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lynnettys-world · 3 months ago

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CALM AFTER THE STORM |BTS OT7 X READER| HYBRID AU (M)

{Chapter Sixteen - Heels, Heat And Havoc! Part I }

Pairing: OT7 BTS!HYBRID X FEM!HUMAN READER

Kim Namjoon: Black Mackenzie Valley Alpha wolf

Kim Soekjin: White Alpha Lion

Min Yoongi: White Alpha Jaguar

Jung Hosoek: Alpha Snow Leopard

Park Jimin : Alpha Albino Cobra

Kim Taehyung: Alpha White/ Bleached Tiger

Jeon Jungkook: Alpha Black Panther

Reader: Heaven Valentino Human

Status: Ongoing

RATED (M) FOR MATURE

words: 8.0K!

WARNING: EVENTUAL SMUT, BLOOD GORE, DETAILED GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION, ABUSE (ALL FORMS), PROFANITY, VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, CHARACTER DEATH(MINOR), SADOMASOCHISM ACTS, MENTIONS OF BDSM, ETC...

CHAPTER WARNING: strong language, slight suggestive content and of course fluff, hehe

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MATERIALIST

Hey there my loves, before you begin this chapter I just want to tell you to please read the authors note at the end of the chapter. thankyou and enjoy! ;)

3rd Person's POV

The moment hung heavy in the air, the stranger's bright smile clashing against the suffocating silence that had seized the room.

"Finally, I've found you guys!" he beamed, voice ringing with a joy so pure it almost felt out of place. Too raw. Too real.

The boys stood frozen, as if their bodies refused to move until their minds caught up. There was something familiar about him. Something warm... something haunting. His scent lingered in the air like a ghost of a long-forgotten dream — cedarwood and cracked pine, the smell of cold metal and bleeding knuckles. It wrapped around them like a memory, tugging at the deepest, darkest corners of their minds.

It was Jungkook who spoke first, his voice almost a whisper. "No way..."

Taehyung's brows furrowed, eyes locked on the stranger's face, as if staring long enough would rip the answers from his skin. "Why does he smell like—"

Jimin staggered back a step, breath catching. "I've smelled that scent in my dreams."

Then Namjoon's eyes widened. "Wait... wait." The realization slammed into him like a freight train. His heart lurched. "Soojeon hyung?"

The man's smile faltered, eyes glistening. "Yeah... It's me."

And just like that, the dam broke.

Jungkook let out a choked breath. "Hyung?" he repeated, louder this time, his voice trembling as he stepped forward. "Is it really you? You're real?"

Soojeon opened his arms slowly. "I missed you all so damn much."

They rushed him like a wave. Jungkook, Jimin, Namjoon, and Taehyung collided with him in a crushing hug, arms wrapped tight, heads buried in his shoulders. Hoseok, Yoongi, and Jin stood a few paces away, watching with stunned silence until Soojeon looked up, eyes landing on them.

"Hobi... Yoongi hyung, Jin hyung?"

"Holy shit," Hoseok muttered, a hand covering his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes. "You're alive."

"I thought you were dead," Yoongi said hoarsely, eyes dark and unreadable but wet with emotion. Jin didn't say anything he simply walked forward and pulled Soojeon into a hug that said everything words couldn't.

Soojeon was trembling too now, laughing through the tears. "I thought about you all every damn day," he whispered.

They stood there, clinging to one another like survivors of a war. Because they were.

Memories began to rise like floodwater.

Cold cages with rusted bars. Screams echoing down metal corridors. Nights spent curled around each other like broken limbs trying to fit back into place. When one cried, the others hummed lullabies. When one bled, they all bled.

They shared stories in hushed whispers, made jokes to distract from the pain, held each other when the guards took someone away. Soojeon used to crack awful jokes at night just to make Jungkook smile. Taehyung would braid Jimin's hair with shaking hands to keep him calm. Namjoon would whisper escape plans no one really believed in, just to give them hope.

They were just kids. Stripped of everything, dignity, identity, even names. But they had each other.

And then one day, Soojeon vanished.

The guards dragged him out after catching them huddled too close, laughing a little too freely. Said they were planning something. That it was dangerous for hybrids to bond like that. Rebellion bloomed in closeness so they tore it apart.

They'd all screamed for him. Taehyung kicked at the door until his toes bled. Jungkook cried himself into unconsciousness. Namjoon had to physically restrain Jimin, who clawed at the walls like a wild animal.

But he never came back.

Until now.

"How?" Namjoon asked, finally pulling away. "How did you survive? Where did you go?"

Soojeon exhaled, wiping his face. "It's a long story. I was taken from that hellhole... by someone completely unexpected. Appa, Heaven's uncle. Back then, all I knew was that he was kind. He got me out of there before I snapped. Said he'd been keeping tabs on known trafficking networks. I was one of his rescues."

Jin's brows shot up. "You've been living with Heaven's uncle this whole time?"

Soojeon nodded. "Yeah. I didn't even know she knew you guys. It was only after Jungkook got shot that I started piecing things together. Your scent — all of yours it lingered in the clinic. I thought I was losing it. So I asked him, and he confirmed it when he showed me your files with your names and pictures. Said Heaven brought you in herself. Said she saved you."

Yoongi rubbed at his jaw. "So that's why you're here now."

"I had to see for myself. I had to know it was really you. I've been waiting for the right moment to show up, but... there never felt like a right moment. Until now."

For a while, no one spoke.

Then Hoseok broke the silence with a shaky laugh. "You haven't aged a damn day."

"Speak for yourself, Hobi," Soojeon grinned, wiping another tear away. "I see you've all grown into some real trouble."

"Still wild," Jimin murmured, voice thick.

"Still family," Soojeon whispered.

The word hit like a punch to the gut. Family.

Not blood. Not by law. But by survival. By trauma. By love.

They hadn't just remembered Soojeon. They had mourned him.

And now, somehow, by a miracle they didn't deserve,

They were back together again.

Later that evening, the house felt alive in a way it hadn't in weeks.

Laughter echoed off the walls, tangled with the scent of sizzling meat and clinking dishes. The kitchen was a mess .

Jungkook and Taehyung had taken it upon themselves to cook, which really meant Jungkook was doing everything while Taehyung snuck bites and narrated dramatically from the countertop.

"So I told him, 'Hyung, if you try to eat that raw, I will personally throw you off the balcony.'" Jungkook gestured with a spatula, lips twitching. "And he still did it."

Soojeon burst out laughing, head tilted back as he leaned into the sofa. "That sounds exactly like Taehyung."

Jimin grinned from the floor, where he'd sprawled across a pile of pillows, cheeks flushed and heart finally light for the first time in forever. "You really haven't changed, hyung. Not one bit."

Namjoon sat nearby, sipping his whiskey and watching them with quiet fondness, though every now and then his gaze would flick to the main door, thinking of Heaven. His shoulders would stiffen, just slightly, before he forced himself to relax again.

No one brought it up. Not even when Hoseok caught Yoongi staring into the fireplace a second too long, jaw tight.

They were holding onto this moment like it was glass — too fragile to risk dropping.

Jin returned from the kitchen, arms full of drinks. "Alright, someone stop the gremlin line from burning dinner, or we'll all be eating charcoal."

Soojeon stood, clapping his hands together. "Let me help before Jungkook stabs someone."

"That's fair," Jimin said, poking at his own cheek with a smirk. "He almost gutted Tae over the raw meat."

"He ate it raw!," Jungkook shouted from the kitchen, voice muffled by sizzling oil. "That's a sin."

It was laughter that drowned out the tension, familiar, vibrant, human. For a while, it was easy to forget the darkness. They passed plates and traded stories, reliving old memories and filling in the blanks of time lost. Soojeon had them cackling with impersonations of past guards, exaggerated to the point of ridiculousness. Jin laughed so hard he almost choked on his drink.

Everything was good. Better than good. It was healing.

Until the front door clicked open.

Soft footsteps echoed down the hall, heels tapping against marble, a purse strap slipping from a shoulder with a silken whisper. And then she appeared,

Heaven.

Hair pulled into a sleek twist, lips painted in her signature muted rose, and a long black coat draped over her tailored suit like a queen returning to her palace.

"Heaven," Hoseok greeted warmly, smile lighting up his face. "You're just in time. Jungkook's burning dinner."

"I am not," Jungkook called out, though his voice softened instantly. "Hey, you're back."

She walked in fully, shrugging off her coat and hanging it neatly on the rack, her movements precise and graceful. Her eyes scanned the room, pausing for the briefest moment on each of her boys relieved that the tension hadn't boiled over while she was gone.

Then her gaze landed on Soojeon.

"I take it you liked the surprise," she said, smile faint but proud.

The room fell quiet again not heavy this time, just a collective hum of realization.

Jimin blinked. "Wait... you did this?"

Heaven gave a soft nod. "I wanted it to be a proper moment. One you'd remember for the right reasons."

Namjoon sat up straighter. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?"

"There was... a lot going on," she replied smoothly, voice even, almost gentle. "Tensions were high. And Soojeon... he wanted to wait until the time felt right. You all needed this — the peace. The joy."

She left out the kidnapping. The underground dealings. The blood and bruises it had cost to protect them and bring them here. They didn't need that tonight.

Soojeon glanced at her gratefully.

"We're glad you did," Jin said, raising his glass slightly. "It means more than you know."

Heaven smiled, but there was something fleeting behind it, a shadow that passed too fast to name. Her eyes lingered on Jungkook a beat too long, and he, sharp and watchful even in joy, noticed.

She knew. She still remembered what happened that morning. So did he. And so did the other guys.

But none of them said a word.

"I'll let you all enjoy," she said softly, turning toward the hall. "I need to change."

"You sure?" Jimin called out. "We saved you a plate!"

"I'll eat later, sweetie," she replied without looking back.

As her footsteps faded down the hall, the mood hovered in an in-between — still light, still happy, but tinged with that invisible thread of something unspoken. Something dark. Something waiting.

Jungkook didn't laugh again. He smiled, yes, but it didn't reach his eyes. His hands were still steady as he passed Soojeon a drink, but Namjoon noticed how they clenched just a little tighter than before.

He was changing. Shifting. The sweetness still lived inside him, but something else was blooming now, older, darker, more dangerous.

And Heaven had seen it too.

But for now, no one would speak of it.

Because Soojeon was home.

And that was enough.

A few days had gone by since the boys and Soojeon reunited with them exchanging contacts and promising to hang out often.

Today felt different.

Heaven was humming.

That alone should've been the first red flag, if anyone in the house still believed in red flags.

The tune was soft, barely audible, but it threaded through the quiet morning like silk dragged over a blade. It was familiar and foreign all at once, the kind of melody that made you pause and wonder where you'd heard it before. A lullaby, maybe. Or something darker dressed in sweetness.

She drifted through the house like a dream that hadn't quite decided if it was a nightmare. Barefoot. Graceful. Wrapped in an oversized tee that hung loosely off one shoulder and a silky satin short, her skin dewy from sleep and morning light. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, strands falling into her eyes, and yet she looked awake. Too awake.

She moved with purpose in the kitchen, humming as she brewed coffee like she was preparing a potion. Each step was meticulous. The kettle hissed. The mug she picked said "You tried." She smiled at it like it had whispered something funny.

Jungkook entered just as the coffee finished steeping. His footsteps were silent, purposeful. He was shirtless, in low-hanging sweatpants, towel slung over his shoulder. Damp hair. Clean skin.

He didn't say anything at first just watched her from the doorway. He took in the angle of her spine, the way she swayed slightly to her own tune, how her smile didn't quite touch the corners of her eyes. She was performing. And she thought no one noticed.

He stepped forward. Calm. Collected.

"You're up early," he said, voice low and smooth, like dark velvet.

She turned, almost startled, almost but the smile kicked back in, just a fraction too quick. "Couldn't sleep," she replied, lifting the mug to her lips. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Her eyes flicked to him, curious, casual but Jungkook held her gaze like he was reading subtitles only he could see.

"Yeah?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Anything I'd understand?"

That made her pause. Just a blink too long. Then she grinned and sipped her coffee. "Doubt it."

Jungkook chuckled — low, easy, like he hadn't just clocked the micro-expression she tried to hide. Like he hadn't already mentally listed all the reasons someone like her wouldn't sleep before doing something dangerous.

But he didn't press.

Instead, he stepped closer, walking behind her to grab a second mug from the cupboard. He moved slower than usual, deliberately casual. Letting her feel his presence. Letting her notice how much quieter he'd become lately. How much calmer. The old Jungkook — soft doe-eyed, easily flustered — wasn't entirely gone. He just didn't show up uninvited anymore.

"So what's with the humming?" he asked, pouring himself a cup, voice light. "Did we time travel back to the 1950s?"

Heaven let out a soft laugh. "It's just a song. I like it."

"It's creepy."

She raised a brow. "You're creepy."

Jungkook turned slightly, enough to meet her eyes over the rim of his mug. "I know."

He said it with a smirk. But there was something in his tone, something layered. She felt it. That subtle shift. Like he was showing her a corner of something sharp beneath the velvet.

Heaven's smile faltered just a little.

It wasn't fear, exactly. It was... awareness.

He noticed.

And she noticed that he noticed.

But neither of them said anything.

Instead, she tapped her nails against her mug, still watching him. "You've changed."

Jungkook didn't look surprised. "Maybe."

She tilted her head. "Where has my sweet kookie gone. The one who would call me Noona even though he's older than me just so I could treat him like a baby."

He gave her a boyish grin, sudden and almost convincing. "I still am and still here. Noona. You're just looking at me funny."

For a second, she laughed — a real one, not the kind that was forced or sugarcoated. But it ended too fast.

The room fell into a strange kind of silence.

Not uncomfortable. Just... dense.

Like something unspoken had been placed on the table between them, and neither of them was ready to lift the cloth.

The hallway behind them creaked faintly. A door opened somewhere in the house. The rest of the boys were waking up. But Heaven and Jungkook stood in that kitchen like the rest of the world hadn't quite caught up yet.

"Breakfast?" she offered suddenly, a little too chipper again.

Jungkook took a long sip of his coffee. Smiled at her, soft and dangerous.

"Sure," he said. "Surprise me."

And just like that, he stepped back into the mask she supposedly thought was 'gone'. The soft voice. The gentle act.

But Heaven?

She didn't stop watching him. Not even when she turned to the stove.

Because beneath all that honey and heat, she'd started tasting something else.

Smoke.

Jimin's POV

I knew something was wrong the second I walked into the kitchen.

Déjà vu slammed into me like cold water — sudden and sharp. I'd felt this before. The last time Heaven had shifted like this, it was chaos barely contained behind trembling fingers and tired eyes. She'd been unraveling then exhausted, drowning, disturbed. But now?

Now she was smiling.

That was the part that made my skin crawl.

She stood by the stove, humming softly, some old, eerie little tune that scratched at the back of my memory but never fully landed. Her back was to me, swaying slightly as she stirred eggs in a pan, like we were in some picture-perfect morning commercial. But there was something wrong with the picture.

Too polished. Too still.

Jungkook was sitting at the counter with a half-smile on his face, sipping coffee like he hadn't just watched the whole house tilt sideways. His eyes, though, they were sharp. Following her every move.

He knew. I could tell.

"Morning," I said carefully, walking in. My voice came out rougher than I expected. Like my body already knew it should be tense.

Heaven turned around with a bright smile, teeth and everything. "Morning, Jiminie," she chirped, like sunshine and fucking strawberries.

And for a split second, I wanted to believe it.

I wanted to believe she was just having a good day. That the shadows under her eyes were gone because she slept well, and the humming meant she was finally at peace.

But I've been around too long to fall for surface-level sweetness.

There was a chill underneath her warmth. A precision in the way she moved. Every smile, every blink, was deliberate.

I sat down across from Jungkook, eyes never leaving her. "You're in a good mood," I said slowly, careful not to sound accusing.

Heaven giggled. Giggled.

I swear I felt my stomach drop.

"Is that a crime?" she teased, plating the eggs and moving like she was gliding. "I just woke up feeling... motivated."

Motivated. That was the word she picked?

Jungkook snorted behind his mug. I caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched, he was entertained. Bastard.

"I think the world might be ending," I muttered under my breath, and Jungkook kicked me lightly under the counter.

The other boys started trickling in one by one — sleepy, messy-haired, rubbing their eyes and dragging their feet. Hobi Hyung yawned into his hoodie. Taehyung looked like he'd walked straight out of a dream. Namjoon Hyung gave everyone a suspicious glance, probably already catching onto the weird atmosphere.

But Heaven greeted them all with that same megawatt smile.

She poured orange juice. Set down plates like she was the perfect housewife. Hummed that tune the entire time.

And no one said a word.

No one wanted to break it.

Because no one wanted to be the one to admit how off this all felt.

Except me. I couldn't not see it. Not when I knew her so well.

There was something underneath that mask — something coiled and ready. Her smile reminded me of those tightrope dancers in horror films, always smiling just before they snapped.

She passed me my plate and brushed her fingers over mine. Cold. Perfectly manicured. I looked up at her and she winked.

Like we were in on a secret together.

Only I had no fucking clue what it was.

I forced a smile. "Thanks."

She tilted her head. "Of course."

Then she walked away, humming again, and the air felt five degrees colder.

