eyes are looking at him like he's a goddamn fool. Eddie laughs, and tosses him the piece of lunch meat anyway. He's still a good boy. Even if he won't beg.

They spend all night together, until the wolf inevitably departs before morning light.

That's okay, he'll see him next month.

But when the next full moon has illuminated the night sky, the wolf hasn't shown up. It's several hours after dark, and Eddie's concerned. He's never this late, and now Eddie doesn't know where to search. The woods near the Fair Mart? Near Skull Rock again, where he first saw him?

He's not sure where his homebase is, his den, or whatever.

All Eddie knows is that it doesn't make sense. He wouldn't just not show up. Not after all this time.

Something's wrong. And the pit grows in Eddie's stomach, gnawing away, the fear and preemptive sorrow of the impending loss.

He's just developing a battle plan, when he hears the familiar whimper and whine. And there he is, coming up out of the trees. He's hurt. Wet, and filthy. Limping, tail tucked between his legs. There's a deep bleeding gash across his forehead. Dried blood matted into its fur.

Eddie panics, just for a second, then he scurries up the steps, holding open the trailer door. The wolf doesn't hesitate, just lumbers in, and flops down on the floor as if he can't go any further.

"What happened to you?" Eddie asks, then realizes he's not gonna get an answer.

Eddie's never brought him inside before, but he's doing it today. Eddie quickly shuts and locks the door behind them, as if whatever tore him up, might decide to, Eddie doesn't know, follow him inside? Unlikely. But still. Better safe than sorry.

"Stay right there," Eddie says, and the wolf huffs in a way that sounds almost sarcastic. Like, where else would I go, asshole?

Eddie smiles, and knows he's probably crazy. But still. It feels that way. This wolf, his wolf, seems funny. Can a wolf even be funny? Eddie isn't sure. But this one damn well is.

Wayne's probably gonna notice all the shedded hair, dirt and blood, and wet dog smell, but tonight Eddie's not gonna worry about it.

Tonight, he's gonna try to help his buddy out.

He's covered in mud, and he smells like a lake.

"You need a bath," Eddie declares and the wolf gets up and walks towards the bathroom like he agrees.

Eddie laughs, "Okay. Here's the deal. We're gonna pretend you're just an animal, alright?"

And the wolf stops in the doorway, Eddie tells him to come on, but he won't budge. Eddie tries to get a grasp on him to pull him along without hurting him, but it's fruitless. He's too strong.

"Very funny," Eddie says, "your stubborn dog that doesn't want a bath impression is, well, impressive."

The wolf thumps his tail and then comes right into the bathroom and carefully climbs up into the tub.

Eddie sprays him down to get him wet, then looks at the shampoo options, "Well, I hope wolves are okay with Pert Plus 2-in-1."

And the wolf honest to god growls, baring his sharp, white fangs, while giving Eddie the dirtiest look a wolf could muster.

Eddie isn't scared, but he is amused.

"Well, I'm so sorry, I don't have wolf shampoo. No Mane and Tail, here. Do you have a better idea, tough guy?" Eddie doesn't think rubbing him down with a bar of Irish Spring sounds any better.

But he watches as the wolf looks around the tub ledge, as if he's actually weighing the options, before he nudges a light-colored bottle off with his nose, sending it clattering around the slick tub, making a hell of a racket.

Eddie retrieves it. Apple Pectin. He assumes it must belong to Wayne's lady friend. It certainly isn't his or Wayne's, that's for damn sure.

"Alright, Mr. Fancy Pants. If you want your fur to smell like apples, that's on you."

And with the decision made, Eddie cleans him up carefully. Lathering him up, rinsing him off. After he's finished, and has dried him off the best he can with a towel, the wolf noses around the cabinets, which is curious. What's he looking for? Then he pulls out the cord of a hair dryer, one that has a comb attached.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Eddie asks, picking up the dryer.

Eddie's never seen it in his life. Wayne has no hair, and Eddie's definitely not a blown dry kind of guy. Must be Wayne's girlfriend's. Hope she doesn't mind a little wolf fur stuck in the teeth, because the wolf's not kidding, and he sits, eyes closed, like he's enjoying the heat as Eddie combs him dry. Eddie's very careful not to get it too close to any of his wounds.

Afterwards, once he's soft and fluffier than Eddie's ever seen the pampered mutt, Eddie wraps anything still bleeding, then sits down and pats the couch cushion next to him. The wolf doesn't hesitate. Just jumps up letting out a soft growl that was surely pulled out of him by launching off his injured leg.

"I know it must hurt," Eddie says, as he pets him gently. The wolf lays his head on Eddie's thigh, and whines pitifully. Then turns his head, like he's watching the muted television right along with Eddie. Eddie looks down at him by the only light in the darkened room, the flickering screen.

Eddie falls asleep there, with the warm, heavy weight leaning against him. And when he wakes up, still hazy with sleep, he opens his eyes just enough to witness the wolf nudging at the lock with his nose, and then the door is open, the wolf is gone, and the only proof he was ever there is lightweight trailer door lightly banging from the early morning breeze.

After a few more hours of sleep, Eddie realizes there isn't much to eat in the house, and that means he's gonna have to finally do the grocery shopping he's been putting off before Wayne actually kills him.

And later, as Eddie's coming out of the Big Buy, bags in hand, he nearly runs into Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington, with a bandaged forehead and a slight limp. Smelling slightly of apple shampoo.

No fucking way.

Eddie's eyes widen.

"It's not what you think," Steve immediately says, which is suspicious.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Okay. It's exactly what you think," Steve says, folding like a cheap suit.

And Eddie laughs, all his teeth showing, fucking thrilled by this turn of events. Steve Harrington. Eddie wouldn't have guessed him if given a million tries.

"Steve Harrington is my pretty, pet wolf," Eddie crows.

Steve snorts, "I'm not your pet, Munson."

"All the lap sitting says otherwise."

"I've never sat on your lap!"

"You would if you could, big boy," Eddie teases.

And Steve gives him just a hint of a grin, "Yeah, yeah. Um, you're not gonna tell anyone else about this, right?" Steve asks, looking at the blacktop of the parking lot, "Because if I need a head start outta town, just say so."

"From one freak to another, nope. I didn't see anything."

Steve smiles, "Thanks. Because I'm not exactly broadcasting this information."

Eddie makes a move as if he's locking his lips, and then he throws away the imaginary key.

They go their separate ways, and Eddie assumes that's the last he'll see of the wolf, and probably Steve Harrington, too.

And he can't help but be a little sad about it.

Eddie tries to distract himself. But his mind keeps telling himself that Steve Harrington, wolf or not, isn't gonna come hang out with Eddie "The Freak" Munson again now that Eddie knows who he is under all that fur. And Eddie hates it.

He's playing penny can with Gareth outside the house, taking turns tossing the coins from the step into an old coffee can, under the light of the full moon, when he feels eyes on him.

Looking to the right, standing just around the edge of the trailer, is Steve peeking in their direction.

"Hey, you're here! C'mon, boy!" Eddie calls out, lighting up at the sight of him, and Steve rounds the corner like a happy dog. Tail flicking around nearly in circles as he prances, bopping around as he comes towards Eddie.

"That's…that's a wolf!" Gareth shouts, scooting backwards.

"Calm down, he's my friend, aren't you?" Eddie asks, and Steve pounces up on him, paws on Eddie's shoulders, licking his face.

"Whoa, hey there, it's good to see you, too," Eddie laughs, trying to get him to calm down.

"You have a pet wolf?! Since when?" Gareth screeches.

"Sssh, do you want Mrs. Wilson from down the way sticking her nose into our business?" Eddie asks, then reiterates, "And I said he's my friend, not my pet."

"You can't be friends with a wolf, Eddie, that's crazy, even for you," Gareth insists, and Steve raises his head and growls, just a little.

Gareth clambers up and into the safety of the trailer, and Eddie laughs, looking down at Steve's warm eyes. He gets it now. Can totally see that these eyes are similar to Steve Harrington's, "That's not nice, you know. Picking on the little scaredy cat. It's like something you'd see in, I don't know, high school."

And the wolf whines.

"Hey! I'm not a scaredy cat! That's a goddamn wolf! I'm just smarter than you!" Gareth yells through the door, and Eddie laughs.

Steve snuffles, and lays his head on Eddie's thigh. His rowdy greeting apparently over with, content to let Eddie pet him.

Eddie strokes him gently, and whispers, "I'm glad you came back."

Gareth is still watching from behind the glass, and Eddie tilts his head far enough back to see him, "Look at him? He's a sweetheart. He won't hurt you. Come back out here."

And Gareth does, but he's still clearly leery of this whole situation. But he sits back down, eventually asking, "Can I pet him?"

"I don't know, you better ask him," Eddie says, because it's definitely not his place to let anyone else manhandle Steve if he doesn't want to be touched by them.

But Steve stretches his head over, indicating that he'd be open to this additional petting.

"It's almost like he understands us," Gareth says.

"He's a smart boy for sure," Eddie answers, scratching Steve behind the ear, before patting him on the butt.

Steve whips his head around and nips at Eddie's hand, then licks it, "Okay, okay, no butt pats. You're not a cat. Got it. Sorry."

"Does he have a name?" Gareth asks.

Eddie doesn't miss a beat, "Harry."

"Well, that's original," Gareth snarks, but Eddie doesn't care. He's not giving Steve Harrington a dog name. And he can't exactly call him Harrington. That'd raise questions Eddie's not prepared to answer.

"Well, he is hairy, ain't he?" Eddie asks, and Gareth can't help but nod, and it pleases Eddie.

Wolf Steve hangs with them all night, until morning threatens to peek over the horizon, and then he slinks away into the pre-dawn light to presumably turn back into a real boy.

"You're friends with a freakin' wolf. Like you're Snow White or some bullshit," Gareth whispers, and he sounds a little awed as they watch the wolf go.

Hell, Eddie's awed, too.

And Eddie's gonna miss him. One night a month isn't enough.

But he'll just have to wait. Eddie can be patient.

Maybe.

He doesn't have to be patient for long. The next night while Eddie is stretched out on the couch, there's a knock at the front door. When he answers it, there's Steve Harrington, in full human form, looking back at him.

"Harrington," Eddie greets, but Steve's not beating around the bush.

"So, about those butt pats," he says, and Eddie throws his head back and laughs as he opens the door even wider. An invitation.

Was that a pick-up line? If so, at least it was original.

Steve can't be serious.

But Steve crosses the threshold, and two can play at this game. He'll play chicken with Steve on this, so Eddie jerks his head to the right, "Bedroom's back there, big boy."

Steve doesn't hesitate, he steps towards him, and starts corralling him towards the back of the trailer, through the kitchen, applying pressure, guiding, without even touching him, somehow.

And as he does it, he's shedding clothes. Confident in a way Eddie could never dream of being.

Holy shit. Steve Harrington is really getting naked, as he's backing Eddie's towards his bedroom.

Eddie pedals backwards, just watching, letting Steve encroach on his personal space, and then, his bedroom.

Eddie wonders if being a wolf just makes you more open, more free.

He's not sure, but he scurries along backwards, and once they're both in the bedroom, Steve kicks the door closed behind them. Eddie tugs his shirt over his head, trying to catch up before Steve changes his mind.

Then Eddie pauses:

"If you bite me, will I become a wolf?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "I'm not going to bite you."

Eddie pauses, "Well, what if I bite you?"

"Why would you bite me?" Steve asks, a confused wrinkle forming across his forehead.

"I mean…" Eddie trails off, nodding towards the bed.

"Don't make me regret this decision, Munson," Steve says dryly, but he's amused. Eddie can see it in his eyes.

Eddie isn't sure why Steve made this decision at all.

"Why are you here, for this, with me anyway?" Eddie asks. He needs to know. They've barely spoken to each other since high school. As far as Eddie knows, Steve only fucks girls. But now he's here, like he owns the place, corralling Eddie to bed?

He's having trouble processing all this new information at once. Eddie's friends with the wolf version of Steve, sure, but he wouldn't say the same for human Steve Harrington.

"Because I've realized I like you. Because you were nice to me, in wolf form. You weren't scared-"

"I was scared shitless!" Eddie interrupts, and Steve laughs.

"For like the first second. After that you were pretty fucking cool about a wolf all up in your face. Don't lie."

"Well…"

"Well, nothing," Steve snips, then his voice softens, "You understood what I most likely was and didn't care. Even if you didn't know who I was, you were pretty fucking chill about me coming to hang out."

Eddie nods. That's true, he didn't care. He'd made a friend, as wolf-shaped as it was.

"You gave me a bath."

"Hey! I thought we agreed you were just an animal during that," Eddie argues.

Steve smiles.

"Before you, the full moons were lonely. And I dreaded them. But you changed that," Steve explains further, "And after we bumped into each other at the grocery store, I was fucking mad, man. Like, running into you, having you find out that way, it felt like it was the end of something I really looked forward to every month. But then I never heard even a whisper of a rumor that you'd told anyone what you'd figured out."

"I haven't told anyone. Didn't especially think they'd believe me if I did," Eddie laughs. But honestly, it never crossed his mind to gossip. The wolf had been good to him, and he figured it was the least he could do to be nice back.

Tit for tat, as it goes.

For Steve Harrington, or anyone else.

"And I'm grateful. I think it's just me around here," Steve says, "I never see any other wolves."

"How'd you become a werewolf, if there's no other werewolves around? That doesn't make a lick of sense," Eddie asks.

"It was a Russian torture drug that turned me. When the mall burned down? I wasn't bitten by anything."

"No shit?" Eddie asks. He's heard rumors of what actually happened at the mall, picked up and filed away snippets of information the sheepies have dropped in his presence without realizing it, but he's never heard about Russian torture.

Steve nods.

"I don't know if they did it on purpose or not. Robin didn't have it happen to her. Just me. So, before you found me, I was just lone wolfing it during full moons, and hoping everything went okay. Robin hated that I was all alone, but it was what it was. Then, I found you."

Eddie nods, and looks at Steve, chest full of hair. He didn't have that in high school, as far as Eddie remembers.

"Side effect?" he asks, pointing to his chest.

"Yeah, a little. I mean, I wasn't bald or anything before, but it's sure filled out. Age or wolf, I don't really know."

Steve Harrington really turns into a freakin' wolf.

Eddie reaches forward and combs his fingers through Steve's chest hair, and Steve tilts his head back, and whines.

Oh fuck. Eddie's done for. This is it. The end of him.

It's familiar, and different, all at once. It's Steve.

Eddie's dick is so goddamn hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans, but all he wants is for Steve to keep making those noises.

He'll let Steve fuck him. Hell yes, he will. He'll roll over like, well, a fucking wolf, he supposes. Bare his neck. Get mounted. Claimed. Whatever Steve wants, needs.

Only, that's not what happens. His daydreaming was a little bit off, as Steve flops on Eddie's bed, naked, legs spread open. Hand on his hard cock, stroking it as he watches Eddie.

Eddie isn't even sure where to look. Steve's hairy thighs, his hairier chest, the aforementioned gorgeous cock now laying heavy against Steve's belly. Or his very obviously glistening hole.

"Holy shit," Eddie says, asking, "you want me to, you know?"

Steve laughs, and Eddie isn't even sure where it comes from, but Steve's flicking a condom Eddie's way. Eddie bumbles it a bit, but catches it in two hands.

Okay, okay. Shit. He can do this.

Steve wants him to do this?

"You don't, like, want me to submit to you?" Eddie asks, undoing his belt buckle, eyes trained on Steve's. He would.

Steve laughs, "Not really. I want this."

"Okay," Eddie says, "cool. That's cool."

"Cool," Steve repeats, mocking him a little bit as Eddie's jeans hit the ground, like he can't help but be amused by Eddie. And Eddie likes that.

Eddie crawls on the bed, and slides one hand into Steve's hair, pulling back a little, and Steve whimpers. He leans down and presses his lips to Steve's, kissing him for the first time and eventually Steve opens his mouth, breathing into Eddie's mouth.

Eddie pulls back, "That's a good boy."

And Steve's dick jumps against Eddie's belly, leaking precum between them as he whines, and oh, he's a good boy, indeed.

Eddie takes his hand from Steve's hair, and slides it down his body, bypassing his cock, grazing his thigh instead, before sliding to the inside, and down, under his balls, fingers brushing against Steve's already slick hole. Eddie slides one finger in, then two, and three, and realizes Steve wasn't fucking around. He's gotten himself ready. For Eddie.

Goddamn.

Rolling the condom down his own cock, Eddie thinks his hands are trembling. He can't believe this is happening.

"Hey," Steve says, leaning up onto his elbows, "look at me."

And Eddie does.

"We don't have to do this. If this isn't what you wan-"

"It is," Eddie interrupts, "fuck, it definitely is."

"Okay then," Steve answers, laying back again, and then he slides one foot along the bedding, dragging it upwards, until his knee is bent. He's fucking gorgeous, and confident, and for whatever reason, wants Eddie. It's. It's, yeah. "Whenever you're ready."

Eddie's ready now, and he slots himself between Steve's thighs, lifting him up a little as he lines up and presses inside, deeper and deeper until he's bottomed out.

His dick is in Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington is his wolf.

Steve whines, and Eddie takes the cue, and starts fucking him in earnest. Cock sliding in and nearly out easily, his balls slapping against Steve's skin with every rough thrust as he builds up a rhythm.

He's fucking Steve Harrington, and Steve Harrington is liking it by the sounds he's making. By his actions.

Fingers digging into Eddie's shoulders, his back, his ass, spurring him on.

It's not gonna last long. Eddie's too overstimulated by everything that's happened, and might happen again, in the future.

He wraps his fist around Steve's dick, wanting to get him off first, and as soon as Steve comes all over his own hairy belly, Eddie slams back into him, chasing his own orgasm. Coming inside him, filling the condom, with a long groan.

Eddie never wants to leave, but he eventually pulls out, and gets up to dispose of the condom. He grabs his shirt and wipes Steve's stomach halfway clean, and then stands there, unsure what comes next.

Is Steve gonna go? Gonna stay?

Stay apparently, because Steve opens his arm, and Eddie crawls into bed, sliding up against him. Sweat-slick bodies slotting together until they find a comfortable position.

Laying with him, the afterglow making his mind fuzzy, Eddie wonders if wolves mate for life.

He sure fucking hopes so.

When the next full moon fills the night sky, Eddie borrows Uncle Wayne's truck, and holds open the passenger door for his wolfie, watching as Steve easily hops in. Eddie rolls down the window with the hand crank, since Steve can't do it for himself in wolf form, and then goes around and slides into the driver's seat.

Enrichment, that's the plan. Steve doesn't need to spend all of his full moons cooped up in the trailer. He needs to be free. Wild. Run around. Feel the wind blow through his fur, or whatever. Eddie doesn't want to tame him, only love him.

So, Eddie takes him out into the country, driving the winding dirt backroads, until he finds a wide-open space, a field where Steve can run. Eddie runs with him, not nearly able to keep up with his speed, and once Eddie's quickly worn out, he sits down in the soft grass, intent to keep watching.

But Steve runs up and nudges Eddie under the chin with his snout, rubbing all over him, and Eddie lets him do it, Eddie eventually collapsing onto his back. Then, Steve crawls on top of him, the heavy weight of the wolf pushing him into the ground below. Eddie feels Steve's stomach growl against him, and he knows they'll meet Robin for breakfast in the morning, where Steve will absolutely decimate a huge stack of pancakes and anything else from their plates that he can get his hands on.

Wolfing makes his boyfriend hungry. And Eddie chuckles: boyfriend. Steve Harrington is his boyfriend.

And his wolf, who is currently licking Eddie's face, making him squirm and laugh harder as Eddie scritches the back of Steve's neck.

He's a good boy, Eddie's good boy, somehow.

And once Steve's tired himself out, Eddie loads him up into the truck, grinning as they head back to town. Glancing between the open stretch of road before him, and Steve beside him, hanging his head out of the open window, howling at the moon.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, pop over to @steddie-spooktober and follow along with the spooky fun! 🐺

Notes: Title is from the Metallica song of the same name. Pert Plus 2-in-1 came out in 1987, so I guess it's at least 1987 here, lol. Apple Pectin was a real shampoo. It was discontinued. RIP, Apple Pectin. I haven't actually smelled you in thirty years, but your scent is still seared into my brain.

#steddiespooktober #prompt: werewolf #steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fic #gareth stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: spooktober

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yoonmetogether · 18 days ago

Text

Part 1 - Play Nice

pairing: bodyguard!Yoongi x CEO!fem reader - brother/mob boss!Jin, brother/mob boss!Jungkook genre: mafia, e2l, sloooooow burn, age gap summary: As you and your brothers finalize the plans for the next chapter in the family business, you end up discovering things that you didn't expect. And upon meeting the man assigned to guard your life, you think the universe must really have it out for you. And you don't like it. Not one bit. warnings: angst, arranged marriage, drug addiction/rehab, family drama, parental loss, age gap, alcohol, smoking, mentions of speed racing, crime, drugs and weapons trading, night terrors, ptsd, guns, reader has a knife (and an attitude), character death minors pls dni wc: 19k buckle up, folks!!!

teaser l prologue l part i. play nice I interlude: strangers l part ii. I

You make a mocking face at your phone, specifically the social media app that shoves pictures in your face of your university friends opening up their architecture firm that you were meant to be a part of. Good for them, you think sourly to yourself. You would be happier if you were there with them, before your dreams and plans to settle down in one place were foiled.

It’s been almost a year since they were, right before you finished up your second to last semester of grad school when your brother called to tell you that your father had died.

Your father, who never looked you in the eye. Your father, who you spent too much of your childhood vying for his attention, especially as a teenager, around the time he started to pay more attention to Jungkook. Like when you purposely flunked classes, hoping he’d care enough to yell at you to do better, only for Jin to show up to teacher meetings in sunglasses and a mask but the disappointment wasn’t hidden underneath. Or when you went around shoplifting with your friends and got caught by mall security, wishing he’d be the one to show up and get you out of trouble. But yet again, Jin came in another disguise, and the disappointment was the same. He knew what you were doing, but didn’t have the heart to tell you it wasn’t worth it, because your father would never care. He barely acknowledged your existence.

So, at the news of his passing, you felt nothing. That was until you realized that it meant everything would fall on your brothers’ shoulders. And suddenly, you became a part of the very thing Jin worked so hard to keep you away from. Your duty and prospects became that of carrying out your father’s legacy. Before you knew it, you were set to be engaged to the son of a casino owner, so that you would take over the casino in the city your brothers ran, streets filled with crime and money fueled by Crow blood.

Kim blood. Dirty blood. Your blood.

Over the summer, you finished up your last semester, rushed through six classes in order to complete all of your credits. You honestly don’t know how you pulled it off. Three weeks before you were scheduled to graduate, Jin called, bearing the bad news that Jungkook had relapsed and was back in rehab, so you needed to come home right away. You didn’t get to walk the stage. And you certainly couldn’t give the school an address to send your diploma to. So everything was lost in the wind.

Jungkook was still in rehab by the time you got a ring shoved on your finger. None of your friends know about the engagement. Granted, none of them can even be invited to the wedding. You can’t even tell them where you’re living now.

You probably will never speak to them again.

Locking your phone and dropping it in your lap, you sigh dramatically as you look out the window at the cloudy weather, the rain that pours on the windshield, the thunder that rumbles from above. It’s been cloudy a lot lately. Or maybe the gloom that’s been sitting in your chest ever since you got married has made everything around you seem dull and gray. Even your house is decorated without color, thanks to your minimalist husband who has no taste for style. He thinks as long as things are expensive, they’re worth having even if it’s all fucking ugly. Your husband didn’t care for your opinion when he picked out the house and furniture, despite the fact that you just graduated with a minor in architecture.

You’re just glad he picked a spot in the woods, right outside of the city.

