#//i swear i'll make stuff up better as i go LOL

[buglaur]

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

YURI. YURI

YOUR TAGS ARE KILLING ME MAN AUGH

Like I’m just sitting here getting smacked in the face over and over by your compliments on my art aughhh you can’t do this to me /pos/pos/pos

Thank you so much dude wawawa

dude trust me when i say i legitimately feel insulted whenever i see my favorite artists get lower than 60 notes on their works like!!! you're KIDDING ME guys how can you just bypass that and not reblog it??? COWARDS<33333

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

I was thinking and wondering about how 141 and könig would react if their s/o started breaking down whenever they dropped a plate or fucked up in some way like leaving something on the stove and their s/o completely breaks down. Apologizing and crying and saying “pls don’t be mad at me” stuff like that.

Or reader accidentally says “ok” I’m a kinda of snippy voice and they genuinely didn’t hear reader, and say “what?” And reader responds with “yes sir” or some shit like that as a trauma response? Srry if this is confusing lol

If this makes you uncomfortable pls ignore

Hey there! I can do this, no problem.

141 + König Reacting To Reader Having A Breakdown From Past Trauma

Warnings: mentions of past trauma, abuse, crying, feelings of unworthiness, swearing - ENDS IN FLUFF!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

Nothing was going your way today. You spilled coffee on yourself first thing this morning, stepped in a muddy puddle with your brand new shoes, and your boss was in a horrible mood, and you were his target.

You made it home later that night, and it took everything in you not to break down. Simon would be home soon, and you knew he'd be hungry, so you mustered what energy you could to head to the kitchen and start cooking.

~

"Hey babe, I'm home." You heard Simon's voice call from the front door.

"Hey, dinner is ready." You turned a bit too quickly to greet your husband, and the plate of food in your hands slid from your grasp, smashing to the floor.

You both stood there for a moment, staring at the mess on the floor, before you let out a choked sob.

Simon quickly threw his gear to the floor and carefully made his way around the broken shards to you. "Baby, what's wrong? It's okay. We can clean it."

"Please don't be mad at me, Simon." You sobbed into his chest. "I didn't mean to it, it slipped."

Simon's eyes widened as he looked down at you, grasping your cheeks in his hands softly. "Sweetheart, why would I be mad at you? It was an accident."

"Because I broke the plate! And you were probably hungry, and now dinner is ruined, and I'm a terrible spouse." Your brain was going a mile a minute as the word vomit continued to pour out. "I'm so sorry, Simon. I'll be better."

Simon pulled you back into his chest as he tore through the thoughts in his head. Why were you so upset? It was just a plate. You two could order takeout? What kind of person would be mad over....oh. A lightbulb went off in Simon's head as he looked down at you.

"Y/N, sweetheart, look at me."

You slowly peeled your head from his chest as you looked up at him, your eyes puffy and red from crying.

Simon rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks gently before he spoke. "I'm not him. And you are a wonderful spouse. I couldn't have asked for anyone better to be by my side every day. I don't give a damn if you dropped a plate. We are all human, kid."

You let out another sob, your bottom lip quivering as you took in his words. It was known, Simon was a man of few words, but he always, always knew what to say to help you in the moment.

"I love you, Y/N, always. I'm always going to be here for you, and I promise you, I'm never going to get mad about trivial shit like this. You're okay."

Simon stayed holding you for some time, rubbing soothing circles in your back as you started to calm down. "Why don't we order some takeout, yeah? My treat."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

You and Johnny had just finished up dinner, and he was currently finishing up the dishes as you got the show you two were binging ready on the TV.

"Do you want any popcorn or anything babe?" He asked as he placed the last dish in the cupboard.

"Nah, only you and a buttload of cuddles." You said, turning to him with a warm smile.

Johnny leaned back, admiring you, as his hands rested on the stove behind him.

"FUCK!" He cried out, as there was a searing pain emitting from his hand. "Is the stove still on?"

You jumped up from your spot on the couch, alarmed at Johnny's cry of pain, and you went white as you realized you'd forgotten to turn the stove off after cooking dinner.

"Oh my God, Johnny. I'm so sorry." You mumbled, your heart beginning to race as you made your way over to your boyfriend slowly.

"Shite, that fucking hurts." Johnny waived his hand in the air, trying to shake away some of the pain, not realizing his quick movements had you hunched down in the corner, your arms over your head defensively.

"Y/N?" He asked, the pain in his hand long forgotten. "Baby, did you..did you think I was going to hit you?"

"I...I... I'm sorry, Johnny. I didn't mean to, I forgot I thought I turned it off." You cried out, tears now falling down your cheeks, your hands shaking violently.

"Did that..did that fucker hurt you?" Johnny began to put the pieces together in his brain. Before him, you were in a relationship with a man who liked to hurt you whenever you made a mistake.

You gave a small nod, your bottom lip trembling as you tried to prevent a small sob from escaping. Johnny slowly moved to sit on the floor next to to, and grabbed your hands gently.

"Y/N, I will never, and I mean never lay a finger on you like that. Any man who does has no right to be called a man. I am so sorry you went through that." Johnny rubbed soothing circles into your wrists as his eyes stared lovingly into yours. "Don't worry about the stove being left on. It happens. I do shit like that all the time. Plus, I've gotten way worse burns than this, this is child's play."

You let out a soft chuckle as you exhaled deeply. "I love you, Johnny. Thank you. Let me at least grab the burn cream for you."

"I love you too, babe." He have you a warm smile as you walked over to the medicine cabinet and watched as you fumbled with the contents.

Johnny made a silent promise to himself that day, that if he ever saw your ex, he'd teach him a lesson of his own.

John Price-

"Hey, have you seen my white dress shirt? It's not in my closet." John asked, as he rummaged through your shared room. He had a gala tonight he was supposed to attend, and he couldn't find his favorite white shirt.

"Oh! I washed it, I knew you wanted to wear it, let me go grab it from the dryer." You called back, making your way to your laundry room.

You rummaged through the dryer, trying to find his shirt, and your heart dropped when you saw it. You pulled it out, revealing a giant ink stain on the front, and looked over to find a pen that had gone through the dryer along with it.

Your hand flew to your mouth as you let out a muffled sob. "No, no, no."

"Were you able to find it? I appriciate you washing-" John's voice was cut short as he took in the scene in front of him. "Is that my shirt?"

"John...I... I didn't know that it was..there was a pen." You started rambling, your voice trembling with each word.

John took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he took in your state. "It's alright, love."

"No! No you're mad, I fucked up and now you're mad. I'm so sorry. I didn't know there was a pen, and..and.. please don't hate me." You sobbed, falling to your knees, your hands flying to your face.

John felt his heart shatter as he watched you crumble to the floor. He was very aware of the past you had with your family, a family that allowed for very few mistakes, and one that would punish you for any said mistakes.

"Y/N. Baby. It's okay." John crouched down beside you, pulling you into his lap. "I've got you, it's alright."

You choked out a sob as you threw your face into his chest, staining his shirt with your tears. "No, no, it's not. This was your favorite shirt and I fucked it up."

"Love, I was the one who left that pen in my pants. It's my fault, not yours. I promise you, honey, I'm not mad." He rubbed at your arms soothingly as he pressed kisses to your forehead.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding as you continued to clutch onto your husband's arms. "I should've looked, still. I'll buy you a new one."

"Aye, screw the shirt. I'm kind of glad it's ruined. I didn't want to go to that silly dress up party anyway. I'd much rather stay here with you."

"Really?" You asked, wiping away your tears.

"Really. I don't need some to be at some party with stuffy stuck-up pricks when I can be here with my pretty little partner. I'm gonna go order us some takeout. What do you say we get our pjs on and watch a movie, yeah?"

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"Hey, babe. Can you keep me alive in this game for like 5 minutes? I have to go run to the bathroom, I can't pause it." Kyle called out.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm not very good at those kinds of games but I can try." You gave him a sheepish smile as you walked over to him.

"It should be super easy. Just walk anywhere, but where the guys with red bars over their heads are. Those are the enemies." Kyle said, before placing a kiss on your head. "I'll be super quick, I promise."

You swallowed thickly as Kyle walked away, your hands shaking slightly as you held onto the controller.

You managed to do pretty well at first, avoiding all of the enemies that were wandering around you. Luck, however, was not on your side for long.

An enemy came out of nowhere as you were pacing back and forth in one of the corners of the map and managed to kill you with one hit.

"Thanks for watching it, babe. I hate how I can't save my progress in -" Kyle stopped mid sentence as he saw the "YOU DIED" message flicker across the TV screen.

"Kyle, I'm so sorry. He...he came out of nowhere, and I.. it was one hit, and there wasn't anything I could do." You started to hyperventilate, your breathing increasing rapidly as tears brimmed in the corner of your eyes. "I was doing well, and I didn't see him I.. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, it's okay!" Kyle was quick to come over to you, taking the controller from your hands. "I'm not mad, baby."

"But you losy your progress and I fucked up, and now you hate me." Your thoughts were racing through your head faster than you could process, and you threw your face into your hands as you let out a sob.

"Y/N. Baby. I promise you, I couldn't ever hate you. It's a stupid video game. It's okay. You're safe. You're with me, not him." Kyle gently pulled you into his lap as he began to press kisses to your hair. "It's okay, sweetheart. Besides, it gives me a chance to go back and loot better shit anyway."

You looked up to him through your bleary eyes, and gave a wobbly smile. "I don't deserve you, Kyle Garrick."

"Bugger off with that, love. If anyone doesn't deserve anyone, it's me who doesn't deserve you."

König-

You and König were cleaning up in the weapons/gear locker at the end of a brutal mission. The two of you moved in slow motion around the room, removing your gear and laying down your weapons to be cleaned.

"Maus, can you help me get this vest off? I can't seem to get the buckle." Königs voice shook you from your thoughts, and you turned to help your lover.

The strap of the vest seemed to be stuck, so you gave it a little tug. You evidently had put too much pressure, and it caused you to tear a hole in the fabric, leaving the strap useless.

Your mouth flew open, and you quickly ran over to grab one of the sewing kits on the table. You returned to him, and immediately started to thread at the fabric.

"Hey, hey, it's fine. It's just a tear. We can look at it later." König said, trying to grab at your frenzied hands.