I leaned over toward Jungkook, keeping my voice low. "What the fuck is going on with her?"

He didn't look at me. Just took another sip of coffee and said, so casually it made my skin crawl, "Maybe you're just seeing her clearly for the first time."

I stared at him.

And he smiled.

Not the way he used to. Not sweet or kind.

It was something else now. Calm. Measured. Like he was ten moves ahead of me in a game I didn't know we were playing.

That's when it hit me.

They weren't the same anymore.

Not her.

Not him.

And suddenly, I wasn't sure which one of them worried me more.

3rd Person's POV

Later that day, Heaven stood in front of the mirror, fastening the final clasp of her earring with the ease of someone who had done this her entire life—under pressure, under scrutiny, under the weight of every watching eye that expected her to be flawless.

She didn't blink.

Didn't fidget.

Didn't breathe louder than necessary.

The girl staring back at her was elegance forged in steel. The black silk gown poured over her frame like smoke, fluid and weightless, clinging to every curve with deliberate grace. A corset, just as dark, cinched her waist and lifted her bust like it had been tailored to sculpt, not just fit—tight enough to hold power, not just posture. Her deep red stilettos were sleek and dangerous, the kind that clicked like a warning and could shatter egos just as easily as bones. Not a hair dared fall out of place. Every inch of her was curated perfection, a quiet threat wrapped in beauty.

She looked like control.

Like danger wrapped in elegance.

Like a Valentino.

Not the kind of woman you forgot. The kind you whispered about when she passed. The kind you warned people about over champagne in too-bright rooms.

She exhaled slowly—once—just to feel the burn in her lungs. Her fingers twitched, but she didn't let them move. The stillness was important. It was armor. It was a message.

Because she had to be composed.

Had to be ten steps ahead.

Had to be unreadable.

If she cracked now, if they saw what she was hiding... it was over.

Her hybrids weren't stupid. God, they were never stupid. Sharp. Instinctive. Predators. Even when they were soft with her, even when they played house and smiled during breakfast, the truth still simmered beneath their skin.

They were starting to notice.

Jungkook's eyes had been on her longer than usual. Not just watching—studying. Like he was trying to memorize her before she changed again. That boy had the instincts of something half-wild, and right now? He knew something wasn't right.

Jimin kept walking into rooms like he was walking into a trap.

Hoseok paused in the middle of laughing just to look at her, like his ears caught a note the rest of the room missed.

Even Taehyung—quiet, cold, unreadable Taehyung—was listening harder. Clocking every breath she took like it might mean something.

They didn't have proof. But they had suspicion.

And suspicion was a slow, creeping thing.

It meant she didn't have long.

She swept on the final stroke of lipstick—deep, defiant red, rich as blood and twice as bold. It stood out like a siren's flare against the shadowy elegance of her all-black gown, a sharp contrast that demanded attention. This wasn’t a shade that teased or tempted. It didn’t flirt. It warned. A color that marked territory. A declaration. War paint in the shape of a perfect mouth.

Because this wasn't about drama or petty jealousy. This wasn't about image or status.

This was about rot.

About the kind of decay that happened when people thought they were untouchable. About lies spun like silk and leashes dressed up like love. About the arrogance of thinking someone like Heaven wouldn't notice.

She noticed.

And she was going to burn it all down.

Even if it meant coming back with blood on her hands and ash in her lungs.

Her fingers brushed over the chain around her neck—Namjoon's gift. Delicate. Thoughtful. Human.

She wasn't walking into some party to sip champagne and smile politely.

She was stepping into the heart of the beast's den.

The elites would be there, all of them. Glittering, hungry, fake. Trying to flex wealth they'd inherited and power they didn't earn. But she didn't need to prove anything. The Valentino name was enough. She was enough.

Daughter of the most feared bloodline in the modern world.

The only daughter.

The crown jewel.

Three older brothers who would burn the planet to the ground for her.

An uncle who ruled the Italian mafia with a cigar in one hand and the world in the other.

And now? Seven predator hybrids under her roof. Alphas. Powerful. Dangerous. Purchased with a smile and a bank account that scared even the top bidders.

She knew what they whispered.

She bought them all?

Why?

What does she want with predators?

They envied her.

Feared her.

Watched her like she was a story still being written.

She smirked, just slightly. Let them wonder.

Let them obsess.

She walked toward the door, heels clicking like a warning shot on marble floors.

If anyone asked, she was attending a charity gala.

If anyone followed, they wouldn't find her.

And if anyone tried to stop her?

She'd smile.

And lie straight through her teeth.

Because the truth wasn't something they were ready to hear.

And she needed them whole.

Even if it meant tearing herself apart.

Heaven's POV

I closed the door behind me with a soft click, the sound somehow too loud in the quiet hallway. My heels echoed as I moved forward, each step rehearsed, purposeful, distant, like I was already gone.

I didn't expect to see anyone.

I especially didn't expect him.

Taehyung stood at the end of the corridor, half-shadowed by the dim glow of the sconces, shirt loose, collarbone peeking through. His hair was tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed or had been pacing. Watching. Thinking.

His eyes lifted when he saw me.

And fuck.

He looked.

Not the soft child-like kind of look, not even the annoyed, brooding glance he usually gave when I disrupted his thoughts. This was... heavier. Slower. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes, something that made me feel like prey that had volunteered.

We didn't speak.

He took one step toward me.

Then another.

And I froze. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel it—that ripple of something thick in the air between us, the kind of heat that wasn't born from a fight, but from something worse. Something more complicated.

My pulse spiked, traitorously. I hated that he could make me feel unsteady with nothing but a stare. But I also didn't move.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Close enough that if I leaned in even an inch, his lips would be the first thing I touched.

His gaze drifted from my eyes with agonizing deliberation, tracing the slope of my throat like a touch that hadn’t landed—yet. Then it dipped lower, settling on my chest with a heat that lingered just a moment too long, as if he were memorizing the rise and fall of every breath. Slow. Bold. Unapologetic. And then, finally, his eyes climbed back up to meet mine—darker now.

When our eyes met again, there was a question there. Unspoken. Taut.

My body answered it before my brain did—my breath caught, my fingers twitched at my sides, and that sharp, unrelenting ache that had been building for weeks suddenly threatened to spill into my bones.

I wanted him.

God, when the hell did that change?

It wasn't just Taehyung. No. It was them. All of them. The way they watched me lately, the way something in them had begun to stretch, awaken. The way my own thoughts had gone from warm to wicked without my permission. Something had shifted, and we were all pretending it hadn't.

But this?

This wasn't pretend.

He leaned in slightly, close enough that I could smell him, cologne and something darker, masculine, animalistic. I tilted my head up, met his eyes like a challenge, and for a split second, I forgot why I'd come out here in the first place.

His hand lifted—slow, deliberate—and hovered near my hip. He didn't touch. Didn't have to. My body swayed instinctively like it wanted it. Like it knew exactly what that touch would mean.

I couldn't breathe.

He was so close now that I could see the faint scar near his jaw, the one I'd never asked about.

"You're dressed up," he murmured, voice low, rough like velvet over gravel.

I swallowed.

"Charity gala," I said, fighting to make my voice steady. "Just for a few hours."

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to read between the words.

I took a slow step back. Not because I wanted distance. But because if I didn't, I might forget every line I'd drawn for myself. I might blur them all for him. For this.

"I'll be back soon," I said, softer this time. "If the others ask... tell them the same."

He didn't say anything.

Didn't need to.

His eyes said enough—burning, unreadable, dangerous.

I turned—but I barely made it a step before he moved. Fast. Quiet.

Like he knew what I wasn't saying.

Like maybe... he felt it too.

His hand caught my wrist.

Not rough, not controlling just there. The heat of it pulsed through my skin like lightning in reverse, up my arm, straight to my chest. I stopped breathing for a second. Maybe longer.

He didn't answer right away.

I turned my head slowly, heart thundering.

"Taehyung...?"

Instead, he stepped in, his body a slow glide into my space until my back was nearly brushing the wall. His fingers stayed wrapped around my wrist, thumb brushing against the inside like he could feel my pulse racing. Or maybe he liked the feel of it.

His eyes dropped to my lips.

Then to the hollow of my throat.

Then back to my eyes.

"You smell like trouble," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

"You are trouble," I shot back, though it came out more breathless than I intended.

A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement, hunger, restraint. All tangled up in that way he had of looking at you like he could undo you without a single word.

I didn’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the heat in his stare, or the silence stretching too tight between us but suddenly, I yanked him closer and crashed my lips onto his like gravity itself gave up and let lust take the wheel.

Then his hand slid. Down. Slowly. From my wrist to my fingers, tangling with mine for the briefest second before letting go.

But it was enough.

Too much.

Not enough.

Our mouths met in a frenzy, greedy and unrelenting, like we’d been starved for too long and finally found the feast. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, desperate, right. His lips molded to mine like they were made for this exact moment, like they knew the shape of me already. His hands locked around my waist, fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp—and from his throat came a low, wrecked sound of satisfaction that damn near undid me.

But just as I gripped his shirt, ready to pull him even closer, he tore his mouth from mine.

Breathless, both of us frozen, eyes locked, chests rising in sync, like something was about to happen again.

I stared at him, cheeks flushed, lungs struggling to catch up, every cell in my body buzzing. My brain screamed at me to say something. Anything.

I didn’t.

Neither did he.

"I should go," I finally whispered, the words shaky and stupid on my tongue.

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. But it wasn’t kind. It wasn’t soft. It was dangerous—the smile of someone who knew. Knew exactly what he was doing. Knew I was already undone.

“Then go,” he murmured. “Unless you want to stay.”

My stomach twisted, heat blooming low and fast.

I dragged my tongue across my lips, slow. His eyes tracked the motion like a hunter. And fuck, I almost caved again.

He wasn’t joking. Not really.

And yet, he wasn’t pushing. Just... waiting. Offering. Letting the fire burn if I wanted to let it.

I wanted to.

God, I wanted him to pin me to the wall and kiss the smug off his mouth until neither of us could remember how this started.

But instead, I took a breath that burned on the way down, forced steel into my spine, and stepped past him.

My shoulder brushed against his chest as I moved, and I felt it—just for a second—his body tensed. Like it took everything in him not to stop me.

But he didn’t.

No words. No glances. No reach to pull me back.

Still... I could feel it. His gaze clinging to me with every step I took down that hallway.

Like he wasn’t watching me leave.

He was watching the first page turn.

And fuck if I wasn’t already dying to know what came next.

I made it to the threshold—the invisible line between the living room and the foyer where the air shifted. Lighter. Colder. Safer.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Or so I fucking thought.

Because then I saw him.

Yoongi.

Seated on the couch like he’d been carved out of a dream I had no business dreaming. One leg crossed over the other, black shirt clinging to him like a second skin, grey sweatpants hanging low, and a silver chain catching the light as it rested against the sharp line of his collarbone.

He looked up slowly.

And his eyes—God, those eyes—dragged over me like a sin he was still deciding whether or not to commit.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

Just watched.

And somehow, that alone made me feel flushed and overheated, like I’d walked into smoke and forgotten how to breathe.

“What is it with all of you today…” I muttered, mostly to myself but his brow arched, the tiniest flicker of awareness like he’d heard every damn syllable.

Then Jungkook a few days ago slamming his hand on the counter beside me, his body all tension and heat as he demanded answers I couldn’t give. That low, guttural sound in his throat. Those predator eyes daring me to run. Alpha energy bleeding from every inch of him, shaking something loose in me I wasn’t ready to admit existed.

First, Jimin—last week—sliding up behind me in the kitchen like it was nothing. Arms around my waist, mouth brushing too close to my ear as he whispered, “You smell so good, noona. It’s intoxicating.”

He’d laughed it off.

I hadn’t slept right since.

And now?

Then Taehyung.

Fucking Taehyung—just minutes ago.

That look. That touch. That offer. That Kiss.

My thighs were still pressed together in a hopeless attempt to chase off the memory.

I tried to pass him. I really did.

Yoongi.

Silent. Intense. Unreadable.

Blocking the exit like fate itself decided I wasn’t allowed to leave untouched today.

But his hand lifted—fingers curling around my arm, featherlight. No pressure. Just enough to stop me.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, voice low and syrup-smooth. Like velvet. With a blade beneath.

My lips parted. “Gala,” I said, but it sounded more like a gasp. “Charity. Won’t be long.”

His gaze dipped to my throat.

Like he was trying to measure the beat of my pulse. Like he already fucking knew what had happened upstairs.

“You smell sweeter than usual, kitten,” he murmured, voice low and dark and wrecked velvet. “And every inch of you looks… thoroughly ravished.”

My heart skipped.

Thudded.

Fuck.

“Is that a compliment?” I asked, aiming for light but landing somewhere closer to breathless.

I’d forgotten—how hybrids could smell things. Feel things.

Things no one else could.

Things I hadn’t meant to leave behind.

“Did you run into Tae on your way down here?” he asked, so casual, like he didn’t already know the answer.

He tilted his head slightly, smirk ghosting his lips. “Maybe.”

Then his hand slipped away—but not before his fingers dragged over my skin in a slow burn, a whispered fucking promise.

“You let him get a taste...” he said, stepping a little closer, his voice dropping into something rough and low and hungry. “Aren’t you gonna give me a taste too, kitten?”

I swallowed. Hard.

Of course he noticed.

Nothing ever gets past Yoongi.

I needed to leave. Now. Or I wouldn’t.

I nearly combusted on the goddamn spot.

My knees buckled slightly, heat spiking so fast I swore I felt it rise off my skin.

My stomach did a full fucking somersault.

Yoongi’s eyes darkened, visibly darker now, the gold in them swallowed by something more primal.

“Kitten,” he said, and this time it was more warning than endearment, “your pheromones are polluting the house.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. Jaw clenched.

“I’d love to help you get off. God, I want to.” His gaze dragged down my body like a sin he was seconds from committing. “But right now? Not the best idea. So you should leave—before I stop being as merciful as Taehyung.”

He grabbed the front door and held it open for me, his hand gripping the wood so tight I could see every vein in his forearm pop.

Every muscle locked like he was physically restraining himself.

But even as the front door shut behind me, I felt it.

My shoes clicked against the marble, echoing like gunshots in the silence.

My heart pounded.

Heat still pooled deep and low—an ache I couldn’t shake off.

Felt them.

Circling me.

All of them.

Their eyes.

Their tension.

Their questions without words.

And me?

Like predators who hadn’t yet decided who would make the first move.

Who would sink in first.

I was the fucking moon—just waiting to be dragged out of orbit.

3rd Person's POV

The Rolls-Royce Phantom, an emblem of wealth and supremacy, coasted through the grand entrance of the Moonlit Diamond Gala, the most anticipated event in Seoul's social calendar. The sleek black exterior gleamed under the lights as the vehicle came to a seamless stop, its tires barely kissing the paved ground, and with it, the atmosphere seemed to pause, holding its breath.

The chaos outside the venue—a sea of paparazzi and curious onlookers—was nothing compared to the storm that would soon erupt within. The flashing lights turned into a frenzy as the door opened, and Heaven stepped out.

She didn't arrive—she unfolded.

Her heels clicked on the pavement with precision, the stiletto tips whispering in rhythm with the heartbeat of the city. The instant she emerged from the car, a wave of attention hit her like a wave crashing onto a shore. Her presence, somehow both understated and completely overwhelming, forced the crowd into a state of awe.

Her gown—a black silk creation by Valentino—flowed with a grace that could have belonged to royalty. A slit cut high along her thigh, showing just enough skin to make every gaze linger longer than necessary, yet all the while, she was untouchable. The fabric shimmered under the event's bright lights, drawing even more attention to her every move.

The cameras snapped relentlessly, eager to capture the moment—the arrival of Heaven Valentino, the heiress to a legacy that loomed over Korea and beyond like a dark star. Foreign elites, chaebols, heirs, heiresses, and CEOs of the most influential companies in the world stood frozen as they caught sight of her. There was no mistaking it—this event had transformed the moment she walked in.

Heaven's bodyguards moved with seamless coordination, forming an unbreachable shield around her, their bodies as cold and efficient as her own demeanor. The sudden surge of paparazzi and fans, hungry for a glimpse, could barely make it through the circle of protection. Flashbulbs exploded, the air buzzing with the harsh sounds of snapping cameras, but Heaven's gaze didn't waver.

She kept her eyes ahead, her posture straight, exuding an air of indifference that made it clear: she was the one who decided who got close. And it wasn't going to be anyone who wasn't worthy.

Her heels clicked up the staircase, each step an unspoken command to the world to follow her lead.

That's when it happened.

A voice rang out from the chaos. Loud. Brash. Bold.

"Well, well, look who thinks she's untouchable." A man with an arrogant sneer stepped forward—Lorenzo Bravanti, the third son of an oil magnate from Italy, all flashy designer suits and a grin that reeked of entitlement. His father's money had earned him an invitation, but it was clear his manners were as underdeveloped as his sense of respect.

"I said," he continued, stepping closer to Heaven, "You gonna keep pretending like you're better than everyone else, or is this some kind of act? You think you're above everyone just 'cause you're a Valentino? What, are you too good for this crowd?"

A flicker of annoyance sparked in Heaven's eyes, but her voice remained an unshaken calm.