You’ve always had a talent for decorating, handing it off to the fact that you’ve moved so many times throughout your life, having to buy new furniture since you couldn’t drag it everywhere you went. You became the queen of thrifting. As long as you had your keyboard, favorite posters and plushies, you were good. You took care to make your place your home, a reflection of you and your interests in order to keep you grounded, help you feel like you belonged somewhere, even though you never stayed in one place for too long. Jin preferred it that way, felt it was safer. But it meant you couldn’t have normal friendships or relationships because they wouldn’t keep in touch if you dropped out halfway through the year to transfer to a university in an entirely different place, sometimes a country. It was very destabilizing, and it made things equally lonely, and your brother tried to make up for it by wiring you substantial amounts of money for you to use freely, but responsibly.

You never touched that money. Because how could you as a college student, who worked part-time, low wage jobs, explain the luxuries that your brother’s money could afford? The money that could pay for a few hundred thousand parking lots of the most expensive and rare cars, at least five cities worth of houses, maybe even feed a small country, much less your tuition and rent. No, you would get by on your own. Sometimes you found yourself at a poker table, often dabbling in an underground gambling ring because that’s where you could make the most of your money. (You couldn’t bring yourself to go to a casino. It would make you think of Jungkook and how much he was struggling). Who would expect a young girl who looked like she got lost on her way to a club to be any good at placing bets? It’s not your fault you grew up around brothers and friends who taught you how to play cards, molding you to have phenomenal skills in seeing through people and their tells, that they gave themselves away through their eyes. You learned how to pull off the perfect poker face, faking being naive and innocent, got them to fall in your trap and leaving them in shock when you walked away with fat wads of cash in your pocket. You guess that made you a hypocrite.

But there were times when you ran out of money and had to choose between paying a light bill or buying groceries, and you found yourself considering withdrawing from those offshore bank accounts, but you knew once you started, you wouldn’t stop. So, you would end up eating the best meals of your life in a dark and cold apartment, sitting alone with the guilt of knowing your brothers would be hurt to think you were ashamed of them.

That guilt still lingers, especially now that you’re riding in a tinted SUV, lavish seats and custom interiors, materials and technology not found in cars of the average citizen. You're well out of the bounds of average by now. You don’t feel like you belong even though your brothers are in the exact same boat.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Han asks from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, just..." you sigh, each breath you take doing the opposite of calming the anxiety racing in your veins. "I was supposed to be managing this architecture firm with my uni friends by now, working on biophilic design that connects spaces with nature and all that.”

You hope you're hiding your bitterness better than you think, remembering how excited you’d been to finally do something you were passionate about and how quickly the ball was dropped on that.

"That sounds interesting. Maybe you can incorporate some of that at the casino when you’re doing the renovations."

"Mm. But I don't know if my future father-in-law would be down to have a bunch of plants all over the place." Mr. Han laughs. "Well, if you're the one in charge once you’re married, I don't see why not."

You smile, grateful for his support, but you know as a female CEO among a board of directors and investors that are majority men, you will only get so much leeway. But you'll have to make do with what you have. You’re an expert at this point.

"You've done a good thing by coming back to your brothers now that things are complicated." "I just... I don’t know if I can do it. Y’know. The other part."

That part being the real reason you're getting involved at the Stay Gold casino: to take care of business that belongs to your family. Not just supervising the renovations, or overseeing the slot games, blackjack and roulette tables, but keeping a tight chokehold on the money that flows in and out of all that gambling. Money that serves as a front to what you'll be taking care of behind the scenes. Essentially, you'll be a loan shark. And that's what's been keeping you up at night, knowing what comes with ensuring certain associates make their payments in timely fashions, especially if they're buying protection. At least you’ll be putting your business degree to use. "You are just as smart and tough as your brothers, if not more. You'll be able to handle it, I have no doubts, Miss Jeon."

But I’m not like them, is what you want to say, but shouldn’t because it would be a lie.

"Thanks, Mr. Han. And you know you can call me Angel.”

"Of course. I'm always here if you need anything."

And you know he means it but it's a small comfort. Mr. Han has been your brothers’ driver for as long as you can remember, always so kind and considerate, making you wonder how a man like him ended up in a job like this. When you found out you were going to have to be chauffeured around, you weren’t exactly ecstatic because you love to drive, love the freedom that comes with it, but you figured with Mr. Han, it wouldn’t be so bad.

The SUV drives through an underground tunnel, leading into a narrow road surrounded by a forest that takes you to the gated driveway of your brothers’ extravagant mansion. Mr. Han cracks open the window to speak with the armed guard who then waves to someone you can’t see and the iron-gates buzz open. The tires slowly rumble over the cobblestone, past the grand and meticulously landscaped lawn with many guards littering the property, up to the roundabout in front of the house where there's a tall, sharp-jawed, and suited guard waiting for you. Yeong, the (devastatingly handsome) man who’s been assigned to escort you whenever you show up to meet with your brothers. He opens the door and greets you politely as another guard appears from the back of the car. This one doesn’t say anything as you get out, and you’re glad because you’ve never seen him before and you don’t like interacting with any of your brothers’ men whom you haven’t met. You remind yourself and your constricting throat that these men work for your family, and you’re safer with them around than not. But still. You hate being followed and made to feel like you can’t go anywhere by yourself.

Before you can make it to the porch, your brother enthusiastically swings open one of the large double doors, quickly beckoning you in and shutting the door. As you step in and shuck off your shoes, you notice the indiscreet way he gives your outfit a onceover, like he’s never seen you in sweats before.

“Well, you didn’t have to get all dressed up just for us.” You glare at him, lifting your middle finger.

“Shut up, Jin. Just because you sleep in your suits.”

“That’s Jinnie to you,” he says through puckered lips, squishing your cheeks. “C’mere.”

He pulls you into a strong embrace that you weakly pretend to fight off.

“Missed ya, kiddo.” Taking your coat, he kisses the top of your head, and you mumble similar sentiments into his chest with a small smile that quickly turns into a scowl when he roughly rubs his knuckles into your hair.

You push him away and scurry towards the dining room, stomach growling at the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen. If there’s one thing you’ve missed now that you’ve moved out (again), it’s Jin’s cooking. Your brothers too of course, but that’s a given.

Jungkook is there sitting in his spot, to the left of the head of the table, already eating. It looks like today is one of his good days, and you find yourself smiling. He's eating his food and not just picking at it, the bags under his eyes aren't as prominent, and his hands are steadier than usual.

"Hey, loser. You couldn’t wait for me?" you say to Jungkook as you sit across from him.

“You’re late,” he mumbles, mouth full of food, glancing at you as he chews. “Is that why you look like shit?”

“Funny, ‘cuz I dressed up like you today.” You stick your tongue out at his glare, becoming distracted when you notice something at the corner of his bottom lip.

“What is- oh that’s a stud. I thought it was a big ass zit.”

“Piss off.” He waves your hand away when you tease poking at the metal ball.

You live for bullying your brother, even though he’s two years older than you. He was pretty mean to you as a kid, so this is just payback. Sure you were annoying, but what are little sisters for? At the end of the day, you know he’s your ride or die, just like you are for him.

“It’s cute. What’s next, a tongue piercing?”

“I draw the line at tongue piercings,” Jin intervenes, calling out from the kitchen. Him and his supersonic hearing. You snicker and Jungkook just rolls his eyes.

“Any new tats?”

He shows you the additions to his full sleeve and you marvel over the designs that he created, asking the inspiration or story behind each one, always fascinated by his talent. You have a knack for drawing yourself - you wouldn’t have the passion for architecture without it - but it’s never been on the same level as Jungkook’s. Dude can paint museum-worthy landscapes and portraits within an hour. He’s annoying like that.

When you’re done examining his arm, you sit back in your chair, snatching a morsel of his food on the way and he grabs your wrist in an attempt to stop you but instead stares at your sleeve.

“Wait, this is my jersey,” he says, ignoring the way you fight to wrestle out of his grip. “I’ve been looking for this!”

“So what? It looks better on me.” You rip your arm away and you’re already halfway out of your chair just as your brother lunges over the table to grab at the jacket. You spring up and out of the dining room, a shrill laugh escaping when you look back to see Jungkook dashing after you.

You may have grown up with him, done taekwondo and thrown loads of rounds in boxing gloves with him, even gotten him into a headlock once or twice, but now he’s built like a bus, and he could bulldoze you down in two seconds flat with no regrets. And it makes you want to scream your head off.

Sprinting into the living room, you clamber over the back of the couch, knowing Jin would kill you if he saw you with both feet on the cushions, but you’re much more worried about Jungkook closing in on you.

“Go away!” you shriek when he leaps over the couch with ease, like he’s a damn gold medalist in Living Room Olympics.

“Give me my jacket!”

“I’ve had this for like three months, how are you just now missing it?” You point out as you attempt to use the coffee table as a barricade.

“I told you to stop stealing my clothes.”

“It’s only because you have such a cool style.”

He pauses to look at you like he won’t fall for your bullshit compliment. You take this lapse as an opportunity to make a run for it into the kitchen where Jin is filling a carafe of water with fresh-cut berries, rushing to hide behind him at the counter like you used to do as a kid. Jin acts unbothered, barely noticing the way you’re gripping the back of his sweater like a lifeline, only looking over his shoulder when you make a noise as Jungkook jogs towards you.

“Cheater.”

"Yah, come on, you two," Jin admonishes as Jungkook tries to grab you, making you hurry to Jin’s right, grabbing his bicep as if his big guns will protect you.

"He started it."

"Did not!" Jungkook exclaims, and you childishly stick your tongue out at him.

“Give your brother his jacket,” Jin says in a parental tone. “But I like it.” Turning around, your oldest brother levels you with a look that mirrors the one Jungkook gave you a few minutes ago and you know not to argue anymore, begrudgingly shrugging off the jersey and throwing it at your brother who catches it with a victorious smile.

“Come on, kids, let’s go eat,” Jin says as he picks up the carafe and three glasses.

Both hands on your back, Jungkook pushes you and you stumble forward.

“Ow, don’t push me. Jinnie!”

“Big baby," Jungkook mumbles through his teeth.

“Big bitch," you fire back.

Jin clicks his tongue and mutters something under his breath, something about how is it that he has two siblings in their mid-20s who still act like children. And it is pretty interesting, considering you and Jungkook are about to assume control of the fucking mafia. But it’s been years since you’ve played around with your brother, and now that he’s about to take over for Jin, who knows if you’ll ever be able to do this again. The thought creates a bit of a hole in your heart, like digging a grave for something that isn’t gone yet.

Once Jin turns his back, leading the way into the dining room, you and Jungkook exchange various gestures that all silently mean “fuck you.” Jin shoots a knowing glare over his shoulder that makes you both hide your offensive hands behind your backs, forcing yourselves not to laugh.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?”

“No,” you both answer simultaneously. Jin huffs and looks between you two with a shake of his head.

“Sit down and eat before the food that I put my blood, sweat, and tears into gets cold.”

You and Jungkook share an eyeroll at Jin’s drama, digging in so he won’t try some dramatic monologue about cooking.

"So, how are you doing?" Jin asks you a few minutes into the meal. "Fine," you shrug, too focused on the food to give a more complex answer.

"You’re all settled in at the house?"

“Mhmm,” you hum indifferently, feeling your appetite slowly start to slip away. You were hoping you could have a nice, normal night with your brothers, pretending that you aren’t dreading going back to the house, to a fiancé you know next to nothing about and all of the work and unpacked boxes you have waiting in your wing of that big ass, bland ass house.

“How are you two getting along?” Internally sighing, your shoulders deflate.

“He’s not horrible, I guess. But he’s just… I don’t know. Boring. And lame. He thinks his tattoos make him look cool.” You glance at Jungkook and gesture to his sleeve.

“Which is something the two of you have in common.” Jungkook’s lip curls and he points his chopsticks at you and flinches. You blow him a kiss in return that you change to a middle finger.

“He also acts like he’s never been to the grocery store. And I very seriously doubt he can tie his own shoes. His butler does pretty much everything for him.” Just the word ‘butler’ makes you want to throw up, not to mention the fact that you’re about to marry a guy who needs one.

“But things are going okay?” Jin asks just as you shove more food in your mouth. Can’t a girl just eat?

“What is this, twenty questions?”

“I’m just checking in.”

“Okay, but can we not do this right now? Please.” You ignore the way your brothers share a look.

“If things aren’t going well, you need to tell us.”

“Things are going as well as they can for an arranged marriage. We might live on opposite ends of the house, but we’re cordial. You’re not really expecting me to actually like this whole situation, right?” Jin regards you carefully.

“No, but you do need to make sure it all works out.”

Suddenly, you've completely lost your appetite. You scowl and drop your silverware, sitting back in your chair with your arms crossed, refusing to look at them both staring at you.

“God, Jin. I agreed to marry him, didn’t I? Picked up my entire fucking life to come back here and help out even though you promised-” You point harshly at Jin who looks at you with a small frown as his fingers rub on the edge of a napkin. You know it’s not his fault but damn, it hurts that he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“That I would never have to do that. What more do you want? An heir or something?”

They both wince. “No, of course not.”

“Then lay off my ass about it. I’m fine, okay? Don’t be a helicopter.” “Honey, I just want to make sure he’s treating you right.”

“What does it matter? I’m stuck with him either way. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“Of course you can. I’m only-” But you don’t want to hear anymore. With a grimace, you pick up your plate of unfinished food, scoot back your chair and stand up to head into the kitchen.

Jin leans forward with a heavy sigh, steepling his fingers, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes.

"Way to go, hyung," you hear Jungkook mumble as you storm out of the dining room.

Stewing, you put away your leftovers and start to clean up the counters, knowing you’re the one being dramatic now but you can’t help it. This is supposed to be your safeplace, here with your brothers, especially since time with all three of you together is running out. Right now, you want to forget about all your responsibilities, all the things you have to step up to that you never imagined doing, and you wish your brothers would just go along with it. But they’re more realistic than you, it seems.

You hear dishes clink in the dining room, and soon you’re joined by your brothers, all silently working to clean up the kitchen. You pay no mind to their attempts at getting you to lighten up by nudging your shoulders, flicking water in your direction, and taking over the dish scrubbing, and it isn’t until Jin shoves a glass of sparkling cider in your hands just as you try to make an escape to the living room do you lose your resolve.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Jin says as he and Jungkook corral you towards the couch.

You huff, fingers rolling on the stem of the glass, swirling the red content inside, and sit on the plush cushion, your brothers on either side of you.

“I’m not. Just- I can’t remember the last time all three of us have been in one place and I didn’t want to talk about any outside stuff. I just wanted to pretend that things are how they used to be. Because what if-” A lump forms in your throat.

“What if this is actually the last time?” Jin reaches forward and grabs your hand, a serious line knitted through his eyebrows.

“It won’t be. I promise.” “You’ve always told us to never make promises.”

“Well, I made the rules so I can change them. I am going to come back,” he says, squeezing your hand. “I don’t know when and I don’t know how, but-”

“You know something’s starting right now? Okay, Ariel,” Jungkook cuts in, grinning when you snort and Jin shoots him a scowl, leaning over to roughly ruffle his hair. You laugh at Jungkook’s dirty look when he thinks Jin just messed up his hair and Jin tries to fix it but ends up making it worse and a small hand-slapping fight ensues. This is what you’ll miss. This dynamic, where no matter how hard you all try, you can never be serious.

“Do you think we can go on a trip?” you ask out of the blue, casted by a nostalgic wave longing for memories that make you feel normal.

“Y'know, to the cabin? Just for a couple of days.” Jin smiles, but it’s small. Jungkook doesn’t look at either of you.

Ever since you can remember, any spare time Jin had, he whisked you and Jungkook away to a cabin somewhere in the mountains, never going to the same spot twice. You waited for the days that Jin would show up at the boarding school, make up some excuse to get you both out and drive up to a cabin where he would let you both run wild. In the woods was where you learned how to ride your bike and climb a tree, legs swinging from a branch with Jin standing underneath you, arms held out like you’d fall any second. You were too busy yelling at Jungkook to stop throwing sticks and leaves at you from a few branches above. A cool summer sunset by a river was where you caught your first fish that Jungkook ended up chasing you around with for a good five minutes. You screamed at the top of your lungs, Jungkook cackled maniacally, and Jin did his best not to laugh, only grabbing the fish out of his brother’s hands once you began to run around him like a maypole. Later, you got your revenge by shoving the chopped fish head in his face after Jin started cooking. Jungkook cried all throughout dinner and, in your stubbornness, you refused to apologize so Jin made you hold hands for the remainder of the night until one of you caved.

As you got older and Jin got busier, he would allow you to make plans with your friends to go to a cabin in a discreet location, whether that was in the woods or by the beach. You loved your friends, but you always found yourself missing Jin, wishing he was there to cook and make lame dad jokes, play guitar by a fire he started and act out ridiculous stories until you and Jungkook were rolling on the ground with stomachs that ached from laughing so much.

It wasn’t until you were much older that you realized those trips to the cabin were the only times the three of you spent together where Jin wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder. Sometimes though, he wouldn’t speak for a while, a blank yet morose energy surrounding him that he could only shake himself out of if you and Jungkook poked and prodded him enough. In the woods, he never wore a mask or sunglasses or a variety of hats like he did when he came to pick you up from school. Later down the line, Jungkook had to do that too and that’s when everything started to change. You could no longer see each other unless the location and meeting times were planned in advance, and there were always some men in suits, sunglasses, and dark coats with wires hanging out of their ears accompanying you.

A year after Jungkook graduated from secondary school was when things fell apart. Jin made you promise to never speak about either of them to anyone, and helped you come up with a pseudonym. By the time he shipped you off to study abroad once you started university, you never used your real name and neither did they. From then on, you only spoke to your brothers on the phone, one that you had to pick up at a convenience store and dispose of once you were done. The calls were typically short - Jin asking if you were doing well in school, if you ate enough, had enough money. You rarely spoke with Jungkook, as he spent a lot of time going in and out of rehab, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was learning the family business with Jin. You missed him, your partner in crime, and you wished you could take him with you, keep him away from your father so maybe he could have a chance at healing, but that wasn’t in the cards. Jin explained time and time again, that this was how things had to be. He may have raised both of you, been the reason you were alive and thriving, but he had no control over the circumstances at home. You couldn’t go back, he wouldn’t let you, and for a while, you thought you’d never see your brothers again.

(There was a time when you did go back, but they never knew about it. When you were feeling homesick, you took a ferry to Jeju to visit the beach where you spent a few summers with your brother and your friends. You spent a few days reminiscing about old times, old friends. It was nice to get away, to feel something familiar for a moment, hang on to memories that you would give anything to relive. But you don’t like to think about that trip anymore. And sometimes you wish you’d never gone back.)

Now you just want to go to the cabin to cling onto the past, of how things used to be, because you know nothing will ever again be the same.

"We can't, Angel. I'm sorry. I have to leave in a few days." And just like that, the wave crashes onto the shores of despair.

“What? You said you had until next month.” Your brothers share another look, another tell that they’ve been keeping you out of the loop of something.

“I do, but I think it’s best to leave earlier so it won’t be glaringly obvious that I got tipped on my arrest warrant.”

“Yeah, probably,” you agree dejectedly. “It was just hard not being home all this time, so I wanted us to hang out. I guess I like you guys or something. Weird, right?” “Totally. ‘Cause we hate you,” Jungkook teases. You scoff and grab a pillow to whack him with over Jin’s head. Jin laughs and lets you get in a few hits before tugging the throw out of your hand, whacking the side of your head, and tossing it on the other end of the couch out of reach.

Silence sits between you for a few moments until Jungkook stands, tugs you up on your feet, and shoves his phone into your hands.

He tries to teach you dance moves from Tik Tok trends, laughing a little too hard when you mess up, and Jin ultimately has to break up a small wrestling match. After you finish filming one video that will forever sit in drafts, Jin gets out the game console and wipes the floor with you and Jungkook on Super Mario. He brags loudly, enticing you both to tackle him, but despite your conjoined efforts, he somehow gets you and Jungkook into simultaneous headlocks, not letting go until you profess that he’s the unmatched master of Mario.

Jungkook then puts on his favorite movie, to which you and Jin stifle groans as you’re made to watch Iron Man for what has to be the millionth time. Jungkook just claps giddily when the Avengers theme song blares through the speakers and neither of you can deny this small happiness. It’s good to see him smile. But throughout the movie, you shoot him small glances out of your periphery when you notice him biting his nails and you know he’s zoned out, and that it’s not a good place where his mind wandered off to. You gently grab his hand and push it down, and he goes to cross his arms like he’s ashamed, but you keep hold of his hand, folding them together and resting them between you. Giving your hand a squeeze, he offers you a tiny smile and goes back to fully engage with the movie.

When the credits roll, you tease Jin for immediately yawning and stretching as he announces he’s turning in. You ask Jungkook if he’s up for a game of Overwatch that he starts up without a word and passes you a console.

After a few minutes of playing, Jin emerges from the kitchen with a couple bowls of snacks and bottles of your favorite drinks that he sets down in front of you on the carpet. You both thank him in unison without taking your attention off the game and he huffs an endeared laugh.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Jin murmurs from behind you both, ruffling your hair. “Crazy kids.”

“Night, grandpa,” you smirk, laughing when Jin pushes your head.

He goes upstairs and leaves you to play the game. But every now and then, you glance over to Jungkook, wanting to check in on him. It’s been a minute since you've had a one-on-one.

“You look like you’re doing good.”

“I’m trying,” he mumbles a bit stiffly, eyes unmoving from the screen, and you take in his tense expression.

“That’s all that matters, bro.” You lightly punch his bicep, and he playfully tips sideways. “You know you can talk to me anytime.”

“Yeah.” It doesn’t seem like he wants to, at least not about certain things, but you need him to know that of all the things that are changing, the fact that you’re his kid sister who he can lean on will stay the same.

“I wish I had been home more often,” you say tentatively. “I know Jin couldn’t always be around.”

He shrugs, nose scrunching. “S’alright, I wasn’t alone. D was there.”

You’ve heard about D. How he had Jungkook’s back in a jail fight a few years ago when Jungkook had a habit of lashing out and starting fights to prove he was tough. Which he was but that didn’t matter if he was outnumbered. When he was booked for a DUI (riding on his motorcycle half-drunk like a dummy) and forced to go through withdrawal, it increased his violent tendencies. After accusing a burly man twice his size for looking at him the wrong way, he found himself getting beat up on by three grown felons in the middle of the yard. He would’ve ended up with a cracked skull if it wasn’t for D. And from then on, he became your brother’s guardian angel of sorts and eventually began working for them.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow at dinner.” You hum, mildly disinterested.

Joy. Spending an evening with your brothers’ capos and guards is just how you wanted to enjoy your last weekend with the both of them. Not.

“And, um, we workout at the boxing club every Friday. Maybe you could join us.”

You look over at him incredulously. There was a time when your brother acted like you tagging along with his friends was a punishment worse than hell.

“You mean you want me to box with you?” He shrugs.

“Gotta make sure you can still fight.”

You roll your eyes. Of course you can still fight. You’ve just been able to get out of precarious situations before you had the need to throw hands. For the most part. That’s the difference between you and your brother - he goes looking for trouble while you do your best to avoid it. But neither of you will be backed into a corner and made to stay there. You won’t go down easy.

“So you down?”

“I won’t be getting in the way of boy time with D?” Smiling, he shakes his head.

“Nah. But you could stand to learn a thing or two from him; he’s a damn good fighter.”

“Better than you?”

“No one’s better than me,” he smirks.

“I guess I’ll have to see for myself.” He chuckles and fakes a slow punch on the side of your head.

“You still have that knife I gave you a few years ago?” You think for a moment. Right before you went abroad for college, Jungkook gave you the blade he carried with him everywhere, one that was sheathed in your favorite color and had a strap attached to it. You cherish it, but you’ve never had to use it. But you figure that’s about to change.

“Oh, yeah, it’s somewhere. I didn’t have a lot of time to really organize when I was packing. Why?”

“You should keep it on you from now on. Just in case.”

“You mean you’re not gonna be around to protect me, big brother?” you tease. He shoots you a little smile but when his eyes focus back on the screen, you notice him squint and nibble on his bottom lip for a second. You can’t help the feeling that he’s keeping something to himself.