"NO! No, I have to fix it!" You shoved him away as you continued to stitch at the torn fabric of his vest. "I have to fix it."

König watched helplessly as tears began to stream down your face, unable to do anything to console you.

He knew of your past boyfriend and how weak he made you feel. Any mistake you made would end with you being on the end of either physical, or mental abuse, and it made Königs blood boil thinking that anyone could harm someone like you.

"Maus." His voice was firm, catching your attention immediately. "Stop, please."

Your bottom lip wobbled, a whimper barely escaping your lips as you looked up at him. "But I ruined it."

"I don't care about the vest, schatz, it's military issued I can get another." He said gently, as he pulled your hands away from the vest. "I just need you to be okay."

"I'm..okay. Please don't me mad at me." You cried softly, looking back to the vest.

"I couldn't ever be mad at you for something like this. I'm not, and will not ever be like him, okay? You're alright, I promise you." His hands dropped yours and landed on the back of your neck, as he turned your head back to him.

"Tell me you're okay." He said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"I'm okay." You repeated, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Tell me you're safe." Another kiss was pressed to your cheek.

"I'm safe."

"Tell me you're loved." A kiss was placed to your forehead.

"I am loved." You repeated once more as a final kiss was placed to your lips. König had started this "mantra" of sorts one of the very first panic attacks you had with him, and it had become a comfort for you ever since. He was always the best at calming you down.

"You are so beautiful, Maus. I love you so much. Let's get the rest of this gear off and go to sleep, alright? I've got you."

And he did, he always had you. He'd never, in his life, ever let you feel like you were anything less than wonderful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thanks for reading!

[luveline]

idk if this is interesting enough for a prompt, but stripper! reader (w/ either aaron or spencer, your choice :) ) where they get worried because they see her with large bruise on her side but really she just got it from a hard fall practicing a pole trick lol

ty for requesting! I thought it was more than interesting my love, 1.1k

cw past implied domestic/workplace violence

"Can I make a cup of tea or something?" 

Spencer lifts his chin before his gaze, hanging onto the line he's reading until he's finished somewhere manageable. Finally looking up, he says, "Sorry, what?" 

"Can I make some tea? Do you have anything like that? Or coffee?" you ask. 

He almost slips standing up. "I'll make you tea." 

"No, I can make it, you're reading. I just wanted to ask before I went rooting through your stuff." 

Spencer's smile is shiny, pretty, all manner of things. It says Don't be silly. "You don't have to ask, help yourself." He nudges you in your bad side. "Of course you can have tea. I'll make it." 

You wince at his contact but follow him into the kitchen without complaining. You're sick of your own narrative —yes, you're a stripper, yes, it's hard work, and you know these things but you're tired of having it be the constant identifier of your life. You really wish work stayed at work, but the half metre contusion spread up your ribs like a formidable stain won't go away. You want something warm to wash down a few painkillers and hopefully you'll fall asleep on his couch. Spencer doesn't make you go home when it gets late and you hate asking him if you can stay. Easier to knock out on his couch and have him throw a blanket over you. 

His mind must have drifted to the same place. "Did you wanna stay the night? It's getting kind of late." He opens the kitchen cabinet above the toaster oven for two mugs, and the cabinet below the sink for his stove top kettle. He peeks at you from over his shoulder when you fail to answer. "Or I can drive you home?" 

"I'll stay. Better chance of survival." 

He does that adorable nose-wrinkled frown. "I'm not a bad driver." 

"Do you have any of my cookies left?" 

You wouldn't usually ask, but you paid for them last time you came over, so you figure it's okay. 

"Sure, they're in the cabinet by the bread bin," he says, moving to the sink to fill the kettle with tap water. His face flicks between you and the task at hand. 

You open the cabinet above the bread bin, double doors creaking on their hinges. Your cookies are in a tupperware container on the very top shelf at the back. He'd probably tell you something about mould or weevils if you asked why they're up out of reach, but you're more focused on getting a sweet treat than anything. You'll ask later. You can listen to him talking until you fall asleep. 

"What is that?" 

"What's what?" you ask, though any further questioning is interrupted by your yelp, a cold hand touching your naked stomach as you set back down on your heels. 

"What happened?" Spencer asks, your shirt held by his pinky finger as his thumb moves over the bruise. It's like he's hoping it's make up to be rubbed away, and he's horrified when it stays undisturbed by his gentle touch. "Who did this? I swear, I'll–" 

"Your hands are cold," you interrupt, taking his hand in yours, peeling it off of your stomach. "And it's kind of tender, Spence." 

"What happened?" 

His tone leaves no room for jogging around. You're not reluctant to tell him for whatever reason he might assume… You and Spencer used to live very close to one another, and you'd see him at the local grocery store, a small place, without saying much. He'd smile at you. Occasionally say hi. Until one day your eye was swollen shut from the force of a cruel hand and he asked if there was anything he could do. So Spencer knows intimately how people have managed to hurt you, and he worries because it's his nature to worry. 

You'll have to tell him what happened, even if it's embarrassing, in order to wipe the concern off of his delicate features. He's angry and scared and sorry, and he has no reason to be any of those things. 

"I– okay, I wanted to practise this twist thing that Stassia showed me," you begin, meeting his eyes with bashful reproach, "you don't have to be so worried. I was practising, or trying to, but it gets cold in the private room and I was shivering and my hands were aching, so I thought I could put on my sweatpants and try again but, you know, you need the–" 

"Friction," he interrupts, looking down at your bruise with a rather ironic smile. "You fell off of the pole?" 

"Yes, and you don't have to sound so happy about it." 

"I'm not," he says, rubbing at the sore fat of your hip apologetically. "I'm glad it wasn't, you know, what I thought it was, but– I mean– how hard did you fall?" 

"I thought I broke my ribs." 

He laughs. It's as soft as his touch. "I bet you did…" 

"Any more touching and I'll think you want to tip me." 

Spencer laughs and winces simultaneously, dropping your shirt back into place and neatening the hem "Right, sorry." He steps back half a step before stepping forward again, his arms quick to wrap around you in a sweeping but brief hug. "Thanks for telling me." 

"Super sarcastic, Dr. Reid." 

He peels away from you to light the stove unsuccessfully. Your side is throbbing at being remembered, your head with embarrassment, and that cup of tea just isn't coming quick enough. The phantom of his fingerprints linger.

You follow Spencer to the stove and push your hip into his, pushing the stove top knob in with the sparker until it catches. 

"Don't make a joke about my hands." 

"I wasn't going to," he says earnestly. The back of his knuckles touch your elbow. "You could tell me the next time you do something like that. You should. I want to know if you have a bruise the size of a watermelon." 

"If I told you every time something was wrong with me we'd always be talking about what's wrong with me," you say, though you press your cheek to his shoulder appreciatively. 

"Good," he says simply. 

"Good," you repeat, surprised. 

You stay like that until the kettle whines, your cheek on his shoulder. Oddly, it's as though you've taken a weight off.

Spencer gives you the princess treatment for the rest of the night, as though helping him make dinner or washing the dishes will stop your bruise from healing. He even pops out to the store for a tube of arnica. It's, shamefully, one of the best days of your entire year, easily making the top ten, as most days with Spencer tend to do. 

[catsfor2]

hit me, pt 1

word ct.: 2.3k, largely unedited gen: boxer!ellie x med student!reader au!!!, reader is a barista, ellie is mean (she has her reasons), reader is a pretty princess femme because i said so, also ellie says dyke (because i said so)(but not in this chapter lol) warnings: swearing/language, age diff (reader is 19 ellie is 23), drug use (alcohol), eventual smut, angst

a/n: this chapter is a kinda slow start, i mostly just wanted write some establishing dialogue type stuff. i want this to be a medium length ish fic. definitely nsfw in the future. i’m also going to (attempt) to have a more organized pov switching order? idk maybe each part switches between ellie and reader or maybe 1 switch per part? idk. lmk what u think. if you like my writing pls interact on this post or even visit my blog to submit a hc, drabble, or fic idea! requests are open

a/n 2: also, thank you sm to everyone who voted on the poll!!! will totally be doing more of those in the future

part 1.5

You were so drunk. Like, so fucking drunk. Legs wobbling and cheeks flushed, an idiot could notice how intoxicated you were. Hanging off of your friends and approaching strangers. A mess, is what you looked like. You'd learned to restrict yourself over the years, as your friends have informed you of all of the humiliating behaviors you exhibit drunk.

You weren't too worried about anything, though. It's your first night drinking in a while—you're up at university now. Rarely do you get to join Dina and her friends by actually consuming the alcohol—you usually just pass. However, tonight, you wanted to get fucked up. You wanted to forget. Fortunately Dina's a good host, and an even better friend. If anyone was going to be holding your hair back at the end of the night, it would probably be her.

The very first thought you had was holy shit, this is not Dina holding my hair. You shouldn't say 'holding', really. Whoever's hand was in your hair was gripping, hard.

"Shut up, you're fine. Here—drink. No, not sip, drink." A voice directs, bringing a cold cup of water to your mouth.

The first sip is disgusting, the stale tastes of alcohol on your tongue washing down your throat.

Oh Christ, is this one of Dina's friends? How do I not remember her? And her...huge shoulders?

"Seriously—fuckin' drink or I'll make you." The same voice says, meaner and harsher. This person talked to you like you were an animal.

The hand that clutches your hair lets go, and surprisingly gently, rakes over your head a few times to smooth it out. You absentmindedly lean into the touch, too far past the threshold to stop yourself.

The hand moves to your nape as you start to drink, cradling. Her fingers just barely reach around the sides of your neck.

You hesitantly gulp about half the glass of water before the brunette puts it back on the counter.

"Ewwww, is that sink water?" You whine, your face scrunching.

"What, it's not good enough for you? You want Fiji? Fuck is the problem?"

Her tone sobers you up for a moment, locking your eyes to the tiles. You couldn't look at someone while they yelled at you.

Slouching on the floor while she hovers over you, you pull the edges of your dress over your folded legs, only just now feeling the bareness. Your hands stay clutched in the fabric.

"Are you done now?" She says. Rudely, you think. She could've meant 'done' with your vomiting or with your complaining, you weren't quite sure.