"Ignore you?" She paused, tilting her head. Her voice was quiet, calculated, yet it carried an authority that made the air around her seem to freeze. "Sweetheart, I don't ignore pests. I exterminate them."

Lorenzo laughed, as though he thought she was joking. But as the words left her mouth, something in the crowd shifted.

A shadow moved.

And it wasn't long before that shadow expanded into something far more powerful.

The room stilled. The first of Heaven's brothers entered, his aura unmistakable.

Andre Valentino.

A strategist at heart, his gaze calculated, cold. With a mere lift of his hand to adjust his cufflinks, the energy in the room seemed to turn. The very air around him hummed with power. The way he carried himself—the effortless confidence, the quiet precision in his movements—made it clear to everyone in the room that he wasn't just another wealthy businessman. He was a force, a man who could dismantle entire industries with a single move. When he spoke, people listened. When he commanded, people obeyed.

Next came Marcus Valentino.

He was silent. But in that silence, he was dangerous. His expression was unreadable—almost serene, until the weight of his gaze settled on Lorenzo. That look alone, without a single word, made it clear that Marcus was not a man you wanted to cross. The tension in the room escalated. Marcus was the silent predator, the type who toyed with his prey before ever striking. And in the hushed whispers of the crowd, the legend of Marcus Valentino was known all too well.

But it was Dante Valentino who caused the biggest stir.

He walked in with all the energy of a star athlete on a field, his grin wide, eyes sparkling with mischief and something darker. His entire presence seemed to contrast sharply with the quiet intensity of his brothers. Yet there was something in the way he spoke, in the tone of his voice, that made people uneasy despite his laid-back demeanor. Dante had always been the extrovert of the trio—the one who smiled in the face of danger, the one who defused a room's tension with a well-timed quip or sarcastic remark. But beneath that jockish exterior was a man capable of such brutality that even the most hardened criminals learned quickly to fear him.

The crowd was electric now. The tension in the room was palpable. People shifted uneasily as the trio of Valentino men each different, yet united by blood and power moved seamlessly toward Heaven.

It was only when they finally reached her that the room collectively held its breath.

Heaven didn't break her stride.

She simply glanced at them, her lips curling into a brief, satisfied smile. But it was Andre's hand on her shoulder, Marcus's unblinking gaze, and Dante's taunting chuckle that had the effect she desired: everyone in the room could feel the weight of their presence. Could feel the slow-burning tension between them. The four of them together? It was like the world itself bent at their will.

Heaven's calm, icy stare was all it took.

"Lorenzo," she said coolly, her voice still as smooth as glass, "Your comments aren't worth my time, but I'll make sure to send you a gift basket... just as a reminder of who you'll never be."

Lorenzo sputtered, visibly shaken now, but it was Dante's voice that came next, laced with mockery.

"You're lucky we don't let our toys play with other kids, sweetheart," Dante chimed in, his tone almost playful. "Next time you want to run your mouth, remember who's in the room."

The crowd's whispers escalated, and now, everyone understood.

Lorenzo was not just facing a woman of immense wealth. He was facing a family—a dynasty. And it was a dynasty he wasn't meant to touch.

A chilling silence followed, only broken by Marcus's low chuckle. "I think you should leave, before you make this worse."

Heaven didn't even bother to look at him. Her attention was on the room now. As her brothers flanked her, their presence almost suffocating in its weight, the entire gala seemed to know one thing:

They had just witnessed the power of the Valentino bloodline.

As Lorenzo stumbled away, pale and deflated, the energy in the room shifted again—but this time, it bent in a very different direction. No longer tense. Just... silent. In awe.

The Valentino siblings didn't just walk away from the confrontation, they glided, wrapped in an invisible cocoon of dominance that no one dared penetrate. Their synchronized steps, the way they naturally fell into rhythm without speaking it was like watching the most dangerous chess pieces move in formation, completely in sync, completely untouchable.

They were in their own world now. Untouchable. Untamed. Unbothered.

People watched them from the edges of their champagne flutes, holding their breath. CEOs froze mid-sip. Idol managers held back their starlets from approaching. Even foreign dignitaries—the kind used to commanding attention—couldn't help but shrink just a little in their presence.

And right at the center of that storm, Dante, of course broke the silence first.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his custom Versace suit, that devilish grin of his plastered on his face like he was moments away from cracking up. "Damn, did anyone else smell piss when Lorenzo walked off, or was that just the stench of fragile ego?"

Heaven let out an exasperated breath and facepalmed. "Sometimes, I swear it feels like you're the youngest instead of me."

Marcus didn't skip a beat. "Bro. Read the room," he muttered, side-eyeing Dante with the dryest look possible. "Jeez."

"What?!" Dante threw his hands up innocently. "We just crushed a man's soul in front of seventy billionaires, two K-pop royalty families, and at least one ex-prime minister. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Andre chuckled, low and subtle, and Heaven finally let a real laugh escape her lips, rolling her eyes. "And this is why we don't let you handle diplomacy."

Marcus smirked. "This is why he shouldn't be allowed to do anything with words. At all."

"Excuse me," Dante gasped, placing a hand on his chest dramatically. "My words are powerful. I'm a poet of pain."

Heaven gave him a look.

"Fine," he relented with a cocky shrug. "A loud, chaotic, sexy poet of pain."

The siblings laughed again, a sound warm and rare that cut through the stiffness of the room like sunlight through storm clouds.

But beneath the warmth, they were watchful. The bond between them unshakable. As the crowd tried—and failed—to go back to normal chatter, the Valentinos simply... existed in their own sphere.

Andre leaned in, his sharp features softening as his gaze settled on her.

“How are the boys?”

She smiled, light and easy. “They’re doing great. Surprisingly drama-free lately.”

The question hit harder than it should’ve.

Heat flared at the base of her neck, memories flooding back—taut muscles, biting tension, lips too close.

She nearly flinched. Almost.

But she caught herself just in time, smoothing out her expression like it hadn’t wavered at all.

Which, obviously, meant she was lying.

Marcus cocked a brow. “Which means you’re leaving out the drama.”

Heaven giggled, a little too high-pitched. “Maybe. Just training and learning. You know... the usual.”

Dante perked up from where he’d been absently sipping his drink. “Are the younger three still calling you noona even though they’re technically older?”

“Yup,” she said with a grin. “Though Jimin and Taehyung still slip sometimes and call me noona, Jungkook’s started using my name instead lately, which is... weird.” She pouted. “I kinda miss it.”

Andre chuckled, deep and knowing. “Look who wants to grow up fast.”

Heaven rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh, and I forgot to mention, I reunited them with Soojeon.”

That stopped Marcus cold. He turned toward her, all teasing gone from his face. “Wait. Soojeon? As in... the one Uncle took in?”

“The wolf hybrid?” Dante added, brows lifting.

Heaven nodded, a little smirk tugging at her lips. “The very same. It was... emotional. But good.”

Andre leaned back, exhaling slowly, his expression unreadable. “That’s huge, H. I’m glad.”

“You’ve always had a talent for mending what’s broken,” Marcus murmured, voice softer now. “Even when you’re the one hurting.”

Just siblings.

For a beat, it was just them.

No tension. No audience. No mission.

Laughing quietly, sharing glances and secrets like they always do when they are together.

But peace didn’t last long.

It never did.

Because they hadn’t come here just to catch up.

They hadn’t dressed to impress just for the hell of it.

Heaven turned slightly, her eyes scanning the glittering crowd. "Now... speaking of broken things."

There was still a mission.

And it was waiting for them just beyond the velvet ropes and champagne smiles.

Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Park Jisoo."

"Oh, don't pretend like you forgot," Heaven teased, lips quirking. "She's always had the weirdest obsession with you. Back in the day, she used to follow you around like a cursed ghost bride."

Marcus's nose wrinkled. "She's a crazy, unhinged bitch. I still wake up sometimes with phantom texts from her in my nightmares."

"Yeah, but," Dante added, wiggling his brows, "you're also a sick motherfucker. Sooo..."

Heaven snorted. "Honestly, if anyone's going to infiltrate that twisted little kingdom of hers, it's going to be the guy she wants to chain in her basement."

Marcus rolled his eyes but smirked. "If we're playing that card, I'll need protection."

"You'll have me," Dante said with a mock-serious tone. "But only if you swear not to let her drug you and turn you into her breeding pet."

Andre sighed, muttering, "God help us."

Just then, Heaven's phone buzzed. She slid it from her clutch with a casual grace and glanced at the screen.

The humor drained from Heaven's face like someone had flicked a switch.

Jay (Assistant):

Park Jisoo has arrived. Top floor. Wearing silver. Security confirms she's headed to the terrace.

She looked up, eyes sharp as a blade's edge, and gave a small nod to her brothers.

They noticed it immediately.

And just like that, the shift was palpable.

Dante's easy grin vanished. His eyes turned cold. Marcus stood straighter, shoulders tightening. Andre adjusted his jacket like a general preparing for war.

Their playful, warm sibling glow was gone. What remained were assassins in designer clothing—sharp, elegant, ruthless.

Heaven's voice was calm, but it had a new layer beneath it: steel.

"She's here," she murmured. "Time to begin."

And the Valentinos, one by one, followed her lead into the lion's den—no longer just the family that people stared at, but the storm that no one saw coming.

Author’s Note

Okay babes 😌 this chapter? A whole damn Oscar-worthy epic. Heaven didn’t just attend that gala—she owned it, silenced it, devoured it, and left it in ruins without saying a single damn word 😤✨. The paparazzi were malfunctioning, the rich were whispering, and the haters? Seething. And of course, because the plot demands drama—some rando had to act brave. Like sweetie… do you know who she is?? She responded with the grace of a queen and the vibe of a feral goddess. As she should.

THEN THE BROTHERS WALKED IN 😭🔥

Andre. Marcus. Dante.

The Valentino Trifecta™.

Armed with cheekbones, trauma, and perfectly tailored suits. They came in like the final boss level of a K-drama. Ride or die for Heaven? Absolutely. Will they still fight like grade schoolers over who called shotgun first? Also yes. Protect them at all costs. But like… also be a little scared 👀

Now lets address the elephant in the room…

OH AND YES, THE KISS HAPPENED.

Bitch I levitated. Heaven and the boys? That tension was THICC. The way he looked at her?? My toes curled. My soul left my body. I had to go walk around the room like someone just slapped me with a romance novel.

me: the slow burn is eating me alive

also me: drop the smut and run

still me: BUT I NEED CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT FIRST 😩

my outline: make them suffer for 10 more chapters

Also—CAN WE TALK ABOUT SOOJEON??? Heaven finally reunited with him and I swear I saw stars. Actual found family goosebumps. My heart is tap-dancing in the corner.

Jungkook: “You’re literally teasing everyone. Let us breathe.”

me: “GET OUT OF MY BRAIN.”

Jungkook: “You put me here. I’m the chaos in your Google Docs.”

Yoongi: “Author-nim. We want hands on walls. Eyes locked. Lips trembling. Deliver.”

me: “Yoongi I swear I was JUST getting there 😭”

Yoongi: “You’ve been getting there for 30k words.”

Namjoon: “Statistically, the tension is working, but emotionally, I’m spiraling.”

me: “Namjoon please 😩”

Hobi: dancing in glitter “Okay but imagine a flashback kiss that wasn’t real but it felt real. I’m just here to stir the pot 💃✨”

me: “I CAN’T BREATHE Y’ALL STOP—”

Jimin: pops in with a smirk and zero chill “Okay but like... when’s MY scene? I’ve been waiting to ruin lives with one wink and a well-timed smirk.”

me: “Jimin don’t you DARE—”

Jimin: “Too late. I already made eye contact with her in the next chapter. It’s over for everyone.”

Taehyung: “Author-nim, next chapter, can I have a huge D—”

Everyone: “TAEHYUNG SHUT THE HELL UP.”

Taehyung: “This is censorship and I will not stand for it 🙄”

Jimin: “Let him say it. I’m just here to break hearts and whisper things no one’s ready for.”

me: crying and typing “This is a hostage situation.”

And now that Park Jisoo has entered the chessboard like the villainous snack she is?

Game. Fucking. On. 😈

oh and before i forget, its exam season so my updates will be on hold for a while, I had to give you guys an extra long update to make up for my late updates and me going for a while, uWu. I will miss you all :(

See you in the next chapter, my beloved chaos gremlins ��

Your over-caffeinated, tension-addicted, softcore menace of an Author-nim ☀️

TAGLIST OPEN!

TAGLIST: @strxwbloody, @strawblueberrys, @taetaeheart22, @canarystwin, @drenix004 , @ghostlyworld, @loumin908, @rinkud, @nikkiordonez12, @taekritimin123, @mnguyeeen7, @danielle143, @welcometomyworld13, @avadakadabra93, @kiaralynn3838, @sugathy, @anaspectoflife, @juju-227592, @mygagustd93

#my writing #writeblr #bts fic #bts x fem!reader #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim soekjin #kim taehyung #min yoongi #park jimin #mention of abuse #dark content #fluff #suggestive

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dramalove247 · 7 months ago

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Favorite Things: Brewing Love

This show had so much to love about it! A unique male lead that is empathetic to a fault. An independent bad ass for a female lead. Complex characters that grow and learn to treat themselves better. The pretties male cast in a Kdrama. Some HILARIOUS bromance. Brewing Love was a great mix of quirky comedy, sweet romance, lots of cute, and a bit of heartbreak.

Here are some of the posts about the series that we've loved (spoilers ahead):

Just like @ofredribbonsandpreciousgems, we found empathy to be an interesting character trait for the male lead. They did a great job of creating a unique character and story centered around this.

The scene at the funeral where Min Ju cries and breaks the dam Young Ju was using to hold back her own tears was so devastatingly beautiful and well done. Here's screen shots posted by @factorygirlsstuff

This edit of the funeral scene by @i-got-the-feels is 😍! So many feels!!!

Enjoyed this post by @kangsongpyeon with thoughts on the early characters. It's fun looking back at the beginning of the show because the characters grow so much. Really well done story.

Min Ju was so real in this moment... thanks @ryoun

The male cast in this show was ridiculously pretty. We couldn't make it through a single episode without saying it out loud at least once.

The fascial expressions, drunk pouting and bromance jokes were epic in this show. We loved them so much! This was just a few that we couldn't get over, but we could have made a post like this for every episode!

We agree with @dramatictrajectory 😍 The bromance was seriously bromancing. These two were EPIC! The writers were hilarious. We are fans.

This entire scene, the words, the tears. Killed us. They declared a truce 😭

What did you think about Brewing Love???

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ms0milk · 1 year ago

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drive me like a madness, to the sea

bkg x water quirk!oc

"Fluorescent lights, hallway must, caramel and big brown eyes, melting together and at this rate forever waiting on the wrong side of a the party."

this piece was sponsored by the inimitable @ltadoriyuujl for the @ficsforgaza initiative! thank you sm for trusting me with your lovely Anika and for all your patience and guidance. cw seven min/heaven shenanigans including makeout + heavy petting, clothed grinding, manhandling, quirk use, brief description of alcohol use, aggressive banter, and implied audience. stevie nicks. one (1) miserable stint in a sweaty hallway and approximately thirty balloons. 5.9k

Sometimes just touching pages in a book, leafing through chapters, is too much. Damp hands on dry paper– they jump and rub, grate like running fingers between bricks to test how smooth they'll get. Katsuki regrets the paper gift bag he picked, slowly deteriorating in his fist and tries not to linger on the drag of class textbooks or crisp study planners as he pulls a little moleskine from his pocket.

Jun 9

Mina’s, 9pm.

6-1-63-802.

He clamps the A5 shut with his free hand and shoves it back into the depths of the hoodie he shouldn’t have worn. It’s the 1st. It’s 9:30, apartment 802. Why the fuck isn’t anyone answering the door?

The celebration in Mina’s new place thumps like caught fish and Katsuki tries to find new things to notice about the sweltering hallway, no windows, cobwebs under sprinklers, someone rattling around in the elevator a few stories down, and the errant blinking of a security camera, instead of blasting the door off its hinges. He shakes a stray blond strand from the sweat on his forehead and prays Mina can at least afford a box fan after scrounging the last few cents of the security deposit for this place from their penniless friends.

Katsuki doesn’t mind being sweaty. He doesn’t love being stranded in stuffy hallways, but he doesn’t hate the noise at these things; he mostly just hates the laundryproof reek of liquor and cigs but he’s not tapping holes in carpet for fun. Soon a distant dam will break and the floodwater hero he has no chance of outswimming will be perched on the opposite end of a loveseat six asses over capacity. She’ll be here, Anika, inevitable, thunderstorm. Sure, he doesn’t mind sweat but it’s her job to take note of wet things and he hates just how much it puts him at her mercy.

Before he can fish out his phone again to call someone inside, a bell kills the peace of the hallway and the muffled tumult of the elevator shaft bursts when its doors ding first and open, spitting out thirty-some balloons and a voice like high tide.

“Dynamight?”

He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s her but a choir of two dozen rubbing, kissing, squeaking rubber hellions makes the hair on his arms stand up so fast that he instinctively spins to bear his teeth to it.

“What the fuck?”

Anika, as if summoned by his own dread, struggles through the elevator frame and down the hall in the same black jeans she’s worn all spring and a too-big leather jacket that does nothing to help her manage her cargo. She shakes her head in an attempt to calm some static, “Fuck what? These?” and tips up to the balloons with her chin.