“Not always.”

You frown. There was a small comfort in thinking that you could rely on him when for years you’ve been apart, but now as new circumstances arise, you don’t know if you’ll be able to see each other as much as you want to. Definitely not enough to make up for lost time.

Just as you’re about to tell him not to worry because you’re a big girl, more of an assurance to yourself, he clears his throat to change the subject again.

“D is really cool, I think you’ll like him.” You offer a mostly sincere smile, thinking to yourself that it sounds as if your brother is trying to sell you on D’s character. You don’t think you’ll care much for it, since he’s Jungkook’s security and all and you won’t be interacting with him much. But you’ll try if it means something to your brother.

“If he’s anything like you, then I doubt it.” His head snaps in your direction and in a fraction of a second, his arm hooks around your neck and pulls you into him, forcing your face into his shoulder so you can’t see a thing.

You fight your way out of his headlock, exclaiming when you notice that he’s beating your ass on the game, and lean on your elbow to press your foot on his cheek in an attempt to distract him, but he only laughs. You complain and cuss him out as he starts winning and reach over to wrestle the controller out of his hands. As you tussle loudly, Jin’s upstairs bedroom door opens and he calls down the hall,

“Keep it down! I need my beauty sleep!”

“You sure do!” Jungkook shouts back, sending you both in a fit of giggles when you hear his door slam shut loudly in response. You come to a truce, if only to save yourselves from facing a grumpy Jin in the morning.

You play and talk into the wee hours of the sunrise, until you slump next to each other and pass out, bellies full and faces covered with evidence of Jin’s snacks that you demolished.

The sky is a gray-blue hue when you’re stirred by your brother talking in his sleep and his incoherent mumbling makes you coo. But just as you go to cover him up with a blanket, he yells out nonsensically, leg kicking over a near empty bottle and sending the rest of the contents into the carpet. His arm shoots up into the air and panic begins to set in when he thrashes around on the floor. After getting the dishes and consoles out of the way, you run up the stairs to Jin’s room, barging in without knocking so you can quickly wake him up. Shaking his shoulder, you stutter out his name and he groans upon being disturbed.

“God, what-” “He’s having a night terror.” Without a second missed, Jin flings himself out of bed and races out of his room and down the stairs, with you following close behind.

Once back in the living room, Jin rushes to Jungkook’s side, who’s now flailing his limbs and shouting but still fast asleep. You watch as your oldest brother gets on his knees, not hesitating to grab Jungkook’s arms, pin them to his abdomen so he can pull him up and against his chest, all while calling his name to try and wake him. Jungkook’s eyes fly open with a gasp and his body reacts violently against Jin’s who almost ends up with an elbow in the chin. But Jin is an expert at handling Jungkook’s episodes, and he knows just what to do to keep them both safe while he gets him to calm down.

“Shh, bunny,” Jin hushes as Jungkook’s body fights him, rubbing his chest and shoulders to soothe. “It’s okay. I’m here, your sister’s here, you’re alright.”

There are visible tears streaming down your brother’s face and you have to sit on the step and cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying. It hurts so fucking bad to see him this way. It’s been years since the last time you’ve witnessed this, but you know he’s had many in between that Jin has been around for.

“Honey,” Jin calls to you softly above Jungkook’s sobs. “Go up to my bathroom and get out the lock box that’s under the sink. His medicine’s in there. Grab my wallet too, on the dresser.”

With a solemn nod, you stand and turn around as Jungkook slings an arm over Jin’s shoulder to hide in his neck, and your foot freezes mid-step when you hear him loudly wail again and Jin hushes him, rubs his back, and you hurry up the stairs again to grab what you hope will let Jungkook get some rest, some escape, some peace. You come back down with the lockbox and wallet to find Jin sitting on the couch, Jungkook curled up under a blanket with his head in Jin’s lap, chest heaving as he lays on his side. You approach them slowly, and Jin quietly instructs you to get out a small key from his wallet to open the lockbox, which carries Jungkook’s medicine that helps with his anxiety and parasomnia. You head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water while Jin encourages Jungkook to sit up and by the time you return, he seems to be breathing a little easier. After he drinks down a pill, he lays back down and you hope he’ll be able to sleep without another disruption.

You and Jin watch him for a few moments, and when it finally seems that he’s settled, you share a collective sigh of relief. But still, you’re worried. It scares you to see him that way.

“When was the last time this happened?” Jin looks so tired as he tries not to frown.

“More frequently now that you’re back home. Usually he does better when you’re around but. He feels bad that you’re doing this. He thinks if it weren’t for him and everything that happened, you could’ve stayed abroad and made a life for yourself.”

It’s true. You would never say it to their faces, but it is the truth.

“But… then I would never see you guys again.” Your throat tightens.

“And now that you’re leaving,” you sniff, tears threatening to prick your waterline. “I don’t want him to be alone.”

In the dim light, Jin beckons you over, soft affection in his eyes, and you squeeze in between him and the end of the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and kisses the top of your head.

“You’re a good kid, honey. Even though I never wanted this for you, for either of you, I feel better knowing that you’re going to look out for each other.”

“Me too, Jinnie.”

He pats your arm and you sit quietly for a few minutes with your head on his shoulder, starting to feel sleepy again, safe and assured by Jin’s embrace. Jungkook is snoring now, the meds must’ve kicked in. He won’t talk about this in the morning, and neither of you will ask him to.

"And, about Jay,” your eyes blink open at his gentle tone. “I was thinking maybe what we can do is send him out on business trips so he's not around as much.”

You smile, arm curling around his thick bicep. “Thanks, Jinnie.”

“Just play nice, okay? It’ll all work out.”

You nod, too tired to let that potential burden add to your stress. Pretending to be completely fine with the engagement is the least of your worries right now.

The venue that Jin chose to host the small get-together of you and his men sits on the private top floor of one of the many skyscrapers he owns that you’ve had dreams of designing. Yeong walks at a comfortable distance behind you, quiet but gentlemanly. Stoic, which seems to be a uniform demeanor among your brothers’ men, one Jin expects you to replicate. You know that’s really your father’s expectation, but he’s gone. You would find it difficult to respect him anyway.

Striding into the dining hall, you pay no mind to all of his henchmen in the room, only giving focus to the one who stands out among them all, and not just because of his looming height and broad shoulders. Nor are you intimidated by the commandeering authority that follows him wherever he goes.

“Jin!” you call, making all heads turn to you but you act as if no one but your brother is here. He twists to face you with that shining smile of his that you know is reserved for a select few.

When you walk over to the table, air hazy with cigar smoke, liquor, and low conversation, you keep your expression polite despite the heat that spreads through you when all eyes fall on you. Yeong is close behind and reaches out for a chair once you approach the head of the table, greeting your brother who stands up from his proverbial throne to welcome you.

“Hey, sis. You look nice,” he says warmly, leaning in to welcome you into your seat and you smile, thanking Yeong who pushes in your chair once you sit. Just as you do, Jin leans in to whisper in your ear,

“You’ve got to get used to not using real names here, Angel.” Pulling away, you cringe and mouth your apology that he dismisses with a singular nod.

“Uh, where’s bro? He always gives me shit for being late.” Jin smiles as he sits back down.

“He’s on his way. He was at the gym with D.”

You nod and take a look around the room, noticing that you’re the only woman. Since your brother is here, you’re not worried, but it does feel suffocating. Is this how it’s always going to be from now on?

“How you doin’, Angel,” a deep voice says on your right, and your demeanor brightens when you glance over to see Namjoon pulling out the chair next to you.

“Oh, hey, Moon! Aren’t you sick of me by now?” You tease as he sits down, heart blipping at the beautiful smile on his face. You’ve been working with him these past couple of months, Namjoon preparing and training you for your role at the casino. Extremely intelligent and well-versed, he’s not your brother’s right-hand man for no reason. He knows all of the Crow’s business dealings like the back of his hand, and you feel confident having someone like him to guide you. That paired with his easy-going and wholesome persona, and the fact that you could chat with him about books and music for hours, you can’t deny your itty bitty crush on him. If only you weren’t engaged and he didn’t have a girlfriend. At least one of you is in a happy relationship.

“Of you? Never.” You ignore the mild warmth in your cheeks and playfully nudge him with your elbow. Damn him and his natural charisma.

“So, are you ready for next week?” Ugh. You don’t like the anchor of dread that sinks in your gut at the thought of finally becoming an official member of the family business.

“No,” you mumble because there’s no reason to lie to Namjoon.

“Oh, come on. Yes, you are.” Your palms start to sweat and you put the menu down so as to not ruin it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,” you say quietly, stealing a glance at Jin to make sure he’s not listening, glad he’s too busy accepting a top-off on his drink.

“You have a mentor as amazing and smart as me, you’re more than ready.” You roll your eyes at his cheeky grin.

“You’ve been hanging around Jin too much,” you mutter and he laughs.

“Well, just know that no matter what, I’ll be right there with you so you don’t have to worry.” That fact makes you breathe a little easier, but there’s still a layer of anxiety underneath your skin. Just then, a slender, vaguely familiar man walks in and heads straight for Jin who does a double take, immediately holding out a welcoming handshake that lingers a little too long once the man accepts.

“Who’s that?”

“Jung,” Namjoon answers with a single glance. You hold up your menu to hide your face as you whisper,

“Agent Jung?” He nods and turns his cheek to utter another reminder.

“Just be careful where you say that.”

Right. You never know who could be listening, so it’s probably not a good idea to mention the man’s real identity in all this. The CIA agent posing as an informant, but really he’s in cahoots with your brothers, covering up their dirty tracks with the occasional bribe of public officials.

“He goes by Hope, but close friends call him Hobi. You could probably get away with calling him that.”

“What’s he doing here?” You can’t help but watch closely the way your brother engages with Hope. His body language is rigid and fidgety, like he’s nervous, but his eyes are soft and wide. Small indications that there’s definitely something going on between the two of them and you’re excited to gossip about it with Jungkook. Because you know all too well how good Jin is at lying.

“Well, your brother wanted you both to be acquainted because the feds might take an interest in you once you take over the casino. He’ll come back to work undercover again if that happens.”

You still as realization takes over, muscles in your face hardening as your heart does a somersault.

“Is that the big secret?”

“What?”

“They’ve been keeping something from me.”

“Um, I’m- I don’t know,” he says in an uneven cadence, and, looking over at him, you notice a slight purse of his lips and realize he’s a terrible liar.

You just got here, but you already need a breather. The cigar smoke isn’t helping either, so you excuse yourself to the bathroom to get some fresh air.

As you rise, Yeong habitually appears next to you, but you place a soft hand on his shoulder, shaking your head to tell him it’s not necessary to escort you out. You internally scream when he looks over at your brother, as if needing his permission to let you go without accompaniment. Jin waves two fingers with a nod, silently dismissing Yeong’s duty and you try not to let that small interaction visibly bother you as you turn away from the table.

The bathroom is empty, thank god, but now you just feel isolated. Especially when you pull out your phone, eager to call up one of your friends and vent, but even if they might pick up despite being on another part of the hemisphere, there’s no way you could tell them anything.

You blink and a face you haven’t seen in a long time spawns in the forefront of your mind, heart sinking when you know he would be the one to call at a time like this but you haven’t spoken to him in years. Not since he had a falling out with your brother and left town shortly after without a word, cutting you deep because you thought you were more important to him than that. Even though it broke your heart, you understood why he left the way he did. You just sometimes wish he could’ve taken you with him.

With no one to call and nowhere else to go, you finish up in the bathroom with a deep breath and a practiced smile in the mirror, rolling your eyes at yourself and heading for the door with a huff at how fake you look.

When you emerge, your attention is buried in your phone, and you end up bumping into someone in the hallway.

“Oh, sorry,” you blurt, feeling two hands hover on your shoulders when you stumble back from being caught off guard. You don’t look up right away, gauging from the black fitted suit and long trench coat that this is one of your brother’s men.

“No, my fault,” he says and the gravelly timbre in his voice tickles a part of your brain. Normally you’re good at reading people, sometimes from just their aura, but there’s something about him that you can’t quite place. So you keep your head down.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Yeah, he definitely works for your brothers. Everyone who knows who they are, calls them ‘boss’ or ‘sir’ and as their sister, you deserve the same title and respect that comes with it. Another thing you’ll have to get used to. But it still fills you with an odd feeling that you don’t really like, and you excuse yourself, not waiting for him to step out of the way so you can head back to the dining room. As you pass him, you catch the earthy musk of his cologne mixed with underlying traces of mint and something woody and it makes you involuntarily look over your shoulder to see what kind of man wears such a scent, only to find that he’s not there. He disappeared just as quietly as he’d approached.

Back in the room, you smile upon seeing Jungkook sitting to the right of your brother, and you can’t help but go up behind him, playfully smack the back of his head with your clutch, and sit beside him like nothing happened.

“You took my seat,” you say, feeling his glare on you.

“Children,” Jin grits through a smile just as Jungkook opens his mouth to argue. “Let’s not do this in front of company.”

Jungkook huffs in annoyance and opts to pinch your leg under the table, and you hold back a squeal, not daring to retaliate when Jin glares at the two of you over the brim of his glass.

As you turn your attention to the menu, you notice in your periphery Jungkook looking over his left shoulder, lifting his hand to someone behind him. When you look back as well, your heart palpitates at the sight of a tall, lithe man with black hair that reaches his neck, slicked behind his ears, and eyes hidden by tinted shades striding towards the table.

“Hey, D,” Jin says to the man as he steps up next to him. “Good to see you.”

So, this is the infamous D.

“Boss,” he acknowledges, and turns to Jungkook to tap his bicep with the back of his hand. “Sorry I brought him late.”

“No worries, you’re just in time to order. Take a seat.” D nods and you watch him slightly lift his chin over Jungkook’s head, no doubt taking a glance at you that lasts a mere second before moving to walk behind your brother and consequently you. Time seems to freeze as he starts to pass you, and although you can’t see his eyes, you feel them lock on you, and your heart does gymnastics before stopping completely.

No way. No fucking way. The man who stands above you can’t be the same man who you shared a night with, years ago. A night that creeps back into your memory after you think you’ve forgotten. And a face that haunts your dreams and makes you miss something you never really had. At least, not long enough to count for something.

As he passes, you catch the smell of the cologne that matches exactly to the scent of the man you bumped into in the hallway. Nausea creeps up from the pit of your stomach and you quickly look away, but to your absolute horror, your brother stops him in his tracks right beside you.

“Oh, D. Meet our sister, Angel.” On your right, he swivels on his heel and your breath catches in your throat when he tips towards you in a respectful bow.

“Good to meet you.” He holds out his hand to offer a kind greeting, but it only makes you sick. You swallow thickly, wanting nothing more than to ignore his offering, but you know you can’t purposely be rude, especially not in front of Jin. You have to be polite to him, no matter how much it might kill you, because you can’t let your brothers catch onto something that shouldn’t be there. And after years of playing poker, you’ve learned how to perfect hiding how you really feel. For the most part.

So, swallowing your rage, you muster the courage to turn in your seat to face him, plastering on the fakest smile you can manage and reach out to roughly grab his hand, breath catching in your lungs at the lightning you feel at his warm, soft but slightly calloused touch because you remember them so, so well.

Sometimes in your loneliest, darkest moments, you close your eyes and conjure up the memories of the way those hands once ran over every inch of your body, just like those lips, those eyes, and other parts of him that graced you and lit up your skin, sunk into your bones in a way that made you ache. And that ache lasted, in your heart, in your gut, in between your legs ever since that morning when you woke up expecting to see him next to you, only to find cold and empty sheets. Like he was never there. And you found yourself wishing you could rip out the ghost of his touch from beneath your skin, but it was practically etched into your soul, like it was meant to be there forever.

“Pleasure,” you say through a sickly-sweet smile, wishing you could see beyond his shades for any sign that he knows who you are, or if he’s just forgotten you. It has been three years after all. You catch a light, but noticeable scar slashed vertically on his right eye, partially hidden by his dark glasses. Your heart pangs when you don’t remember that being there the last time you saw him, but he hurt you, intensely, and now he’s acting like he doesn’t know you so fuck him. The sight of that scar compels you to look down at his hand clasped in yours and, in a flash, turn it sideways so you can see the diagonal gash that starts at his knuckles and ends by his wrist, which you do remember. You let go of his hand as if it scalded you and turn your attention back to the table, your mind and pulse racing at this feeling of yet another situation being out of your control. You want to tell your brothers right now about everything, get him off your back and out of your life, but knowing what consequences he would face stops you. He’s lucky Jungkook considers him a friend. Because otherwise, you’d have him thrown into the bottom of the Han river.

Jin calls for rounds of wine and whiskey as the group of men engage in small talk, and you appreciate your brothers who include you as much as possible. You hear conversations of Jin asking Namjoon how it’s going with your onboarding for the casino, and you do your best to contribute, but it’s hard to do it through the static going on in your head that you can’t quell, brought on by the man sitting across the table a few seats down, next to Hope who’s chatting his ear off. He has not looked your way once despite your many stolen and partially involuntary glances, only adding fire to the flame.

Two hours pass for everyone to finish off their meal, drinks, and conversation about work and other things that you tune out. Eventually, Jin starts to hint that he’s ready for the dinner to come to an end, and you sit quietly as he thanks his friends for coming. They all bid their goodbyes and most offer handshakes and arm taps as they wish him well. When they turn to go, Jin’s eyes linger on their backs until the next friend comes up.

As you wait for your brother to end the night for you as well, all who’s left is D, Namjoon and Hope, and they move closer to the head of the table once the rest of the room files out. A pit settles in your gut when D sits directly across from you.

Those goddamn shades. You can’t even tell if he’s looking at you.

“Thank you all for staying after,” Jin says after he returns to his chair, knocking back the last of his drink. He gestures to the table. But you speak before he can continue, pretending to check your manicure when Jin looks over, so he doesn't catch the way you were just staring down the man across from you.

“Isn’t it rude to wear sunglasses inside?” You ask your brother. “I thought you were all about respect.”

Jungkook nudges you and whispers behind his hand, “Why are you being a dick?”

You don’t respond, acting as if you didn’t hear him. Because you can’t answer that. Jin sighs and there’s a subtle squint of his eyes at you before he gestures to the man beside him.

“D, if you wouldn’t mind.”

D says nothing (you want to scream that’s not his real name but you’re not sure if your brothers even know that) and raises his hands to remove the sunglasses, expression remaining blank. Once they’re folded and slipped into the inside pocket of his blazer, he finally lifts his bare gaze to you, scar on full display, and your heart slams in your chest. Because those eyes that seem to look right through you, are far too cold and vacant, void of everything that made you once believe you had a shot at something real.

“So, since you’re starting at the casino next week, I want to discuss security. I’m assigning you new detail.” You look at him with a puzzled expression.

“What's wrong with the team there?”

“I'm talking about your personal guard." Your eyebrows furrow. So this is what your brothers have actually been hiding from you.

“Isn’t that Yeong’s job?”

“He doesn’t have enough experience to handle your protection around the clock.” “Around the clock? You’re joking.”

“I’m not."

You huff and cross your arms. “And if I don’t agree?”

“That’s not an option.”

“Fine. Who did you hire to basically stalk me?”

“D will take on as your guard and driver.”

Ha. Haha. This isn’t real. What kind of joke is the universe playing on you? And why are you the punchline?

You turn to Jungkook. “Isn’t he your security?”

“Yes,” Jin answers. “But since you’re going to be dealing with the public and crews and potential feds at the casino, D has the knowledge and experience to help with everything, so he’s being reassigned to you.”

How can it be this fucking coincidental for the man who dug a crack into your soul, filled it with light, and crushed it when he left with no warning become the new head of your security? Complete and utter bullshit.

"Angel,” Jin mutters, urging you to say something.

“Fuck this,” you spit, eyes darting to the man you speak of to see if your words affect him but when he doesn’t give anything away it only makes you angrier.

“I’m not doing it.” You stand up to head for the door, but your brother's loud, bellowing voice puts a halt to your escape.

“Yes, you are. This is not a game; you don’t have a choice.”

Your head spins. This is too much too fast. All of your control and independence is being ripped out right from under you, and you already feel weighed down by it. Seething, you glance between him and his men, and you don’t want it to look like you’re throwing a temper tantrum. You wonder if this is why your brothers chose to tell you here, in front of everyone, testing you to see if you’ll control yourself.

“I already can’t drive myself anymore, and your guards have to be up my ass when I come here. Yeong has to check in with you to make sure I’m allowed to go to the fucking bathroom alone, your dirty cop is gonna pretty much spy on me at work, and now you want this goon to follow me around everywhere?”

“Look, I know you don’t like this, but-” “No, I don’t.”

“But,” he continues sternly, glare on you growing harsher. “I don’t think you realize the calamity of the situation you’re about to be in and I have to take all the necessary precautions to ensure your safety.” “Meaning I have to be fucking babysat?” you spit with vitriol, and Jungkook puts a hand on your elbow in an attempt to pull you down a notch now that Jin’s expression is contorting into one that shows he will not entertain this conversation for much longer as your brother. Being the boss in front of you has never been something he’s wanted you to see, but right now you’re pushing the limits. You don’t care, however, so you rip your arm out of Jungkook’s grip who resigns with a sigh while you keep your fiery stare on your oldest brother where there’s a likeness in his own.

“Don’t speak to me that way, Angel.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m a little kid, Jinnie,” you sneer, using his nickname un-endearingly.

“I told you about not using real names,” he booms, fist falling on the table. You don’t flinch.

“You’re one of us now, you need to start acting like it. And you’re going to start by listening to what I say and showing some respect. Otherwise, we’ll have to have an entirely different conversation, and I really don’t want us to go there.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but you’d be stupid to fuck around and find out.

“As a woman in this business, you are much more vulnerable and at risk and it’s my job to protect you. That’s just reality. So you need to have security in place, especially by tomorrow. Am I being clear?”

You grind your teeth. “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I go home now?”

“I’m about to go over the plans for tomorrow. Sit down.”

“Please, I want to go home; I have a lot of things to do. You know I haven’t even unpacked everything yet? I’m practically sleeping in that office.”

You do your best to keep out any expletives, even though you have many to fire off, so you don’t show more disrespect, but your mild lack of control has you muttering under your breath, “No thanks to you.”

Beside you, Jungkook presses his hands together in front of his face like a prayer while Jin shakes his head, eyes closing, and rubs a hand over his forehead like you’re giving him a migraine.

“I’ll get you some help, I’ll get whatever you need. But right now, I need you to stay so we can talk everything out because shit is about to get real. Please sit down.”

You do so with extreme reluctance, the concoction of conflicted emotions swirling in your chest making it increasingly difficult to pay attention to any of what he says. As parts of your mind and body drift in and out of your subconscious, you’re startled out of a staring contest with the edge of the table by Jungkook nudging your shoulder. Relaxing your jaw that was painfully clenched, you lift your head to notice that all eyes are on you, minus one particular pair.

“Sorry, what?”

Jin sighs and gestures to the other side of the table. “Hope was asking if you’d be willing to meet with him in a couple of weeks to check if you have any problems to report.”

“Sure, whatever. I mean, I don’t have a choice either way, right?” you mutter, throwing your brother's words back in his face. You feel Jin’s eyes burning a hole in the side of your face and you know you’ll get an earful from him later.

You glance over to see Hope looking at you with a half-smile and there’s a bit of guilt at how you just came across. You really want to disappear.

“Is that all? May I be excused now?” you ask Jin tersely. He rubs a hand over his mouth like he’s preventing himself from further calling you out. Keeping his stare locked with yours, he raises a dismissive hand.

“D, can you escort her down to the garage? Mr. Han will drive her home.” You close your eyes in relief. “And exchange information on the way; you’ll be picking her up tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, boss.”

You turn around before he stands up, making a beeline for the door because you’re boiling up like a tea kettle. The room seems to be chasing you, closing in on you, like a hand around your throat that you can’t fight off. By the hairs raised on the back of your neck, you can tell he’s coming up behind you so you pick up the pace, jamming your finger into the down button on the elevator. You silently thank it when it only takes a few seconds to arrive, the one thing on your side tonight, so that you can step in before he reaches you. You rapidly press the close button, your eyes narrowed in the harshest glare at his face as he sticks out his hand but he’s too late, the doors rumble shut, sealing him out.