"Yeah...I think so. Thank you. Um, really, thank you." You try to say, still feeling stuffy and weighted from all the liquor in your system. She looks at you so intensely you turn your head to escape her gaze.

"Dina asked me to." She takes a damp towel and wipes around your face. "Plus you're so drunk it's a fuckin' liability."

"I'm—m'sorry. Who are you? I've never seen you at one of Dina's...things...before, I don't think."

Her hand stills, wet rag still in it. Her eyes hold yours for a moment, closely and intensely, before darting away again.

“Yeah, you haven’t.”

She rolls up her sleeves before wiping over your collarbones and you spot her tattoo. It takes your gaze up the length of her arms, and you simply let your eyes wander over her figure for as long as you want.

"You should probably throw that dress away. Y'got shit all over it now." She states.

Well.

You look down and see that the moisture on your dress has made it completely see through. Your arm moves to drape across your chest to cover your vibrantly patterned bra and your breasts awkwardly spilling out of it.

"Come on, that's jus mean," you complain. "...ignoring me like that. Please, please, pleeease tell me your name..." Your voice is drunken, high-pitched, and definitely annoying. The woman in front of you grimaces.

"No."

"Why not?" You giggle a bit. "I'll tell you mine."

It was kind of your specialty. Annoying people. Her eyebrows shift downwards. No response.

"Hm, ok. I'll ask Dina." You say, a tiny smile trying to break through your face.

"Do it. See if I give a fuck."

"Woooaahhhh, somebody's got a bee in her bonnet! Who peed in your wheaties?"

"You did. And you're at least sixty-fucking-years-old for even saying that," She tosses the rag behind her and puts her hands on her knees to stand all the way up. "y/n."

Your face lights up an in instant. You scramble to your feet.

"How--how do you know mine? But I can't know yours!?"

"Just how it is. I have to go now." She says, throwing her khaki jacket on her back.

"But--hey, hold on, I don't have a ride home anymore! Everyone's left by now!"

"Not my problem. Call your fucking boyfriend or something." She barks, hands now defensively in her pockets.

A laugh promptly bursts out of you, and you impulsively reach out to grasp her shoulder. Your fingers brush over the collar of her jacket.

"O-kay," you quip, "hold on--cause, I don't have a boyfriend, silly," Her eyes bore into yours as your face draws even nearer. "I'm a lesbian..." You whisper giddily, as if it's something only she gets to know.

Her eyes flit away from you as her mouth purses and flattens, like she's contemplating on how to deal with you. In a moment her pupils are locked with yours again.

"Wow, so fucking special, aren't you, princess?" Her last word is a little less bold, less certain than the rest, like it wasn't entirely intentional. You blush, full body and wholeheartedly.

Princess. Princess?

Your grin widens uncontrollably, and you feel yourself giving in to the hazy pleasure of the alcoholic buzz in your blood. Your hands palm your own thighs as you speak.

"Oh...princess? I like that. I've never—I've never been...called that, before. Before now." You breathe out, eyes fluttery and tired.

She didn't snap at you immediately this time. No, instead, she begins to smile. A lazy, smug, confident smile that burns your stomach.

"You're gonna be real fuckin' embarrassed when you remember this tomorrow. Fuckin'—prissy bitch like you acting all shameless."

“You don’t know who I am,” You mutter, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "and this? This is not shameless. Do you wanna see shameless? What that actually looks like?" You ask, voice quiet on purpose.

"...No. Fuck no." She denies, that microscopic crack of a smile still evident on her face.

She's very pretty when she smiles. Sooooo pretty.

"You swear way too much, you know that?"

"No, I didn't fucking know that."

Her eyes don't leave yours, like she's waiting for something. Finally, something breaks.

The hand that was resting on the doorknob jiggles it open and she stands in the frame for a moment, just staring. Her compelling eyes force your words out.

"Ok but before you go. One question. Just—just one question.”

"What."

You freeze. What did you want to ask her? You remember it being something about her age.

“Well fucking spit it out. I’m trying to leave.” She urges.

Before you can even recall, another thought appears in your head.

"Okay, okay. Call me princess again? Pleeease? Just once before you go. I don't even want a ride anymore.” You take a glance at the bathroom. “I'll just...sleep… here." You whisper, a little upset thinking about how after this woman leaves, you'll be standing in this bathroom, alone.

"..."

She steps forward, mostly expressionless, pulling up the straps of your dress to cover some cleavage you didn't realize was showing. Your face heats shamefully.

She lets out a sigh.

"Dina has a pull-out in the basement. There's another bathroom down there too if y'need it. Go to bed," Her eyes scan you up and down so quickly you almost miss it. "and finish that glass of water."

With that, the door shuts behind her.

And she's gone.

_____________

You did end up talking to Dina about the person you met last night. Around noon, of course, as you both had slept through the entirety of morning.

"Wait...that's Ellie? Are you fucking serious?!" You clamor, barely comprehending what she’s saying.

The person who helped you out last night knew you, and it also happened to be Ellie. You wanted to hit yourself. Knock yourself out. Be unconscious.

"I thought you knew! She doesn't look that different."

"Dina. I haven't seen her in four years, cut me some slack. And she has like—a whole new energy now. It's....different."

She smirks at you. "...Different?"

"I—yes, different. I know I'm not wrong. I'm not."

The last time you saw Ellie, she was 19 and you were 16. You hadn't come out yet, and hung off of your asshole boyfriend's arm for as long as you could when he was around. Ellie hated the guy. You were insufferable, but Dina must've seen through it enough to befriend you. You’re eternally grateful.

Ellie is a family friend of Dina's, so naturally your paths crossed pretty frequently back then. Until two days before her 20th birthday, when she ran away only with plane tickets and a plan to 'elope' with her girlfriend of three months. They broke up a month later.

You haven't seen her since—excluding last night, of course.

"Oh—oh, fuuuuck. Dina, I know why she was so mean to me last night." Your hands reach up and you drop your face into them.

"She was mean? You didn't say that, the hell?"

"Yes—she was mean, Jesus Dina, keep up. Listen I didn't even recognize her. Like, at all. I kept asking for her fucking name, like, over and over and over again! Oh god, she probably thinks I'm such an asshole." You sulk, rerunning the things you said and did last night in your head.

"Yeah, she totally does."

"No! shut up! You're not helping. How was I supposed to--? She has these arms now, she didn't have those three years ago! And her shoulders? They're so much...wider!" You exclaim, bewildered by this entire situation.

"Hah, ok--"

You cut Dina off.

"And the tattoo, oh my god the tattoo! She's basically unrecognizable!"

"Calm the fuck down, perv. She got a new job three years ago and it just changed her a bit. She does a lot of...physical stuff, now. But she's basically the same, I swear."

"Yeah? Ok. That's...reassuring, I guess..." You say, half truthful. Dina looks at you with something you can't identify. "so...what job."

"Uhhhh—well, not my place to say. You'll...definitely have to ask her. Yourself." Dina winces, trying her best to not let out more info than she should.

"Hm. This is getting...less and less reassuring as you go on. But, thank you Dina."

"So you want her number?" She grins, holding up her phone.

"Are you kidding me." You reject. "I do not text first. You know that."

“You freak, not for that,” Dina shakes her head. “but so you guys can fucking make up and not hate each other, maybe?”

She laughs before getting right on her phone and looking for Ellie's contact.

"I'll just send your number to hers then, jeez."

"No, don't do that either. If Ellie's all upset I couldn't tell who she was, she can be a big girl and tell it to my face. And I don't even care if you tell her I said that. Honestly."

Dina looks up at you. Eyes unmoving and apathetic.

"Both of you are so fucking dramatic. Don't think I'm on your side or her's at this point. I’m completely out of this.”

She throws her phone on the couch before tossing her whole body on it as well. She grabs the remote to turn on the TV.

“Oh shit,” Dina laughs.

“What?”

“Ellie’s gonna fuckin’ flip when she finds out you’re gay now,” Dina says with an acute smile.

I already, accidentally, drunkenly told her. Problem fucking solved, you think.

“Ok? Why’s that?”

“Oh, no reason. Just, pure shock, probably.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” You respond lightly. “…I guess she still pictures the me from highschool, right?”

“Is that your way of asking me if she still hates your ex-boyfriend? Cause yeah, trust me, she does—”

An impeding stream of knocks cut her off. You both whip your heads towards the sound.

The door swiftly opens and in steps Ellie.

Nobody speaks for a few seconds.

“…I have coffee. Thanks for leaving the door unlocked, morons,” Her leg kicks backwards and loudly shuts it. “I hope you get fuckin’ robbed one of these times.”

She walks ahead and hands a hot cup to Dina, and then, to you.

Her thumb rubs along the inside of the carabiner clipped to the loop of her jeans. There’s a smidge of silence before she looks up, only really looking at you.

“I need to show you something.”

And that’s all she says. No context, no elaboration.

“Uh—now?” You question, still in the beat up makeup from last night and hair sticking in all different directions. You couldn’t go out in public like this.

“Uh, yes, now.” She unclips the carabiner and spins it around her pinky. “Let’s go.”

“But what if—what if I have plans?”

“Do you?”

“Well no, but I’d like to at least—”

“Jesus Christ both of you are like this? Here: your hair looks great, your makeup is perfect, your boobs are huge. Can we fucking leave now?” She tells you, completely causing you to forget anything you were saying.

In a moment of panic, you glance at Dina.

Her eyebrows and shoulders only give a limp shrug, as if to say, ‘I don’t know what this is about, but you’re on your own!’

Naturally.

“Yeah, we can leave,” you take a sip of your coffee. “…Ellie.”

The second you say her name, her head is turned to you. Her eyebrows creasing and eyes unwilling to break your gaze. So now you know what the stare was about.

You wonder if your cluelessness last night genuinely hurt her. Made her feel unwanted. Unknown. You felt like shit. You just hope she doesn’t feel similar as you do right now.

She says nothing.

And in that silence, with Ellie cutting in front to get the door for you, you leave.

[thebearer]

Omg Imagine meeting Lip at college and you are majoring in education, and you only know each other through math or something you need help with. You could just befriend him at first because he is a WHORE phase lol.

Idk your dribbles make me think that Lip and his wife have a strong friendship that blossomed to romance after Lip figures his shit out , and she got knocked up very early on lol.