“How are you showing up late with the decorations?”

“You’re just as late as I am.” Anika grunts, shrugging a purse back up her shoulder and dragging her supplies towards the door.

“Sans party essentials.”

She doesn't look like she just got off overtime but contrary to popular belief Katsuki doesn’t have the group chat muted: picking up a shift that afternoon but I’ll be there! Blah, blah. Plus, he knows that charcoal residue. She plays it off as eyeliner when she doesn’t have time to wash her face well in the agency showers. It’s gotta be on purpose, little things he knows she could fix but leave just to make him insane. A pencil with squeaky lead, the half dead hem of her uniform skirt– knocking a water glass over shared notes and leaving the paper dry but misshapen when her quirk sucks it all out again.

Anika doesn’t look like a tsunami, ambling closer in the tight space with a litany of balloons in tow and increasingly irritated he isn’t coming to meet her. She doesn’t look like the hero that apprehended a villain with their tears this afternoon and she certainly doesn’t look like a girl whose slender hands have ever knocked him unconscious. She’s grinning, practically growling through her latex bouquet when she finally manages the journey to Mina’s door and lets her bag drop off her shoulder to the doormat. She rolls her head towards him theatrically, “my hero.”

“Spare me,” Katsuki grimaces. He stares ahead and has entirely forgotten what he’s doing in the hallway besides bracing for a fist fight or doing his best to keep his head above her spicy summer perfume.

“You see my catch today?”

He considers and then grunts, fingering the binding on his notebook to give the hand in his pocket something to do instead of, again, breaking and entering. He did. Balloon static pours off Anika’s chest in waves and the cloy of it at the fuzz on his cheek almost makes him turn to face her. Like the hallway couldn’t get any stuffier. Earth would be too cramped if they were the last things on it.

“That why you’re late?”

She at least has the courtesy in this hell hall to push her ballooned fist away before leaning in close like she might have a secret to tell, “Gimme some credit Dynamight,” and, bad omen, he can taste the smile in her voice before he hears it, “or am I making you nervous?”

Everyday is the day that he met her, transfer student, water quirk, a poor matchup in his sparring class– every conversation or study session or close proximity since that day, has been the sudden agony of his defense peeled off of him like a skinned animal. He never considered how it might feel to have the life pulled from his pores, but her quirk makes it easy and the second she shows up he starts overheating. Is it that obvious? What else can he do but tilt his chin down to finally spare her a glance after so many weeks apart?

It’s a mess. Just a painters wash of freckles on cider brown cheeks and mischief close enough to bite. Anika was not built to treat him gently. Her hair, short, spikes like his with static and tickles the sleeve of his jacket as she waits for him to finally admit that she’s right. She presses closer, predator, purring on his shoulder. Fluorescent lights, hallway must, caramel and big brown eyes, melting together and at this rate forever waiting on the wrong side of a the party.

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t turn away and hopes a few of his teeth are still bared, “What am I supposed to be nervous about, huh? Your nine-week plateau at #12?”

But Anika is not like him. For all her attitude she doesn’t explode off the battlefield and he knows this won’t be the thing that suddenly makes her do anything besides draw the damp off her brow with the trace of a fingernail. She leans away, jostling giggling balloons, “That’s number seven to you.”

A single afternoon jump from twelve to seven should make #3 Katsuki shudder but he’d have to be brain dead to let his heart beat that fast in this heat. Anika, hurricane, bends to collect her purse and knocks on Mina’s door as she rises,

“And what’s in your bag?—or—wait,” and grins. She bats her black lashes up, up, sweat pearling at her temples and in wild baby hairs, “about-to-be-clutch. I know you’re melting that dumb paper handle.”

The inside of kiln is actually a very nice place to be, he concedes. It’s a place Katsuki knows he can’t truly destroy anything. He can’t get hotter than white fire and he could never be more destructive than her, so what could possibly go wrong in a firing oven? What could he do, explode? Cure a porcelain vase or two? She’ll flood the whole hallway, she’ll drown all the guests, there’s nothing he could do to break her. He is melting the paper handles. What here makes him angrier, the fact that she’s right or that he’s smirking too? Albeit, over a frown.

“Well?”

He growls something in response, not important. A curled lip suits her, cocky like a feral cat. His friends get crinkle-eyed smiles and pats on the shoulder. They got to link arms with her on the way to class and they get to hold her hands during hospital stays where she coos and kisses them better. Katsuki gets this, an exclusively mischievous shimmer like glass on the backs of her dark eyes. She’s swimming in that stupid leather jacket. “Well what.”

“Were you gonna knock or are we starting a rival party in the hallway?” Anika adjusts grips on her purse and decorations and wipes at her forehead. Where her fingers graze, sweat pills and pulls gently behind them off of her skin and patters to the floor where she directs it, but the balloons don’t love being jostled and Katsuki continues to hate the sounds they make.

He winces, “already tried.”

“And?”

“Music’s too loud.”

“Perfect, I’ll start setting up out here.”

“I sent a text,” he rolls his eyes and again lets the silence of the hallway descend as he rotates rankings and pearls in his mind.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

What’s wrong with him today. Hm. What? “Eh?” Katsuki blinks himself back into the hallway, back beside her and two dozen balloons, back in her perfume, back caught in a trap, looking, watching the shapes her eyebrows can make when she isn’t glaring—

Anika frowns, “you’re being a freak.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you, what’s your problem? You’re extra quiet, get hurt on patrol?”

It’s time for this door to lose some hinges. Katsuki lets his phone drop back into the soup of his pocket lest it catches a loose spark and leans back, “I’m fucking tired— unlike the rest of you shits, I catch more than one villain a day.”

But it’s not enough, it’s not thrilling, he’s no longer interesting and Anika tucks a charged piece of hair as far behind her ear as it’ll reach before turning away. She knocks again and the vibrations of Mina’s party fill the silence.

“Whatever.”

The balloons are no longer charming and Katsuki’s losing his grip on his bag. He’s drowning, side by side and not trying to tread in the miserable hallway beside her.

Anika pinches her purse on her shoulder with her chin and fishes her phone from its depths while droplets of sweat pluck themselves from her skin to fall in a pretty ring around her. Irritated or glowing with joy, Anika always looks the same. Face of a hero, Katsuki supposes, even stranded in his company. She concentrates constantly, more with the bridge of her nose than anything else, crinkled asymmetrically between her eyes. She watches wet things and she is never wrong.

“Fucking Hanta—” she growls and pulls her phone away from her cheek to dial another number. “If you don’t—” But she doesn’t get to finish.

Katsuki’s hand jumps damp from his pocket and flies for red balloon strings as he turns. Anika startles, propelling her balloons even faster towards the spiked sprinklers above, half dropping her phone, and fully dropping the the sweat from her brow into an eye. The first pop is horrid in the silence. Like Katsuki’s heart could beat any faster. He jerks the bundle of strings down from the stucco ceiling and flies so much closer to her than he meant to, faces mirrored in sickly light— pop! The second comes quickly, worse, but not so much worse than the third— Pop pop! Four more bursts rattle the sticky hallway and Katsuki winces every time, but Anika only stares, one hand on her eye and the other still holding an ever-wilting and only partially floating bouquet, through the noise above them.

Mina’s door soars open, purple lights, music, burnt pizza, and he and Anika both turn, tucked into one another. Her hunched and biting back laughter and Katsuki grimacing, mid lunge for party decorations.

Kaminari grins as Katsuki’s bag fails— rips right off its soaked handle, plops to floor— and leans against the door he opened.

“Bombsquad’s here.”

Katsuki perches at the edge of the kitchen only just barely still in Anika’s field of vision. He’s miserable, obviously, and nursing his headache with a beer.

“Drinking it would help more.”

He glares before the words even leave her mouth, to his group of friends and Anika perched among them, sprawled out on Mina’s unfurnished floor. He grips the asahi pressed to his forehead a little too hard and its uncracked tab wheezes with pressure. He’s already finished two. Anika knows better than anyone what a lightweight he is and how much he hates it— how much he hates a lot of things these days.

Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Uraraka, Momo, Kaminari and some kids from old class-B cluster in the living room where a sofa should go and more importantly, in the crosswind between two windows. There’s a fire escape Katsuki keeps eyeing from his storm cloud, but Shinsou’s been out there smoking with half-n-half for the past hour. Drinks splash, groups laugh, and music floods the little one-bedroom in waves from genkan to linen closet. Anika slipped her phone in the aux line up when her friends finally pulled themselves away from go-fish long enough to let her and Katsuki in. It’s been a little less Party Rock Anthem On Repeat and slightly more Fleetwood Mac’s Greatest Hits since. Smells like school. She lets Mina pull her in by the shoulder while she fills a smitten Kirishima in on details from her sidekick gig and an apparently psychic new neighbor.

Parties after work are like falling asleep in her parents’ backseat. The white noise of people she loves, though, there are fewer mcguyvered margaritas on family roadtrips. “Be right back,” Anika smiles into her friend's ear and kisses her cheek before rising on a mission for ice. Everyone’s distracted today. Maybe it’s the heat.

Katsuki growls at anyone who walks past and almost gave Deku a heart attack when he came out of the bathroom, so much so he splashed the blond with freshly washed hands and got kicked into the fridge.

“Can I reach for the freezer or am I gonna get a black eye?”

“Try me.”

Katsuki doesn’t crack as she approaches, but still moves to let her close.

“You know,” she coos and breaks the seal on crisp frozen air, “When a puppy’s too aggressive you’re supposed to play with their paws.”

“You fucking drunk?”

Anika smiles into the artificial breeze and directs six ice cubes out of their tray with a finger. Even Dynamight, elven in his rage, can’t be bothered to quip or fight today. Can’t even be bothered to go home. What planet did everyone ship off to without her? They can’t let guests in, can’t check their phones, can’t mix a decent drink or queue any good music— Why’d Mina throw this party anyway? Graduation was ages ago. Why did she need balloons twenty minutes before this was all supposed to start? Katsuki simmers beside her, resting his hips on the rounded edge of the counter.

“You feeling particularly territorial?” She drags an ice cube over the back of his hand as she closes the door and ducks slightly to avoid recoil. His forehead beer shrieks with more pressure but neither ice nor punches fly.

“M’not your dog.”

“Not with that attitude you’re not.” She plucks a floater from the counter and dumps it in the sink behind them. He’s got no bark today, nothing’s made him bite.

Katsuki glares over his shoulder into the small sea of people chattering and setting games up on the floor. He glows. Fairy lights fizzle at the base of his neck where sweat stains the ripple of back muscles and his cotton t-shirt. Every part of him is heavy and polished. He is intentional even with his back turned. A skull hoodie hangs in the entryway and Anika can pick out his shoes from thirty others because of how particularly he lays them together. She lifts her hips over the counter to sit. He’ll let her closer. He always does even if only to get in striking range.

“You’re soaked, short-fuse.”

“First day with eyes?”

Can he feel her eyes tracing his throat? His waist is so narrow compared to his shoulders that the hem of his shirt hangs slightly over his jeans, a black belt hugging milk skin in Mina’s obnoxious colored strip lights. Katsuki reeks of caramel. He finally turns back around. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Anika pretends like she hasn’t been watching and flicks the tap water on to fill her cup, “Like what?”

“Like you’re starving. I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re fucking delusional,” she huffs, nursing water, “You’re the mutt here not me. And I’ve been eating, unlike someone whose too focused on looking cool to join the goddamned party.”

“Not in the mood.”

“When are you ever.”

Katsuki’s beer finally cracks when he drops it on the counter. The two heroes hiss without a/c in an apartment they don’t realize is watching them. Always a fist fight, he is always just one wrong look away from snapping or bursting but never storming away and today is no different even if he tries to feign disinterest. He can’t pretend forever in their kiln for two. She’ll wash away the clay.

“Not starving like a dog you fuck, starving like the ocean. You’re breathing all my goddamned air so go back to your wasted friends.”

“I’m keeping one company right now.”

His jaw puffs as he grinds his teeth, “Just leave me alone.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Bump up a few ranks and suddenly you think you’re the people’s fucking princess—”

“Oi—”

“—you’re not the center of the universe tsunami.”

“Why’d you even come if you’re just gonna sulk in here away from everyone?”

“I’m doing an infinitely shittier and shittier friend a fucking favor being here and putting up with interrogation practice from the worst bad cop in the country wasn’t part of our agreement.”

Katsuki’s asahi sits four good steps behind him for how far he’s leaned into his frustration and Anika’s legs part to accommodate him at the sticky lip of the counter. His white knuckles go pink. It’s been two weeks since she’s seen him outside of a television screen and nine since they’ve been alone. Finals and a nasty burglary at their internship agency. The last two awake in a 3A study session and the first awake on the last day of school. Catching the sunrise, they’d both lied.

“You’re beating the shit out of anyone that comes into the kitchen, just go home if you hate it here so badly.”

“I can think of something,” he growls, closer, “that’ll make me hate it less.”

“m’not letting you kick Deku again.”`

He stops short of shouting but it’s too late to hide from her now. He forgot he was trying. “You got your ice now git, back out to sea or wherever the fuck you stir shit for a living.” Stevie fucking Nicks moans somewhere in the thrum of their friends and their friends and those friends’ terrible mixology skills as clear liquor stings every nose in the room and both of the kitchen monsters pretend like their ears aren’t hot with drink. From another party, another planet, Katsuki bobs under her spice just once, glaring— how could he not, she’s one breath away pressed back into the counter between his arms and curling her own fingers over his without looking away.

“Still soaked,” Anika hisses and a door slams somewhere as Katsuki snatches her wrist with Dynamight strength to keep her quirk from killing him.

Sparring with her is suicidal, the only way to win is in close quarters after Katsuki has enough ammunition hidden to hold her tight and detonate. He’s knocked them both unconscious fourteen times. She’s won conscious twice and tonight might make three because Anika’s grin explodes cheshire with her back on kitchen tiles and a dripping hand crushed at the wrist.

It hurts when she wants it to, when the sweat leaves too quickly or explodes while she’s stealing it. She can be gentle. She is gentle with him, the water fell off of his knuckles as if he wanted it to and floats in pools like the tide on her palm.

“Have it back,” she purrs and before she can flex her fingers, before Katsuki can lunge, someone whistles from the living room.

“You’re up, bombsquad.”

Suddenly the apartment is infinitely larger than it should be, stretching and winding with two bad tempers at one end and the rest of their old classmates ogling at the other, fingers on their noses. Shinsou pokes a head through the window and all the sweat drops from Anika’s hand to the floor.

The linen closet, the walk-in beside the bedroom door, hangs open in white light with Momo and Jiro scurrying out to much fanfare. Uraraka must have been the one who slammed the door open because she stands beside it now bashfully checking the wall behind it for holes.

“Nose went, sorry guys.”

Katsuki backs off before Anika can kick him and more quickly than he’s moved all night, reaches for his hoodie.

“Not so fast Kats!” Kirishima grins. He’s humoring Kaminari’s burnt pizza with one hand and rubbing his nose with the other on a makeshift cardboard stool beside the window. Doing a favor for a friend, huh? Anika slips off the counter when she understands, finally understands the whole weird evening. Shitty margaritas keep her from exploding and in fact help her reach out for a rapidly escaping Dynamight. “Katsuki!” Kirishima whines again, “Please!”

“I told you he wouldn’t!”

“Leave them alone,” Momo tries to soothe but Jiro covers her mouth and kisses the back of her palm.

“Hey,” Anika whispers because she knows if it’s anyone, he can hear her through white noise, even tossing on a jacket and kicking on his shoes. The crowd boos and she presses closer “Katsuki.”

“Fuck off! M’not playing juvenile drinking games.”

“Thought you weren’t drunk,” she pushes just a little too far and resists flinching when the hero jolts back around, crackling, snarling. Her hand lands on his chest instead of an arm when he pressed in and the force pushes her back.

“You knew. Fuck ev—!”

“I didn’t Kats—“

“Going home.”

“I’m—” she doesn’t want that, “I shouldn’t have teased—” and grips the fabric over his heart just a little bit tighter so he won’t leave without a fight. “It was too much. Can I just talk to you for a minute?”

“Seven minutes!” someone hollers from the living room and then wheezes from a blow to the head.

“Whatever, can we just talk for seven minutes? God knows when I'll see you after tonight.”

Katsuki’s frozen mid-hoodie to glare, hunched; damp little hands on his chest where he can’t hide his heartbeat. Anika wipes a running pearl from the curve Katsuki’s collarbone. No quirk this time. It’s faint but Sero murmurs into a bad drink, “Scared she’s gonna steal his secrets or sumthin and take his precious ranking.” There are some grumbles, nods, and Shinsou snorts and ducks his head back out. Right, suicide.

"Start the timer,” Dynamight growls.

It takes four seconds for Katsuki’s hoodie to hit the back wall (and whip Denki with the zipper) and for the kitchen monsters to cross the humming room towards the linen closet. “Seven,” he spits to the closest onlooker, Uraraka, who startles and juggles her phone in her hands a few times before getting a hold of herself. Katsuki slams the door behind his company without looking back and there’s an unspoken consensus that this wouldn’t have been such an excellent idea sober.