Alone in the elevator, there’s so much going through your mind that it hurts to think. So many emotions and feelings are swirling in your chest that you have no idea where to start to pick apart and process. All you know is that you want to get as far away from him as possible. How the tables have turned.

It’s freezing down in the garage, and Mr. Han has yet to arrive, much to your chagrin. The bubbling beneath the surface of your skin grows to a rage when you hear leather shoes pad onto the concrete.

“Angel-”

Oh, hell no! He doesn’t get to be casual. He doesn’t get to say your name. It’s not your real one, but it was real to him.

You twist around. “Don’t be informal."

Expression unchanged, he apologizes and corrects himself then steps forward with a hand held out, carrying your coat that you forgot upstairs.

You give it a side glance and snatch it away, tucking it under your crossed arms, because you prefer to be stubborn and cold. You refuse to face him, even when he clears his throat and takes another step towards you.

“Let me give you my number,” he says, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his phone. An indignant laugh bubbles in your throat, too painful to let out.

Now… Now you get his number?? This is the universe laughing at you right in your face. You say nothing, not even acknowledging what he said, as if you didn’t hear him at all.

You just stare at the curb, desperately waiting for Mr. Han to pull up and take you away. In this moment, he’s your only friend in the world.

Seconds go by, and the man beside you reaches back into his jacket, trading his phone for… a pen? He then plucks out the white handkerchief folded neatly in his chest pocket, spreads it on his palm, and flicks the pen over it before passing it to you.

You stare at the handkerchief, at the numbers messily stained on the fabric, and crumple it in your hand, balling it into a tight fist.

Acting on autopilot with a question that’s been spinning around your mind since you shook his hand at dinner, you whip around to face him, faltering slightly when he’s closer than you realized.

“Did you know?” you snap. “This whole time. Did you know about me?”

His face remains emotionless and even though he’s not wearing his shades, you can't see any kind of reaction in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Oh. So he wants to play games. And he’s a fucking coward.

"Then let’s get one thing clear,” you grit, holding up your pointer finger. “If you think I'm gonna be nice to you, think again. And since you couldn’t give a shit about me, don't pretend to be nice either."

You get right in his face, but he doesn’t react or move away, and you wonder what it would take for him to stand down.

“Cross me in any way, I’ll tell my brothers who you really are.”

You stare, unblinkingly, in his eyes, searching, waiting for any sign that he’s the least bit intimidated by your threat. But there’s nothing. Just blank, soulless eyes. And to think they once set your heart on fire. Now they’ve turned it to ash.

How you ever fell for them, you’ll never know.

Clearly, you’re a fool.

“We’ll see how long you last, Min Yoongi.”

When you get home, you decline all calls from your brothers and march into your room, not bothering to change, and dig through all of your unpacked boxes searching for an old plastic bag containing a hoodie and a chain that you’ve been carrying around with you for years but you don’t know why. You find Jungkook’s knife, but not the bag and now you’re left with the aftermath of a tornado on your bedroom floor. You spend all night putting everything in its place until the sun rises and your mind is numb, anything to ignore the swarm of angry wasps buzzing in your head because the man you’ve been trying so long to forget just somehow stuck himself in your life, like a knife in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you throw yourself back into the plethora of files you’ve poured over with Namjoon for what seems like hundreds of times. You go through all the budgets, contracts, blueprints, and black books until time bleeds into the late afternoon. But you can’t rest, for those harsh, dark eyes will come back to haunt you in your dreams. You’ll have flashbacks of that night, of him and it will only cause your chest to collapse into a black hole and swallow every last drop of color in your soul.

Jay saunters into the foyer, wolf-whistling upon seeing you and an unsettling feeling takes over when he walks up to you.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream come true?” he muses, shamelessly checking you out and you shoot him a fake smile.

“Thank you,” you say politely, borderline sarcastic, and focus your attention on your reflection in the mirror as you fix your hair and earrings, putting your best poker face on now that your fiancé is standing a few feet away.

“You’re having dinner with your brothers again?” “No, we’re meeting with the commission tonight.”

“Ah. Scary,” he says, a teasing smile on his face. You have a feeling that he actually thinks that, hence why he hasn’t offered up an opportunity to show you off, even though the commission consists entirely of men.

“Will you be alright?”

You don’t know how many times you’ve internally rolled your eyes since you’ve met him. Do you have ‘I’m helpless’ tattooed on your forehead or something?

“Yep. I shouldn’t be out too late.”

“Then I won’t wait up for you.” His tone is light like he’s still making jokes but you are in no joking mood so you bite your tongue. You weren’t expecting him to, nor would you want him to do that. Your phone pings and a rush of heat floods you when you know who it is, announcing his arrival.

“Okay. I think my ride’s here, so I’m gonna head out.”

“Let me walk you.” You want to argue that it’s not necessary, the less time spent interacting with him, the better.

Play nice, Angel, Jin's voice rings in your head. Play nice.

So, you let him accompany you down the hall, help you on with your coat, and open the door for you that you politely thank him for.

In the driveway, a waxed black palisade with tinted windows is parked parallel to the main entrance, exhaust running, and your nostrils flare when you see Min Yoongi - oh, excuse you, D - standing next to the passenger's side, waiting for you with his hands clasped.

“Who’s that?”

“The security my brothers hired,” you say nonchalantly, even though there’s a burning rage in your chest.

“Huh. I thought you had an older driver.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any security experience, so.” You notice that your fiancé seems to be somehow bothered by that information, but you don’t press it because you really don’t fucking care.

“Well, have a good-” But he interrupts you, tearing his attention away from the car you’re dreading having to ride in.

“So, my dad wants us to have dinner with them. Maybe you can make some time next weekend? He’ll want to know how things are going at the casino.”

Oh, god. That is the last thing you want to do. Jay’s parents are extremely conservative and traditional, and you can’t imagine what they’ll have to say to you now that you’re living with their son. But again, you have to play nice.

“Sure, I’ll let you know my schedule.”

“Sounds good,” he nods and just as you start to turn, he grabs your hand, the one with the oversized diamond sitting on your ring finger, his head quickly moving from the driveway to lean in and kiss right on the jewel and it makes you feel a bit icky.

“I’ll see you later,” he says from your knuckles with a noticeable grin. You plaster on a tight smile and subtly retract your hand.

“Have a good night.” He nods and lets you go, watching as you make your way down the marble stairs. You think to yourself this would be the time you might appreciate his help, considering you’re in heels and it’s freezing outside. But you don’t really want him to touch you again so you rely on the railing.

“Take care of my fiancée for me!” Jay calls out as you make it off the porch. Your eyes roll back so far in your head you have to close them and walk blindly for a few seconds. As you approach the car, you keep your head down, refusing to see how D responds to that. Although you don’t think he would, since he’s given you no indication that he even has emotions anymore as of yet.

From one man that pisses you off to the next. To say you're fuming would be an understatement.

Wearing a sleek black suit, a long winter coat to match, and, since it’s still light out, those dark sunglasses, he bows to you in greeting before opening the door, gesturing for you to get in.

"Good evening," he says as you approach, and you don’t reply, don't even look at him. You hate him, you really do, so why is it that his dark, quiet yet thunderous voice makes your heart skip a beat?

You feel his gaze on you as you reach for the back door, completely ignoring him, and slide into the warm car, slamming the door shut before scooting to sit behind the driver's side. You don’t want to be tempted to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

The passenger door closes and you whip out your phone, refusing to stare at the man swiftly striding around the front of the car. As he does, you wonder why the fuck he thought you would want to sit next to him. You’ve never felt comfortable treating your drivers like chauffeurs but this driver is a special case and you hope that he’s gotten the message.

When he gets in and shuts out the cold, you're suddenly overwhelmed by the loud, attractive scent of his cologne and aftershave, a certain musk and mint to it that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head for a split second. Fuck, he smells good, even with a hint of a cigarette. And expensive. You can only imagine the type of salary your brothers smuggle into his wallet, especially now that your safety is his sole responsibility. Protection like that doesn’t come cheap.

You dare him to say anything else, so you get out your case of earbuds with the intention to blast music and drown him out. But before you can shove them in, a stack of manila folders hangs in front of your face, held by long, thin fingers decorated by chunky silver rings, and for a second you want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing, triggered by the fact that you’re so fucking over looking through files, even more so for him to be dumping more on you.

“What’s this?” you grumble, teeth clenching as you reluctantly accept the folders and draw them into your lap.

“Your brother wanted me to find you an assistant, so these are five candidates,” he explains, voice slightly muffled by the engine and from speaking to the windshield. “Take your pick and I’ll set up an interview.”

You can’t help your genuine surprise as you look over the spread he handed you, each file neatly organized with resumes, backgrounds, references and head shots. You wish he fucked something up so you'd have an excuse to call him incompetent, but he did his homework. And if he got all of this together since last night, then he’s more diligent than you want to give him credit for.

You swallow a scoff. "I'm allowed to choose? I didn't think I got a say.”

"If you didn't, I wouldn't be giving you options."

"Are you sure?” You snark, face buried in the files. “I know you answer to my brother, and you wouldn't want to get in any trouble."

A beat passes. "He's not my boss. You are."

Well. That is... the last thing you thought he would say. And you never would've considered yourself his boss.

Oh. You're going to have fun with this.

“These are all men,” you scowl after you flip through all of the resumes.

Yeah, just what you need.

You lean forward to toss the files on the passenger's seat, papers scattering onto the floor. Your instincts urge you to apologize and offer to clean up the mess, but your pride has you sitting back with your arms crossed, looking out of the tinted window indifferently.

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just asked me what I was looking for. But I guess you don’t really care what I want, do you?”

You spare a glance into the rearview mirror, the top half of his face clearly visible, but… you still can’t tell if he’s looking at you. You don’t wait for a response, not thinking there’s anything he could say anyway, and let your earbuds do the job of shutting him out.

It isn’t until you’re halfway to your destination that you realize you didn’t text him at all until an hour before you had to leave, so how could he have contacted you before that? That’s beside the point.

He should know what you’re really throwing in his face.

The car barely pulls to a stop in front of the warehouse when a small group of guards swarm around to flank the doors. Taking out your earbuds, you stare out of the tinted windows at the suited men looking all around to make sure you’re in the clear. You feel anything but assured.

One guard is standing right in front of the door, essentially blocking you inside, and D gets out, apparently needing to be the one to open it for you and assist in your exit.

The air is crisp and cold when your heels hit the gravel, and you don’t miss the way D’s palm flips up as you start to stand, playing it off when you intentionally ignore the gesture by lifting his wrist to his mouth to speak into the mic connected to his earpiece that runs under his sleeve.

You shiver when you step out and D shuts the door, holding an arm out to signal you to walk forward, pressing a finger into his earpiece. The guards fall into formation around you, one in front, one on either side, and D right behind you. This level of protection feels a bit too much as they escort you into the maze of shipping containers, you aren’t the president or some A-list celebrity, but you’re about to walk into a den of wolves, so you can’t go without a pack of your own.

They lead you through the arid warehouse, filled with shelves of boxes ready to ship out on the harbor, some legal, most illicit. In the very back is a steel door, and the leading guard opens it, takes a look down in the stairwell, and beckons you forward. You step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of the emergency exit, door wedged open by a… silver cigarette case? That looks very much like the one you saw your brother slip out of his coat the other morning and sneak outside before Jin came down for breakfast. You head for it and a guard puts a hand out to stop you, but you push past him, D calls for you, but you pay no attention and pop open the door, hesitating when Jungkook flinches and whips back his jacket, hand reaching for something in his waistband.

“Jesus, Angel,” he grumbles, letting go of his jacket to cover the handle of his gun, and takes a heavy drag of the cigarette. You bend down to pick up his silver case and the door doesn’t close and you don’t doubt that D is the one holding it open.

“Relax, it’s just lil ole me,” you say, eyebrow raising when he shoots a glare your way. "What's up, bro?"

“What was last night about?" he asks, a hot start. He leans over to snatch the case out of your hands.

“Hey!”

"Are you done being an asshole? You were pretty rude to hyung last night. And D and Hope.” His tone is testy as smoke pours from his lips.

Crossing your arms, you prop yourself on the wall with a huff and an eyeroll.

“Well, that depends. Are you done keeping things from me?” He sighs and scratches the wrinkle between his brows with his thumbnail.

“We knew you wouldn’t like it, so that’s why we waited to tell you.” “What about any of this do you think that I like?” You blurt in a raised voice that gets lost in the frigid breeze. He stares at you for a moment before looking away to take a drag, a tick in his jaw. You aren’t being fair, you know. Your brother is in the exact same boat. Neither of you signed up for this, but at least he wasn’t thrown into the fire at the last minute with little to no time to process anything. And his life isn't being guarded by someone who broke his heart.

"You can't be that way in there."

“I know. I'm sorry,” you try to recover. “It’s just-” As you stare out at the run-down docks, you can’t think of a way to explain what you’re sorry for. Instead, you swivel to face him and step up with a beckoning hand in the air.

“Can I have one?” Flicking ash on the brick, his expression changes to level you with a hesitant look.

“Since when do you smoke?” You don’t really anymore as you’ve come to hate the taste and the smell, but the kind of cigarettes that your brother buys isn’t as pungent and disgusting. Sometimes a little nicotine helps to take the edge off. And you’re very much on edge lately.

“Since I found out I’m about to become a criminal.”

He rolls his eyes. “What do you mean ‘about to’? Haven’t you been arrested before?”

“Not recently!” you exclaim. He’s one to talk! “And besides, that was for petty theft and I wasn’t even charged.”

“Don’t forget the time you spent a night in jail when you got caught speed racing. Hyung was so pissed he had to fly all the way out there to bail your dumb ass out.” Jungkook tilts forward, crossing his ankles as he chuckles out a puff of smoke.

“Well, it’s your fault I even know how to race.” He opens his mouth to argue but you shut him down. “Do you want me to go ahead and list out your rap sheet too? We would be here all night.”

“Go to hell.” You laugh at his disgruntled scowl.

“I’ll meet you there. Give me your lighter or I’ll tell Jin you started smoking again.”

He shakes his head, both of you knowing damn well that Jin would not approve of the two of you chain smoking.

“Don’t be a tattletale.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“No,” he grumbles. “You shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You shouldn’t either!”

“I know. I’m quitting soon and I'm not about to let you start.”

With a reluctant huff, you lean back against the wall, watching smoke billow out into the night sky. The both of you shiver in silence. It’s quiet out here, save for the sounds of a ship horn blaring in the distance, and the wind whistling into the alley from the docks that carries the smells of bay water and the old rotting wood of the piers. Scents like these usually bring a sense of calm into your soul, but tonight, anxiety overrides them all. You doubt even nicotine could do anything to ease the disquietude in your head.

“I’m scared,” you confess. You glance over to see him staring down at nothing in particular, not blinking as he smokes and you want him to tell you that he is too, but he’s in no position to be. Not anymore. It used to show in his jaw, in between his brows, the rapid blinking of his eyes, but there’s none of that now. Looking at him now, gone is the boy you grew up with. And you know that’s because of how hard he worked to rid himself of all that fear, just like Jin, and what you have to do too.

“There’s no reason to be.” You look away with a frown, clearly not what you needed to hear, but his hand on your shoulder forces you to turn back.

“Listen. No one can do anything to us once they find out who we are.” You shrug off his hand. He takes a drag and blows it away from your face.

“Who’s to say they won’t?”

“Me. After tonight, I own this city and everything that belongs to us. That includes you, Angel. We’re not the ones who should be afraid.”

“Boss, it’s time to go.” You glance over your shoulder where a single, flickering light above the door shines down on D’s head as he holds it open with a flattened hand. You turn back to your brother as he sucks in a final drag before dropping the butt and squishing it under his heel. Exhaling smoke up to the sky, he hooks an arm around your shoulder and begins walking you to the door, not letting you fight your way out of his hold.

“We got this, sis.” You roughly push him and he finally lets go, clicking your tongue when he laughs at your glare.

“You do,” you mutter, straightening out your coat and smoothing down your shirt. Nervous habits. He stops and grabs your elbow.

“It’s us now. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe through a scared smile.

You keep your head up as you walk past D who slides against the door to put distance between you, yet still close enough to catch another whiff of his cologne. One breath and you’re aggravated that it’s him, another breath and the scent filters into your senses, leaving an undeniable calm.

Back inside, Jungkook claps a hand on D’s shoulder as the guards return to their formation to lead you down the stairs and into the den. Before you enter, you can tell just how crowded it is from the sounds of chatter and laughter that drips exorbitant wealth, and the accompanying stench of thick illegal cigars that makes your nose itch.

Jungkook walks around you to be the first one in the room and a wave of anxiety skids your heels to a stop. A presence that you’re coming to know all too well looms behind you, like he’s your shadow. More like a demon. Your eyes close to quell the drum pounding in your chest.

“After you,” he mutters, the sinful thunder in his voice mere inches away from your ear sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes fly open and feet move on their own accord to get away from it.

Fuck. That.

The ringing in your ears that stems from his voice and low-spoken words rumbling in a loop through your mind aids you in your ability to shut out the room and the way it quiets down as you walk to the head of the table where your brothers stand in wait for you. The rest of the men are also already standing and it just makes their intense, collective stare on you that much more stifling.

You remove your coat and a hand stretches out beside you that you silently allow to take it. Jin gestures for you to sit on his right, across from Jungkook, and waves for the commission to take their seats as well. Behind you, the doors close and one glance to the side shows D getting into place with your brothers guards by the adjacent wall, holding your coat.

With a polite, reserved expression, you take a sweep of the room and observe that these men are an assortment of strange faces and ones you’ve seen in Namjoon’s files. They’re all young and old. Father and son. Leaving you as the outlier. And that causes a lump in your throat.

Jin launches into introducing you and Jungkook, and all you can do is keep your back straight and hands on the table, respectfully paying attention as he explains how now that he’s going on the lam, the family heads will defer to Jungkook, and their crews and associates will report to you for any and all financial endeavors at the casino. As Jin speaks these plans into reality, you finally begin to feel the full pressure and burden of your impending responsibilities.

And this time your brother won't be there to bail you out.

The members offer your end of the table diplomatic nods of acknowledgement and subtle darting eyes between you and Jungkook.

But just as Jin gives Jungkook the floor, a deep, condescending laugh resounds from across the table, belonging to a smug, rugged man wearing thick chains and even thicker rings. All attention snaps to his interruption and your skin crawls when he fixes Jungkook with a leering, patronizing stare.

“I’m sorry, but with all due respect, do you really think your junkie brother can handle being in charge?”

Your eyebrows cross at the audacity. He’s speaking as if Jin is not the reigning top boss of this entire room and Jungkook is not about to step in and fill his shoes. There’s a slur to his words and the near empty decanter next to his glass indicates that he’s imbibed and probably incognizant. Because who in their right mind would dare to provoke the kingpin of the city’s mob syndicate like this.

You look over to Jin, expecting him to call out the man’s blatant disrespect, but both him and Jungkook are staring the man down with darkness and anger that you’ve never seen before. Perhaps they’re just giving him the chance to dig himself into a hole so deep he’ll have to stay there.

“And what about her?” the man with a greasy mustache points at you. You recognize him. “I don’t know if I can trust her capabilities with dealing business at the casino. I mean, what does she know?”

He’s underestimating you and you’re sure he’s not alone in that. Everyone else is just smart enough to keep their mouths shut. You feel the urge to pull your hands into your lap to frown at, but you just lean back in your chair, maintaining a cool expression as you wait for him to spew more of his bullshit.

“Yeah, sure they were born with the purpose of serving your father, but we all know they weren’t raised like you. So how can they possibly be prepared to take over in your place?”

“Because they’re my blood,” Jin finally says, voice steady and reasonable. But his narrowed eyes and blown out pupils tells you he’s anything but.

“Only by half,” he sneers. “Wasn’t their mother some low-life maid?” You feel choked by the mention of your mother and wonder just how much this man and the rest of the commission know about you beyond what they’re entitled to. Your chest squeezes when you catch eyes with Jungkook as he furiously picks at his fingers, probably not realizing he’s even doing it.

“See, that’s where the don went wrong. Choosing a peasant to procreate his back-up heirs with. Their blood doesn’t really count, at least not in my book.” Lee looks around as if to see who else is on his side, but no one takes their attention off of Jin as he rises and digs a hand onto Jungkook’s shoulder.

“He is the don now.”

Lee scoffs. “He’s a junkie! Just like your father.” Your fingers clench into a tight fist, the urge to stand up for your brother sending a violent rush through your veins.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Lee,” Jin growls in a malicious tone. “You’re forgetting your place. Don’t make me remind you.”

“My place,” Lee chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. He picks up his glass and bangs it on the table with a thud. “My place should be at the head of that fucking table with my son, not these little children. We should be the next in line now that you’re resigning!” “I’m not resigning,” Jin barks, fixing the entire room with a dead serious glare. “I’m leaving to avoid prison. Because if I go down, I’m taking everyone with me. Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Jin’s power reverberates off of the walls and it carves away some of your anxiety. He points a stern finger at Lee.

“They are the rightful heirs, just as I am, and I won’t throw away all of what I’ve built just because you don’t accept that.”

“What your father built,” Lee spits in contempt. Jin bends down with a heavy slam of his hands on the wood surface. “What my family built. And what my brother and sister will continue to build because it’s theirs now.” “Do they know that’s the only reason why they were born? Well, him at least.” Your face contorts in confusion when he points at Jungkook. Jin lifts his hands from the table and the tension in the room grows thicker as he stands tall. “Excuse me?” “It’s a fair question. Does she know that when there were rumors that Don Kim had a daughter, he adamantly denied it?”

Your fingernails dig into your sweaty palms when Lee slides his beady eyes to you.

“You were a mistake, sweetheart,” he lilts with an ugly, crooked grin. “What use would he have with a girl? All you’re good for now is playing trophy wife to appease the son of your father’s biggest investor. You’re just a pawn in his business plan, you have no real value.”

“Lee, that’s enough-” Jin snarls.

“Lee Dong-wook, right?” you starkly interject, staring unwaveringly at him and his rising eyebrow. “Didn’t you lose your business in the east harbors when you failed to keep quota and you couldn’t control disputes between the local gangs? I can’t remember exactly how much money and how many men you cost my brothers but I know it was a lot.”

Lee’s jaw drops, rendered speechless. A raging vein begins to bulge on the side of his forehead, turning his face beet red now that you’re doing the job of tearing him down from his high horse.

“But at least you still have this side of the harbor so you can trade paraphernalia with other parts of the coast. Like these.” You reach forward for a box of cigars in front of Jungkook, only to find it empty. To your surprise and everyone else's, you stand and move to pass behind your brothers, ignoring Jin’s hushed, “What are you doing?” as you walk over to Lee, hoping to exert some intimidation by standing your ground over him. You try to disregard the fact that he is twice your size and far more muscular but Jungkook’s words from earlier remind you that no one can hurt you now. The shadow that follows you will ensure that.

You spot another cigar box next to Lee and another older man, and no one says anything as you lean in between them to take one out, snatching up one of the cutters as well. Holding up the cigar beneath your nose, you inhale the strong flavored mix of coffee and leather.

“Hmm, not bad,” you reflect, analyzing the stamped label before you snap off the end. “Kind of cheap, but I guess the tobacco isn’t what your customers are actually after. It’s smart, smuggling amphetamines in these. Just ironic that you move rock for a living but have the nerve to call my brother a junkie. I don't doubt you take samples.”

The lighter you pick up and flick open to fire up the cigar become the only sounds in the room. After disposing the metal on the table, you place the wrapped leaf between your teeth and brace yourself as you take a smooth drag.

“And you must be stupid if you think I don’t know that my father didn’t want me,” you say, blowing smoke up to the ceiling while you do your best to pretend that the strong hit isn’t scratching the hell out of your throat. You glance back down to Lee whose eyes are on the brink of bulging right out of their sockets.