📢ALSO LIP WILL BE SO MUCH WORSE THEN CARMY WHEN HE FINDS OUT YOU ARE PREGNANT BC KAREN TRAUMAAAAAAAAAAA 📢

"Hey," You stride next to Lip, looping the free strap of your backpack on. "What are you doin' tonight?"

"Uh, kinda busy." Lip hummed, brows creasing lightly when he looked over at you.

"With your professor?" You gave him a pointed look, a devious smile spreading across your lips when he scoffed.

"Yeah. You got plans with yours?" Lip countered.

You rolled your eyes. "Please. I'm not that desperate for a grade." You quipped. "Speaking of, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, because I am going to fail this math test on Wednesday."

"Yeah? And what do you need me for?" Lip grinned, pushing the door open for you. It was so casual, friendly- it made your heart flutter.

"Stop." You shook your head at him. "C'mon, I really need your help. I do your critical theory homework all the time to impress your sexy professor lady, so you owe me."

"Yeah, I guess. I'll, uh, I'll stop by after my last. I gotta check with Youens, make sure I got my shit done. Then I can come help you study." Lip nodded casually.

"Ugh, thank you." You sighed, bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "I swear, I'm not teaching math ever. I don't understand why I'm in the hardest math class for elementary ed."

"I mean, they probably want their teachers to be halfway smart." Lip shrugged. "Well, maybe not at the shit hole school I went to, but, uh, the good schools."

You snorted. "Yeah? Well, regardless, I'm not teaching math. I'll hold down the language arts, or the history, maybe the science if I have to. But math? Out of the question."

"Not even long division, huh?" Lip grinned.

"To be completely honest with you, I don't think I know how to do long division." You giggled. "I can barely do short division."

Many Years Later

"Lip!" You called, your voice carrying out to the garage, where your husband was "working on the car" (which really meant sneaking a cigarette).

"Yeah?" Lip hummed, walking into the house. Freddie sat at the kitchen table, a tiny frown on his features that mimicked yours perfectly. It made Lip's heart melt.

"Let Daddy see the problem, baby. He's better at math than me." You ran a hand over Freddie's curls sweetly, moving so Lip could take your spot.

Freddie had gotten Lip's freakish ability to do math. He was only six, but doing multiplication and long division already in his advanced groups.

"Lemme see, bud." Lip turned the paper towards him, scanning the problem. "Ah, ok, so you're not carrying the number here." Lip pointed to the problem, explaining it to your tiny son.

Your heart swelled, picking Jude up and hoisting him on your hip, trying to finish loading the dishwasher.

"Always thought your were jokin'." Lip hummed, gently squeezing your ass so you blushed, leaning to kiss the toddler on his head.

"About what?" You raised a brow.

"The long division thing." Lip laughed lightly. You gave him a confused look. "Y'know, when you said you wouldn't teach math and all that."

"Oh," You rolled your eyes playfully. "No, I wasn't. Why do you think I teach language arts now? Can't do all that numbers stuff like you."

Lip smirked, taking the dish from you and putting it in the rack. "How do you even remember that?" You cock your head to the side.

"What?"

"That I said that." You giggle. "That was, like, a million years ago."

"Because," Lip shrugged. "I was in love with you."

"No, you weren't." You blushed, dodging Jude's grabbing hands towards your hair. "You had your Mrs. Robinson."

Lip rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but, you were like my best friend." He said boyishly. Your heart melted. "Still are, but then, I just... I didn't want to fuck it up, ya know?"

"Watch it." You glared at him lightly, though it wasn't very convincing. "That's sweet. I was, like, very much so in love with you too, for the record."

"Yeah?" Lip grinned. You nodded, laughing when he kissed you sweetly over Jude's head. "Kinda had an idea."

"Really? What gave it away? The wedding or the kids?" You said sarcastically.

"No, it was the night that I had to pick you up from that dive bar downtown, and, uh, you were so drunk-"

"-Alright, Gallagher-"

"-And you kept telling me how much you loved me-"

You glared at him. "Jude, Daddy is being mean to me. Can you believe that?" You cooed, frowning exaggeratedly at your son. Jude just babbled, trying to grab at your hair again.

[midastouch-zaza]

Wendy was practicing for her music show the next day but somehow she can’t hit this one specific note, worried, she asks help from R manager to assist her in trying to put her in a hard situation to make her belt out the note. Determined now, she changes in her outfit for tomorrow’s show for better results, R manager then suggests to her something ridiculous out of the blue: turning her on, so she can hit that note. She agrees interestingly and lets R feel her abs first to get that feeling and then her whole body soon after to heighten her feeling even more, eventually, it works and she finishes R herself on her body as a sign of thanks and gratitude with no strings attached. She then tells R to treat their exchange as a work relationship only or is it? Knowing now what R is capable of doing…😏🫠

P.S: Thank you for answering my request about Irene bro. Hope this somehow absurd idea comes into fruition someday lol. Keep up the good work and take your time as always. Tc and have a nice day.

[I'm a sucker for good plots, especially if they involve members of my favorite group. I swear it was hard to choose which one between all the Red Velvet ones, but today I was craving Wendy solo so here we are lol. Also, I know I have to write about more groups, I swear I'll do It]

"Fuck, I can't do it, what's happening to me?", Wendy groaned, walking nervously in the practice room. Her first live show for her new song "Wish you hell" was the next day, but for some reasons she seemed to not be able the highest note in the song.

You had been there with her for hours, being her manager, and you were starting to get worried too. She needed to ace her performance, but she was experiencing some type of vocal block in that moment. What to do?

"What can I do? Please help me", the vocalist asked you, almost reading your mind. She was desperate and she was ready to accept help from anyone. "Anything is fine, let's just try", she basically begged, biting her lips.

You got up from the bench and walked towards her. "Alright, alright, just let try whatever", you tried to reassure her, patting her shoulder. From there you tempted with the most absurd shits like making her listen to that part over and over and making her wear her show outfit but nothing.

You tried to scare her, you even pinched her arm, but even the pain didn't work to make her reach her note. Honestly you were finishing the options, but you couldn't let her down, not now that she was looking at you with those sad and desperate eyes.

"What if I turned you on?", you blurted you, surprising her. "You know, your hormones can help your reach those notes easily", you were pretty sure that explanation was bullshit, but Wendy somehow got convinced.

"I guess we can try, so...do your stuff?", she nodded, allowing you to touch her body. You didn't want to start off strong, so you just got closer and start to feel and massage her abs, luckily her crop top gave you free access to that area.

"You know where to place those hands, uh?", Wendy joked, but at the same time noticed her vocal chords getting relaxed. "Wait... maybe it's working, can you do more?", she requested, looking at you all serious.

Displaced by that question, you did the only thing your horny brain suggested you: you pulled out your cock and started to grind it against her abs. They were so firm and ripped, but at the same it was so pleasant to use as surface to rub against your shaft.

"Why do I discover just now that you have such a great cock?", she exclaimed surprised, and once again she already felt her voice improved, and actually that situation gave her an excellent idea.

"Oh my gosh, of course, I have to work on my throat", she realized, before going down on her knees, facing your cock. "I hope you don't mind if I use it a bit", she warned you, before making your member disappear in her mouth.

It was incredible the way she took it so deep in her throat with no resistence or gag reflex, SM vocal training was really something else; and Wendy being one of the best in the industry really made you understand that.

She was literally warming up her throat while sucking your cock so eagerly, she always changed her speed and technique to be sure her warm up was done perfectly. But honestly you didn't care, she was making you go crazy, her tongue covering your shaft with her spit and saliva.

"Let me help you, Wendy", you told her, but actually she didn't need help at all, you just wanted to fuck her face. And that's what you did. Slamming repeatedly your dick down her throat, being so rough that her white shirt was now dirty with drops of saliva.

But at least it was not cum, that finished all inside her stomach, when you released your seed in her mouth. "Thank you, manager-nim", she smiled, finally letting your cock go and slowly getting on her feet again.

"Uhm...you can go a second round, right? I feel like I can succeed this time", she asked to you, feeling her throat more tired but also warmed up perfectly for every tone now. "Maybe this time you can use my other hole", she proposed, slowly unzipping her black pants.

If the proposal alone made you hard again, seeing her panty wet made your cock throb. You took her wrist and brought her to the bench, making her lay on that rigid surface with her legs open and her pussy ready to be fucked.

"And now sing for me", you said, smirking, before slamming your shaft inside her at once. She almost hit that note because of the pleasure. "Again, again, manager-nim, fuck that note out of me with your girthy cock", she exclaimed, panting hard.

So you started to pound her, slow but deep movements, and more you went deep, more she was closer to that damn note...until eventually..."Oh yes yes yes...yeaaaaaah", she finally managed to pull the perfect pitch.

"My God, finally, thank you so much", she thanked you, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. "Now use my body as you want, you deserved It", she whispered against your lips, and that really ignited you.

Now that thrusts were not slow anymore, you were fucking her stupid on that bench, pressing her tiny body under your strong body, while your cock was ravaging her tight pussy, making her moan/sing with such a melodious voice.

"Fucking hell, manager-nim, you're stretching me so good", she confessed, rolling her eyes back, her climax reaching her, and you were not far too. You put your hands on her hips, fucking her body as if it was made for your own pleasure, seeking your own pleasure.

And after few minutes you also had your orgasm. It was so strong that you barely had the time to pull it out and shoot all your semen on her glistening abs, making them all sticky, while moving up and down quickly to catch her breath.

"Luckily I don't have to dance tomorrow", she joked, breaking the silence and trying to avoid the embarassment, but still your giggle was kinda forced, realizing what had just happened.

"Listen, don't worry, you don't own me anything, we are just two professionals who helped each other, nothing more", now she was the one reassuring you and patting your shoulder. She couldn't know that secretly you wished for more.

"...but, you know, maybe tomorrow you can home to my house to help me train my vocals again, after all I have to promote for a week...or two", she added, looking at you with lustful eyes and a naughty expression. I guess for the following days you will work as manager and vocal trainer.

[mtkay13]

Qi Ye ensemble cast poster, second edition

Yet another one of those LOL Qi Ye just has that power over me. You know the drill; more info below!