It wouldn’t have happened sober, it barely happened tipsy and Anika tries to gauge the difference between gin and water in her veins before fumbling for the lights. Immediately, the skin between her thighs is damp. The heat of such a tight space would be unbearable if it weren’t for a little stained glass window and the crosswind from under the door, but still, she considers in the dark, it’s miserable. Momo’s bodysuit was stained gray from sweat and Jiro wasn’t just pink from a kiss or two.

“They’re trying to kill us,” she huffs, and cracks the little window before pulling on the light. Katsuki beats her to it.

He’s a dick but he’s not belligerent, and more than anything he’s made to be a hero. He made himself to save people, his parents made him to love him and his friends love to have him. Anika loves to have him. Even if he takes up all the room in this box with his overworked chest and red glare, it shouldn’t matter how weird he’s acting and she shouldn’t be so childish.

“Short-fuse,” she sighs, and turns. Apologies suck, but she’s not a student anymore, she’s not a intern, she’s not even in college, she’s a hero, they’re grown they’re busy, and she’ll devolve forever into immature goads cos he’ll let her. They don’t have enough time anymore to be kids or be close or pretend. “Katsuki—”

He sighs too, and dips too far down for her to stop him, eyes closed, to brush his lips over hers. His exhale tastes like hops, warm oats in the second Anika gives herself to think before she raises a startled hand and swings, claps it perfect center, into Katsuki’s cheek. The whole affair is noisy like they’re two crabs boxing in a paper bag. He stumbles into a towel rack, clutching his face, Anika holding her own and both of them staring, both of them slack jawed, as someone turns her music down outside.

“What the fuck!” She squeals after getting a grip on the windowsill behind her.

He can’t back up any farther than the doorframe and with his back on wood Katsuki, barks “I could say the same!” holding tight to his red face.

“I— I was trying to a apologize first!”

“First?! You were gonna kiss me anyway but when I beat you to it I get a concussion!”

“No— well, wait— apologize before you, you could—!”

“Could what!”

“I was gonna explain!”

“You hadn’t even done a fucking thing yet what would you have explained?!”

“You— no, explain myself!” Seven minutes is an awfully long time Anika stares, fingers to her lips. She hadn’t thought about what to do after apologizing, or how badly she needed to kiss him. Needs to kiss him. “I was— I just, miss you.”

Katsuki howls before freezing, before his face drops from harsh lines to one smooth stare.

“I haven’t seen you! I don’t get to see you, at home, at work, and when I finally do you won’t even talk to me. You won’t—” Anika swallows and tilts her head side to side before trying to look back up. She fingers a short piece of hair by her ear, “You don’t like parties, you don’t like anyone but Kirishima I don’t know how I’m supposed to see you anymore and I finally get the chance and I act like a second-year, I— you— you were lying. I knew something was wrong— or you were thinking about something or— er— and I was just so excited you actually came, I would talk to you about anything, you could told me about paint drying, but you’ve been acting so weird all night and I just,” Anika heaves, her hand falls from her mouth and takes up the job of a fist, “I’m sorry.”

Katsuki flinches, slightly more wide eyed than sobriety would usually allow him, a foot or two away from one of his favorite people and the cling of her summer perfume. “You’re not an idiot,” he sighs.

“You’re not listening!”

“I’m always listening.”

“You’re never getting a fucking apology from me again.”

“I don’t want one.”

“Gun to my head.”

“I never want another, don’t apologize.” This closet is not up to code so Katsuki moves slowly to avoid splinters and another blow to the head.

“I shouldn’t have used my quirk,” Anika sneers, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop it.”

She pushes off the back wall, “M’sorry for teasing you about that dumb paper bag,” freckles and sweat mixing. She has never been wrong.

“Anika.”

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in here with me.”

Every thought is one inch closer, “I’m not.” Until Katsuki can lift his hands just and inch and her jaw is there waiting to fit perfectly into them.

“It’s your turn.”

“I’m not sorry.”

She sucks her teeth but lets him closer.

“I’m not sorry I kissed you, I’m not sorry we’re fighting—”

Her freckles shift with her cheeks and she wets her lips, “It’s hard unless we’re fighting, huh?”

“I like fighting with you,” he bites, hint of a smile, like he couldn’t possibly get the thought out fast enough. “I just, I don’t know how anymore. We don’t live together, we don't work together—”

Anika smiles back, “How long?”

“Two years.”

“How long left?”

“Five minutes.”

It’s enough, she traces the back of his clammy neck and dips into a kiss.

Katsuki did his homework in the common room on nights Anika made dinner. He didn’t say anything when she clipped her hair short, though she only got compliments if he was somewhere in the room. He was always in the room, the first hero to respond to a call for backup, the last person home after a drunk night out, grumpy but inevitably the one you know will answer a text when someone can’t walk on their own.

She always imagined him more timid than this, to kiss, a nerd too nervous to hold hands, but Katsuki presses as deeply as she’ll let him and they both fumble towards a wall. Four legs tangled, he holds the back of her head away from wood and glass and bites a lip to keep her close. Anika wraps her fingers in his tshirt to stay standing, suckling, kneading, begging for him to lose slightly more composure and make some noise for her. A tongue across his teeth gets her what she wants. Katsuki grabs her wrists and throws them over his shoulders so she has something to hold when he hoists her off her feet and onto the top of the step ladder.

“y’move too much,” he growls knowing she can’t hear him, knowing he might not have even said anything and melting a little when her tongue slips gently under his. He has to cup her cheeks to keep from falling over. He’s not close enough. Anika pulls him the only place he can still move, crumbling on top of her and poised on the steps of a shitty metal stool. He fits between her legs like a puzzle and she gasps into his mouth when he rolls too deep.

“Bad sound?” he startles and settles again when Anika shakes her head with her hands in his hair. Not bad, not drunk, not gentle, she wants to watch him fall apart but she’ll cherish a dark closet on a sticky night if that’s the best the universe can do on such short notice. He holds his weight as much off of her as he can in the tight space and the subtlety of his strength gets steam trickling from her ears.

He drags a thumb over the swell of her lip to catch his breath in the heat but she shudders and chases his hand with her tongue. God, if he was clammy before. Anika clutches his shirt and his wrist and for more than a second Katsuki skewers commons sense to the wall. She sucks just hard enough to pull the tip of his thumb past her lips. Too hot, it’s too hot, Katsuki is soaked, sweat floods the swell of his chest and drips between his knuckles. He doesn’t need to see to know what kind of face she’s making as she takes his fingers in her mouth and the thought stalls him just long enough— wet, swirling— to— tight— whimper. Katsuki snatches her jaw with his fist and buries his face in the damp of her neck. Salty, she trembles when he kisses her there and makes a frazzled sound when he growls.

“Don’t,” he groans with slightly more sense, “my quirk—"

“I’m waterproof.”

“Y’rnot bombproof.”

“Well don’t light a candle,” she grins into the dim and him with her, dragging his lips from her ear to her throat and sinking his teeth into the pulse of her perfume.

He likes the sound she makes when he bites even more so he does it again. Again, he pulls the fragile skin between his lips and soothes over the welts he makes with his tongue when her fingers start to dance on his chest. Between her lips and her collar bone he rises to kiss her and falls to bruise her on the path that makes her breathe loudest and when she finally has to cover her mouth he pauses and kneads harder. How quickly would her breasts warm in his fingers? How quickly would she—

“Katsuki,” Anika huffs above him and his eyes dart to hers, glowing black in the moonlight. “How long?”

“Don’t care.”

She drags her fingers over his forehead and claws through the front of his hair without another word. Her nails are heaven on his scalp. As much as he hates to look away, his eyes roll and she swallows, sinking off the steps and into the crook of his neck. Better, her lips are better than her nails and when her hair tickles his chin it’s all Katsuki can do not to dissolve around her. Anika works gingerly and she pulls the collar of his shirt down to reach the parts of him she wants. His ear, throat, the vibrating skin above his heart, all bloom in pink bruises while her nails rake his shoulder. He manages to drag his hands up her waist and bite his own tongue to stay quiet, but hardly more than that. Melt into her lips when she lets him. They sink together into a spot between stacked towels and a previously functional laundry horse and forget for the next however long that there will be things to talk about in the world outside of Mina’s linen closet. Forget sleep, forget work and shitty apartments, forget clothes— Katsuki's hands glide over wet skin and under the hem of Anika’s top. Every inch closer is the drum of her heart and her clumsy desperate fingers tugging at his belt loops in gasps caught between their lips.

“Alright, jesus!” Mina’s pop pink voice shrills in a sudden wash of light and fresh air and her kitchen monsters startle on the floor. “Party foul! No fucking in the closet.” Katsuki’s hoodie sails over Mina’s shoulder from the crowd and onto Anika’s head.

His tshirt is a v-neck in four different places and Anika’s hair spikes in every direction but the one that she styled it in after work. Black charcoal is smudged on all fours walls, on every clean sheet on the shelf, drips in streaks and fingerprints over the bruises at both of their throats and generally illustrates the whole incriminating scene.

“Happy?” Mina’s overliquored drink rolls her eyes for her and she turns back around to the stunned crowd, spilling a little onto Sero, “everyone happy? Can we please have normal parties now? One’s that don’t gamble with my security deposit.” She turns again, overshooting it, ignoring the hands Kirishima hovers right over the spot her head would land if she tipped over, “And you two, did we fix you or was was this a terrible idea?”

Katsuki blinks up. Anika tightens her lips and Shinsou pretends not to watch through the window but smiles nonetheless in a puff of smoke on the fire escape.

#this was so fun! thank you!#pardon a little extra length if you will <3 #ficsforgaza #bakugou x oc #bakugo x oc #bakugou x reader #<- for my tag organization

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bluemoonpunch · 2 months ago

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🌟 The Elemental Alignment of Min Yoongi (Part 2) - Tarot & Oracle Reading

[Performed: May 13, 2025 / Posted: May 28, 2025]

As expected, Mr. Pisces Man Min Yoongi has some wild stuff going on within his core energy as well as his higher aspects, his soul, and it all seems to be connected to the pending revival of the Soul Body and soul group, linking back to Namjoon’s current state of being as a passive conduit preparing for “The Big Bang” on a higher level.

When attempting to observe the projections of his core, focusing more on what they would be at the time of his reunion with the others when they are all officially out of the military, I saw a butterfly, but one that looked very different than the ones I usually see presented to me. It still represented the same idea: the idea of rebirth and transformation. However, the wings were very complex and detailed, to the point where they almost looked like an origami paper shell laid over or around the actual wings of the butterfly. I was connecting more with his Guides for this, as, like Namjoon, he was a bit incapacitated on a soul level, so when I asked what the heck this was, what these wings were, I just heard, “intricacies.”

With this, I got a lot of visual explanations alongside a few blips of auditory projections that were pointing to Yoongi’s soul being “asleep in a bubble,” “incubating” for the sake of “soul updates,” that would contribute to “drastic changes” and “reinforcements to his new system.”

Being “asleep in a bubble,” was being reflected to me as the butterfly in a cocoon, but rather than the idea of a caterpillar going into a cocoon to become a butterfly, a butterfly had gone into a cocoon to become something more elaborate, something that was shown through this new addition to the wings, an extra layer that was much more intricate than the original. The fact that this came up as “incubating” intrigued me because that was a word I kept getting for Namjoon as well, that he was acting as an incubator, or that he was in an incubation period while things build up and waiting for the dam to break, waiting for that moment of release, “The Big Bang,” which seems to be connected to the revival period that was relayed in the ARMY Outlook Reading.

The element of him receiving soul updates that would contribute to drastic changes based on reinforcements added to support and protect a new system being integrated into the soul immediately made me think of what came through with his Past Life Reading. What’s interesting is that I had originally planned to read through all of the members’ solo readings to review and take notes, but for Yoongi, I was explicitly told not to read through his archive as I needed to look at his energy as if it were something brand new. But here’s the thing, randomly a couple of days ago, as I was feeling quite down and discouraged with everything, I had the urge to read Yoongi’s Past Life Reading. It’s the only one I’ve read of his in a long time, and it ended up being quite relevant to this matter here — you should pop over there and read it because he’s is installing blueprints from that lifetime into this one, like full on copy and paste.

Essentially, Yoongi is, on a soul level, in the process of reintegrating old systems of his soul, and it would seem that this is a sign of massive soul integration, meaning the “drastic changes” could be something he experiences quite consciously and physically as this new system comes to be. This past life of his, as many of them have been, was centered around being a conduit for healing, development, and ascension. He, at one point, helped to “design” the world when it was at its highest development, when human consciousness sat at a 5D level and the Earth’s energetic field sat in the 7D, with physical reality being well below in the 3D. He is attempting to reinstall these systems on a soul level, and it would seem they will be projected through his place in the Soul Body as the Third Eye, through projections of vision, design, and creativity.

There also seems to have been a trigger point for this, one that has led to him, on a soul level, requiring a stay in the infirmary (a fun little cosmic hospital type place where souls from anywhere and everywhere go to get soul scars removed and healed, seems like a lovely place but it’s not a place you want to end up.). As it was being shown to me, some sort of stress fueled break on a conscious level contributed to a destabilization in his field, in his layers of consciousness, that created quite a panic for his Guides to jump into action, grab his soul, and throw it into that bubble and send him off to the infirmary before things got too out of hand. This is blatant interference as well, so you know it had to be serious for a group of Guides to do that.

So, there was an element of protection and reinforcement being applied to the already existing systems of the soul for this reason, and then, on top of that, he is also having “new installations” added on to expand his capacity, reinforce his “cellular structures,” which I was taking as his physical body as well as the spirit body, so that he can hold and handle the reinstallation of these past life systems. He’s about to integrate his soul to a degree that was already quite overwhelming and painful in a time when the environment was more supportive of it, and he was more consciously aware of it, therefore, he will need a lot of assistance on multiple levels to carry this. I was seeing that this could even affect his physical health to a degree and could cause mental upsets, as it can just feel quite reality-breaking to have this level of integration happen so quickly without being 100% consciously aware that it is happening.

As I mentioned, I was told not to read through his archive, to look at his energy for this reading as brand new, but I had already read through his Past Life Reading, and I just HAD to look at his External Alignment because I remember some stuff in there that feels relevant to this as well in terms of his soul preparing or having a sense of certain shifts to come. Now, I didn’t read through it all, I just scrolled through the page on the website, and there was a bolded, quoted section there where I had relayed what a Guide had said to me while I was quite confused on what I was seeing and hearing within Yoongi’s core or inner world. It was the only thing that I took note of, and it just seems to fit here now. This is what the quote from the Guide at that time said:

“Things are shifting, he’s shifting out. Vibration already a lot higher. I think he thinks he’s actually dying. He’s really exhausted, he’s been waiting for the ascension to shift him out of the body, but he’s hesitating because he doesn't know how the others are going to shift.”

This reminded me of something in his Past Life Reading, particularly the end of his life, as it was showing that he deliberately “unplugged” himself, caused his own body to shut down. He did not commit suicide; he just willfully released his soul from the conscious and physical space, and the physical body and mind started to rapidly come undone. There’s something in this that is resonating with things right now where the body and mind are being altered to handle and hold higher frequencies that are not supported well in the current state or the current environment, and by environment, I mean the entirety of the current physical reality that we exist in.

With the Past Life Reading in mind, I was seeing a lot of grid patterns, like layers of grids being placed over each other, very zoomed in to each intersecting line before zooming out and showing that these are the intricate structures of the origami butterfly wings that are laid over the original butterfly wings. All levels of consciousness, as well as the soul itself, are being upgraded and reinforced to hold what is about to start coming through.

In Yoongi’s Past Life, he was a direct channel of higher frequencies between higher dimensions and the physical Earth itself. He had extremely high-frequency energy moving through him at all times to the point where I described him as a giant stick of clear quartz just walking around on Earth. This is what he is becoming again, but there is more mindfulness put toward what that does to the body and mind, as well as the fact that this is going to be implemented in a reality that has fallen into a much lower place compared to what it was the first go around. Special attention is being paid to issues of mental and physical exhaustion, physical pain, and the risk of illness forming. The necessary element of protection is here as well, which has come up in the ARMY Outlook reading and Namjoon’s reading, showing that this is something affecting the collective, not just Yoongi.

I was being shown that, for sure, Yoongi’s complete release from enlistment and the first full reunion of all seven members without the tethers and restrictions of enlistment applied, as in, they are all out and away from that structured system, this is when the dam breaks. Yoongi is a trigger point for the revival period to begin. As I was seeing it, Yoongi’s energy center in the Soul Body, his soul in general, would be the last to “wake up” and when he does, it causes Namjoon’s energy center to burst and we get “The Big Bang” on an etheric level, which then starts to trickle down through the others, the soul group, the conscious collective of ARMY, and then it will ripple out over the next few years through the mass global collective. Mind you, BTS are not the only source of this, so there could be all kinds of stuff going on for the last half of the 2020s.

Going back for a second to the “trigger point” for the infirmary stay; it seems to have been a consciously and physically lived experience that put him in an isolated state where there was some kind of odd split in his mind that caused him a great deal of stress and a sense of uncertainty of instability within his idea of or connection to soul purpose or his job in general. The only thing that came to mind with this was the whole scooter incident. It could have been something else, but there’s such a strong aspect to it involving him thinking he’s about to lose everything, lose himself, lose the ground he’s standing on without any idea of how to control or change the situation while the whole thing is difficult to navigate because it is so obsurred and too confusing to even begin rectifying. The scooter incident could have left him feeling unstable and uncertain about the public, his fans, the company, the other guys, and his sense of how he was going to navigate things going forward. There’s something there as well about his commitment to staying unseen through enlistment, and the focus suddenly being on him also being quite distressing.