“But you see, I’m not here for him. I’m here for them,” you point the cigar over your shoulder at Jin and Jungkook.

“You sure they’re not forcing you?” Lee challenges, tongue thick with rage causing specks of saliva to catch on his mustache. Gross. “No one can force me to do anything,” you reply calmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes for my brothers.” A moment passes, and then another, with no response and you think you’ve made your case. But just as you’re about to give up the facade that you’re enjoying this piss-awful cigar, Lee harshly spits out, “Would you kill for them, little girl?”

Tilting your head, your mind races as you imagine all the ways you could show him how far you’re willing to go for both of them. A small smile creeps onto the corner of your lips around the cigar.

“Do you want to find out?” His mustache twitches. You blow smoke in its direction. “Are you threatening me?” “You tell me,” you shrug. “If anything, I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Pardon?” You lazily tap the cigar, unphased when the ash falls to the floor, some of it on Lee’s lap, earning a menacing glower.

“It sounds like you have a death wish. Coming in here and disrespecting my brothers even though you can’t do a goddamn thing without their say so. They own you and, now, so do I.”

Lee doesn’t break your stare but by the curl of his fist on the arm of the chair and his cheeks that tinge an even darker red, you’ve severely pissed him off. “You don’t have what it takes to kill me.” Taking that as a challenge, you reach down, lift the hem of your slacks, and snatch out the knife nestled in the strap around your calf. In a flash, you bring your sharp silver blade to the vein on his thick neck, smoke from the cigar dangerously close to his sideburns. “Wanna bet?”

A commotion erupts around you as one of Lee’s men move to defend him at a moment’s notice, weapon threatening to withdraw and your pulse glitches for a second at the potential danger. That is until a figure behind you pushes away Lee’s guard and you know without looking that it’s Jungkook coming to your aid. And next to him is that dark and menacing man smelling of mint and musk and intimidation.

“Well, I bet you’d hate to get killed by a girl. So I’ll save you your dignity.”

Lowering your knife, you lean away but pause when a goading sneer grows on his ugly mug.

“You’re weak. Just like your brother who can’t even man up and take responsibility for the casino because of what happened to his little-” Before he can finish that sentence that would have Jungkook flying off the handle, you stab the burning end of your cigar on the back of his hand, twisting a sear into his skin until he leaps up with a shriek.

“You bitch!” The cigar plants itself on the side of his neck, until your wrist is grabbed and ripped away, tobacco falling to the floor, just like the man who dared to put hands on you. As you’re pulled back by your brother, off to the side is D manhandling Lee’s guard into submission, face pressed into the wall with a gun shoved into the side of his head. Your brothers’ guards surround you and there’s a standoff with Lee’s men, the rest of the room watching on in shock, no one else daring to move lest they get caught in impending crossfire.

“Weapons down, now,” Jin’s terse voice booms. The guns slowly lower but the fierce glares remain pinned on opposite sides.

“Lee. You’re dismissed.” You think that’s code for, I’m not going to kill you in front of my sister. You’re positive if you weren’t present, this night would’ve ended in bloodshed.

“Have fun getting whacked,” you grin devilishly at Lee who can’t decide which burn hurts worse. “I hope your last thought is of my pretty face.”

In brazen stupidity, Lee steps forward but before his foot can even touch the ground, he’s sent flying back with your brother’s fists in his collar. A hand on your elbow tugs you away from the chaos you created, but you can’t look away from it, like it’s a car crash. But D steps in front of you just as you’re dragged to the front of the room by your brother. Your coat is swung around your shoulders and suddenly you’re facing Jin who guides you to the door. D appears right by your side.

“I knew you had it in you, kiddo,” Jin says with a proud glint in his eyes. On the other side of the room, your brother’s guards are doing their best to keep Jungkook and Lee apart as they usher him to the exit.

“D, take her home.”

The backseat of the car is warm on the ride home. Your hands are shaking, surely from the adrenaline. That’s when it hits you, what you just did. Fuck. You’ve never acted that way before, never purposely hurt someone because you didn’t like what they said.

But you liked it. The power you had, the confidence it gave you. And that scares you.

“Are you okay?” D asks tentatively. It’s then that you realize you’ve been crying. You flick a defiant tear from your cheek and wrap your arms tighter around yourself.

“What do you care?” you mumble bitterly. The rest of the drive is spent in silence. If you were sitting up front, you would’ve seen the way his fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

When he pulls up to your house, you quickly get out even though he starts to say something, desperate to be inside, away from him and the cold and everything that happened.

You don’t know why your office has become your safe haven, but you return there and collapse into one of the armchairs, weighed down by tonight, and what’s in store. Not to mention the extra weight added on your chest because of D.

So you cry. You cry until you run out of tears, but you don't think that could stop you with how much you're hurting. That is until you hear a knock on your office door. It startles you, you’ve never expected anyone to check on you, especially not your fiancé. Were you crying so loud that he could hear you all the way across the house? You don't think that much of it, too busy getting a hold of yourself to look presentable before cracking open the door.

His face is overshadowed by the hallway light, and you can't see his eyes that well. You try to hide your swollen, tear-streaked cheeks from him, but he peers over the door with a small yet gentle smile.

"What's wrong? Did things not go well with the commission?”

You quickly wipe away any stray tears, putting on a brave face as you open the door a little further.

"Ah, well. It was just a lot, y’know?” You scramble, because you can't actually tell him what's wrong. Obviously. You don't think you'll ever be able to tell anyone. And you definitely don’t want to admit that you’re being weak.

"I do. Everything will be okay. It'll all take some adjustment." Huh. That's... comforting, coming from him. Like he understands.

"So, I was just in the kitchen, raiding the pantries for some snacks. Would you care to join?"

“Sure. You, uh,” you tug your sleeves over your hands, clenching them with cold fingers. “You couldn’t hear me from all the way out there, right?”

He turns his back to you with a laugh, leading you down the hallway.

“No, but I noticed you came home late and, well, I just wanted to see how things went. But I wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to me.”

“You said you wouldn’t wait up.” “I was joking, but I guess it didn’t land well. You might have to get used to my sense of humor.” That was humor?

Damn. When did you get so mean?

On the island counters in the expansive kitchen, he sets out some bowls and fills them with snacks as you take a seat on one of the tall stools.

“Do you like any of these?” “Sure,” you shrug, reaching for one of the bowls.

“If there’s anything you want, put it on a list and I can send it off to be picked up.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can do my own shopping. Thanks, though.” You’ll have to text your brothers later to tell them how right you are about him.

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind. I’m just trying to help out.”

You nod, chewing pensively, and he shakes his head to change the subject.

“Anyway, can you tell me what happened tonight? That made you so upset.”

You carefully retell bits and pieces of the meeting, leaving out the part when you stabbed an old man twice with a cigar. You give him the gist of how the family heads don’t entirely back the idea of you and Jungkook gaining control of the syndicate, to which Jay tells you they’ll have to get over it because you’re just doing your family duty.

For a while, you chat, finding that conversation with your fiance comes a little easier than you thought. You guess you just had to give it a chance. He gives you his support for some of the plans you have for the casino renovations and even offers to take a look at the blueprints. He cracks corny jokes every now and then that you have to force a bit of laughter because sometimes they don’t make sense, but you don’t entirely loathe this whole interaction.

He is very charming; you'll give him that. But you still have a prickly feeling that it’s all just an act to be good to you in order to impress your brothers and get on their good side. And once they’re out of sight, no longer around to look out for you, he’ll show his true colors. Maybe you’re just jaded and bitter.

But you don’t think you should let your guard down just yet.

You won’t make the same mistake again.

lmaoooo originally i was aiming for a 12-14k word count. whoops. but it's finally here! this has been a whirlwind. I've been wanting to get this out for a while but i've been kind of nervous about it. honestly im glad i waited because so many things came together for this part that i didn't have before. sorry for the wait.

xxx - claret

thank you for reading 😊

let me know what you think!!! <333

masterlist

taglist:

@viankiss @taegijns @polarnightmyg @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos

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sv5hive · 9 months ago

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'cause when you know, you know | cl16

pairing(s): charles leclerc x fem!reader

content warning(s): mentions of drinking

word count: 708

note: i haven't posted anything in so long i hope you didn't forget me 🫣🫣

masterlist!

"this is who i was talking about! charles leclerc, you know, the racing driver i mentioned?"

reluctantly, he looked up from the drink in his hands to introduce himself to you. in all honesty, the first half of the season had been tougher on him than usual and he just wanted to be left alone.

that plan was derailed the moment his eyes landed on you.

as he took you in he failed to notice your outstretched hand, waiting for his.

idiot.

it wasn't his fault you looked like an angel in that white dress which seemed to hug your body perfectly, your skin glowing in the warm sunset and eyes twinkling much like the fairy lights illuminating the rooftop. it's almost as if a switch was flicked in him and all the fatigue left his body at the sight of you.

he was definitely in trouble.

"nice to meet you. i hope he hasn't told you too many stories about me." was all he was able to get out while still in a daze.

"nice to meet you too. don't worry, he's only told me the good ones!"

you even had the voice of an angel.

the conversation flowed easily with the steady stream of drinks from the bar. at some point near the beginning of your conversation, your mutual friend had abandoned you, leaving the both of you to lean against the wall in a secluded corner. neither of you minded though, as you spent hours learning almost everything about each other from your careers and families to your favourite dishes and childhood pets. somehow, you had managed to ignore everyone else at the party and stay by each others side in that corner the entire time. you looked around you only to find out you two were the last ones left up on the quiet roof. not that it mattered; you could've spent lifetimes talking to charles, shoulders pushed together, hands almost touching but jumping apart whenever they got too close, just talking about whatever came to mind.

the sun had long since dipped below the horizon and the moon was now glimmering in the waves. charles took the opportunity to admire you in his slightly drunken state before he lost the little confidence he had suddenly gained.

a cool breeze had come with nightfall and danced through your hair as you gazed at the sea through lidded eyes. the moon reflected on your face like a spotlight, magnifying your beauty to him. it felt like the universe was giving him a sign, screaming at him to not let you slip away. even if he wanted to ignore the universe, he couldn't. not when he had already felt himself falling the second he saw you and lost all common sense. a permanent, dopey smile rested on your mouth while you nursed the last remainders of your drink. whether you were smiling because of him or the several drinks you had he didn't know, but he certainly hoped it was the former (it was).

he had just met you a few hours ago but in that instant he knew this would be the story he would tell your all your friends and families over and over again until they could repeat it from memory. he could see it all so clearly.

they would ask how he knew you were the one and he would recount this exact moment, where you weren't even really paying him any attention and instead opting to stare out into the endless sea. they wouldn't understand but when they did and they wondered if they've found the one, he would be there to tell them that if you really have to ask yourself, then they aren't the one. because when you know, you know.

"what are you thinking about?" you had realised the silence had stretched on for much longer than what felt normal.

"hmm?"

despite charles drinking several glasses of liquid courage, he still couldn't form a proper sentence around you.

"i said, what are you thinking about? you look very, concentrated."

"nothing, don't worry."

"whatever you say."

he studied your features once more before shaking his head and smiling to himself.

"come on, it's late. let me walk you back."

#cl16 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #cl16 one shot

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months ago

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obvious || ruesha littlejohn x reader ||

Both you and Ruesha are a bit oblivious to your feelings for each other.

Your feelings for Ruesha hit you like a ton of bricks in the midst of a shit storm. It was like your whole world was being spun around onto its head, and then, you had a crush on your national team captain's ex. Ruesha and Katie weren't getting back together, but a part of you was terrified about what might happen if you acted on your feelings. Their breakup was messy, and despite claims that there weren't sides on the national team, you knew that wasn't true.

At first, you had been on Katie's 'side' of things. She was your Arsenal teammate and captain, not to mention a family friend. She had been a great mentor in your football journey. Ruesha had always been there in the background of things. She had been Katie's girlfriend for the majority of the time that you'd known her, and even before they broke up, you had harbored a little crush on the woman.

Ruesha was a loud troublemaker, and everybody told you that nothing good would come from associating with her. You let yourself hang out with her a bit, but kept your distance as much as you could. At least you had until Jonas dropped you down a league. Once you found yourself having to show up to London City Lioness practices, things started to change a bit.

"Celtic are mad for not taking you," Ruesha muttered as the two of you watched a stream of their first Champions' League game. Shebhan was taking meticulous notes on it while you and Ruesha were lounging on the couch, half paying attention. Ruesha was easily distracted while you hadn't been able to keep your eyes off of her. "You'd be tearing it up right now, I just know it."

"Eh, there's always the future. I've got a few good seasons left in me," you said. Ruesha glanced over just as you reminded yourself not to look so sad. You were happy to be playing with Ruesha at London City, even if it wasn't Arsenal. You had wanted to leave the club, but you hadn't ever expected to get traded down a league.

"Don't worry about them, bunch of idiots if you ask me." Ruesha put her hand on your knee, squeezing slightly. You swallowed nervously as you looked over at her, and for a moment, you thought that maybe you saw something in her eyes that was quickly covered up. "Think on the brightside, if you'd gone to Celtic, then we wouldn't be playing together."

"You're meant to be cheering her up, Ruesha, not giving her depression," Shebhan teased. Ruesha immediately put all of her attention into kicking at and trying to fight with her sister while you watched. You laughed it off a little, glad to have a moment to steady your racing thoughts. Being close to Ruesha like this was definitely easier than it had been whenever she was with Katie, but it was still hard. You doubted that she'd be into you for a multitude of reasons. She may have stopped calling you 'kid' all the time, but that didn't mean she saw you as much more than that.

…

You were limping as you were subbed off. It was nothing serious, just a little pulled muscle. You could be playing in the next game if you rested properly according to the trainer. You'd come into your spot as a starter on the team quickly, but you didn't mind spending a game on the bench. There had been a lot of improvements all around, and you wanted your teammates to be able to showcase them.

"I got you an ice pack," Ruesha said as she slid into the spot next to you on the bench. Your hamstrings and calves had always done this a little bit. It was a side effect of the physical exertion you put yourself through to stay in top shape. Ruesha had been around you long enough to know what you needed for a speedy recovery.

"When the hell did you start acting so sweet?" Emma yelled before you could thank Ruesha. You watched as she started to get into a little banter with Emma. It was kind of funny, but they were both getting a bit loud, so you took it upon yourself to distract Ruesha.

"Thanks Rue," you mumbled as you cupped Ruesha's cheeks. Immediately, she went completely silent and began ignoring Emma in favor of you. She gave you a smile and little pat to your thigh.

"Anytime you need something, you know where I am," Ruesha told you. You let your hand fall from her face to rest next to hers. Sometime as the teams were going back to the locker room, Ruesha took your hand in hers, claiming that it was for support. You believed her, but many of your teammates didn't.

You could hear them teasing Ruesha as you showered and got dressed. At her request, you waited for Ruesha, who carried your things for you. Ruesha got some content for her vlog while you sat in the back with Georgia, one of the only teammates at your new team who you had confided about your feelings for Ruesha in.

"You know, she's very obviously just as down bad for you as you are her," Georgia pointed out.

"No, she's not," you argued. Georgia scoffed as she rolled her eyes at you. "Also, shut up. You're not quiet enough for us to be having this conversation on the bus."

"Don't worry, you're not subtle, neither of you. Ruesha would have carried you onto the bus if you asked her to, but instead she carried your bag for you. And don't you dare say that it's because you're hurt because she is always the first one to you when you need or want something. Everybody definitely thinks that you're together already."

"Pssh, Ruesha doesn't want me. Nobody wants me, that's why I'm here. I wasn't good enough for Arsenal. I wasn't good enough for A-,"

"Nope, we aren't doing this again!" Georgia cut you off. She stood up and much to your horror, called out for Ruesha, "Rue, get off your camera and come here!"

"Why are you being so bossy?" Ruesha asked as she made her way to where Georgia was sitting. "I told you already, if you're so set on finding a man, they don't like that."

"Shut up, sit down, and tell (Y/n) how you feel because I'm not listening to her dense ass cry about how nobody wants her and she's not good enough," Georgia said. She went up to steal Ruesha's old seat and give the two of you a bit of privacy.

"What's she on about?" Ruesha asked you. It was the first time in a while that you had seen her be so serious. "Why do you think that nobody wants you?"

"Because nobody does, I'm not good enough. I don't get why you're always so nice to me, I'm a failure." You looked close to tears. The game had gone well, so you should have been happy, but it was hard when all you could think about was being thrown down the ladder.

"God, she's right," Ruesha sighed. "Alright, I'm going to stop you for one second because I find it so incredibly rude that you think I'm not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass. Yeah, so maybe a certain girl didn't want you back at Arsenal, but that doesn't mean the world thinks you're some horrid, ugly creature. Also, I have not been subtle. Do you think I'd be so nice to just anybody here? Are you a brick because you are dense as fuck. Georgia's right, I do like you a lot, and maybe I shouldn't have been subtle about it."

"You were not subtle!" Emma and Georgia both yelled from a couple rows ahead. The rest of the bus murmured in agreement, and suddenly, you felt a bit stupid for not realizing it sooner.

"Now, in some cases, this would be cause for a bit of fuckery, but I like you far too much to suggest that, so, when we get back, I'm taking you to dinner. I'll walk you to that stupid, swanky apartment of yours, give you a very sensible kiss, and then we'll meet for breakfast next practice after you tell G how good of a kisser I am," Ruesha said. "That sound alright to you?"

"Yeah, it sounds nice."

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #ruesha littlejohn x reader #ruesha littlejohn imagine

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sourpeachsayshi · 3 months ago

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(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni)

tags: choso has a stepcest kink (very light); alludes to choso being high; porn watching; nipple play; fingering; squirting; non con (they are being watched); I finally have the courage to post this draft slkdjf don't shame me

regarding yuji's best friend reader and his big brother choso and this idea I wrote a while back: Hmp catching your best friend’s older brother (choso) watching porn, so he invites you into his room to join him - and while you watch he just sucks on your tits and slowly fingers you until you squirt all over is sheets.

you're face is so hot watching this video, the girl is moaning while she's being eaten out. you're not sure if you should focus on her responses or on choso sucking your nipples like his life depends on it.

"is-is this what turns you on?" you stammer, the blaring fact that the actors are playing step siblings sending a shiver all over your body.

your breath hitches, choso's own staggering as he looks up at you with slightly blood shot eyes. "it's kinda hot, right? that they are doing something that they shouldn't..."

he says this as he slides two fingers underneath your underwear, his other hand pinching your erect nipple. he pushes two fingers between your wet folds, hearing you whine as he carefully starts fucking you.

your mouth is dry, your head falling to the pillow where the side of your cheek is illuminated by blue light blaring from his monitor. you're trying not to read so much into his comment about forbidden hook ups, and you're unsure if your heart is racing because of the thrill or if you're overwhelmed.

he sucks on your tit, releasing it with a pop, his fingers working magic between your legs. "The plot is whatever, a cliche I guess," he admits, "but she's hot, and the way he fucks her..." he groans, snagging you tender nipple between his teeth, "it's kinda how I think about fucking you..."

you're gushing down to his knuckles, your body shuddering at the prospect of getting fucked by this sinful man. you don't say anything else then, but you keep your attention focused on the screen. when it gets to the scene where he does fuck her, you only imagine how it would feel with choso instead.

the actors are splayed out on the living room sofa, the girl getting fucked so hard and rough in the middle of the living room. you can't help but wonder if choso is desperate to claim you this heatedly in the sanctuary of his own home for a reason, and if that reason has anything to do with wanting him to make his mark on his brother's best friend.

his mouth is circled over your left breast, sucking and licking over the bud as his fingers move faster. he's grinding into the mattress, his erection making a mess of his jeans, and you know that's he's getting far to into it when his own moans start getting louder and louder.

you know you're going to cum hard when he starts pressing up against the sweet spot that makes everything in you seize up, and he has to use his other hand to clasp over your mouth so that you don't scream as you squirt all over his t-shirt.

you're so dizzy in the aftermath, but as your eyes fall to choso's bedroom door you realize that it's not completely closed. through the sliver of the gap you spot the color of fiery red, and you instantly shoot up which startles the man before you.

"what's wrong?" choso asks, using this as opportunity to turn off the screen of his monitor.

you shake your head, "I-I thought I saw something..."

choso circles his arms around your waist, and drops his weight on top of you as he lays you both back on the mattress.

"yuji isn't even here, baby," he reminds you.

which is true, except sukuna decided to pay his younger brothers a visit and was startled to find out that you're a lot closer to this family than he even thought.

#choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso smut

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pearlywritings · 10 months ago

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"Bring your kid to work" day

synopsis: but sometimes it's very much unplanned.

pairing and characters: Zhongli x fem!reader, Xiao. Your family name is Rex-Lapis. Childe plays part in it too.

tw: modern AU, University AU, established relationship, fluff

word count: 2.8k+ words

a/n: Also a part of my University modern AU with history professor Zhongli

The day started perfectly. Your older daughter was already at school with your permission to stay at her friend's house for a sleepover later, you had your day off, lounging in the living room with your son cuddling to you with his most favorite dragon shaped toy pressed between your bodies, listening to your husband walking around the bedroom, getting ready for the lectures at the University, being blessed with afternoon classes.

The day was perfect indeed. Until it absolutely isn't.

Sometimes you really want to kill your boss. It must be today that you are called to work to help with an emergency, that no one knows how to deal with except for you. And the fact that your boss does not consider any possibility of you having trouble with doing what's required, makes you fume harder.

"Li, I don't know what to do!" You cry in frustration, buttoning your shirt. "We can't find a babysitter in ten minutes! You have to go to work, I have to now too, we can't just ask Ganyu to cancel her plans, she's been waiting for this sleepover for weeks, and I can't take Xiao with me - by the sound of it I won't have a single moment to look after him."

It's been no longer than five minutes since you received that call, but you are already as stressed as after a week of non-stop work. Why must've the stars aligned this way!?

Your husband - bless his soul - is fully dressed and is holding your little son perched on his arm, supporting his back with a hand, watching your frantic movements with sympathy.

"I don't think I'll have many spare moments either, my love. Only breaks between lessons. Let me think," the man hums, leaning Xiao’s body more onto his shoulder and reaching for his phone with a free hand. The boy wraps arms around his neck, watching you brush your hair with a pout. The plan was to spend the whole day together with mama, watching cartoons, playing, maybe going for a walk or, ideally, taking a nap, finishing it all with making dinner and welcoming papa home. Now, it seems to him, all these plans are thrown out of the window.

However, Xiao was always a very perceptive and patient kid - he sensed somehow when the situation couldn’t be helped and him throwing a fit - not like he would - would only cause more trouble. That is why he is quietly waiting for what comes next.

And finally Zhongli finds a solution.

“I’m calling Ajax. He mostly spends time at the teacher’s lounge. As far as I know he really loves kids and has several younger siblings, he should be able to handle our son. And during breaks I’ll be taking over” “Oh,” as good as it all sounds, there is an instant hesitation in your mind. “‘Li, you sure you can ask him that? It’s a big deal after all…” “I know, dear, I know. That’s why I am calling him now in advance to make sure it’s alright,” your husband dials the number of his department’s secretary and puts the phone to the ear. “I don’t even mind paying him if he agrees.”

In reality you had nothing to worry about. The gingerhead was more than willing to watch your five-year old son. Maybe willing isn’t the right word even - the young man is excited.

Zhongli is lucky to arrive before the current class ends - the less attention is drawn, the better. He collected everything he could think of to occupy Xiao during his time at the lounge in a bag, which he passes to Ajax the moment his son and him are introduced. However while the secretary is wearing a wide and kind smile, the boy is glaring up at him from under the brown bangs, boring his strikingly golden eyes in the tall figure.

“Dad, I don’t like him,” the little boy pouts, hugging his plushie even tighter and throwing daggers at the gingerhead from behind the dragon’s mane.