I'll go straight to the point: my main reason to draw this was because I wanted to draw the most somber, dark-looking Helian Qi possible with some dark cross-hatching effect. And because I don't want to draw a Helian Qi solo image because who the HELL does that, I had to turn it into an ensemble cast thing again. I just REALLY like to do that for Qi Ye, for some reasons!!! For a general note, first: shading was a PAIN but making a nice composition and thinking about how to make a hierarchy that both works in terms of storytelling and visual composition was fun. I also liked finding out the "color scheme" to use and I do like lineart. So, now, little notes about each character, and the obligatory name poster just so I'm sure we all know whom I'm talking about:

Jing Beiyuan: I've mentioned it before but drawing Beiyuan is like. The easiest for me, I think, out of ALL Qi Ye/TYK characters combined. He happens to have my general goto "pretty face" (which conveniently has peach blossom eyes). I'm happy with how he turned out here! And got to put the sable around his neck which makes for a nice additional touch. Helian Yi: He's easy to draw as well and I'm glad with how the guan turned out. He initally looked sideways, but I liked it better having him wistfully stare into the distance. Helian Zhao: has the exact same face as in the other, coloured poster, and that cracks me up bc that wasn't even intentional. Helian Pei: GDI I find him so hilarious. He looks so done and out of it. Shout out to all his bird as well, which, I find, really complete the look. Helian Qi: I can't possibly say that I love him as an antagonist because there's nothing to love about this literal trash, but I'm still grateful that we got some of the most rancid stuff going on in Qi Ye just because of him and I'm always here for that. He deserves the villain visual treatment, at least. He was VERY fun to draw and I tried to push that nasty grin and shading as much as possible. He turned out exactly how I wanted him to! (the shading on his face and the balance of light and shadow was a bit of a challenge, actually)

Wuxi: Again, a rather easy one, always pleasant to draw! I loved working on his hair (but complained a lot while doing so)--which I think turned out nicely. Bai Wuchang: Finally! Finally I draw him!! He had to be there, since he's like. The base of the whole Qi Ye plot. Lining him was....... a pain, but at least it looks nice.

Su Qingluan: nothing much to say--I think it's always important to have her there in Qi Ye stuff, and I put her next to Helian Zhao because of how he tried using her--but it did make me feel bad for her when I realised that. Song Ping'an: The real star of the show, lowkey, but always alert and present. Feng Xiaoshu: FINALLY. PRINCESS JING'AN. I'm sorry I took so long to draw her. I want to work on a proper design, I swear. To make up for having completely forgotten to include her in the other spread. I'm so sorry. I like how her face turned out! Liang Jiuxiao: I never, ever, EVER get enough of drawing him. Have I mentioned how much I like him? How much of a great surprise he was reading Qi Ye? How many times I've wanted to high five because finally someone is as confused as I am? I love drawing this very specific smile on him, SO satisfying. Also Bichen said he was "THE Qi Ye antagonist" and I live for that LOL Zhou Zishu: do I really need to say anything atp Jiang Xue: I'm so sorry I put Xiao Xue next to ZZS. The cruelty. But she came out really cute didn't she T_T Anyway that's it. I'm still obsessed with Qi Ye and given my current (totally secret) retranslation project I'm nowhere near done going crazy about this book.

[bella-rose29]

Darling

Nikolai Lantsov x f!reader

Woke up in a lot of pain because my body systems hate me, so I wrote this (I'm doing better now)

Word count: 1.4k (wtf i didn't mean to write this much lol)

Warnings: periods, anything period related, swearing, this is also based purely on my own experiences (although not the bit where he's hugging her 🥲), not proof read/edited

Tag list: @bubybubsters, @el-de-phi, @hauntedenthusiasttragedy, @iambored24601, @itsyoboo-jassy, @karensirkobabes, @kentucky-criedfricken, @little8sun, @mvidaaaa, @naushtheaspiringauthor, @notoakay, @simbaaas-stuff, @pietromaximoffsbabe (i'm so sorry lovely i completely forgot to add you earlier)

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking, fuck, fuck!"

"You alright, darling?"

"Yep, all good, Nik!"

Y/n was not at all good. She'd woken up next to an empty space that morning, smiling and shaking her head when she realised where her husband was, sat at his desk and already working, and then had felt an excruciating burst of pain in her abdomen. She heard Nikolai stand up, his chair thumping against the carpeted floor as he came over to the bed.

"Yeah, you're very clearly not alright, darling," he said as he took in her pained expression. "What's going on? Do you need me to get the healer?"

"Monthly cycle, and yes please," she gasped out.

"Okay. Are you able to move?" Y/n shook her head, blinking back the tears that were forming in her eyes. "Alright darling. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? Just gonna get the healer." He planted a kiss on her forehead, then practically sprinted out of the room. Y/n would have laughed if she thought it wouldn't hurt.

Nikolai really was only gone a few minutes, returning on his own but laden with heat packs. Y/n felt tears form for a different reason as he knelt down next to the bed to activate the heat packs, placing them on her lower stomach, adjusting them so that they all fit. The healer appeared with an assistant then, bag in hand as she sent Y/n an apologetic look.

"How are you doing, Your Majesty?"

"Not great," she whispered, eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to force the pain away. It was times like these that Y/n wished she were Grisha; if she were a Healer or a Tidemaker then maybe she could heal the pain away or force her body to comply through the water in her brain. The healer and Nikolai were talking, although Y/n couldn't make out what was being said, but then a minute or so later her husband was out the room and the healer was placing her hands over Y/n's abdomen, attempting to ease the Queen's pain. The assistant had brought a change of underclothes, helping Y/n to swap them.

"The King has just gone to arrange some things so that your day is easier for you, Your Majesty, he'll be back in a bit. I'll stay here for as long as you need, and in a moment I'll ask you to take the tonic on your bedside table, alright?" Her voice was calm and soothing, and Y/n felt ready to drift off.

"What's the tonic for?"

"It should alleviate some of the pain. We've only recently developed it, but it's had an incredibly high success rate."

"Oh, okay." She was feeling better now, the work the healer was doing helping hugely, and the heat packs distracted from what pain was left over.

"Are you able to sit, Your Majesty?"

"I think so, hang on." Wincing at the stab of pain when she moved, Y/n gritted her teeth, and with the help of the healer was able to sit up in bed. Nikolai returned then, now carrying a box of some description, and his face lit up at the sight of his wife looking better.

"I've got chocolate," he said, lifting the box. "And I managed to convince the head cook to surrender a couple of those breakfast pastries you love so much. Don't feel you need to eat anything now, darling, just let me know and I'll get it for you." She laughed lightly, flinching when it made the pain increase, and took the hand he offered when he sat down next to her. He managed to manoeuvre them so that he was sat behind her, a leg on either side. He pressed kisses to her hair every now and then, arms stroking up and down her arms, sometimes drifting down to gently stroke her stomach.

"Do you think you're able to take the tonic now, Your Majesty?"

"Yeah, I think so."

It tasted bitter going down, and nothing seemed to happen, but the healer reassured her that it would kick in within about 20 minutes.

"I just need to go and sort a few things out, Your Majesty, but I'll come back every so often to check up on how you're doing and bring you more tonics, alright?"

"Thank you," Nikolai said, grateful smile appearing on his face. The healer and her assistant bowed, exiting the room. The couple sat in silence for a while, Y/n basking in the warmth of the packs and her husband's body behind her, and the soft touches of his hands on her arms. Her heart ached with how gentle and loving he was being, and the tears came back. Hearing her quiet sniffles, Nikolai panicked, thinking it had gotten worse.

"What's wrong, darling? Does it still hurt?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "Well, yes, but not as much. It's not that though. I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed by you, Nik."

Although she couldn't see it, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Me? Why?"

"I've never been looked after like this before. It's nice. And I guess because we were arranged I thought you wouldn't care that much, but you do, and my body is all out of whack right now which isn't helping but it's making me want to cry because I love you."

Nikolai was silent for a while, never stopping stroking her arms, but Y/n started to worry. She was just about to speak up when he finally spoke.

"I love you too, Y/n."

Then she really did start crying, tears slipping down her face and wetting the bedsheets. Nikolai turned her face towards his, softly wiping away what he could and leaning in to press his lips to hers. It was brief, but more full of love than any other they'd shared, and Y/n couldn't believe how lucky she'd been in getting him as her husband.

"Wait," she said, pulling away with a frown. "What about your meetings?"

"Cancelled them," Nikolai shrugged. "You're more important to me, darling."

"Won't Zoya be mad? That you're leaving things to her?"

"She was actually weirdly understanding for Zoya. I'm fully convinced I'm going to be sent some very strongly worded letters involving death threats, though. Or made to plant face first into the lake by a strong wind."

Y/n giggled, picturing the scenario, and made a mental note to ask Zoya to do just that. Preferably when Nikolai was in just his slacks, suspenders and undershirt, and not for any particular reason.