The last couple of things that I have in my notes refers to a “black and white face peering through a window,” which I was later seeing as an indication again of Yoongi being a trigger point for the revival period where the “doors and windows” that were being opened within the soul group, as explained in the ARMY Outlook Reading, Yoongi is the channel on both a conscious and unconsicous level for the energy to start moving. It looks like Yoongi’s complete reunion with the group pops Namjoon’s star, the energy then explodes out and moves through Yoongi’s channels and hits the soul group. I have a bit of a theory, considering Hoseok’s position, that this is going to be some old school Rap Line Triad shenannigans where we have a literal transference from Pisces Man Min Yoongi to Aquarius Man Jung Hoseok, as in the 12th House unknown, higher, out of body, beyond the human experience waters being channled through the Water Bearer, dripping down like an IV into the human awareness through Hoseok, through the Throat Chakra of the Soul Body.

Along with this was the word “flying,” which came with images of a hot air balloon and a plane, as well as reflections of the butterfly. The higher frequency, the stimulation creating fuel or heat that allows things to become light and to start flying. This reflects the flux in frequency, the rapid rising of energetic vibration in the Soul Body and the soul group.

I also forgot to mention that there was a lot of talking at one point, like A LOT of talking, but I wasn’t able to hear most of it as my audio pick up in the psychic sense is complete shit, but it sounded a lot like I was listening to a continuous recording or people talking to each other. It sounded a bit panicked, and given what I was asking at the time, regarding the quick action to put Yoongi’s soul in the infirmary, it very well could have been a relaying of what was being said or the reasons behind it, but, again, it was very choppy. The only things I was able to write down were:

“Trying to—”

“Come out—”

“Scarlet”

“Bow”

“ —was giving”

“Shape to / hang to”

“Deal of—”

“Look, see—”

“Purity—”

“Insides—”

“Polaris—”

I stopped listening there as I had to Google what Polaris was. Polaris is the name of the “North Star,” or the brightest star in the Ursa Minor constellation, part of the Little Dipper. This made me think back to Namjoon’s readings and the references to him looking like a star as well as the note of the Soul Body looking like planetary bodies oribiting around each other in the ARMY Outlook Reading, especially as the Polaris star was described as “appearing to stay in the same position in the sky while other stars appear to rotate around it, making it a useful reference point for navigation.”

I had a sudden twinge of curiosity to know the connections between Lemuaria (Yoongi has shown to have connections here a few times) and Polaris, and there was an interesting thing that came up on the search results:

I don’t know if this is necessarily relevant to this, BUT I just thought this was interesting because I always say humanity is on its third wave right now, that human evolution has occurred three times and we are within the third wave of that system now with an unfortunate devolving that occurred quite a long time ago, and these seem to fit the idea of that a bit with obvious crossovers based on time. Just thought it was interesting. Especially with Yoongi’s Past Life reading in mind, it’s very, very interesting.

YOONGI’S NEW SOUL BLUEPRINT WITH SPRINKLES (I would like to preemptively scream a bit here because the Leumarian Crystal came out in this section and I’m a little freaked about it because I don’t ever really mention all that kind of stuff in the guys’ readings, so for that to have popped up in my mind and for it to show up here while using my hand-made crystal deck for the first time… like, I don’t know, that just feels crazy to me lol.)

This setup here is looking at the blueprint for Yoongi’s new soul design, or the new upgrades being added on a soul level. There’s a lot here about expansion, progression, and stabilizing foundations. At the top center, the Co-Create and Peace cards are highlighted quite a bit with the connection and integration of the past life. You can take it quite literally, the idea that his soul is aiming to create peace or act as a conduit for higher blueprints of peace, pulling that energy down and planting those seeds within the Earth through the collective consciousness — his awareness of the collective consciousness, as I recall, was a big deal in his original Elemental Alignment reading.

Over the Co-Create card, there are three Sprinkles that seem to designate the three images as the three main layers of consciousness with different levels of awareness or input. The higher consciousness, the seat of the soul, has “don’t look now,” with the subconscious saying, “help me understand,” while the conscious mind, which is represented as an egg, the incubation, says, “hometown habits.”

The reference to hometown habits makes me think of the installation of past life habits, mindsets, systems, missions, and so on. There is a natural evolution occurring within the egg, within the conscious mind, something registering as a personality change, a in perspective and perception, that is triggering the subconscious mind and begging for clarity or understanding of why this is happening. The higher unconscious is responding with, “don’t look now, don’t ask me now, don’t question it now, you’ll understand later.” This is making me think of what was discussed in Namjoon’s Saturn’s Trial reading about needing to trust yourself, to believe in yourself, and not act in fear or allow fear and uncertainty to hold you back. The black and white face peering through the window could be representing that as well, the idea that Yoongi will have a very strong, instinctual urge to do or say certain things, but he will not consciously be able to understand where they are coming from because it is from such a different system that even he, as a more spiritually aware person, would be quite overwhelmed or confused with these words or actions.

For the rest of this bit, I’ll just move through the sets one by one since it’s laying out a general structure.

The first card, The Comic, seems to represent a more conscious level approach to things where his priority is “putting a smile on everyone’s face,” doing things without question with the intention to make other people happy. This is making me think of his willingness to do things upon request from ARMYs in streams without question. Like, it’s such a simple thing on the surface, but it’s registering here as being puppeteered by people. Especially now, if we consider the possibility of his sense of stability concerning fans and the public having been shaken, there may be a higher desire to cut off this aspect of his personality, or at least heavily filter it or be more mindful of it as it has become an open window for negative influence and self-perception to come through.

The emphasis on Vesta here is interesting as this is associated with self-focus and prioritizing personal desires over the desires of other people. Vesta can also call for an element of sacrifice, giving up one thing to ensure you can have another, and with the focus here being on self-preservation and locking things in, there may be an urge to speak less or connect less with the public and fans in general. This could be one of the things that he has an urge to do but is confused or conflicted about, as it is not of his previous personality or mindset.

The second set has Synergy linking over to the combination of Peace and Co-Create through the Sprinkle that says, “yes, moonchild” which is to reference a confirmation that a person’s feelings or subconscious intuition is correct about something. Coming off of The Comic, this could be reflecting the effort to confirm, especially through the subconscious questioning shown in, “help me understand,” for Yoongi that his sudden desire to stay separated from the public eye, to stay distanced mentally and emotionally from ARMYs, and to reserve his energy and focus for other things is correct and the path to follow.

The Synergy card feels to be the basis of the integration of the old/new system of the soul. The note on the card says,

“The frequency of Synergy supports our allowance and acceptance of not-so-obvious, never-seen-before combinations and unions that result in new ways of functioning, working, thinking, relating, loving, and being. It reminds us to embrace the unfamiliar so that new yet exciting cocreations can give birth to a new reality.”

This made me think of combining the current system of the soul with a past system and this creating a conflicting sense of self and way of operating on a conscious level that he will be intuitively guided to accept and just roll with while still being quite confused with the sudden shift of mind. Again, this could show up in a few ways that could be concerning, but for the most part, he should be completely fine.

The Sprinkle at the top, “the specifics,” does seem to be marking this as a baseline or the general operation of the soul, as in, the new installations are for the sake of ensuring synergy, a smooth operation going forward with as little room for interruption or corruption as possible.

Below this, there is an interesting pattern as there are two questions proposed over this card that are split and connected to “yes, moonchild.” Neither of these questions, however, are yes or no type questions, which leads me to believe that if Yoongi were to be presented with these questions, his immediate intuitive answer would be the correct one. Those questions are, “what was life even like before this?” which felt connected to the past life as well as the sense of self-perception he had before the military enlistment, and, “where are your friends?”

Something about this last question made me think again of his External Alignment, where there was a whole thing about his soul waiting for the others, looking for the others, or something like that. However, this does seem to be representing a question towards his connections to people outside of his designated “family,” connecting a bit over to, “hometown habits,” which could mean this is in general referring to ARMYs or fans of his specifically. As in, the question here is, “where are the people who say they love you?” which is followed up with a clarifying answer saying, “they’re treating you bad.”

With these two questions over Synergy, and under “the specifics,” it feels to be also pointing out these two elements — the past state of being and the emotional and mental connection to ARMYs or the public — being a major disruption to the new system. There may have been some level of collapse in trust or perception involving the scooter incident and how people responded, and this created the need for the reinforcement and infirmary period on a soul level (this man really is way more sensitive than people like to think just because he’s a bit more quiet and has only cried in front of people like four times), and now, for the sake of protection, he’s being pushed quite strongly to question these connections and perhaps stay detached from them going forward to ensure that his energy can flow properly, that his work can continue as smoothly as possible.

The next set emphasizes the element of vision and the projection of that vision, which, again, matches his position in the Soul Body as the Third Eye, which is the chakra that Visualisation is associated with, as well as his personal soul mission and past life soul mission when it came to projecting, transmitting, and integrating 5D blueprints into the 3D space to elevate human consciousness and help to ensure the continued evolution of human consciousness.

Resourcefulness feels very connected to the past life that was mentioned, representing the aspect of tapping into old tools, lessons, maps, systems, and blueprints that can be projected out here now through Visualization.

Following through from that, the past life connection to Resourcefulness, a connection to those tools and lessons, is represented here with “black ink,” over the Part of Fortune. As I was seeing it, these past life blueprints, as well as the accessible transmissions, are like a well of ink that he will be dipping his pen into, delivering transmissions mainly through music and writing. “Lives twisted” also reflects the integration of the past life to expand on the current one.

The card that was pulled from the Spirit Animal deck as a designated consultant was the Giraffe Spirit, which has the note, “see the bigger picture.” With the idea of increasing, expanding, ascending, all through the Third Eye, this somewhat reflects the potential necessity of needing to separate or pull back from more superficial connections, as he will need to zoom out and hold a higher perspective to do what he feels called to do.

The next three cards are 999, 444, and Mission, which is quite a striking set given the context. 999 marks culmination, an end point, alongside 444 denoting the construction of foundations through a divine blueprint or a guided system. This being connected to and held behind Mission, which is a card associated with the soul purpose, makes it feel like quite a heavy load on his back, something that makes me think of the 10 of Wands.

As I’m seeing it, there is a system here where the 999 is being injected into the 444 while it is being constructed, which shows the need for expanded capacity. If you think of the whole planet and human consciousness being 333, Yoongi is carrying blueprints to establish and expand this system into 444. He is also carrying 999 that will be injected into that 444, all while he, like every other human being, is consciously and physically existing within 333. This is where that mental and physical exhaustion could come from, and this is why so much care and preparation is being done to ensure that this does not overwhelm him or burn out his system to where he is unable to function through this.

Because crystals were such a prominent thing in Yoongi’s Past Life, I wanted to use the crystal deck that I made as part of this reading. With this, he got the Lemurian Crystal (Wisdom), which about made me shit myself, Red Quartz (Passion and Vitality), and Smoky Quartz (Clear Blocked Energy). Over this set, there is the Sprinkle that says, “eat something,” which was coming across as “eat something, gain your strength back, bulk up.”

This deck was made with the intention for it to act as guidance towards empowerment and stabilizing of personal energies, so I’m like 99% sure these are elements that are being installed to boost his energy center. However, with the note telling him to eat something, these things seem to be something he would have to intentionally activate or lean into on a conscious level.

The Lemurian Crystal would be a conscious level connection to his higher unconscious, willfully integrating this new framework with trust and ease. The Red Quartz would be a higher subconscious integration of the ego, leaning towards more self-focus and sustainability. Then the Smoky Quartz would register more on a conscious level, where there is a filtration system applied to influences that come in, what he allows himself to take from other people, what kind of environments he puts himself in, and so on.

This initial set links into the other two where the crystal cards resonate as higher soul installments, and then we see them transferring over through the second set with the Tarotwave cards as energetic transmissions or what trickles down into the core energy, while the cards from the Rider-Waite deck represent the conscious and physical level integration and projection. This is how they connect — keep in mind the top rows would be higher unconscious systems, the second row is higher subconscious systems, and the bottom row is the conscious level systems:

I do just want to point out how this setup creates a woven grid of the layers of consciousness where the three columns moving from top to bottom, left to right, represent transference from higher unconscious, to subconscious, to conscious, while the rows reflect the integration through the layers of consciousness. So, the top row shows the Leumarian Crystal integrating into the higher subconscious as Strength, which then transfers over to the conscious level King of Wands. However, the King of Wands stands as the highest point of conscious awareness in the conscious level row. The King of Wands is the higher consciousness fully integrated into the conscious level awareness, which transmits down into the subconscious space of The Empress, which then integrates into the Wheel of Fortune. This is creating a web or a grid that heavily implies total soul integration.

Over the center set, the Tarotwave set, representing the higher subconscious space of receptivity, there is the Sprinkle, “what feels right,” which bounces off the “eat something” Sprinkle. This feels like the soul telling him to do something specific that will help himself, guiding him to something, and the subconscious intuitive reception takes it as simply moving toward what feels right, leaning into things that support his energy and space. He’s being prompted to lean more into his intuition and go by what he feels rather than what he thinks is right by other people on a more personal level.

“Don’t stop trying,” lies underneath these first two sets which seemed to sort of deflect efforts to deny or give up on finding or holding onto “what feels right,” as in, he may have the urge to do what is right by him, such as detaching more from the public and fans, but feeling conflicted based on a lot of other factors in his life, and possibly wanting to give up and just keep things how they always have been. There will be a constant push for him to prioritize himself and maintain his new system by only sticking to what feels perfectly right for him.

Over the last set, there are the Sprinkles that say, “ask your question,” and “don’t worry about this,” which came through to me as “present your questions, don’t worry about what they have to say.” The deliverance of what he may share will present questions, or he may bring things into question about the way, in the mass global collective, things are done, how people think, how people speak, how people contradict themselves and create their self-undoing, and so on. He may do this very passively or very directly through artistry or involvement in certain movements. He’s being prompted to say something or show something that will “stir the pot” in a big way, but it’s not very clear how, when, or what this is.

Just as an added reference point, for this grid and the way it lays itself out — the absolute higher unconscious, the soul, is registered as the Lemuarian Crystal, while the absolute conscious, or the conscious level Yoongi, is registered as the Wheel of Fortune.

Now, just to run through these quickly, the Lemurian Crystal, which could imply that his soul is with the Lemurian collective, either through source or imprinting, is moving into Strength, which becomes self-empowerment and a more sustained ego, creating self-focus and self-sustained drive. This then moves into the King of Wands where, on a more conscious level, he his led or ruled by his soul, not by the demands or expectations of other people. The reference to Kings here, with the Lion in Strength, centers elements of higher integration through the Crown Chakra, again suggesting full soul integration through this.

The self-sustained drive and self-focus is supported and amplified with the Red Quartz moving through the subconscious spaces, which is where the ego would sit in the higher subconscious rather than in a wounded or inflamed state within the lower subconscious. Here, the Red Quartz moves through and seems to generate these illuminated spaces, again creating that Lion/Leo/Sun feel, implying ascension and clarity within the subconscious with The Sun and the conscious level integration of The Empress. This interests me because the self-sustaining aspect is so strong here that it implies that the garden that The Empress plants over-blooms, over-produces, and overflows with creative force and light. She has become the sun, a sun that does not set, and therefore continuously generates creative and illuminating forces.

Lastly, the Smoky Quartz, which pushes the more conscious and physical level mission of clearing out negative and stagnant energies, lifting the collective into a higher, clearer space, so that they, individually, can acquire and experience their liberation or evolution, bleeds into the Ace of Pentacles. This is showing a gift. I see the Pentacles for the members as relating to albums or their work in general. This is still something that resonates in the subconscious space, so this could be a transmission of ideas, vision, or suggestion that can be inferred as work or creation. Either way, it seeps into and seems to trigger the Wheel of Fortune to start spinning, for things to start moving in a new way for himself and other people. This is where that “stirring the pot” feeling becomes more prominent.

MAIN READING WITH SPRINKLES With it in mind that we are looking at a blueprint of a new version or system of Yoongi’s soul, the alignment reading here is more set up to look at the desired finished design or what his soul and Guides are hoping to implement by the time “the dam breaks” or by the time to revival period is initiated.

In my notes on the main reading, I picked up on and highlighted again this element of there being less talking or a desire for less communication with the public or anyone outside of his inner, trusted, and well-supported circle. There is a sense of the system on a conscious level and externalized level, as in what he takes in from the outside and how he interacts with it, being slowed down or tempered to avoid that burnout or the system becoming overloaded based on what is coming in through the higher levels and what could come through and disrupt that from the outside reality. I also wrote down that there was more Hermit energy as the internal focus could drive him to remain secluded or just turn inward more.

It’s actually quite confusing because there’s this push for him to talk, but also a push for him not to talk. I’m currently taking that as a push to be quiet about himself, to close off the open doorways that could allow people in, for the energy, thoughts, or feelings to permeate his space, while being encouraged to speak on external matters, to brings questions to people, and to criticize and aim to correct poor function in the collective. So more talking about others, less talking and connecting to himself.