“Ouch, little guy,” with a dramatic gasp, the young man clutches the shirt on his chest and presses the back of his hand to the forehead. “How will I live? Hated by Mr Rex-Lapis’ son…”

“Now, now, Xiao,” Zhongli gently pats his head, bending down to look into his eyes and finding displeasure there. “It’s only for today, baby. Me and mom are really sorry for not spending time with you today. I promise that soon I’ll be home for two whole weeks.”

To that the boy’s eyes widen.

“Two weeks… That’s fourteen days?”

“That’s right, sweety.”

“That’s a lot!” He jumps, elated by the news, no trace of dissatisfaction written over his cute smiling face.

“Haha, it is, dear.”

“Wow, Mr Rex-Lapis, your son is really smart!” The secretary stopped playing hurt, instead clapping his hands together in praise and nodding his head in approval. “How old is he?”

“He is five. Yes, he learns really fast.”

“No wonder, he has you and your wife as parents.”

The remaining 20 minutes before his first lecture Zhongli spends in attempts to make his son comfortable not only around Ajax, but also at the new place as well. All that time Xiao doesn’t let go of his ever-present companion - a toy dragon, which he is hugging close to his chest. He politely greets every professor that comes to the lounge, which makes the secretary’s jaw drop since he is the only one who’s been initially rejected and, Zhongli can swear, he saw his boy smirking in the toy’s fluffy mane.

Other professors can’t help but mention how much the son resembles the father, even making small talk with the boy, whom they’ve only heard about before or seen in the framed picture of your family on Zhongli’s desk. By how polite (sorry, Ajax) and shyly sweet he is Xiao quickly becomes everyone’s favorite, pockets currently full with all kinds of treats.

When it’s time to go, the man kisses Xiao’s forehead goodbye, promising to be back in an hour and a half for a break, and grabs the materials. Once he leaves alongside his colleagues, Xiao sighs and, ignoring his temporary caretaker, moves to the bag his dad left, starting to dig out all the candies to put them into its side pocket.

“Whatcha doin’, little guy?” The young man is at his side in two long strides, curiously watching the boy’s actions. Xiao gives him a side eye, before deeming the question plausible and turning back to his task.

“I don’t want them right now. I’ll bring them home and share with mom and dad.”

“I am sure they’ll like that,” Ajax hums, busying himself with the contents of the main section. “Oh, would you look at that! It seems that your dad packed some coloring books, toys and… oh, puzzles! You like puzzles?”

The boy quietly nods. Tiptoeing, he tries to see the two boxes his temporary caretaker is holding, and the young man immediately crouches down to let him look.

“This one is new,” Xiao finally points to the box in his left hand. Ocean blue eyes skim over the picture of a phoenix, drawn in a simple yet elegant style. Yes, that definitely looks like something Mr Rex-Lapis would’ve bought for his child’s entertainment.

“Alright, let's get you behind your dad's desk,” golden eyes sparkle and a glimpse of wonder appears on the boy’s face. Dad showed him his own space at the lounge; it's tidy and organized, with all the necessities sorted inside the drawers and some notes and pictures pinned to the corkboard on the wall to the left. He wants to see them closer!

His caretaker drags the chair back, but climbing on it Xiao performs himself. As Ajax is humming something while tearing off the tape on the puzzle box, the boy turns to look at the photos Mr Rex-Lapis has on display. It’s so funny, really - not so long ago this little fella’s father was an image of reserve to students, no one knew who his wife was or the fact he had two kids. The secretary remembers how just half a year ago he used to be among those only ones who knew of the professor’s secret (which, in reality, wasn’t a secret at all). Why hasn't he ever spilled any info to the students who adore him?

Well, what fun would’ve been in it?

“Is that your big sister?” Xiao quickly glances up, taking notice of how the tall (but not as tall as dad) man hovers over where he is sitting and points at one of the pictures. The boy looks at it again.

“...yes. It’s Ganyu.”

“I have a sister too,” the fond expression on that freckle-covered face and a seemingly lightened color of those ocean-blue eyes disarms the five-year old a little. He blinks, waiting for what more he can tell. “Not one actually. Oh, and I have brothers too. One is your age, by the way!”

“Doesn’t it get too… loud?” Small hands reach for the carton box, lifting the lid.

“It does, in a good way though. But when our two huskies join in on the fun… Let’s just say it’s a good thing we have our own house.”

“You have dogs? That’s so cool! I want to have a pet too,” Xiao unceremoniously empties the contents onto the table, yet carefully places the lid with the picture against the monitor of the computer. “Mom promised that when I get older, they’ll buy me a bird.”

“Oh? You love those?”

“Mhm… Maybe we’ll buy something as pretty as…” he pauses, looking at the fiery bird. Ajax quickly realizes the struggle.

“A fo-nuhks,” Xiao prompts.

“Yeah… A fee-niks.”

As the minutes tick by, the boy’s initial hostility seems to evaporate. He still doesn’t talk unnecessarily much, but he does talk to Ajax, so that's progress. He is quite quick to finish the puzzles, and his temporary caretaker makes sure to praise the child. They talk a bit more about their respective families, Xiao even introduces him to his dragon companion. And the gingerhead picks the small fox-shaped keychain his elder sister knitted for him to play toy pals.

For another half an hour it manages to entertain the boy, but as the end of the class is nearing, he grows more and more distracted, glancing either at the door or the clock hanging high on the wall. It’s not hard to guess he is missing his father and is anticipating his return, but both Zhongli and Ajax can do nothing to just speed the time.

What professor can do though, is excusing his class ten minutes earlier, quite happy they got to get through all the material he prepared for this lecture. Bidding the students goodbye, he locks the door of the auditorium with his suitcase inside and puts the key in the pocket of his fancy vest to come back in twenty minutes.

When Zhongli enters the teacher’s lounge, he finds the secretary showing his son something on his own laptop. However, once Xiao’s eyes spot his dad’s figure in the doorframe, the little guy is down from his chair and running all the way to the man.

“Dad!” Mr Rex-Lapis barely has time to close the door and scoot down to catch his son, who nearly bumps into his legs, threatening the man’s balance. Finally in his arms, with his own tiny ones tightly wrapped around strong neck, the carbon copy of Zhongli happily smiles and Ajax has to rub his eyes to make sure he is not hallucinating. Wow, this boy can smile like that (sorry, my guy, you are just not his favorite, though now tolerable at least).

“Hello, Xiao,” Zhongli plants an affectionate kiss on his son’s cheek. “I see you’ve missed me,” the words are answered with eager nods. “Did you have fun with Ajax?” At least some of it.

The gingerhead lifts his eyebrow when the boy looks back at him, holds the gaze of ocean blue eyes for a moment, and then turns to his father once more.

“I suppose.”

The older man has to clear his throat with a polite cough so as not to break into a smile at the image of the assistant's slack jaw.

“That’s good, my dear.”

“Are we coming home now?” His son wonders, fingers playing with the longer locks of dark brown. Unfortunately, the answer is a dejected sigh.

“I am afraid we are not yet, sweety. But mommy texted me recently that she’ll be able to come get you after my second lecture. And then I’ll have one more.”

At the promise of you soon arriving to take him home, Xiao’s just building pout quickly disappeared. It’s okay, he can wait for a little bit longer. And that fox-like man isn’t bad, his company is quite nice. He even showed him some pictures of his family - almost all of them are ginger. Oh, and he promised to download some simple games onto his dad’s computer so he could play. And he still has his coloring books back there and he believes he saw you packing a small book - there is plenty to entertain him with.

Only for all these thoughts and motivation to be shuttered when someone knocked on the door and a second later some student’s head pushed through the gap. None of the three people currently present in the room could’ve anticipated what a black hole is about to be opened.

“Good afternoon, is Mr Rex-La- Oh, professor, you are here! We were wondering if we could take the key to leave our bags inside? As always? Oh, hey kiddo- Wait, a kid???”

“Dad, who is it?”

“DAD!?”

Before anyone could do anything, loud gasps break their way into the lounge. It appeared that almost the whole group was standing in the hall and heard everything crystally clear. Of course students are curious. Of course, they know about professor Rex-Lapis’ kid - the news and that cute picture from an online lecture were still the talk of the whole faculty just a couple of months ago. Of course, they want to see those sweet cheeks for crying out loud!

Ajax is the one who has to get everyone who does not belong in the room out and calm them all down as more than a dozen youngsters beg and plead with Zhongli to bring his baby boy to the lecture. And the said baby boy doesn’t help the situation either, looking at his father with those striking eyes, silently asking to stay with him. “I’m gonna sit very-very quiet,” he even promises.

Is it really a surprise that Xiao ends up sitting at his dad’s desk with his coloring books while the man is reading a lecture? (Students almost crumbled when their tall, handsome, enigmatic history professor walked into the auditorium with his son’s tiny hand clasped in his? Look, he even had to bend his body a little to do so!)

And, as much as students want to gush all over their favorite professor’s small-sized carbon copy, they keep their best behavior, because the situation gives the “once in a century” vibes and they’d be damned to destroy the magic of the moment.

Well, maybe a little, because the smallest interactions between Zhongli and his son as the man lets his students finish writing down information from the current slide are mind-blowing. Groupchat-blowing too.

Even cuter the whole occurrence becomes when the boy stops drawing and lifts his head, curious of what his dad is speaking about. He turns slightly in order to see the presentation, golden eyes skimming over the pictures and words, though he does not understand most of it. But it’s alright though - he can listen to his father instead.

Zhongli is pleasantly surprised when no one can answer one of his revision questions and Xiao lifts his hand, giving him the answer he wanted (he misspells the word a little, sure, but he knew the right response nonetheless). Aaaand that’s probably when the students finally lose it.

By the time the lesson is over and Zhongli meets with you in the teacher’s lounge to pass your very happy and very proud son to you so you two could be on your merry way home, the man feels a little drained. Nothing that can’t be fixed by your tender cheek kiss and soft rubbing on his back, but he still exhales heavily and swears that when he comes home, you are in for a new story.

And by what Ajax had time to tell while you’ve been waiting, you're sure it’s going to be a hilarious one.

taglist: @meimeimeirin Cause I remember how you once said you'd love to see more of this AU

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x fem!reader #zhongli #xiao #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact modern au

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copperbadge · 1 year ago

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youtube

Feeling a little overly perceived by Dr. Dodson right now, not gonna lie.

I'll throw a transcript under the cut, but both reading the transcript and listening to the video can be difficult as it's quite long, so here's some highlights. As always, these are the opinions of a specialist but only one specialist, so take with a grain of salt, and if you have research to add to this, please feel free to comment or reblog with it. I believe this presentation is from sometime in 2022.

ADHD appears to derive from issues in the corpus striatum in the brain. In most people, the corpus striatum filters out all but the most important input AND output; with ADHD, the things normally handled "outside of awareness" must be handled consciously.

People with ADHD don't see their emotions coming. Emotion is immediate, intense, and unfiltered, making therapies like CBT or ACT difficult, because you can learn the technique but you won't have time to employ it. Because people with ADHD have impulse control issues, expressing emotions "inappropriately" is common, leading people with ADHD to believe they can't trust themselves.

One function of ADHD-typical dysregulation is Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, which nobody understands even a little. People who have it can't even adequately describe it to people who want to study it. It is intense, painful, and apparently impossible to control. Prevention is based in maladaptive behaviors designed to avoid it entirely (perfectionism, people pleasing, generalized withdrawal). The only currently known treatment is alpha agonist medication.

Lastly, by the age of twelve, a child with ADHD has likely received twenty thousand more "negative or corrective" messages than their neurotypical peers. (This isn't relevant to the rest, I just found it sufficiently horrifying to warrant inclusion. Fortunately for me, if I got 20,000 negative or corrective messages, I wasn't paying attention for most of them.)

Anyway, here's the transcript of the first half. I did this by copying and cleaning up the auto-transcript on YouTube, but I stopped at Question Time, so this is only the first half (the presentation). Transcription of the second half is available at YouTube.

There is suddenly a very large interest in the whole subject of emotional dysregulation and ADHD. That has been driven oddly enough by the Food and Drug Administration, which has just opened up several pathways that drug companies can study emotional dysregulation and whether or not their medications can get an FDA indication for emotional dysregulation. So it's sort of follow the money. Up until then, there was not a great deal of interest for ADHD emotional dysregulation.

We have to understand that the ADHD diagnostic criteria were not made for people like you and me, either practitioners or people who have ADHD or their families. They were designed for and made by people who do research and pretty much that's it. People who do research have to have criteria that they can physically see and count. "Little Johnny was up and out of his chair three times in the last hour," and you can write a three on your clipboard. Things which are invisible, not always there, hard to count, or even hidden by the patient, don't lend themselves to research very easily and so tend to be ignored. And so consequently this is one of the main reasons why emotional dysregulation -- until there was some other motive provided -- was pretty much ignored and disregarded.

Consequently ADHD right now, if you look at the 18 diagnostic criteria, are almost entirely behavioral criteria. What is the person doing? Not how is the person thinking, what is the patient feeling, how are they controlling their emotions, how are they sleeping. Things that are all very, very important to the person who has ADHD but which is essentially ignored by the diagnostic criteria.

Why should you care? Who really cares about this? Well, the definition of what ADHD is and isn't defines who and what will be studied. It defines who will actually get into a study and what questions will be asked. It defines who will be diagnosed with ADHD and who will not. One of the most common problems I get is with a secondary referral to me -- somebody clearly has ADHD but they're not pinging off the walls, they can sit and do their work, especially when they get into a hyperfocus, and so they're told they couldn't possibly have ADHD. When really they just have the inattentive subtype and they're not being driven by their behavior, their overt behavior. Therefore it defines who will get treatment, who will get insurance coverage for that treatment, and who will get accommodations in school when they're young and at the workplace when they're older.

Consequently we should also care because the other major components of ADHD get ignored. These are the ones that if you really stand back and look at it cause the greatest amount of impairment, the greatest amount of embarrassment, the greatest amount of just…problems in general. We're talking about cognition and thinking, that people with ADHD fundamentally think in a different way than do neurotypical people. They are able to engage with the tasks of their lives in a totally different way. Their ability to control their emotions and their behavior, control their emotional responses, tremendously affects their self-esteem and their self-definition. Who am I? What am I worth? What am I valued? Why am I valued in a certain way? What do other people think of me?

It affects tremendously the nature and healthiness of relationships. How you respond emotionally to the people in your realm makes a great deal of difference about the healthiness and gratification you get from your relationships. Being highly dysregulated in terms of your energy and emotions also affects deeply how well you sleep, how easy it is to fall asleep and awake refreshed, and of course it affects emotional dysregulation.

And this is probably, when you look at it in the long term and especially with adults, probably the most impairing part of the ADHD syndrome. The vast majority of people with ADHD have found ways around their academic and work performance, but they haven't found their way around their emotional reactions to the people and events of their lives.

At all points in the life cycle -- child, adolescent, adult, and elderly -- people who have ADHD nervous systems lead intense, passionate lives. Their highs are higher, their lows are lower, all of their emotions are much more intense. And that really is what we're talking about: not really the quality of the emotions -- people who have ADHD have the same types of emotions for the same reasons that everybody else does. What we're talking here, in terms of dysregulation, is two things: one, the expression of emotions, being able to choose whether or not you let an emotion out. And then, when you do decide to express it, how intensely that emotion is experienced and expressed by you as a unique individual.

Consequently just about everybody with ADHD, but especially little children, are always at some sort of risk of being overwhelmed by their own emotions from within themselves. This is something that needs to be really emphasized: a lot of people with ADHD grow up not being able to trust themselves.

So why is this happening, especially to people with ADHD? I think that just about everybody now would agree that ADHD is primarily a problem of insufficient inhibition, being able to slow down and keep things from happening. If you look at the mass of the human brain, 85% of all the nerves in your brain and out in your nervous system are inhibitory in function. We happen to be aware of the other 15% because we can see what happens when those nerves are used: they create movement, they create emotions, they create our experience and memory. We have to remember they are a minority of the actual mass of the human brain.

Most of what happens inside the brain occurs outside of awareness. What happens is the brain starts something, it gets it moving, and then uses inhibition to guide that toward the destination it wants. It's like shooting off a rocket -- shooting it off is the easy part, guiding it to where you want it to go is the hard part.

When you look at where stimulant class medications work, they work solely in the deep areas of the brain down in the basal ganglia, and especially in an area called the corpus striatum, which is just Latin for a "striped body". That's how it looks when you look at it -- it's got many very fine stripes in it. This area, the corpus striatum, is almost entirely inhibitory in function. What it does is that it inhibits neurological input and output to just the one piece of information or one action that happens to be most important at that time. Everything else gets handled, but it gets handled out of awareness.

Probably the easiest place to see this in action is when we're driving a car. Driving a car is the most difficult thing that the average human being ever has to learn how to do. It's a very difficult process, if anybody has ever had an adolescent learning to drive. But once we learn how to drive a car we do it largely outside of our own conscious awareness. We can drive along, talk to the person on the seat next to us, think about what we're going to have for dinner, sing along to the radio, and not really pay attention, conscious attention, to what's going on around us. But if suddenly something is out in front of the car, even before our conscious brain can process what that thing is, our corpus striatum has already handled it. Slam on the brakes, swerve to miss it, start to question that person's parentage, in the twinkling of an eye. The corpus striatum has been scanning everything, handling everything.

So basically what ADHD is, is that relative lack of inhibition that should be there. Inattention, which is a cardinal feature of ADHD, is the relative lack of the inhibition of other inputs or distractions. When we look at physiologically what's happening, we don't actually pay attention to one thing. Neurologically, we suppress every other thing we might engage with except the one thing that we want. It is maximally inefficient in that way.

Impulsivity is a relative lack of inhibition, of the expression of actions and emotions before you can think about them and make decisions about that expression. Hyperactivity is the relative lack of inhibition of physical and mental activity. When the physical activity of the hyperactive little boy who's pinging off a wall goes away in adolescence, they're still very much mentally active in their own brains.

So what? The “so what” for most of us is that when this area of the brain is not working as it should, people cannot regulate the experience and expression of their emotions. Emotions are experienced as completely unmodified and unscreened. The word that most people use is that they are raw. They come out without any modification at all, they go in without any modification at all. People can see this in hyperacusis, where somebody chewing or the conversation across the restaurant comes in loud and clear because it can't be screened out.

All this is tremendously overwhelming. We get overwhelmed by entirely too much input, and the impulse to have entirely too much output. It's exhausting, and when it does get inappropriately expressed it's embarrassing, so consequently people with ADHD must always be vigilant of themselves.

Now, when we look at the traditional therapies that have been used, or tried to be used, with ADHD, they have had very very poor track records. They're largely ineffective in helping people control the expression of what they think and feel. The reason for this is that people with ADHD don't see their own emotions, their own actions, coming. They find out about their emotions and actions the same way everybody else does: it's already out there before they even know that it's coming. Consequently they don't have the time and the warning to use the techniques and new skills that they may have learned in behavior modification therapy, or in cognitive therapy. They learned them, learned them perfectly well, but the cat’s out of the bag before they can make use of them.

Right now, as we sit here today, medications are the only thing we have to offer that have a proven track record, because they're there all the time. We have two basic groups: we have the stimulant class medications which are amphetamine, methylphenidate, et cetera, which help directly with inhibition. They help slow things down, they help inhibit both input that would distract us and output. It gives you the same two seconds that everybody else has, to see an emotion or an action coming up, to play it out in your mind. “If this happens then this will happen, then that'll happen. Oh, I don't want that to happen, I'll redirect it.”

The alpha agonist, of which we have two -- guanfacine and clonidine -- inhibit the energy driving the speed and intensity of response. Interesting enough, when we look at just clean effectiveness, when we measure how effective is this treatment, the alpha agonists are significantly more effective than are the stimulants. Usually that's kind of a false choice, because most people end up taking both classes of medication.

A very special type, I think, of emotional dysregulation is -- again a terrible technical term -- what's called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. We actually don't know what it is. It's much too early to tell. But it does seem to be a thing with which many people with ADHD identify. There was a brief article from ADDitude that got posted on Reddit, on their subreddit on ADHD; that particular posting got twice as many responses, in less than a month, than any other posting that had ever been put on that subreddit. It really touched a lot of people in a strong way.

In my own checklist, when I'm asking about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, the question I have is: “For your entire life, in other words going all the way back into childhood, have you always been much more sensitive than other people you know to rejection, teasing, criticism, or your own perception that you’ve failed or fallen short?” This is directly from a psychiatric textbook, an old one, and it's the definition of a technical term, for psychiatrists called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

It's important to note, this is all a matter of degree. No one likes being rejected or criticized. Everybody hates it when we fail, we fall short, especially in front of other people. Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is much more intense, and is much more than this universal discomfort.

When they were originally doing the research on this particular idea, 45 years ago, they wanted to get that intensity right up there in the name, and so they chose the word dysphoria -- which unfortunately happens to be Greek -- but it means “unbearable”. Because that was the description they were getting from people over and over and over again. Again, for reasons unknown, people with rejection sensitivity have trouble describing what the intense emotion is all about. They can describe its intensity -- “it's awful, it's terrible, it's catastrophic,” -- but not the quality of the mood. And so, over and over again, these research subjects would finally just tell the researcher, “Look, man, back off. I can't find words to tell you what this awful feeling feels like, but I want you to know I can hardly stand it.” And so that's where the word dysphoria came from. A researcher at Harvard who decided to put it into Greek, but that unbearable quality is very much a part of what's going on, a part of the experience of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

It's extremely common in people with ADHD; my guess is that about 95% of my patients report it as a significant impairment, and about a third of my patients say that it is by far the most impairing part of their ADHD. For the majority of people, and most occurrences, it is not that particularly disruptive, but when it hits, it turns your life upside down.

So how is rejection sensitivity experienced? There's no warning. It hits out of the blue; there's no way to protect yourself from it. It happens all at once, it goes from zero to a hundred percent instantaneously. It is commonly experienced as being physically painful, as if someone just punched you in the chest or punched you in the stomach -- there's an aching in the core of your being.

Once it gets started it seems to be largely uncontrollable until it's run its course, whatever it is. The quality of the mood is indescribable. Most people struggle to find any words at all to describe this feeling, even though it's massively intense. The duration can be a few minutes to several months. It's a very potent experience and can make it very difficult to risk ever being rejected or criticized again.

If this very intense emotional reaction is internalized, it looks for all the world like an instantaneous major depression, complete with suicidal thinking. And so a lot of times people do get a diagnosis of major depression, because the clinician they're working with fails to pick up the triggered, instantaneous nature of the onset of that depressive-looking syndrome. If it's externalized, it presents as a rage that is directed at the person or situation that wounded them so terribly. In fact, being “wounded” is is a very common description. This sort of sudden trigger change, with an intense emotional response, not uncommonly leads to a misdiagnosis of borderline character organization.

So if you can't see it coming, and you can't do anything once it's happened, how do people try and protect themselves from episodes of rejection sensitivity happening in the first place? Some people use perfectionism; they try to be above reproach. They feel driven to be the very best at everything they do. These are the penultimate overachievers. It works, but it's also an absolutely terrible, driven way in which to live.

By far the most common response is that people become people pleasers. They are constantly scanning everybody around them and trying to figure out what that person wants or would approve of, and that's what they give them, so much so that it is the to the exclusion of what they want for their own lives. These are people who take care of others, please others, to the exclusion of any sort of gratification in their own lives.

Another very common way that people try to deal with this is that they give up trying anything new, giving up anything in which they might fail or be embarrassed. I have hundreds of patients who have never been able to apply for a job or ask someone of the opposite sex out for a date. Just the imagination of being told no is so frightening, so devastating, that they just say, “No, I'm not going there. I'll sit this one out.”

One of the most effective ways of dealing with this are the alpha agonist medications, and when they work they can be almost completely effective. Alpha agonist again is a tongue twisting name, but it's not as tongue-twisting as the full name, which is alpha-2 selective adrenergic agonists. So you can see why we shorten it a bit. They were originally blood pressure medications that came on the market in the early 1980s. They worked very poorly -- when they did work, at most they lowered blood pressure about 10%, which was measurable but it still required other things that needed to be done in order to get most people's blood pressure down into a therapeutic range.