"You'll be fine, Kolya."

~~~

Later that day, Y/n was feeling much better, having taken another dose of the tonic, and was sat outside by the lake with Zoya. Nikolai had rescued a frog (although the frog looked rather happy where it was) and was placing it on the bank. All of a sudden, the wind picked up, and Nikolai was pushed in the water, arms windmilling as he fell. It was a warm day, so he'd taken off his jacket, and while Y/n did feel a little bad for asking Zoya to push him in, all regrets were washed away when he emerged from the lake, completely soaked with water from head to toe.

He stalked over, trying not to smile at how loudly his wife was laughing, and pointed an accusatory finger at the Grisha General.

"I know that was you, Zoya. How could you, to your King, of all people!"

"I was just doing what my Queen commanded, Your Majesty," she mock bowed from where she sat, smirk on her face as she watched Nikolai wipe the water from his eyes. Y/n was still cackling next to her, and Zoya was glad to see her friend doing better than this morning.

"Darling Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like a hug?" Her eyes widened, almost comically so, as Nikolai leaned in, arms open wide. She shrieked with joy as he got closer, pushing him away (not really, he was far too strong).

"Nik!" she laughed, all thoughts of pain completely forgotten.

He did eventually get his hug, but only when he was clean and dry (Y/n had found bits of grass and water plants in his hair), and not threatening to cover Y/n in lake water.

"Thank you, Nik, for everything today."

"Of course, darling. I love you."

"Love you too," she hummed, drifting off in her husband's arms.

[drkbluedream]

- release tension -

Having sex just because your boyfriend didn't come to date? LoL you are a whore. But oh well it's Baji. Who is in the right mind to reject him?.

TW mention toys and breeding. Impregnate. Choke. It's hella long

You were cursing all the way from the gathering meeting to Baji's house. You were supposed to meet your so-called boyfriend but after waiting for 4 hours, no news from him, you decided to leave.

"Fucking asshole" you said. Unsure how many times you curse today. It's so irritating when someone wastes your time. The next time you meet him, you swear to yourself, you're gonna punch him.

"Istg why everything doesn't go my way today" you almost cry when you can see the sky becoming dark and it shows it'll rain soon. You didn't bring your raincoat because you thought you'll stay in the mall with your boyfriend until night like you guys always do.

You ride as fast as you can. You don't have any mood and you want to go home as soon as possible. But you need to stop by Baji's house first because you put your stuff there. And yes it's necessary because the distance between your house and Baji is a few hour drive and your smartass boyfriend lives there too.

You screamed and cursed to the sky when the rain started pouring. You, who only wear a single layer of shirt and pants, start soaking as the rain and the wind licking you.

Around the corner, is Baji house. Only one more traffic, you arrive at his place. So you grab your phone and call Baji. "I'm on my way. I'll take my stuff and leave"

"So soon?-"

Without letting him reply, you end the call. You really don't have any mood to talk let alone explaining shit. Turn your bike here and there, you arrived. The sky is still pouring as if it's crying with you who waited for things that were unsure.

You can see Baji's house gate opened. You just park next to Baji's bike. But his door hasn't opened so you just give him time. You don't want to rush him. It's not like you have nothing to do after you cleaned your schedule for someone just for him to waste your time.

You can hear the door opened and it shows Baji with his messy hair like he just woke up from sleep and the one who wakes him up is you. Then the next thing you can see is he's grinning at you.

It's annoying to be honest. For someone grinning in front of you after all the misfortune you went through today. But seeing his messy hair, pants that you guess could fall off with a little bit more movement, without any shirts on, make you wanna giggle.

How could he be so defenseless? Didn't he realize that he is half naked in front of you who clearly could eat him alive?

You just take a glance of him before you take out your hand. "My stuff."

You waited for awhile but you didn't get any response. Your hand just hang in the air. You look at Baji who is still leaning against the door while looking at you. Yes, with his teeth showing while grinning. Probably enjoy you being mad.

"C'mon dude. I got no time" you lost your patience.

"What's the hurry? It's raining outside and you ride like crazy people just now. Just stay over at my house until the rain stops" offered him.

"Aren't you scared?"

"Of what? You? You are one of us. So no."

You just sigh and follow his order. You turn off your bike and take out the key. You open the visor and look at him. His smile perished immediately.

He just looks at you dead in the eyes. Probably notice the dry tears coming down to your cheeks after you open the visor. Then he move closer to you. Grab your helmet and help you take it off. You look in misery. Your hair is half wet due to rain and your eyes are red.

"Was it that asshole?" He asked slowly. Putting down your helmet on your bike. Wiping out the trace of your tears. You just let him do as he wishes. You don't want to argue. You believe if you say something, he is going to go on a rampage. Everyone, including you, knows how crazy Baji could get . So it's better for you to just shut your mouth.

Baji slowly grabs you to enter his house. Entering the living room. Letting you sit on the sofa and leave you alone.

You take out your phone only to find out it can't be opened. Maybe because of the battery or maybe because the water enters the phone. You unsure. But you don't want to care anymore. Too much misfortune. So you just throw it to the side and wait for Baji.

From where you are, you can see Baji making some water for you. Mixing something into the cup but you just let him. If he's gonna mix some poison, yeah just let him. You'd rather die than think about that asshole who leaves you hanging for more than 4 hours.

You close your eyes for a bit and next thing you know, you wake up with Baji on your side. Sitting next to you on the sofa while playing something on his phone. You look at the clock on the walls. Already 3 hours passed. On top of you, have a blanket that covers almost all of your body. You didn't move even the slightest. You just staring at Baji, waiting for him to realize that you already woke up. you wonder how long it'll take for him to realize it as he has a really keen sense.

Not even 3 seconds passed, you can see Baji's hands movement slowdown. "I know you already woke up. But can you not stare at me?"

You just nodded and closed your eyes again. Letting him be. Maybe it's time for you to get some rest and escape reality. At least no one knows where you at and try to find you. Let's just escape reality and go back to Dreamland. That's what you thought. But after a while closing your eyes, you still fail to fall asleep. Your consciousness is still attached and you definitely can hear Baji groaning. Probably lost his game.

Again, you look at him. Just then you realize he still didn't put any clothes on. Well you didn't care much because it's his home. So you 'rape' him with your eyes. Same as what you expect his body would be, Baji does have muscle all around his body but not buff. Especially around his hand, you can see some veins but not clear much. With a necklace that hangs around his neck, it makes him look more attractive. Let's not go to his chest.

But you keep staring at it. It's not really visible but you can't say it's completely gone too. You definitely can see his chest pooping out with a really nice color of nipple. Now you wonder if his chest is as soft as your boobs or it's hard like other muscles.

"You can touch it if you want" he invited you. You were shocked. But they curiousity overcome you. So u slowly crawl and scoot over to him. You take out both of your hands put it around his neck and you look at him. Making sure he is really fine with it. Who knows if he suddenly changed his mind.

He's just looking at you. Waiting for your hand slowly goes down. He even put his hand to the side and closed his phone to give full attention to your doings. You, who's rubbing his chest, can hear Baji sounds like he is holding his voice from coming out. "Was it ticklish?" You asked.

He just nod a bit but he said he was fine.

His chest feels a bit soft yet it still has muscle on it. You compliment it. Your hand slowly goes down to touch his stomach and you assume he started a new bakery business on it. You trail your hand on his stomach muscle and slowly goes to his waist. You were shocked when you saw how small his waist was.

Before you even can go lower, Baji's hand holds yours. You immediately look up to him. Notice that you've gone too far.

"Sorry" you said, apologies. But Baji just looks at you with his eyes and looks lost in lust. Then his hand grabs your head and just rubs it. Makes your hair messy.

"It's ok" he patted you.

Your eyes follow Baji who's standing and walking before disappearing in the kitchen. You can hear the mug clucking and being put in the microwave. After a minute, the alarm goes off and you can see Baji come out from the kitchen with two mugs in his hand.

"I made it. but you fall asleep. So it's gone cold. Which one do you want?" He asked you. His smile looks so suspicious so you told him to drink both first to make sure none of it is poisoned. Even tho a few hours ago you said it's fine if you die.

Baji looks fine so you just took the one his left hand has. No particular reason. He again, sits next to you. His smile or you could say it's more to grinning, haven't left his mouth. It's starting to annoy you. Yes, again. You start to grab his cheeks and pinch it.

"Fcking annoying. Stop smiling" you said. Pinching his cheeks didn't stop him. He is still smiling and starts to laugh at you. Then he starts pinching you too. You scream. The fuck he thinks? His buff hand pinching your cheeks? This dude definitely wants to rip your face. Definitely.

He apologizes and sips his drink. It's hot choco. With marshmallows on top. It's sweet and warm. Not too hot. Definitely good to drink on rainy days. No wonder he sounds a bit sad when he says it. About you falling asleep.

You can't stop looking at Baji. You want to talk about how annoyed you are today about how you left hanging for 4 hours yet you don't want to destroy his mood. So you just look at him while sipping the drink he made for you.

"If you have story to tell, then you can just tell, you know." He said. You laugh. As expected. He really does have a keen sense. You just shake your head and put the empty mug on the side table.

"No like, really. You can tell anything you want" Baji too, putting his mug on the side table. Makes him need to crawl a bit because the table is on your back as you sit, siding to him. He was really close that you can smell something sweet that's come from him. Now he sits like an aunty who's interested in teenagers'love stories.

"What perfume did you use?" You asked. Out of curiosity and try to change the topic.

He looks at you confused. Then he sniffed his body. "I didn't even take any shower. Since yesterday I guess"

You come closer to him and try to sniff him. There's definitely something sweet smell coming from him. Was it shampoo?

"Aren't you scared of me?" Baji asked. He looking down at you who's few inches from him. His hand slowly grab your neck and bring your head closer to him. "I don't know you did these to tempt me or you just naive that you didn't realize it"

"You haven't done anything to me after many seduction attempts I have done so I thought you just saw me as one of the boys" you said. Definitely confuse. Before you and your current boyfriend date, you already tried to seduce Baji but he never gave in. He treats you the same as other dudes treat you. So you thought you were just one of the dudes in his eyes, that's why you just touch his body just now.

"That's what we call boundaries, idiots" he flick your forehead. "It'll be such a hassle to date someone in the same circle"

You just look at Baji. Yeah he's right. It'll be a huge conflict if you guys start dating then have a fight.

"How about.. you be my personal toys?" You joking.

But Baji looks like he lost all his reasoning. He gulps his saliva and looks at your eyes, moves to your lips, then you nose, your hair, then back to your eyes. "How about YOU be my personal toy?" He asked. Seriously.

You chuckle. Nervously. Didn't expect him to take your joke seriously. Or maybe, Baji never takes it as a joke. You look at him and you clap your hand. "Alright, joke is over. Now I wanna go home"