CORE ENERGY BLUEPRINT: CROW — AIR (REV.) + SNAKE — EARTH In the main layout, the reversed Crow was hidden behind the Snake, with the Sprinkle denoting the Waning Crescent Moon directly over the Crow. This reflects the idea that his previous core, or his core at the time of his start in the infirmary, was the Crow, which is now being faded out, removed, and replaced with the Snake. To show the comparison of the two states, I’ll include the descriptions of each:

“Crow — spiritually strong, creative, watchful — The Crow has long been a symbol of magic. A Crow personality is drawn to the supernatural and has a gift for seeing the unseen, knowing the unknown. It is said that the Crow holds within its mind’s eye the three realities: past, present, and future. Crow energy is potent and should only be tapped into when the mind is clear. Those with Crow tendencies must balance their lives with a healthy diet, joyful friends, and regular self-study. When in balance: psychic, strong, clear. When out of balance: ungrounded, hypersensitive.”

Yoongi was certainly operating as the Crow, his energy and what I know of him register there for quite some time in totality, however, that point of being out of balance creating a sense of ungroundedness and hypersensitivity is exactly what I was feeling with the stressful upset that stemmed from, seemingly, the scooter incident and created a great soul upset as it rocked his sense of stability and trust in his foundations and connections. The reversal of this Air energy also gives way to that slowing down, or completely disconnecting from communication and observation of the outside world on a personal level.

“Snake — guardian of unawakened magic and creative potential — The Snake is a symbol of our highest potential. It is said that shakti (our creative life force) lies dormant at the base of our spine, in the form of a coiled snake. Regardless of whether this image rings true for you, it’s well worth considering the amount of “unawakened” or “untapped” potential within. What would life look like if you woke it up? How can you stir it from slumber? An experienced yoga or meditation teacher can lead the way. Make haste… the Snake card appears when there is no more time to waste. When in balance: prosperous, creative, charismatic. When out of balance: starts and stops many things.”

This feels to be expressing the amplification and integration of his soul while even the image of the Snake in this card shows the protective grid-like imprinting that these new systems are taking shape of. The element of guardianship also feels to be reflecting the element of protection while also setting him up to reclaim his higher standing of a spiritual leader, philosopher, or guide on some level. How this will look and play out consciously and physically is unclear, but this is quite literally giving me the visual of him “putting on his old robes,” reclaiming his job from that past life.

HIGHER SELF/SOUL BLUEPRINT: DEER — EARTH (REV.) + LAMB — EARTH The matter of the Higher Self or the Soul and how it connects to the core and the layers of consciousness is very interesting as we can see the same exact setup that we saw with the Crow and the Snake. The Deer is reversed behind the Lamb, showing a transition from one state to another, a whole new system being integrated. What’s even more interesting is that this set is way more black and white with the Deer representing motherhood, nurturing, protecting, and caring for others, while the Lamb here implies becoming the one who is cared for, the one who is protected and looked after by others.

The Sprinkles over this set are intriguing as well, as it comes together for two whole sentiments that play back to back. With the blue set there is “3D world,” “she lit up the sky,” and “way, way too much!” which comes together as, “people in the 3D world, people of lower consciousness have said you lit up the sky way too much, you shined too brightly and flew too high!” This is then followed by the yellow set saying, “no chance!” and “don’t listen to them,” which registered as a response to the previous set saying, “they want you to quit?! No chance! Don’t listen to them!”

At the bottom, the Sprinkle that says, “Grief + Motherhood” is an interesting addition when you consider the fact that Yoongi’s soul as the Deer, as the higher nurturer who looked at his fans possibly as younger siblings and children that he was guiding, to have, from his perspective, so many people turn on him in such a dramatic fashion over something so small, there was a level of betrayal and grief felt in this. Again, this seemed to hit him hard on an internal level. This situation shook him up, probably much more than he would ever actually express.

Just as the Crow is being faded out, the connections and communication of the Deer are also being faded out. This could also go back to what I was saying about certain mindsets and urges presenting themselves to him, and he might be quite confused with them as they do not match what he is used to within himself. Such as him being the Deer who cares for everyone, to now having the desire or urge to step back and either be cared for or care for himself through the Lamb.

With this, I was also seeing the element of illness or injury being a potential as, quite literally, there could be something that occurs to force him into the Lamb’s position to affirm for him that he can be taken care of, helped, without having to pretend to be stronger or put on a brave face for the people who are around him. He seems to have been struggling with such a thing when the mind was placed on the public or fans, but within his inner circle, he wouldn’t have to worry about this — this is something he might have to learn if he resists this transition.

WATER ALIGNMENT: PHOENIX — SPIRIT — ROOT CHAKRA FIRE ALIGNMENT: UNICORN — SPIRIT — THIRD EYE CHAKRA The Water and Fire Alignments, the two most inward-placed alignments, are getting major upgrades with the Phoenix and the Unicorn coming in with focus put on the Root Chakra and the Third Eye Chakra. The Phoenix focuses on a complete regeneration, a complete overhaul of the internal system, which makes sense considering everything else, but anchors it into the Root Chakra, showing that full integration and alignment. The Unicorn, with its association to the Third Eye, shows an amplification or personal projection of vision and creation. It’s loud with that “screaming thunder” Sprinkle. You won’t miss it when it happens.

Over the Pheonix is the word “relevant” which marks this particular setback over to the Deer and Lamb, specifically the Sprinkle, “Grief + Motherhood,” which shows that the foundational restructuring of the Water Alignment, the emotional, intuitive, and creative center was triggered by or is running parallel to the soul’s restructuring as a response to the conscious level upset.

Running over both the Phoenix and the Unicorn is a Sprinkle that says, “to be revealed,” which is quite exciting as these two alignments would be very directly impacting his creative work, performance, and how he operates within his career, so, quite literally, evidence of these new structures will be revealed and become more visible and consciously apparent to him over time.

EARTH ALIGNMENT: EAGLE — AIR (REV.) This set is a bit heavy as the Earth Alignment in general is connected to the most conscious aspect of the mind and the physical body. This is registering more as Yoongi right now, or Yoongi when “the dam breaks,” and the sense of self being shaken up a bit. The Eagle is the highest developed Air energy in the deck and, when upright, it is described as “all-pervading power, truth seeker, and a transformer of karma.” In reverse, when it becomes unstable, it becomes associated with control, either controlling someone else or someone else being in control of you. Either way, there feels to be some sense of loss of control with the idea of losing your mind, your temper, your way, and just sort of running off the rails, or losing track of your path.

Essentially, there is a feeling here of Yoongi being very without a way as it is connected to both the soul aspect, but mainly, on a conscious level, this all keeps going back to his sense of security and foundations within his relationships, career, and purpose having been genuinely deeply disturbed by that scooter nonsense. The Eagle has been shot out of the sky.

Over the Eagle itself, there are the two Sprinkles that say, “battle ships,” and “do you remember 9/11?” Battle ships refer to the idea of war and opposing energies, mindsets, or people in general, “taking shots” at each other, especially in the emotional space. It implies either intimidation or a direct attack coming from somewhere. The question, “Do you remember 9/11?” is supposed to conjure a negative memory or a shocking experience that you can’t forget, one that is associated with death, disaster, shock, pain, and a feeling of being ripped out of reality (the earth stood still type vibes).

Yoongi’s Earth Alignment, which can show the connection to the self, self-awareness, as well as the level of groundedness and connection to the physical reality, is overwhelmed by this issue to the point where, on some level, he is registering it as a mass tragedy event within himself. A lot of stuff died within him as he was attacked and shot out of the sky. Like, I really can not stress enough how crazy deep these wounds seem to go from something as harmless as him falling off that damn scooter on a sidewalk. The way the media blew it out of proportion, the way people were calling for him to leave the group and company, the way people were practically petitioning for his suicide???? The fact that he had to make those apologies, the fact that he was made to feel like he needed to apologize to the other members… disgusting.

Connecting this card back to the Snake, there is a blue Sprinkle that says, “not your job,” which plays off of the green Sprinkle on the left, which says, “they are not your responsibility,” which lays over a reminder that “you are protecting a lot.” This makes me a bit sad because, again, this does not seem to be reflecting a blueprint or desired design, this is reflecting Yoongi’s conscious mind right now or at the time of the dam break, and it feels like his Guides are trying to step in on all ends to gently, as softly as possible, try to get him to stop thinking about it. Which… this seems to be presenting itself here as a deeply traumatic experience that he essentially faced on his own, and it almost feels like his Guides don’t know what to do with it. I wonder if that’s why it felt so panicked and rushed the way they shipped his soul off to the infirmary like that. They didn’t know he could be affected like that, didn’t know such a thing could even happen.

All together, the Sprinkles around the Eagle feel like his Guides are saying, “hey, it’s not your job to care for them anymore. It’s not on you to meet their every need or request. You have a more important job, you are protecting a lot, and you are ensuring a lot. You don’t need to carry all of this with you. Let it go.”

AIR ALIGNMENT: HUMMINGBIRD — AIR (REV.) Just the same as the Eagle in the Earth Alignment, this is reflecting Yoongi’s conscious level of external reception and engagement, either right now or at the time of the dam break. The reversal of the Air energy, just like the Eagle and the Crow, shows a deliberate disconnect from communication, but also a heavier dampening of the cognitive space. It’s like his mind is a bit burnt out, and he’s having trouble having a more positive outlook that he can believe in. It’s like he can say the positive stuff, think it, but he can’t feel it very well. There’s an urge to hide here.

Upright, the Hummingbird is described as being “positive, enthusiastic, and spiritually resourceful,” and with the reversed position, I’m just feeling the opposites of these, or more so, the lack of these things. He’s not particularly negative, locked in a dark and heavy mindset, but he’s certainly flickering, like his flashlight is about to burn out, so it’s getting dimmer and flickering a lot. He’s trying, but the current state of things, his current mindset, is quite wrapped up in the “battle ships” and “9/11.”

That’s all I have for this one, thank you for reading!

XXXX

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minnielvrr · 1 year ago

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Photoshoot- Part 2

Lee: Han Ler: Skz Word count: 1.4k

It was day 2 of their comeback photoshoot and after watching Seungmin get completely wrecked twice, until he had been reduced to an adorable puppy sized puddle of giggles, Han’s lee mood had, unsurprisingly, flared up.

The others were partly to blame for that, however, having used every opportunity they got to poke or scribble at the ticklish boys’ exposed skin, just hours after everyone collectively tended to Minnie’s rare lee mood the other night.

Today, for the first time in a while, Han had been asked to wear a croptop. He’d been apprehensive about how much skin it revealed, his insecurities about his body reigning its ugly head at him, until Hyunjin and Minho had patted his back and assured him that he would look absolutely stunning.

And stunning he did look, with the navy blue fabric, hugging his every curve and stopping right at his lower ribs in a way that, when he was asked to pose with his arms up, the obvious outline of his ribs stuck out. Not to mention how his entire belly was out for show, the subtle markings of his abs just barely visible.

It didn’t help that the moment he’d stepped out of the dressing room, Minho and Jeongin had intentionally crashed into him, their fingers pressing into his lower ribs and belly. He’d shriek-laughed, squirming in their hold until Chan had saved him, scolding the other two to not mess around.

And now, as he followed the detailed instructions the director gave him, he noticed the others smirking at him from the side, talking animatedly in hushed voices. He flushed in embarrassment, having a good idea what the conversation was about, subtly shifting in a way that exposed more tickle spots in the hopes that someone would do something about it all.

But everything seemed to be running smoothly, until it was finally time for the unit photos. He giggled nervously as Seungmin, Minho and Felix joined him, cooing at him and Felix teasingly asking him why he was being so jumpy today.

It was about 3 pictures in when he felt someone’s fingers lightly tracing his side, quickly getting faster until they were skittering over his bare skin, causing him to snort in a sad attempt to hold back his laughter. The other 4 members who were still waiting for their turn giggled at the sound, Chan biting back a smile as he gestured for Felix, Minho and Seungmin to focus.

The rest of the shoot went by, uneventfully and everyone made their way to the dressing room, exhausted and longing to change into more comfortable clothing before finally going home.

But the moment the door to the changing room closed, Jeongin tackled Han to the couch, pinning his arms above his head with one hand, Hannie suddenly hyperaware of how the arch of his back in this position made his lower ribs stick out from under the hem of his top.

Innie’s free hand going straight to Hannie’s sides once more, scribbling quickly at the pale skin. Han threw his head back, biting his lips to hold in the laughter threatening to break free.

The dam finally broke when more hands took over, scratching at his armpits, worming their way into his belly button and squeezing at his thighs. Han screamed at the overwhelming sensations taking over his body, his voice soon dissolving into sweet, melodious laughs.

“Pleahehehese hyuhuhuhungs, it tihickles,” he squealed between peals of laughter, bucking his hips in a frail attempt to escape. “Aww, what’s this Min? You’re being so respectful now? Should we tickle you whenever you’re being a brat?” Chan teased, pushing his fingers in deeper into Hannie’s underarms.

The poor boy only laughed louder at the fatal combination of teasing and tickling, trying his best to squirm away from Chan’s mean hands. Strings of ‘No’s and ‘Please’s and ‘Not there!’s slipped past his lips but everyone on the room knew better than to believe those empty words. If the unfiltered joy so obviously etched on their adorable Quokka’s face was anything to go by.

Han twisted his lithe body around in their holds but found that he could barely budge. More hands joined in, digging into his exposed ribs and some even taking his shoes off to skitter up and down his socked soles.

“Ohohohoho my gahahahad, ihihihihhit’s sohohoho bAHAHAD,” he cackled, “NohoHOHOT MY FEHEHEHET, plehehease.”

Everything becoming too much too quickly. He heard Minho’s voice, calling the others to stop, and mercifully the sensations ceased, the hands leaving his body completely. Changbin ran his hands through Hannie’s hair in an attempt to calm the panting boy.

“Hannie? Sorry baby, did we take it too far?” Minho’s anxious voiced piped up from above him and Han opened his eyes to be met with 7 worried faces peering down at him. Still too out of breath to speak, he shook his head, hiding his red face in his hands before talking, “I… I liked it, just- I think I need more breaks in between, especiallylikewhenitsroughtickles.”

The end of his sentence molded together in his flustered state as he heard a few relieved sighs from the members. Gentle hands pulled his away to reveal his face and Han clenched his eyes shut, suddenly feeling too shy to even look at the others.

“Hannie, can you please look at us?” Lix spoke softly and Han peeked at him, realizing that it was Innie’s hands that were holding his ones away. “We’re only gonna do what you want us to okay? Let us know when you need a break or if you want us to be gentle, okay bubs?”

Hannie whined at the petname, “Yeah I know Lix. Thank you, guys. Um- well, can you please do it roughly but with more breaks?” “Of course, love.” “Where do you want to get tickled next Han-ssi?” Asked the familiar teasing voice of their beloved little menace, goofily wiggling his eyebrows in a horrible attempt to fluster Han.

Still, it had the intended effect, Hannie blushing before answering, “everywhere”, only slightly catching everyone off guard. And that was all he needed to say for the diligent members of stray kids to get to work.

Chan’s hands went straight for his neck, tickling him gently, occasionally leaning down to pepper kisses all over Hannie's scrunched up nose or forehead. Minho took a seat on his waist, facing away from him and dug into his left thigh with one hand while scribbling all over Han’s right thigh with his other hand.

Han kicked out as the ticklish shocks travelled up and down his leg, holding Chan’s wrists tightly with his own hands but not once moving to push them away. As promised, Minho would tickle him roughly for a little bit then alternate it with the softest tickles Hannie had ever recieved, making the poor lee’s head spin.

A weight at his ankles, distracted him momentarily, before he was swallowed once more by another fit of laughter as Innie and Binnie went to town on his feet. “Nohohoho, plehehehehehehease it tihihihickles.”

Hannie tried so hard to keep still, but was way too ticklish to manage, squirming and bucking as Seungmin, Felix and Hyunjin scratched and traced lightly all over his upper body in a ‘kind’ gesture to keep him alive.

“ahahahahAHAHAA, WAHAHAIT NO FEHEHEHELIX NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE,” Han squealed in absolute ticklish agony when Minho, Jeongin and Changbin paused their attack only for his fellow ’00 liners to pick up their paces.

“OHOHOKAHAHAY, OKAY, EHEHENAHAHAUGH NOHAHOW,” he pleaded, reaching his limit and the three pressed a single round of raspberries on his belly before letting go, Hannie’s laughter silent, a few tears trailing down his squishy cheeks.

As soon as his arms were released, he rubbed at his tummy and sides, trying to chase away the tingly feeling on his skin. Minho pulled his into his arms and softly rubbed his back, whispering praises into his ears and kissing his rosy cheeks.

The others cooed and gagged at Min’s soft side, Hyunjin quick to duck behind Chan when Minho shot a glare at him from over Hannie’s shoulder.

“Hyungie, Jinnie was really mean to me earlier, can you help me get him back please?” Hannie leaned over and whispered into Minho's ear, a deadly smile blooming on the dancers’ lips at the thought.