We have two of them, guanfacine which was marketed both as immediate release and extended release under the name of Intuniv, and clonidine, which was marketed under the trade name of Kapvay, both as an immediate release product and as a delayed release product. They have been used as a treatment of the hyperactive component of ADHD for more than 30 years, so these are not new medications for the field of ADHD. They're very much the treatment of choice for the “hyperactive, disruptive, and obnoxious little boy” that is what most people have in their minds when they consider the notion of “What does a person with ADHD look like?”

The exact mechanism of action of these medications both in ADHD and especially in rejection sensitivity is highly unclear. We really don't know -- we have a couple of ideas but they are very definitely theoretical. The only thing that we know for sure is that the stimulants don't work by stimulating anything, and that the alpha agonists don't work by being alpha agonists. How they do work is completely unknown.

We have two medications, they seem to work equally well, so there's nothing that would lead you to choose one over the other. The problem is that the robust response that we're looking for that really changes people's lives, is disappointingly low -- at about 30% to either molecule. Luckily that 30% is a different 30% of people, so that 30% of people get a good response to guanfacine but it's largely a different 30% that get a response to clonidine. So if the first medication tried does not work, it makes good clinical sense that that one should be stopped and the other one tried. There was an unfortunately worded sentence in an article I wrote for ADDitude several years ago that gave the impression that you could use the two medications together; they should not be used together. You try one, if that doesn't work you try the other.

The typical dose of either one is in the range of three milligrams of guanfacine per day or about three tenths of a milligram of clonidine per day. If you take all the people who get a good robust response to either one of these medications, about 80% are going to end up at these doses, so it's by far the most common dose.

There are of course side effects. Anything that's going to adjust the adrenaline system of the body is going to have the potential for sedation as a side effect, and this does occur for about 25% of people. It's usually mild and it does go away -- over a period of several months. So a person has to be fairly patient with that. It can cause dry mouth, and it's by a different mechanism then the stimulants can cause dry mouth, so the two of them together can really make your mouth cottony dry. And the third one is an accentuation of a universal experience we've all had, when we stand up quickly and suddenly and we get dizzy, get kind of a head rush, vision goes a bit gray. The technical term for it is orthostasis. And this can happen more frequently when you take the alpha agonist medications.

The benefits of the alpha agonist medications take a while to develop. When you change the dose it takes five days for the benefits to develop, so once again they're not like the stimulants where what you see is what you get at one hour. It takes a while for these medications to work and to see all that they can do.

Now just as a side note, Strattera has been looked at in two studies for emotional dysregulation and the results have been what they call mixed. If they did work it was only to a very minimal degree, almost undetectable, so Strattera does not seem to be a medication one could use and expect to have it help with emotional dysregulation.

So in summary, emotional dysregulation is a basic feature of ADHD, is almost universal in ADHD, and it should be considered as a core symptom of ADHD that ought to be evaluated in every initial evaluation. Rejection sensitivity…it's unclear yet -- this is an old concept that has only been brought up in the last couple of years. Its exact nature is still unclear. It does seem to be a specific form of emotional dysregulation, especially in regard that it does respond very well to medication. But again, how it fits into emotional dysregulation is completely unclear at this point. It does seem to be something that's really important, though. It is a thing that resonates with a large number of people with ADHD.

#adhd #sam has adhd #rejection sensitive dysphoria #RSD #emotional dysregulation #Youtube

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souliebird · 11 months ago

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[[and then I met you || ch. 13]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Words: 5.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

The base of your skull pounds as you try to keep focus on the things going on around you. It is almost impossible, as you just want to close your eyes and block out everything.

You had woken up with a stiffness in your neck and shoulders that had quickly spiraled into the beginnings of a migraine. You hadn't had one since you were pregnant and now that you had a toddler, spending the day in bed and hiding under covers was not an option.

The gods seem to have smiled down on you, though. It is Saturday, which means it is Daddy Daughter Date Day and Matt is more than happy to keep Minnie’s attention on him. You don't have to watch her like a hawk. You can just sit and wait until your ibuprofen kicks in.

If it ever does.

You know drinking water will probably help, so you shakily reach for your glass.

Beside you, your daughter is none the wiser to your distress. Last night, a new toy arrived in the mail, and she was insistent it must be brought to lunch so she could show her Daddy and play with him. It is a friendship bracelet making kit - the type that has beads of all different shapes and colors - and it is a hit. Minnie and Matt have been making each other bracelets as you wait for your food.

“Can you please find me another ‘O’?” the nearly perfect man across from you asks your sweet toddler. “Like in ‘Octopus’.”

“‘O’ for octopus!” Mouse quickly confirms. She sets down her string of multi-color shapes and pulls the little box of beads closer to her. She picks up the discs that have letters on them, proudly showing off her ability to identify them by stating what each letter is until she finds the one, she's looking for. Once it is found, it is carefully passed across the table. “‘O’ for octopus!”

You have not been paying attention to the letters Matt has been collecting and thus have no clue what he intends to spell, but you're guessing it won't matter much to your daughter. She's going to be thrilled either way. You have a hunch that the feeling is mutual with Matt - whatever Minnie gives him, he'll proudly wear. Right now, the bracelet in her hands is a mixture of pink hearts with purple and yellow plain beads. There isn't a method to the madness beyond that.

Your table falls back into silence. Mouse is enthralled with her task of threading and Matt is equally quiet. You think he is aware of your headache, as he's been soft spoken since you met up and hasn't been trying to make your little one laugh and squeal with glee. You're incredibly thankful for that.

You resist the urge to close your eyes and instead find a scratch on the table's surface to stare blankly at and wait for time to pass. Hands pass through your field of vision to collect different beads and you hear farther-daughter talking, but you don't process any of it. All you know is the pain creeping around your skull. You are aware of how your eyes sit in your head and it is a very weird, unsettling feeling that helps nothing.

You pray this outing has enough stimulation for Minnie, so that when you go home, she'll go down for a nap easily and you can join her.

You don't know how long you sit there, spacing out while the world moves on without you, but eventually Linda drops your plates in front of you. You fall into autopilot, saying, “Thank you, Miss Linda” in chorus with Matt and Minnie. After a quick cooing over how sweet your little family is, the waitress leaves you be, and you turn your focus to your daughter's plate.

It's chicken strips and french fries today and you know she needs her ketchup and mustard. Before you can start to reach for the bottles at the end of the table, Matt is already taking them and addressing Mouse, “You like it with more mustard than ketchup, right?”

“More mustard!” She happily replies as she lays her napkin across her lap.

You watch with slightly parted lips as he starts squeezing the condiments onto her plate. You aren't used to anyone taking over this responsibility and you don't know how to react - it is nice to have the help and to see he's learned so much about Minnie's habits, but your mind can't help but chastise you for letting him do this menial task. You know he's her father, but it feels like something you should be doing.

Of course, you are the only one having conflicting feelings. They are having a good time - Matt makes two piles of sauces and Minnie instantly starts swirling them together with her food, a big grin on her face. You try to offer a smile back, but you don't know how sincere it is. Your head hurts so much, and your anxiety is spiking.

You are shaken from your daze when Matt says your name. You look up to see his head tilted just slightly, the slightest frown on his face. Guilt courses through you.

“You sure you don't want any coffee? The caffeine should help with,” he motions to his head, and it just confirms for you that he is always hyper aware of everything, and that Minnie must be too.

You need to get your act together. You can't just zone out because you don't feel well - you're a parent and you are out in public. You can't just dump all your responsibilities onto Matt because he is here now.

You shake your head, even if it makes you dizzy, “No, I'll be okay.”

The truth is the idea of coffee makes your stomach turn. You don't want anything that tastes too strongly, which is why you have opted for a Cobb salad for lunch.

The man across from you gives you a doubtful look. To keep him from worrying over you, you stab a piece of tomato and eat it. It tastes like nothing and that is fine for you. This earns a frown, but the gods smile on you again and your daughter causes a distraction by starting to play with her food.

Mouse picks up a chicken strip and begins to make it hop around the plate before dunking it into her now orange mixture. “Oh no, you're all messy now,” she says to herself, “I gotta clean you.” She then proceeds to lick the sauce away with exaggerated sounds. Matt makes a face of pure disgust.

“Sweetie, what are you doing?”

“I'm a kitty!” is her proud response before repeating the process.

You know this game well but it's the first time he has experienced it. He knows you allow her to play with her food as long as she's not messy and actually eats it, but you can tell he wants to ask her not to. You are open to him making suggestions and asking Minnie to do things, and he knows that, and you wonder what direction he will take. You can see the wheels turning in his head.

“I thought you were a mouse,” is what he goes with.

That stops Minnie dead in her tracks. She considers this statement, a pout forming, before bringing her chicken strip to her mouth and beginning to nibble at it - like a mouse with a piece of cheese.

The rest of the meal is subdued. You manage to eat a third of your salad through sheer force of will - having an empty stomach will only make things worse - and Mouse only needs her face wiped a handful of times. It feels like the minutes crawl by before Linda is back at your table to take away plates and hand over the check.

Packing up is quick and easy. There are no loose beads on the table, so you just need to snap the case shut and store it into your bag, along with anything else that was brought out for Minnie’s needs. As you do this, Matt finishes off both bracelets by tying the ends together and once he is done, you stop what you're doing to watch the exchange.

He returns the bracelet Minnie made for him to her and she hugs it to her chest.

“Daddy, yous gotta put out your hand. I have something for you,” she says like it is any sort of surprise.

But of course, Matt plays along. He does as he is told, holding out the hand not holding the bracelet he made, “You got something for me?”

Very delicately, like it's going to break, Mouse places the bracelet into his palm. Only when she is fully sitting in her seat again does he begin to run his thumb over the beads, feeling what she made for him. His lips twitch up into a smile before he starts to bite his lip. You've learned this means he's trying to not get overly emotional, and you completely understand.

Having Minnie’s love is the only thing keeping you going some days and you've cried multiple times when she's given you something she's made for you.

“I love it,” he whispers, his voice breaking a tiny bit. “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

You and Minnie watch as he slips the bracelet on, and it settles next to his watch. The bright colors stand out against his muted palette, but you doubt he cares about that. Your daughter absolutely beams when he holds up his wrist to show off his new piece of jewelry.

“You're welcome, Daddy! Do you have a present for me?” Mouse asks, jutting her hands out, palms up.

You can't help but huff in amusement, even if your headache is making you feel cold and detached. You know she isn't being greedy or rude, she's simply an eager toddler. You can't fault her for that.

Oh, so carefully, Matt sets the bracelet into her waiting hands and once you finally realize what he wrote out on it, your heart clenches at the sweetness. The bracelet is mostly made up of lettered beads, with the words separated by different colored hearts. Minnie quickly brings it right up to her face to inspect it and instantly starts trying to figure out the mystery in front of her.

“D-A-D-D-Y,” she spells out loud, “L-O-V-E-S. Y.O.U.” Her little brow wrinkles up at the words and you wait to see if she needs help figuring them out. They aren't unknown to her, but it's usually a flip of a coin if she can connect the dots. The only word you are confident she recognizes is her name.

She spells it again, then tries her best to sound it out, “Duh..Ahh duh duh…why. Duh-ah-du- Daddy! It says Daddy!”

You rub her back, silently trying to communicate how proud of her you are, “That's right, it says Daddy. Do you know the other words?”

While she considers her answer, you look at Matt.

He hasn't shaved in a few days. It emphasizes his good looks, and you can see the hints of red - and grey - in his grown-out scruff. His charming and sweet appearance is only enhanced by his heart - you didn't know someone could be so full of love. He radiates it when he's around Minnie and it's like he can't help but pour all of his affection into her and he can't believe how much of it is returned.

You wonder if you were put on Earth to give him Minnie - and you wouldn't mind if you were. It would give you some sort of purpose.

“Mommy,” your precious angel says, thrusting the bracelet into your face, “you read it.”

You feel your face heat up - and throb - at the way Matt turns to you. Your insides pang and you can't help but feel like you're ruining this moment for him. You clear your throat, and tell Minnie, “It says ‘Daddy loves you.’”

Her eyes go wide, and she gasps like it is breaking news, “Daddy loves me?”

“Daddy loves you,” Matt instantly confirms, “always and forever. And you'll have this to remind you.”

The sentiment stirs so much in you, and you let your headache push it all away and instead of getting emotional, you help Mouse put on her new bracelet. She rips her arm away from you as soon as she can to mimic her Daddy and holds up her wrist to show off her bracelet.

“I love Daddy, too!”

The little anxiety and self-doubt demon stirs in your chest. You love to see them bond, but you can't help but yearn for your daughter to shout she loves you, too, and you want your own bracelet. You know, you know, you are going to be overflowing with bracelets soon enough, but these ones are special. They have meaning and memories and -

And you remind yourself you can't do this in public, especially not around Minnie. You can't ruin their good time - if you haven't already.

Instead, you gently pat her back and ask, “What do you say to Daddy for the gift?”

“Thank you, Daddy!”

“You're very welcome, Mouse.”

Your daughter looks at her new piece of jewelry in amazement, turning her wrist so she can see all angles. With her distracted, you move to finish packing up by going to get the stroller, and by the time you have it popped open and your bag secured in the under pocket, Matt and Minnie are joining you by the doorway. Your little one needs no help buckling herself in and you can tell how happy she is by the way she kicks her feet.

As you get in position to start pushing the stroller, Matt steps to stand beside you so you can guide him as you walk. He waits until you leave the diner to address you.

“We don't need to go to the park,” he says in a soft voice.

You are shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence, “It’s fine, Matt. It's just a headache.” It isn't just a headache - your medicine hasn't kicked in and your head is just pulsing, but you will survive.

He very gently squeezes your elbow, saying your name, “you know I can tell that isn't true. You should be -”

“FROGGY!”

Minnie’s excited scream drowns out whatever he was going to push for.

On the corner ahead of you, waiting at the crosswalk are Foggy and Karen. They look like they are on a shopping trip - both carrying bags from different boutiques. They turn in unison towards you and Foggy breaks into the biggest smile once he spies your little group.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite little buddy! And her charming and beautiful parents. Wait,” he looks to Karen and gasps, eyes getting comically big, “is this the famous Saturday brunch?” He whirls around dramatically and points to Matt, like he is accusing him, “You're going to the park.”

“We're going to the park,” he confirms, his own grin starting to form at the antics and at the same time, Minnie exclaims, “we're gonna watch the duckies!”

“They are going to watch the duckies, Karen. Do you know what that does to my heart?” Foggy asks as he puts his hand on his chest. Karen shakes her head fondly and completely ignores him to address you.

“We've heard so many stories about the ducks. He gloats every Monday.”

Matt actually pouts at the statement, and you are reminded of a chastised puppy, “I don't gloat.”

“You gloat,” his friends say at the same time.

Minnie, of course, picks up quickly on the new word and kicks her feet as she giggles, “Daddy goats!”

A thought barely crosses your mind before the words are leaving your lips, “You should come with us.”

You can practically feel Matt's initial disapproval of the offer - not from selfishness but from you refusing to acknowledge your headache - but with how both Minnie and Foggy light up, you don't think he'll voice it. And you are right - he gives your arm a light squeeze as he agrees without any disdain, “The more the merrier.”

“I don't think this is an offer we can refuse,” Karen says, nudging Foggy with her elbow. “How can we say no to that face?”

You can't see Minnie’s face from behind her stroller, but you can picture her pleading little face. She has all of you wrapped around her little finger and you suspect she might start crying if they say no.

“To the park we go!” Foggy declares, “and with perfect timing because the light just turned green.”

You let yourself tune out as you start to walk again. Foggy is animatedly telling Matt and Minnie about his quest to find his girlfriend the perfect birthday gift. Apparently, her preferred brand of hand lotion has been discontinued and nothing else is good enough. It is sweet to hear him being so concerned about her needs and wants. He's the type of partner you used to dream about - before you realized that would never be in the cards for you - someone who listens to what you say and doesn't treat you like a glorified maid.

You only had two ‘serious’ relationships in your twenties and both had left you feeling worthless and unloved. You spent most of your time commuting to them and taking care of their needs only to be tossed aside when someone worth their time came along.

You were the type to stay at home and do the laundry, raise the children - be out of sight and out of mind. You didn't get taken out on fancy dates. No one tried to woo you.

No one went out of their way to buy you a gift.

In fact, you don't remember the last time you even celebrated your birthday. Some of your coworkers sent you Happy Birthday emails last year - only because the first one is sent out company wide and you are pretty sure it's automated.

You are fine with it, though. It's not like you celebrated such things as a kid, so you have nothing to miss. You are happy Foggy has someone he so clearly adores, and you hope, when Minnie grows up, she'll find someone like him.

Soon enough, you're at the park and making your way to your designated spot. Despite it being a warm and sunny day, things are relatively empty, and you are thankful there are no older children shouting or causing a ruckus. You just want to sit down.

You can hear Minnie unbuckling herself before you roll to a stop and there is a whirl of motion as you park. She's on the grass before you know it, scurrying like her namesake to get the picnic blanket out of its pocket and spread out. As you wait for her to finish setting up and Karen admires what a nice area you’ve picked, you realize Matt not only still has his hand on your bicep, but his thumb has been gently rubbing in a small circle.

Your heart stutters in your chest and you don't know why he's doing such a thing and now that you're aware of it, it's all you can focus on. Your entire body feels like it is on fire - from his touch, from the situation, from your headache - and you fear making a complete idiot of yourself. Foggy and Karen are here, and you don't want to embarrass Matt.

“Mommy, I need my sunnies!” Your perfect little distraction says from the other side of the stroller and it's the excuse you need to pull away from Matt. You kneel and rummage in your bag until you find the pink Barbie glasses and hand them over to your daughter, then take the time to pull yours out as well.

By the time you get them on and lock the stroller, everyone else is on the blanket. You situate yourself beside Minnie and tell yourself you need to pay attention as she enthusiastically begins to point out ducks to Foggy and Karen.

“That's Moose, he's mean!” She describes to her new friends, while grabbing Matt's hand so she can turn him in the right direction. You aren't sure if he really needs it - you haven't sat down and spoken about his needs since the revelation about his and Minnie’s senses. You make note to do that.

You listen to the back and forth about your daughter's favorite duck characters and story lines, trying to desperately be in the moment. The warm sun feels good on your skin, and you yearn to just flop over and close your eyes. The tension and pain seem to only be increasing. This may turn into a full-blown migraine.

As you start to mentally debate taking more ibuprofen, Minnie cuts herself off from describing how Moose is a food thief and whips her head towards the street, eyes going big. It very much reminds you of a dog that has caught the scent of a prey animal.

Foggy snorts with laughter at your daughter's expression, “Oh my God, she's just like Matt. What do you hear, girl? Is Timmy in a well?”

That has you wondering how often Matt gets his attention drawn away by something only he can sense and how many times Foggy has made that joke to him.

You don't get a chance to ask, because Mouse is turning her big begging eyes on you now, “Mommy, it's the ice cream man! Can we get ice cream? Please, please, please, please?” She is practically vibrating with desire, and you are not going to deny her anything.

“You can get a small ice cream,” you tell her, like it's a compromise. “You don't want your tummy to hurt later.”

She lets out a shriek of joy and scrambles up. To everyone's amusement, she starts digging through your bag for your wallet, and once she finds it, runs it back to you, held over her head like it's a prize. She practically crashes into you, the biggest smile on her face, and you do a scoop and turn maneuver to sit her in your lap.

“Would you like any ice cream?” you ask the three friends sitting with you, not wanting anyone to feel excluded.

Foggy pushes himself up into standing before you finish getting the words out of your mouth, “Of course we want ice cream, what kind of question is that? Do I look like I say no to ice cream?”

“Oh, a cone does sound really good,” Karen muses beside you.

“Then ice cream it is,” Matt declares, getting up as well. “My treat,” he adds much to your dismay. You don't get to protest, as he barrels on, holding his free hand out to Minnie, “Want to lead the way, sweetheart?”

Your daughter practically leaps up to grab onto her Daddy, demanding, “Carry me!”

“Minnie!” You quickly chastise, shame running through you. She knows better than to jump and climb on people, but you are beginning to fear Matt may become her new jungle gym. No one else shares this worry, least of all Matt, who simply gives into his daughter's will and swings her up onto his hip with a laugh. She clings to his neck and shoulder, and because she is sweet as pie, plants a big kiss on his cheek.

Everything happens so fast that you are still sitting on the blanket with Karen, and you don't even think of standing before Foggy is looking down at you and Karen, “What flavor do you want?”

“I'm feeling chocolate,” the strawberry blonde hums, tapping her index finger on her chin.

The shame and anxiety demon is growing in your throat at the implication you and Karen will stay while the men and your daughter fetch dessert. You want to say that you can pay and that you can go get it - that they should spend the time relaxing - but the darkness in your mind screams that if you say anything other than ‘vanilla’, you're going to ruin everything. Minnie's fun will stop, and Matt's friends are going to judge you, and thus him, and you can't do that.

So, you croak out your preference and hope Matt's super senses are too focused on his daughter to notice you are two steps away from a breakdown.

“One chocolate, one vanilla, coming right up,” Foggy says so cheerfully and you wonder if he is always like this, or if it is an act for Minnie. You honestly can't tell, especially when he turns his attention to your little one, “Okay, Lassie, where's the ice cream truck?”

Matt and Karen laugh at the reference, and you force a smile because it is a cute joke. Minnie points over her Daddy's shoulder towards the road and directs, “That way!”

Matt, managing to keep a straight face, purposely turns to face the river and takes a step towards it, “this way?”

“No, Daddy! Other way!”

“Ah,” he pivots to his left, so he is facing the bushes that border the edge of the park, “This way.”

Mouse dissolves into giggles, hiding her face against his neck and Matt gets the sweetest, dopiest smile on his face - like this is the best moment of his life. It makes your heart sing to see them play and tease and you wish so desperately you weren't in agony so you could actually enjoy it.

Your daughter must say something to Matt, as he lets out a loud barking laugh before kissing the top of her head, “Okay, okay, we won't miss the ice cream. Fog, would you be so kind?” He motions to the sidewalk with the hand holding his cane and there must be an understanding, as the blonde man holds out his arm for Matt to take. The cane is expertly folded up and the two men and your daughter start walking towards the road. It doesn't take more than a few steps for all of them to start laughing again.

You and Karen watch as they disappear down the sidewalk. The woman beside you is smiling softly, clearly enjoying the show that is Matt with Minnie. You hope you are smiling as well and not looking like some sort of summer Grinch.

“You know,” Karen says a few moments after they turn around a corner and go out of sight, “I don't remember the last time I saw him smile so much.”

You turn your attention to her, ducking your head just slightly, “she adores him.”

“And he adores her,” she quickly confirms. “And you.” You doubt that but know better than to try to argue. It doesn't matter, anyways, because she doesn't give you room to, continuing on, “He's been through a lot - not just his childhood but recently, too. I was really scared for him. We thought…we thought we lost him.” Your heart clenches tightly at the conversation. Karen switches from a soft smile to biting her lips and looking like she might start crying at the memories she's bringing up inside herself. “He's a good man but, truth be told, he's an idiot sometimes. He thought he was alone. That he had to be alone.”

You are lucky you are wearing your glasses because you can't bring yourself to look at Karen. It hurts to hear her talk about Matt in that way. You haven't had this sort of conversation with him - everything has been so surface level or about Minnie. You clear your throat and ask, “What about you and Foggy? You all seem very close.”

Karen laughs a little sadly, then tucks some hair behind her ear, “He and Foggy weren't talking. It was all…complicated. But it's better now. We're all good. Or we are working in it.” She takes a breath, and you see her look up, and you think she's smiling at you, “The point is he's…I don't worry anymore. You came into his life, and it is like you knocked some sense into him. He was never good at taking care of himself and now, he puts in the effort. He doesn't want to disappoint you. He wants to be a good dad.”