Not even let you stand up, Baji grabs your waist and lets you sit on one of his lap. "Y/N, I would like to make you, mine" he said. His hand firmly holding your hand.

"I thought you set some boundaries for us?" You said. Trying to not look at him. You must admit that every action of him right now makes your heart flutter and your body becomes hot out of nowhere.

Baji leans over to you and whispers to your ear. "Not until you come over to my house, completely dripping wet, with a miserable face you make" one of his hands has been placed on your face. Slowly stroke your cheeks. "Never know you have such a cute face. Trying to hide something from me" then his hand stopped. "Maybe it's better for me not knowing why you cried even though it is still bothering me"

Baji's hand slowly moves to your chin and makes your eyes meet his. You can see he clenching teeth and how sad his eyes look for a second.

The tension he gave you makes you lose your patience. You can't handle his touching and the way he looks at you. You took both of your hands and grabbed his head to make it closer to yours before going in to kiss him.

Baji took control of the kiss. You just went over to him and he started to lead you. Teaching you how to kiss and you just follow his lead. You can feel he is trying to be careful with it. Trying to make sure his teeth didn't accidentally bite and hurt you. Little did he know you actually love getting hurt.

You can feel his hand grabbing your waist, pulling you closer to him. Then, slowly rubbing your back, and the next thing you know, your bra is unclipped. That's the moment you know it's not his first time. You aren't mad at it. In fact, you are glad. Imagine having two first timers doing the dead together? It's going downhill for sure.

You break the kiss and grab his pants. Trying to do something. You feel uneasy to let him make all the work. But Baji stopped you. He takes your hand and brings it to his face. Making you rub his face and he just feels your touch. He didn't say anything. But you can see he wants to go for a kiss again.

You lean in as if you are giving him permission. He gave in. You can feel the desperation of him. Holding in his desire to eat you alive. He unbuttoned your shirt. Leaving you only with undies and an unclipped bra. You look at him. Waiting for him to touch it. Your boobs. You never showed it to anyone. But you are a bit confident with the texture and size of it.

Baji stares at it. His hand still holding the shirt he unbuttoned awhile ago. You take his hand and move it to your body. From your neck, move down to your chest, and breast. His big hand completely wrapped your breast all over. He starts to fondle your nipple and play with both of it.

Baji bury his face to your boobs. Then lick and sucks your right nipple while his right hand is busy pinching and fondling the left one. You try to hold your voice in but his touch is something. No one holds you before this. And playing with yourself is not the same as his touch. You can't hold it. You end up letting out a bit sigh. Or you can say, moan.

Without hesitation, Baji put his right hand on your mouth. Trying to make you hold your voice. Probably you are a bit loud. But you can feel something growing touching your thighs. It's hot and steamy. Something that you crave.

Baji's finger slowly enters your mouth, making a gap and makes your voice unable to surpass. You start to make sinfull noise. His finger reaches to your throat, playing with your tongue, while your boobs get eaten by him.

You want to touch yourself but both of your hands are busy trying to separate Baji's head from your body. He's too strong and eager. Without realizing, you start moving your hips on Baji's thighs.

Baji can feel your pussy clenching and dripping wet. You can feel his smirking while biting your nipple. He then looks at you who's miserably trying her best to please her down part.

"Oh look, who makes my pants wet." He said as he looked under your pants. "Naughty little bitch"

He helps you stand up. You hold his shoulder as he takes off your pants. You just let him. Waiting for his next move.

Baji then flips you over, making you and him facing the same direction. You sit on top of him as if he's a chair. Your back and his body are touching. Without any clothes, your skin touches your skin. He then spread his legs open, making yours open too.

One of his hands grabs your boobs while the other on your neck, stroking it. "Have anyone touched you there?"

You shake your head.

"Then, you virgin?" Asked him. As if he was a bit shocked.

You shake your head again. "I played with myself with some toys"

"Is that so.." he said. The hand on your neck, stroke your head a bit before pushing your head to face the right side. Baji leaning in and kisses you.

As you and him kiss, he grabs your hand and leads it to your pussy. As if he told you to touch yourself. He helps your finger to rub yourself and let you go your way a bit after that. He then rubbed your stomach and played with your boobs. Feeling a bit too good, you stopped kissing him.

Rubbing your clit and grinding your ass on his boner, having your chest fondled make you lost in lust. Not enough with that, Baji starts to bite and lick your ears from back. You can hear him groaning as he also gets the pleasure from you rubbing his dick.

"Baji-"

"You should put something inside" he said as he put one of his fingers in. Start with one finger, he gradually put another one and messed up your inside. You, who are lost in pleasure, throw your head and arch your back. When you are really close to cum, he stops.

You look at him. "Bastard" .

He just giggles and makes you stand. But your legs are still weak from the simulation you received. You fall on your knees, accidentally bumping his boner. It smells sweet and makes you drowsy.

You can feel Baji's hand stroking your head and playing with your hair. He wants to help you stand but you keep sniffing the thing in his pants. You can see the big bulge and it makes you feel more horny. You kiss and lick from outside.

You pull down Baji's pants and his thick dick slap you. Again, Baji chuckle. Without hesitation, you grab his dick and break it. Jk.

You sniff his dick as you get direct contact. Slowly licking his tip. You open your mouth and take his length. You only play with the tip of his while your hand is stroking it. You try to open your mouth bigger and start taking it more. Slowly move it in and out, without letting your teeth accident hit his. His dick growing in your mouth makes you wanna gag out of sudden. But the hand behind you prevents you from pulling out. You look up at him with tears in eyes. Showing how pathetic you look on knees with his dick in your mouth.

Aroused by that view, Baji pushes you more until his dick hits your throat. You moaned and he cum. He immediately takes it out and kneels in front of you.

"Sorry" he wiped your tears and put his hand under your mouth, preventing the semen from falling into the carpet. You open your mouth and let the semen out. You never taste semen in your life and you feel disgusted to drink it.

Seeing there's some more in your mouth, and you don't look like you wanna close your mouth, Baji comes closer to you and starts kissing you. You can feel his tongue playing with your tongue and end it with licking your lips.

He stands up with the semen in his hand, pulls out some tissue from nearby and cleans his hand.

Is that it?

You stand and go at him. One step more before you could reach him but he turned over and looked at you.

"Be patient idiot" He said as he lifted you. Putting you on the tea table in front of him that's not really tall and spreading your leg open. He kisses your stomach and slowly goes down to your pussy. Licking it and playing with it. You grab his head and push away. He looks at you with his tongue out. He looks so sexy that you put him back.

He began to eat you out. You can feel his hot breath on your clit. His tongue entering your vagina. Then he playfully bites your clit. Not only that, he put some fingers to spread your pussy open.

You clench your teeth and try to run away but both of Baji's hands hold your thighs and bring it closer to him. His face is completely buried in as your thighs sandwiching it.

You came but he still didn't stop. You moaned and begging you to stop. But he didn't. You start feeling something weird about coming out. "Baji enough- I feel weird" You warned him. He kept eating you out and didn't let you rest at all. You came for the second time.

He then stands but his finger is still in your pussy and plays with it. You feel numb but you need more. You feel like his finger isn't enough. You hand start playing with your own clit as Baji just look at it and stir your inside. Who expects you to squirt?

"You are so lewd and sexy y/n" he kisses you.

"I need something bigger.. put your ding dong in" you said.

"What?" He stunned. TF is ding dong.

"Your dick.. put it in" you look at him. With an embarrassed face. Why did u say ding dong in the first place. It's not like you guys are kids.

He smirk. Then he stroke your hair. "Beg more". He said.

You in disbelief. But your pussy starts aching for something. So you take his hand and put it on your chest. "Keisuke, can you put your thick and long dick inside of me and impregnate me?".

As soon as you say that, you can feel Baji's dick roses and poke your womanhood. Your pussy is already wet so it's easy to slide it in. But his size is a problem for you. The toys you use are smaller than his. You can feel your pussy widened. You close your eyes and try to breathe as it feels so full down there. It didn't stop. Baji still tries to push it in.

"You don't have to be gentle" you said. You want him to rail you as hard as he can. You want him to destroy you inside.

"If u say so" he thrust it all in. You lost your breath again. Your eyes open widened. Shocked. Without letting you get used to it, he starts riding you. Thrusting it in and out. Every thrust is heavy and he pushes all the way in. You can feel every thrust hitting in.

"I love how your pussy is eating me. You can't see it but I guarantee you it's a pleasureable view" he said. As he thrust, he played with your boobs and bit you. Leaving a few fresh bite marks. He even licks tears that are coming down your eyes. He notices that you bite your lips and it starts to bleed so he kisses you. Licking the blood to dry.

There's one spot that makes your pussy twitch everytime he hit. He keep hitting that spot. Then he can feel his dick become wetter and your grip become tighter. "You came" he said but he didn't stop. He keeps hitting the same spot. "Who said you can come?"

His finger wrapped around your neck, preventing you from breathing. You were shocked. You try to free yourself as you tap it. But he didn't even try to loosen the grip.

"Cum for me again, babe" he said. He can see your eyes rolled up and your face becoming red. You can see he smile seeing you in such condition. He then slick his long hair to the back.

"Fuck you are sexy" he said as he release it in you. You can feel hot liquids inside of you. He then falls on you. "Let's stay this way for awhile"

"I might pregnant" you said.

"I don't mind having kid" he replied. Rubbing his face on you.

"It's my child you know"

"Who cares?"

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

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

A loud voice shocked you and you immediately woke up. Your eyes widened as you see Baji's mom in front of you and looking at Baji. But that asshole didn't even bother and continued sleeping. He even hugs you.

"BAJI KEISUKE!" a slipper landed perfectly on his face. He immediately sit. He look at his mom that gonna transform to Japan oni.

"ah I'm fucked up" he said as he grab your hand and grab you to his room. Lock you in it.

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

So that's how Baji die in his mom hand AHHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHHA

Oh if this reach 300 notes maybe i will do part two😜

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 8 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut (w some eventual angst that is no longer eventual 👀)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: *deep breath in* 15.3k

contains: explicit sexual content and discussion of some dark themes .....yyyyyep 🤐 includes past-tense discussions of the d3ath of a parent (reader's) and su1c1dal ideation (yoongi's) so please tread carefully loves 💜 some references to alcohol per usual, and plenty of confusing feelings and piss-poor communication..... i'll leave the rest as a surprise 👀 but here are your smut-specific warnings: kissing (‼️), nipple play, clit stim, a single pussy slap lol, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting (🤭), unprotected sex and pulling out (💀), orgasm denial of sorts, but it's cool bc reader has multiple orgasms, ok byeeeee~