Bonus pic of Hannie cuz he's just too cute🥰

#stray kids tickle #kpop tickling #stray kids #skz #skz tickle #lee han #ler skz #kpop tickle #minnielvrr™

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thedeluluverse · 2 years ago

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Annyeong my darling @starfire21! Here is your request! Sorry it took longer than I quoted, hope it was worth the wait! Let me know of anyyyyy feedback ok? Enjoy :) <3333

Author’s Note: Big thanks to @starfire21 for this request as it beckons in a new era of not just BTS fics! I hope y’all enjoy and feel free to send me requests anytime 😊Also, I got a tad bit carried away so if it's too long, sorry! hehe

Summary: Being together for 2 years, there is no limit to how well you know each other. So why do you still try to hide?

Pairing: softDom!Minho x subbyJYPstaffF!reader.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, coworker romance

Word Count: 3,861

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. swearing, angst in a couple parts, fingering (f. receiving), breast play, dirty talk, pet names, overstimulation, clit play, praise kink, neck kissing, guilt, crying, cockwarming, mom and dad issues, reader highkey hates her dad and wants to unalive him so there's talk of that too.

It's been 2 hours, and you are still reeling. Despite living in Korea for about 6 years at this point, your parents still manage to get under your skin. A notification pops up on your phone that your boyfriend, none other than Lee Minho of Stray Kids, has gone live. A small smile appears, knowing that he helps comfort you even through a screen and wondering if he can sense your need for his presence. Probably not, but it's a nice thought!

Once the live is through, you give a sigh of contentment, quickly replaced by the familiar sinking feeling that comes with the trauma you can't seem to shake. You are on the verge of sobbing when your phone screen lights up, showing that your boyfriend is trying to Facetime you. Taking a few deep breaths and smiling, you accept the call and are greeted by an "Annyeong jagiya! Did you see the live?". Nodding your head, you reply, "I did, and you look so handsome today, babe!".

Despite you doing your best to smile enough to not worry him, he can tell that the smile far from reaches your eyes. His tone changes to stern as his eyes bore into your soul; thank goodness there's a screen separating y'all! "Tell me." He demands; you try to laugh it off. "Tell you what? That I love you; you know I do, Min!". He isn't laughing, "Don't play this game with me, angel, I can tell something is wrong. Please, I'm here for you, always.".

At his sincere words and concern for your well-being, the dam is broken, and you start bawling, unable to communicate for about 3 minutes. He understands and doesn't bother you; he just looks at you pitifully, upset that he knows there is nothing he can do to help right now. Once your breathing has regulated, you say, "Okay, well, buckle up, my love, because today was a doozy…" he nods to show that he is ready and you are free to start whenever.

After a sip of water, you begin, "First off, my dad, who I haven't talked to in about 7 years, texted me out of the blue asking what I've been up to, and he misses me (bullshit, you mutter under your breath). So this fucker asks if we can meet up for lunch or something soon. I told him that I was not in the States anymore. He said that my mom was bragging about me and accidentally let it slip that I live in Korea now, so that's no issue since he has wanted to take a trip anyway. “

“I told him to stay out of my goddamn life since that is what he is best at, and he lost his chances to reconcile with me a decade ago. Then he dared to get angry with me and say he deserves to see me because ' he's my father.' I told him he was just a sperm donor and he had no right to me, especially since I changed my last name once I moved out. He didn't like that and said that I was just like my mom, a bitch, and that was it. Now most times, I don't like being compared to my mom, but in cases like these, it's a badge of honor, lol.”.

As you take a breath, Minho stares off from his phone for a moment to process all of that. Now, that situation would be intense to hear about for anyone. Still, it's an entirely different playing field for your fiercely protective boyfriend who knows about your trauma. "I'm gonna kill him." He states, still looking off into the distance.

You damn near spit out your water at the suddenness of this statement, then reply with, "I mean, go for it, have fun even, but make sure I'm there. I want to see his pathetic life leave his blank stare as I deal the final blow." His eyes widen, knowing that your talk of wanting to kill your dad was serious all these years; his only response is to nod, "Anything you want, Princess.".

Blushing at the pet name and feeling a bit better, having vented some of the day away, you say, "You are already fuming; I can just finish up the story later. It's okay. I will see you, la-" "You'll see me as soon as you are done telling me what happened today. Yes, I am pissed at your dad on multiple levels. Still, I care about you even more. So what else happened, honey?". You close your eyes, and with your voice slightly cracking, you say, "My mom. She happened. So she Facetimed me earlier, like 10 minutes after the ordeal with 'dad'.

She just wanted to check up on me, but I was snippier than usual because I don't like surprises like that and wouldn't have agreed to call just then. I told her that she needs to not just randomly Facetime me because next time, depending on what kind of day I'm having, I may not be in the mood to pick up. She didn't like that at all and tried to play the guilt card of not seeing me in forever despite her knowing I’ve been super busy lately. I told her that wasn’t fair, and we texted enough for her to know that my life has been hectic, so she needs to not try to make me feel guilty for my success."

“So then,” you continue, “she happens to spot that the sink has dishes, trash needs to be taken out, etc., etc., and huffs. I ask what's wrong, and she proceeds to say that, well, despite success looks like you can't handle it all if you can't maintain a clean living space and that after this long, she thought that I would’ve figured out a routine that works for me by now.

She even had the audacity to say, 'Ah yes, your work is soooo taxing being around gorgeous people all day, you poor thing.' That set me off; I told her that my job is taxing because I want to ensure I am doing my best, so they do not have to worry as much. I have had no energy to do anything when I come home lately besides shower, eat, and talk to Min for a little while before I pass out. The final straw was when she said, ', Oh, so you have time for your boyfriend but not for your mom; I see how it is.' And just ended the call."

He stares into space again and says, "Wait…what the actual fuck??!! She knows you have abandonment issues and how your energy levels can be, and she dares to pull that…. I'm so sorry, love, for everything." You sniffle, trying to ward off more tears and answer, "It isn't your fault, though; none of this is, which is why I wasn't going to bother you with it or bring down your day. Especially after a live because I know you get a mixed bag of comments with those; I feel extra bad now. I'm sorry; I'm selfish and shouldn't have word-vomited on you. Oh fuck, am I like my dad? I'm really gonna run into traffic now," you half-joke.

"AISH. Y/N-AAAA!! I've told you that you never need to hide anything from me, okay? I am here for you. I would’ve hated it if you kept all of this to yourself until you deemed that I was ready to hear it. Lovingly shut the hell up about that 'like your dad/being selfish' shit. I could tell you weren't okay and asked you to share why. Yanno, I love you and know you have struggled mainly alone for too long."

" Your dad would've just started unloading about his day without even thinking to ask how I was before, so stop. No running into traffic jokes either, alright? You really wanna do that to me and the kids?". The corner of your mouth twitches into a slight smile as you say, ", Okay, you maybe have good points; I'm sorry. And I wouldn't do that to you and those fuzzy little cuties in a million years!"

He smirks, "Good, and stop saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, okay?"; you nod in response, granting you a flying kiss through the screen. "Do you have any plans today y/n?" "Nope MinMin, I'm free the rest of the day; why?" "You'll see, just be ready in 15 minutes, dress comfy. I'll see you soon; gonna hang up now, saranghae jagiya!" "Saranghae jagi, I'll see you soon!". The call ends, and you put on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized hoodie you had stolen from him on your third date paired with your trusty boots, and you are ready to go!

15 minutes later, your boyfriend is pulled into your driveway and leans against the car waiting for you, not wanting to rush you but letting you know he is there. The second you step past your door, he runs up to you and captures you in the most comforting hug that might've ever existed.

This causes you to cry more, and his only response is to softly rub your back, occasionally pecking your temple and forehead with kisses and soothingly whispering, "There there, y/n, I'm here. It's going to be okay, that's it. Let it out.". After about 9 minutes, he wipes away the tears for you, kisses their faint trails, and leads you hand in hand to his car. As he starts driving, you have no idea what he has planned, and frankly, it couldn't matter less; you are feeling better just being in his company.

Putting the car in park, he turns to you and asks, "You ready?" "for what?" you reply. He emerges from the vehicle and opens your door for you, holding your hand as you walk into the building, saying, "Just trust me.". As soon as you walk in, you are taken aback at how nice this place looks but are too entranced in the calming scents of rain and vanilla to put too much thought into it. He notices you just taking everything in and places a gentle hand on the small of your back to catch your attention, "Let's get this started, shall we? Don't worry, I pulled a few strings, and we have the place to ourselves.".

Returning to reality, you look at him with wide eyes, "Wait….did you rent out a whole ass spa just because my parents were jerks??? This is too much; I'll be okay, I swear!". He calmly places a finger over your lips, looking into your eyes. "Nothing is too much for my baby girl, you need to wind down anyway, and I just had an excuse to pull something like this off. Now… go enjoy my love."

You blush at the effort and care he put into this, all for you, and nod, walking to the back. First, you get the best massage of your life, not counting the ones that Min has given you; of course, once it is done, the masseuse leaves so that you can retie your robe and move on to the next room. Nearly falling asleep from how jelly-like your muscles feel, you don't notice that you aren't alone until you feel a hand gripping your ass cheek.

You bolt up and whip your head around only to find your cheeky partner showcasing the cat smirk that you so adore until he moves closer to you and bends down, placing soft kisses on your shoulders, neck, and all over your face until you are both giggling. "Now, on to the next room." He commands while taking hold of your neck with his strong, veiny hands that impress you more and more every day.

Helping you into the next room as you are still a bit wobbly, Min starts feeling like this was definitely a good idea since it has been ages since he has seen your features this relaxed. Once you sit in the massage chair, he plants a kiss on the top of your hand and then leaves you to enjoy phase 2. Phase 2 includes a full mani-pedi as well as a customized facial treatment due to him knowing that you have sensitive skin. He even asked the staff to provide extra cucumber slices to snack on if smelling them on your face kickstarted your craving.

Throughout the mani-pedi, you receive heavenly hand and foot massages, and you start to wonder if this is all a dream due to how perfect everything has been. As you wait a few moments for them to ensure the next room is ready, your sneaky boyfriend whispers into your ear, "Enjoying yourself pretty?" as your eyes are closed, leaning back in relaxation.

Your eyes fly open, mainly from the realization that those 3 words created body-wide goosebumps. Hovering over you, he shakes his head and gently lowers your lids, "Keep relaxing, pet. Let master take care of you, yeah?". Biting your lip, you nod slightly while fighting a moan; at this green light, he starts a trail of kisses from your collarbone down to your sternum.

Your breathing becomes more uneven by the second as he takes one tit into his mouth, swirling and flicking his tongue around your hardened bud and occasionally sucking on it as if his life depended on it. He can tell that you are needy from his actions and stops right before the staff returns to lead you into the next room. Not before he leaves little love bites all over your cleavage, though.

Phase 3 is a special treatment that he personally requested. Now, the spa staff is well aware of your heat sensitivity, and you were fine temperature-wise until Min's little sneaky stunts left you panting with flushed cheeks. Well, it seems he anticipated this because he arranged a cooling stone treatment for you in the next room. They spend about a half hour moving stones of all sizes all along your body and double as many times over your pressure points to ensure you don't get overheated.

In the end, you are instructed to lie face down once again as they leave an even pattern of chilling stones all down your back as well as on the nape of your neck. In the midst of cooling bliss, you feel a familiar set of lips kissing up your calves all the way to the back of your thighs. Goosebumps appear again, and you can feel the desire pooling in your stomach along with the increasing wetness between the lips of your pussy.

He barely has to apply pressure to your inner thighs for you to spread your legs for him even wider. Leaning over your back, he nibbles your earlobe and coyly says, "Damn baby, you really are my subby little kitten, aren't you? All it takes is a few kisses and teasing touches, and you are dripping onto this table for me. I'm not complaining; I've just come to taste my handiwork.".

Before you can object for fear that you'll be walked in on, his tongue is deep in your throbbing cunt, licking broad stripes along your lips. Feeling you adjust slightly in an attempt to grind against his face, he firmly holds down your legs, saying, "C'mon, my needy little babydoll, you gotta stay still so daddy can take care of you. Unless you want them to see that their handiwork has shifted and be privy to your true nature." You groan as if to say, "That's not fair," but you aren't complaining after all…

You finish for the third time, not 5 minutes before the staff walks in with a robe, ready to remove the stones from your back, ignoring the smell of sex as they were paid to do. Sitting on the end of the table, waiting to see what will happen next, Minho saunters in and extends his hand towards you while slightly bowing. Furrowing your brows, you ask, "Um, my dear boyfriend, it's a little difficult for me to walk. Could you tell me where we are going?".

Ignoring your question, he states, "You feel a little chilly."; you huff and reply, "Well, thank you, great compass, that helped a ton. For your information, I am, actually. The stones set me back to neutral, but then, all of that release burned a lot of calories, and now I'm resetting." "I thought as much. Well, welcome to the last stage of Min's 'If I can't kill those who hurt you, I'm gonna try my hardest to kill your unhappiness and soothe your soul for eternity' tour!".

Trying to disguise the tears in your eyes from being seen, you tease, "Damn, that's a mouthful, love…" He just grins and cocks an eyebrow replying, "Yeah, well, so are you, and I'm not complaining."; this makes you blush and scan the area, hoping nobody heard him.

He leads you into a private hot tub/sauna room with the temperature of everything set just warm enough to help you feel normal but cool enough that you won't pass out. You don't waste any time changing into a bathing suit and letting your body succumb to the sensation of the jets and the melting effect that the water is having over every inch of you. Eyes closed and head back, you still have trouble believing all this is real. Ten minutes later, you feel the water rise higher on your body, and it isn't long before you know the culprit is your Min joining you.

Looking to the right of you, where he is sitting, you pull yourself over his lap and start kissing along his neck, all the way behind his ear, and finally over to his lips for a steamy makeout sesh that leaves you both breathless and has him asking, "Well Princess what was that for? I am certainly not mad about it, but I figured you'd be too relaxed to be this bold right now."

It's your turn to smirk as you rub your clothed core against his growing bulge, then whisper against his ear, "See, the thing is…I was relaxed, then you made me all needy, so you have to fix it now, mister." "Oh, do I?" he teases as he slips two fingers inside of your soaked cunt easily, which elicits a very loud “fuck Minho” from your lips. He curls his fingers inside of you, occasionally toying with your sensitive bud while kissing you passionately until you have cum all over his hand 5 times.

He lets you stay collapsed against him for a solid 10 minutes before saying, "Let's go, my adorable little raisin.". Pouting, you lift your head up, meeting his eyes and saying, "But baaabe, I feel too weak to dry off, get dressed, and go all the way to the car…” He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss to the tip of your cute nose before explaining, “I planned for this situation as well my love, just trust me yeah?” he says touching his forehead to yours as you nod.

He gets out first, quickly drying off, pulling on a pair of boxers, and heading back to you. He lifts you bridal style with ease out of the hot tub and places you on possibly the best bed you have ever laid on. As he joins you underneath the covers, you curl up against him with your nose on his neck and his chin on top of your head; "Jagi, did you invent a cooling cloud for me to sleep on?" you ask, half out of consciousness.

He gives a deep chuckle in amusement at how tiny you are right now, places a kiss on top of your head, and traces his fingers up and down your spine as he answers, "I'm not thaaat powerful jagiya, but that was precious."

Pressing yourself closer to his chest in embarrassment while giggling, you retort playfully whiny, "Don't make fun of meee. Just tell me what magic is underneath us right now, and can we take it home?". He smiles ear to ear, just as smitten with you as the day he met you, and replies, "Well, I thought you might get overheated, so I asked if they could set up the extra room as a nap area with silk sheets for cooling reasons. Sadly, they didn't have any, but thankfully, they did have this other fabric called habotai. It is much like silk but a bit cheaper and slightly more cooling. If you like it this much, we can send a set home with us."

Barely raising your head, just enough for him to see your eyes, you ask, "Wait, really??" with the wonderment of a child who just got told they can take home the toy they've been eyeing in the store for the past 20 minutes. Kissing your forehead, he nods and can feel fatigue overtake his body; right before he drifts into dreamland, though, your sweet voice permeates the air.

Pressing a palm against his firm chest to let him know you're awake, barely above a whisper, you say, "Um…I don't want to be greedy, but I have a question….if that's alright. I know you've done so much already." He glances down at you and cups your cheek with his palm, "What is it, my star?" you feel your cheeks flush as you ask, "Well, see, the thing is, I was thinking, or rather wondering if you could just…be inside of me? If that's silly, I get it, just, I dunno, I want to feel as close as I can to you. You're so healing you have no idea…".

Before you finish your sentence, he is gently filling you up with his cock and softly presses his lips against yours right as you finish speaking. "I doubt you could ever make a silly request or be greedy where I am concerned, sweetheart. You could want to hula hoop with Saturn's rings, and I'd find a way to grant your wish, my love." Giving a contented sigh, you nod, and you both drift off to the most peaceful sleep either of you have experienced in a long while.

Even though you felt like absolute trash earlier today, here you are, feeling like the most valuable piece of treasure. All thanks to your fantastic boyfriend who sees you as a goddess and would move mountains if it meant you were at peace. The reason is, to him, you are the rarest gem that he had the fortune of stumbling across in life, and he spends every day trying to think of ways to show you just how special you are to him and in general.

After that day, you both vow to always let each other know what is going on so that neither of you faces hardships alone; from now to eternity, you will be each other’s soul soothers, and you couldn't feel more thankful to have this man by your side now and forever.

THE END

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