Her words confuse you - Matt seems very put together - he's a lawyer with amazing accomplishments under his belt. She must be talking about his personal life and fear trickles into your system. Was he an alcoholic or a drug user? As long as it was all behind him, you can't judge him for it. You know people have spotty pasts and even good people have rough times - and that doesn't make them any less of a good person. You'd be a hypocrite if you did think less of him because you've had your own share of troubles.

You want Karen to know that. You start to pick at the hem of your jeans, so you have something to do with your hands while your mind free-fall. “He's a good dad,” you start slowly. “He's amazing with Minnie. He's so attentive and understanding and I love watching them play. I'm still getting used to the whole…” you lower your voice, just in case, “super-senses thing, but he's been helpful in explaining things. I’m just glad he wants to be in her life.”

“Are hers as good as his?” She asks and you can feel her leaning towards you. You don't know the answer to that, as Matt hasn't exactly explained in detail what he is able to do, but you do know Minnie has abilities you didn't know were possible.

You shrug in response, “I'm not sure, but…I don't hear or see an ice cream truck, so.”

She laughs at that, then you fall back into a silence. You can tell she wants to ask more, but you aren't sure why she hesitates. You are grateful for it, though, and behind your glasses, you close your eyes. The back of your skull is throbbing and part of it has curled around to your left ear. You resist the urge to try to massage it away and instead try to stretch, letting your chin touch your collar bone. You focus on breathing through your nose, hoping it will magically make things more tolerable.

Your mind feels like sludge, and you start wondering how long it will take until Minnie is worn out. You usually end up spending about an hour and a half at the park, enjoying the sun and ducks, and you've only just gotten here. You have no idea if it will go quicker or slower with more people for Mouse to interact with. Usually, she stays in your lap, hiding away from people, but she very obliviously loves Foggy. You think it is because he's good with children - Matt told you he has a big extended family. She had opened up to him very quickly once she realized he is Matt's best friend. Best friend is an important word to a toddler, apparently.

“It isn't just Minnie,” Karen says suddenly, bringing you back to reality. You frown at her, not understanding what she's talking about. Had you missed part of the conversation?

“It isn't just Minnie,” she repeats, “it's you, too.”

You feel like a lost lamb. Your brain hasn't caught up with what is going on and all you can do is gawk at the woman beside you.

“Me…?” You question and she nods.

“You make him happy, too.”

You don't understand why she's telling you that or what it has to do with anything. You get you've made Matt happy by bringing Minnie into his life. The only response you can think to give is a simple, “I'm glad.”

You can feel Karen examining you, but you refuse to meet her gaze. You don't think that was the right thing to say, but it is all you have. You are glad bringing Minnie into Matt's life has made him happy and seemingly changed things for the better for him. You want him to have a good life.

In the corner of your eye, you see Karen reach out and you brace yourself as she puts her hand on your shoulder. She says your name, then gently questions, “Are you doing alright? You look pale.”

You force yourself to smile and give a dismissive shake of your head, “Just a little headache. I took some ibuprofen; it just hasn't kicked in yet.”

She quickly drops her hand, humming in sympathy, “I get that. I have some Motrin in my purse, if you need something stronger.”

“Oh, no, I'll be okay,” you promise.

You'll have to be okay. Minnie and Matt will be back from getting ice cream any minute and you will need to go into Mom-mode to make sure your daughter doesn't make an absolute mess of herself. Then, you'll need to keep an eye on her while you remain at the park for however long, because you will never forgive yourself if you give any indication to Matt's friends that you're not a suitable parent.

You just need to take a deep breath and make sure you don't space out again.

You'll be fine.

After all, it is just a headache.

Tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @allllium

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

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@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare

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@lovingkryptonitehideout @moongirlgodness @soocore @bluestuesday

@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #and then i met you

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randomhealer · 11 months ago

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋTaking care of a tamagotchi together ࿐ྂ

writing this since 3am and now it's five, unreviewed, neutral reader

~♡

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is a needy father... he already has a tamagotchi so as soon as you found out about this you automatically became the tamagotchi's mother/father along with him.

Malleus is so happy that his little virtual pet has someone else to take care of him along with Malleus, Malleus also uses this to spend more time with you, you are like a little family...

He will also demand that you spend time with the Tamagotchi, claiming that the pet misses you and feels neglected, he will get upset and pout if you don't spend time with him and the Tamagotchi.

There would definitely be another tamagotchi if you let him have one...like a little brother or sister for your tamagotchi...

but he is content with just one while you take care of him with him there is nothing else that would make him happy.

Jade Leech

Jade just looked at you with his usual smile as you explained about the virtual pet for him to take care of for you before saying a light "oya? if you wanted a child just ask me to make one with you-oh? don't you want to?" It's okay, I was just joking" but after giving him the tamagotchi, he seems to take seriously the idea of being you tamagotchi's father.

all the time he keeps the little thing away from Floyd, feeds him only healthy food, always bathes him and leaves the tamagotchi playing in the virtual park while he works on Lounge, after he comes back he gives the tamagotchi another bath and puts him to bed, Even though it's a virtual pet, he takes care of it as if it were real. After he gives you the tamagotchi back he explains everything that happened, what he ate and what he did, after that he will always take care of your virtual pet if you ask, occasionally you will have discussions about what would be healthy for the "child" of you or not (you saying that the tamagotchi needs to eat more sweets than mushrooms and fruits)

"too much sweets can end up giving them a stomach ache, you know I only want the best for our baby, besides I know you keep feeding him cakes every time you take care of him..." Jade says while talking to you at Mostro Lounge, smiling when he saw you trying to explain yourself.

...Meanwhile, Azul accidentally overheard this little part of the conversation and spent a week thinking about how he was going to ask Jade if he has a child with you or something...

Deuce spade

Deuce was more than happy when you gave him the tamagotchi, he looks at you with those eyes saying 'I'll be the best father in the world, I won't disappoint you' but he ends up forgetting about the tamagotchi and letting him starve to death the same day.

Poor boi...He even took care of him in the first hours, gave him food, bath and affection but the day went on and he was busy studying for a test, he went to the basketball club and even had extra classes with Divus... at the end of the day while he was almost asleep he was scared and remembered the virtual pet... when he saw the dead pet on the screen he was scared and in shock, he didn't know they could die...

he was literally in shock as if he had broken an egg... (old reference lol)

but in the end he knows he wouldn't be able to sleep without telling you this, in the end when he tells you he's almost in tears as he apologizes to you, until you explain that everything was fine and that you could revive another tamagotchi...he stays relieved but still continues to apologize and promises to take better care next time.

(Later Trey and Cater find out about this and help him take care of his pet in the meantime Ace is just laughing in the background)

Floyd leech

Floyd got a little irritated when he saw that you were paying more attention to that thing than him when he came to visit you, so he did the great feat of throwing you Tamagotchi through ramshackle's window.

(just joking about Floyd's part, I was going to do something more detailed but all that comes to my mind is either him throwing the tamagotchi somewhere and forgetting or him trying to eat the poor tamagotchi and not being able to and getting angry about it and ending up breaking lol, I was finally going to sleep but I couldn't without getting it out of my mind... Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it)

#twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #Twisted wonderland x yuu #malleus x yuu

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lostbookmark · 2 months ago

Text

MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

WHISPERED VOWS MASTERLIST here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Unprotected Sex, Yoongi Overworking, Reader Needs To Speak Up,

SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

The smell that hit you as soon as you and Lisa walked into the flower shop earlier had hit you like a ton of bricks. It was a mix of sweet floral, citrus, a powdery smell that you couldn't identify, and damp earth that permeated through the main room that caused you to scrunch your nose in distaste. You think that flowers are pretty to look at, of course, but you prefer to do that from far away. You hate the smell of them, and all the different scents coming at you all at once are almost nauseating. You never understood why people always smell them or always give them as a gift. What better way to show someone you love them than buying them something that will eventually die. It just seems sad.

“How much do people usually spend on flowers?” You ask the florist who was walking around with you showing you the large varieties of blooms that she had in the store.

“Well, that's hard to say,” she says, looking at you with kind eyes. “It all depends on how many you want and what exactly you want to use them for. I would say a standard wedding will roughly cost about 3,000 dollars . If you want to add a grounded arch or have flowers that line your aisle. Are you going to have them as centerpieces at the reception? How many bouquets? Boutonnieres? All that will raise the price.”

You swallow thickly at her answer. For a 3,000 plus dollar estimate, they better last until your first anniversary and not be dead within the first week of buying them. The very few times that you have had flowers or plants for that matter, you have always forgotten to water them. They just ended up a brown wilted mess in a vase by a window that you would eventually throw away once you stopped being lazy.

Your stomach twists and turns anxiously as you look at the different bundles of flowers displayed in buckets and vases throughout the room as you contemplate the price that she told you. Walking around, you look at the roses in various colors, white orchids, pink peonies, rare flowers, and flowers flown in from different countries that you have never heard of. Why do they need flowers from different countries? They probably did it so they could charge more, and you also know people are more than willing to pay that price. It seems like such a waste, especially all for one day. All of this for just one day.

The pretty florist is staring at you with a patient smile, and you gently reach out to touch a hyacinth. It makes you tilt your head as you stare at them. Yeah, you don’t know how to pronounce that. You turn your attention back to her and give her an awkward smile. You can't tell her that you hate flowers and you definitely don't want to spend that much money on them. You don't want to offend anyone. She seems really nice.

“Yeah, so, thanks for your time. It was quite educational,” Lisa says cheerfully with a fake smile on her face. She plucks a card from the counter before waving goodbye. “We will be in touch. We have a lot to think about with all these beautiful options. Have a beautiful day!”

Linking your arm into hers, Lisa walks you out of the floral shop. You take a deep breath of the cold, crisp, fresh air that hits your face in hopes of calming the nerves inside of you. You can’t justify spending this much money on flowers. Do they know how many bills you can pay with 3000 dollars? How can people just throw away money like this? You dared not to even tell your mom about this trip. She probably would have wanted the flowers from a different country. She would have wanted them to be in crystal vases sitting at every table at the reception. She would have wanted whatever the ground arch was.

“You know,” Lisa says as she stops walking and stares at you over the hood of her car. “When I get married, I want roses. Hundreds of beautiful, deep red roses on every surface available, including my honeymoon suite, but that's just me…not you. You don't have to have flowers at all if you don't want them. Yoongi doesn't seem like a flower guy anyway.”

“What about the bouquets that we have to hold?” you ask. “Wouldn't it look weird if we weren't holding onto anything?”

“Sweets, we can make them with fake flowers. People probably wouldn't even be able to tell the difference,” Lisa answers. “With Pinterest and a hot glue gun, I can be unstoppable. I won't let you down.”

You start to laugh at her, finally feeling at ease, and she joins in. Thanks to Lisa, you think you can officially cross flowers off your list.

The noodles in the togo container from Yoongi's favorite restaurant are starting to burn your hands as you hurry down the hall to his studio. One of the things that has been worrying you is that Yoongi is not eating when he works like he does. He thinks it's okay to run on two hours of sleep a night, and a cup of coffee is enough fuel to get him through the day. As passive as you are trying to be at the moment, you can not let him do this to himself. You will not let him starve himself for the sake of his work.

Upon entering the familiar studio and kicking off your shoes, you see that he is asleep on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes on the couch as music faintly drifts from the abandoned headphones on his desk. You shut the door as slowly and quietly as you can without waking him up. The room is a bit darker than normal, so you move extra carefully so you don't knock into any equipment that was strewn around the floor. You place the noodles quietly on his small table in front of the couch and wave your burning fingers in the air, trying to soothe the slight burn. Looking around, you quickly find a piece of unused paper on his desk to leave a quick note for him. Your butt barely hits his chair when his voice makes you jump slightly.

“Baby?” his tired voice was deep and raspy.

“Sorry, I tried to be quiet. I brought you some food. It's noodles from your favorite restaurant,” you tell him with a sigh, putting the paper back where you found it. You no longer needed to leave him a note after failing your mission.

Yoongi doesn't answer. Instead, he holds his arms open, an invitation to join him. You climb over his body and onto the couch beside him. He situates himself onto his side, trapping you between his body and the back of the leather couch. Your face is buried in his chest with his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You can feel the steady rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your face. You wonder if he fell back to sleep, but you don't want to move to find out. Closing your eyes, you contemplate drifting off with him as you let your body relax.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly, kissing the top of your head. “Any wedding updates? More million dollar venues?” he jokes.

“No. Lisa and I went to a florist on my lunch break. I discovered that I really don't like the way flowers smell, and they are just as expensive as the venues,” you tell him, and you can feel his chest shake with laughter. “It's all just a lot of money to spend on one day.”

“Most people like the way they smell,” he informs you. “I told you not to stress out over the cost.”

“They stink, and I can’t help it,” you complain. “Are you okay if we skip the flowers?”

“That's perfectly fine,” he says as his hand runs through your hair. He opens one eye and looks down at you. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I…I don't want a lot of guests there either.”

“Me neither,” he admits. “I don't have to invite industry people. Your mom doesn't know what she is talking about.”

“So, maybe a venue that holds like…50?” You ask him hopefully. “I came across a small winery online. It looked really pretty and they have availability for our date.”

“Perfect,” he whispers, looking at you.

“How do you know it's perfect? You haven't even seen it,” you ask with a small smile.

“If you like it, then it's perfect,” he tells you.

Yoongi reaches under your chin, tilting your face up to him. Leaning down, he presses his mouth firmly to yours. You internally sigh at the feeling of his lips against your own. You miss the kisses like these. Those lingering kisses that you never want to end. The ones that are filled with so much emotion that they make you weak in the knees. The ones that make you feel safe. The ones that make you remember how much you love him. How much you miss….him.

Yoongi changes position on his couch. Laying you back, he lays himself on top of you. His body presses you further into the cushions as he balances himself on his forearm. His free hand wanders down your leg that is clad in black tights that you wore under your skirt.

“Of all days that you had to wear these,” he says, pinching the black material and pulling them away from your leg only for them to snap back in place. “Can I take them off?”

“Yes,” you whisper, but your eyes glance to the door nervously. The embarrassment of last time still lingers in your mind. It would be just your luck. Jimin would walk in on you again or worse….Jungkook.

“No one else knows the code,” he chuckles, placing his face into your neck and licking a wet stripe up to your ear, making your breath hitch before lightly biting at your lobe. “We won't be interrupted.”

Sitting up on his knees between your legs, Yoongi's hands travel up under your skirt, grabbing the top of your tights. Lifting your hips, you help him out as he carefully pulls them over your ass and down your legs. He finishes by slipping them over your feet and tossing them on his table by the forgotten food container that you brought in for him. He turns his head back to look at you laid out before him and just drinks you in.

“Yoongi?” you question quietly.

“I'm just looking at my beautiful fiancée,” he whispers. “My future wife.”

He smiles at you and leans down, pressing his mouth against yours again. Your arms go around his shoulders, holding him close to you as his tongue slips into your mouth as it twists and twirls with your own. Pulling away from your mouth, Yoongi rests his head against your forehead. His eyes stare directly into yours.

“Let me just please you and….we will see what happens,” he says softly and looks away from you quickly. You think that he is embarrassed.

“We don't have to do anything,” you say, trying to comfort him. “I know you're tired. Your sleep is more important than this.”

“No, I miss this so much,” he says quietly and kisses you again desperately as his tongue delves in for another taste of your mouth. “I miss the way you feel,” he pulls away to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “I miss the way you taste,” a kiss to your jaw. “God, I miss the way you sound,” a kiss to your neck. “Please, baby.”

You nod your head yes, and he finally slithers his way down, your body dropping to his knees on the floor with a light thump. Yoongi flips your skirt up and hooks his fingers into your underwear, pulling them down over your now bare legs, exposing you to his gaze. He stuffs the thin material into his back pocket and smirks at you. You don't even want to know what he will do with them if he doesn't give them back. The thought makes you blush a little bit.

“It will have to be quick,” you inform him with a teasing voice as he kisses the inner side of your knee. “My boss won't like me wasting company time.”

“I think he won’t care….at all,” he smirks at you and moves up to nip at your inner thigh. “In fact, I think that he just might even encourage this. Mandatory once a week now.”

Diving between your legs, Yoongi doesn't waste any time. Using his hand to spread you open, his tongue starts licking at your opening hungrily. His hot breath fans over your exposed core, making you squirm around on his couch. Yoongi places your legs over his shoulders and then slowly moves his hands up your body. He reaches up and gently grabs at your covered chest. Palming at your breasts the best he could over your clothes. You arch your chest up into his touch as you grab the back of your knees, bringing them up and closer to your body. Opening yourself up more for him.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper as his tongue finally pays attention to your bundle of nerves flicking it back and forth. “It feels g..go…good.” You stammer.

He moans around you as he sucks it into his mouth. You let go of your right knee to push his dark hair out of his eyes before pulling his head closer to your core despite the fact that he was already as close as he could get. You bite your bottom lip as he stares up at you. The look of undying love and adoration is still there in those lust blown brown orbs. Even though you want to question it at times, it's still there. Yoongi suddenly pulls away with a surprised and slightly dazed look on his face. You follow his line of sight as he looks down at himself. His sweatpants do nothing to hide the hardness that is there.

“Fuck, yeah,” he says with a pump of his fist.

You would have laughed at him, but you are just as excited as he is. Yoongi doesn't even bother to undress, so you stay exactly how you are as well. Instead, he opts to just pull his pants down to his knees and hike up his white t-shirt before positioning himself back on the couch between your spread legs. Taking himself in his hand he slaps his cock against your pussy that's still coated in his saliva a couple of times before he dips the head of his cock into you shallowly before pulling back out.

“Fuck, I have I neglected you that much?” he hisses at the tightness that he pulled away from. You don't bother answering because you both know the answer.

He licks his fingers before letting them gently enter you. Twisting and opening you up as he prepares you for his intrusion that you haven't had in so long. However, you needed him, and you didn't want to wait any longer. You reach for his hardness and gently pull him back to you. You push at his wrist and line him up as he removes his fingers. You stare up at him in anticipation, desperation in your eyes, chest moving up and down rapidly. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you nod your head at his silent question.

“It's okay,” you whisper and run your hand up and down the front of his body.

“Are you sure?” He asks breathlessly.

You bite your lower lip and nod your head. Yoongi groans, taking himself back in his hand, and pushes back into you slowly. Even in his neediest moments, he is gentle with you. You hear him take a deep breath and exhale slowly when he bottoms out in you. His eyes are closed tight, and his body feels quite tense. You experimentally roll your hips against his, and he gasps out. You think you might enjoy seeing him like this. Like he will come undone any single moment.

“Don't move yet,” he whispers brokenly. “I need a moment. I can't ever wait this long again.”

“Yoongi, it's okay,” you say again. Pulling him down, your lips meet his. Your tongue sneaks its way between his lips, making the kiss deeper, needier. You smile at him as you pull away. “Fuck me.” you whisper.

With a sharp inhale, Yoongi finally starts moving his hips against your own. His thrusts were hard and fast, unforgiving, acting on the wants and needs of his body. You grab a hold of his biceps and hold on firmly, trying to anchor yourself to him. The thrusting of his hips makes you slide a little further up the leather couch with each contact his body makes with you, making him have to pull you back down to meet him repeatedly. It was almost too distracting for you. You tap his arms, and he is immediately off you with a look of worry etched in his features.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, thinking he hurt you. Without a word, you turn over to your knees and look back at him over your shoulder. “Fuck.” he whispers and gently pumps himself in his hand as he stares at you waiting for him. You teasingly sway your backside at him and he bites his lip, still watching you. “Fuck,” he whispers again.

“Yoongi,” you whimper.

“Yeah, shit,” he said, finally snapping out of his trance.

Moving your fallen skirt back up, Yoongi whips his shirt off and over his head to get it out of the way. His hands return to you as he places one hand on your hip to hold you steady and inserts himself back into you with the other. Moaning at the angle, you push your hips back against him until your bottom meets his pelvis. You press your own face and chest further into the cushions, making your back arch more, bringing him deeper into your burning core. Yoongi gasps. He grabs the front of your hips and pulls your ass up to meet his every thrust as he begins to move within you again. The tip of his cock kissing your sweet spot with every push of his hips.

“Yoongi,” you cry out in a broken sob as your body jostles around from his handling of you.

“That's it,” he rasps as the sound his hips smack against your ass fills his studio. Tingles start to spread over your body as your muscles start to tense. You feel your body suddenly drop, and Yoongi moves to hover over you further. His breath hits your cheek as his face drops down to yours. “I love you. So, fucking much.”

Reaching behind you with both hands, you grab a hold of the back of his bare thighs. Your nails dig into his pale flesh as you desperately try to hold onto him. Yoongi's lips press against your cheek as his hand dips under your skirt. HIs fingers press on your clit, drawing quick circles along it.

“YOONGI!” You cry out and cover your mouth with your hand. You are scared to be too loud even though you know his studio is soundproof.

“Let me hear you,” he grunts against the side of your face.

Your walls start to contract around as you begin to brokenly sob out his name, causing his own hips to stutter in response. You hear him groan out a couple of “oh fucks” in your ear as he stills as he emptied himself into you. His breathing is hard, warm breath puffing against your cheek as he tries to catch his breath. He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. Slowly, he pulls out of you after a moment and sits back laying his head against the back of the couch trying to calm down his fast beating heart. You close your legs tightly as you turn onto your back and try to catch his attention.

“Umm,” you say, your face starting to turn red. “It's leaking.”

Yoongi looks at you, then between your legs, and starts to laugh at you. Standing up, he pulls up his pants and grabs some tissues by his desk. Cleaning you up, he hands you your underwear and tights before he puts his own shirt back on. You shyly get dressed in front of him as he sits back and watches you with a half lidded expression of pure satisfaction. Straightening your skirt and smoothing it down, he holds his hand out to you once again. You grab a hold of it, and he gently pulls you onto his lap.

“I miss you so much, baby. I'm trying my hardest to finish this damn album so I can help you,” he says, and you nod and rest your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper and hold onto him just a little tighter. You don't ever want to let go.

“Well if that wasn't the longest lunch break in history,” Seungkwan says, giving you a side-eye as soon as you open the door. He knew damn well what you were up to.“

"Very funny,” you say, walking into your office and sitting at your desk across the room.

“Your phone has been going off nonstop,” he tells you.

You groan and throw your head back in exasperation. Picking your phone up, you see that your mom has, in fact, been nonstop calling you and has sent one text. Calling her back, you hold your breath. You have to be prepared for what could end up being a fight.

“Y/N, where have you been? I've been calling you all afternoon,” your mother's voice came from the other end of the phone. “I called the venue with the mountains and gardens. I told them we were interested and I needed a date to tell her.”

“I….I’m going to be booking my own venue. It's at a small winery just out of town on August 1st, a black and white color theme, with no flowers,” you tell her in one breath. You did it. You told her, and there was no going back after this.

“WHAT?” She exclaimed so loudly that you had to pull the phone away from your ear.

“I have to work goodbye,” you say quickly before she can continue and turn your phone immediately off.

“No, flowers?” Seungkwan questioned you with a bewildered look. “You don't want flowers?”

“No, they are way too expensive, and I feel bad for spending that much,” you explain.

“My sister is a florist. Let me talk to her, and I will give her your number,” he said. “I'm sure that she will give you a discount.”

“You don't have to,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “I really don't care if I have flowers or not.”

“I want to, even if it's just your bouquet. That's what friends are for,” he says, giving you a soft smile before turning back to his computer and continuing his work.

You rest your head back against your seat, and your eyes look at the picture of you and Yoongi sitting on your desk by your computer monitor. It was a selfie that you took from the balcony of that beautiful Paris hotel room. You could see the Eiffel Tower lit up in the background as he held you in his arms while you stretched your arm out to take the picture. There’s a small pit in your stomach as you look at it, and you can't figure out what it is as you look at your smiling faces. You just hope that it goes away soon.

A/N: Well, I've finally started chapter 7 of Vows. Updates will still come about every two weeks or so. Also, I wasn't sure about my tagged readers from SECRETS and if I was supposed to tag you in this new story. I guess I don't know the protocol.

Tagged Readers:

@svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos

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