A/N: welp..... i'm off to enter witness protection in case you all decide you hate this chapter 💀 not really but heuhjkghkfjgdsf dear god am i nervous to post this lmfao. hope you're ready for some ~answers to questions~ and a whole lotta callbacks to earlier chapters idk why i shoved them all in ch8 specifically but here you go. the scene at yoongi's apartment was one of the very first things i dreamt up in regards to this story and it's nuts to me that we're all the way here now 💜 hope you're ready for a little more insight into these two! also baby goth fans don't come for me..... i promise we'll get a better resolution there..... reader and yoongi just have to survive LA first 😩

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for being wonderful betas, and to @nabiolive for the dead parent sensitivity read lmfao I LOVE Y'ALL

read on AO3!

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

~*~

In the morning, you wake up well before your alarm with an inexplicable uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. When it’s clear sleep is a lost cause, you decide to just get up, and you move through your routine slowly. Everything feels distant, not quite real, like it’s happening to someone else.

On the bus ride to the office, you let your eyes drop closed and try desperately not to replay the events of last night back. You should feel bad about the sex on the conference room table, and you do, a little. But your mind is stuck somewhere else.

Rain streaking down Yoongi’s windshield. The silence as he drove, disturbed only by the low rumble of his voice. The way he’d looked at you, and the heavy pause that hung in the air between you, for just a moment, until you’d fumbled open the door of his car and had practically ran back to the safety of your apartment. And his story— he’d told you something personal, with no malice or hidden agenda that you can manage to find, no matter how much you search for one. Something from when he was just a kid, growing up in Daegu.

You’re embarrassed to admit that it never even occurred to you that Min Yoongi might be a person with a past and a hometown and stories to tell. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always just felt like… a menace. A life-ruiner. An inescapable force.

The thoughts follow you as you step off the bus and make your way into the building and onto the elevator. You can’t figure it out. Yoongi could’ve easily left you to suffer in the rain, but instead he did something nice for you, without asking for anything in return. He’d related to you. He’d let you in, barely, but it’s something.

And you have no idea what to make of it.

Polite small talk with Jungkook as you unlock the front doors is a decent distraction, but you wonder if he can tell that you’re not all the way there today. You set your bag on your desk, then circle around to take a seat, only half-listening as he continues to talk.

“Did you stay late last night?”

You swear your heart stops beating. “What?”

He shrugs, like it’s an obvious question. “There’s the big overseas thing today. I’m sure you had a bunch of stuff to prep. Hopefully it wasn’t too late of a night?”

“No.” The word comes out harsher than you mean it to. You’re not quite sure why your body is suddenly doing emotional alchemy, taking your fear of being caught and somehow turning it into anger. “It wasn’t,” you say firmly.

Jungkook makes a face, like he knows he’s touched a nerve but can’t figure out why. “Okay. That’s good.”

You don’t respond— you just try to control your breathing, try to will your heart to quit racing as you start up your laptop and pretend to suddenly be engrossed in it.

“Well,” he tries again after a moment’s pause. “I guess I’ll see you at the presentation thing.”

“Okay,” you answer, your voice a little softer this time, but you’re still too scared to look away from your screen. When you do eventually work up the courage, he’s already gone.

Before you even have the chance to glance back down, like some universal joke at your expense, the front door of the office is pushed open, and Yoongi steps through. Annoyed as you are, you can only be grateful that his entrance didn’t overlap with Jungkook’s question. You probably would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Yoongi’s usual dark sunglasses are nowhere to be found today, and he’s in nice clothes for the presentation, a button-down and dress pants, his hair styled. He does still have a death grip on a large iced coffee, but that’s to be expected, especially given the fact that he’s in a lot earlier than is typical for him.

It’s only when his eyes snap over to you for the briefest of seconds that you see the dark shadows sunken deep beneath them, weighing heavy on his face.

Yoongi’s gaze moves back to the hallway in front of him as quickly as it alighted on you. You open your mouth before you even understand why you’re doing it.

“Yoongi?”

He stops dead in his tracks and blinks at you a few times, clearly tired, clearly not expecting the interruption. “Yeah?”

“Did you sleep at all last night?”

His mouth pulls into a flat line as he shakes his head. “Nerves. It’s why I don’t do stuff like this. Unless forced.”

You nod, unsure of what to say— or why you even asked. “Oh. Well, uh. Good luck.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee in a parting gesture, then disappears toward his lab without another word.

You try to focus on your work, to shove the interaction to the back of your mind with everything else you’re avoiding, but the screen seems to blur in front of you, until you finally push back from your desk with an exasperated sigh. The emails can wait.

Maybe, you consider, it would be good to stretch your legs. You can head into the presentation room early to set up before everyone arrives, and make sure everything is working for the several hours of agenda lined up for the morning.

Setting your shoulders back, you grab your things and make your way down the hallway. The thought feels like a good idea until you push the door open and encounter a severe case of deja vu.

Yoongi glances up from his laptop at the front of the room, blearily rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “Is it time already?”

You hover in the threshold, unsure. “Uh— I mean, not quite. I’m early. I can go, if you want.”

He shrugs, busying himself with something on his computer screen. “You’ll have to hear it anyway. Can I just run through it one more time?”

You take a few tentative steps forward, dropping your bag and laptop on the table, right where you sat to watch him the night before. The energy in the room feels entirely different now, and your stomach is twisted into knots that you can’t manage to breathe deep enough to untangle.

“Yeah, fine.” You pause, unable to help yourself. “Just… don’t expect the same treatment as last night.”

Yoongi huffs a dark laugh. “I wasn’t.”

Taking a seat at the table, you set about your admin duties and try to ignore the way Yoongi mumbles over his presentation as he taps through his slides at the front of the room. There’s only so much you can do without bothering him, and you fly through those tasks all-too quickly. You drag your bottom lip between your teeth as you glance back up at Yoongi, and then you inhale to steady yourself before you speak.

“Can you turn on the mic?”

His head snaps up, caught off guard. “Hmm?”

“I need to make sure the mic is working.” Yoongi’s gaze flits to the podium’s built in-microphone, then back to you as he presses the switch to turn it on. “Say something into it,” you instruct. “It doesn’t matter what.”

Yoongi’s eyes move back to the microphone, and it’s like you can see the delay in his brain from lack of sleep. You don’t know what you were expecting— maybe a half-assed ‘check, check’, at worst some sexual or smart-ass remark. Instead, he leans in far closer than is necessary, until his mouth is nearly touching the microphone as he whispers into it.

“Sugaaaaa.”

The live demo of the notorious producer tag that intros all of his tracks is so ridiculous, so unexpected, that you can’t help it. You burst out laughing, clapping a hand over your mouth a few seconds too late. “What the fuck was that?!” The question is only muffled slightly by your palm.

Yoongi’s head drops forward, his dark hair falling in his face, and you can see his shoulders shaking with laughter, too. “Sorry,” he manages with a gasp for breath, tilting back up to speak into the microphone, which you can now actually tell is working properly. “I’m so fucking tired, I think I’m going insane.”

You uncover your mouth as you shake your head in disbelief.

The sudden loud buzz of your phone against the conference room table makes you jump, and you quickly reach for it, for fear it might be an emergency text from your boss that needs immediate attention. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see it’s actually from Jungkook.

Presentation thing? Wanna sit together?

You read the words again and again, and a strange feeling rises up in your chest that you can’t quite name. As you stare down at your phone, you hear the distinct sound of Yoongi’s laptop shutting, and then his voice, no longer amplified by the microphone when he mutters to himself, “Fuck it. It’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you glance up at Yoongi again, then back down at the text. With a final hard swallow, you turn your phone on silent and flip it over on the table, leaving Jungkook’s question unanswered.

The time is close enough now that you get to your feet to prop open the presentation room door, and then your colleagues quickly start to file into the space, filling in the seats around the large U-shaped arrangement of tables. It’s everything you can do to keep your expression neutral as your brain unhelpfully reminds you that Yoongi fucked you on one of these tables last night.

You try to manage something close to a smile when your boss enters with the team from the American office in tow, and you proceed to exchange pleasantries with them and fake laugh at their jokes when he introduces you.

As you’re listening diplomatically to one of them drone on about the flight to Seoul, you spot Jungkook slip in the door out of the corner of your eye, and it takes extra effort to keep the smile plastered on your face. The seats on either side of yours have long since been taken, and you glance over to see his eyes sweep the room before he moves to take an open spot at the far end. 

You watch unabashedly now as he leans back in his chair, tilting to one side to pull his phone out of his pocket, and you can only pray he’s watching TikToks with the sound off rather than checking for a text that’s never coming.

When your manager repeats a question meant for you, your attention snaps back to the group. Sure your smile is nearly a grimace now, you apologize and blame the distraction on needing more coffee, which is enough to earn you a polite chuckle.

Eventually the room takes their seats as your manager moves to the front to start the presentation. You stay focused on copying down minutes as various speakers go through the company’s financials for the previous four quarters, the roadmap for the coming years, and a summary of top-level talent that the label has signed or directly worked with.

The discussion of talent leads smoothly into a quick review of achievements and nominations, and then Yoongi steps to the front of the room.

As he launches in, you can’t get over the stark difference between the Yoongi you’re used to and the one standing behind the podium in front of you. The man with the easy, confident, cocky demeanor is nowhere to be found, replaced with someone who barely looks up from his slides and speaks at a rushed pace, like he’s trying to get the words out as fast as possible. You bite down firmly on your bottom lip and try not to react at all.

He’s nearly halfway done now, and just as you’re thinking he might make it through the whole thing unscathed, Yoongi stumbles slightly over his words. It’s not a lot, a little slip-up that the rest of the room probably didn’t even notice, but you see a momentary flash of panic in his dark eyes. And then those eyes snap up to meet yours, and your stomach drops.

The memory of the two of you in this room, the thought of what you’d be doing to him if you were alone again, the way you could so easily make his voice shake and his knees threaten to buckle with just your mouth— it’s all too much.

You can’t help yourself as the smile you’ve been desperately trying to hide starts to spread across your face, equal parts supportive and indecent.

There’s a beat of silence, not long enough for anyone to think anything of it, and then Yoongi drops your gaze as quickly as he found it. He squints back down at his computer screen, and though he leans away from the microphone, you don’t miss the unmistakable sound of him clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” he murmurs, and then he picks up where he left off, managing to get back on track without further issue.

You desperately try to ignore the warm flush of heat that creeps up your neck as Yoongi goes through the rest of his slides.

Time seems to speed by in a rush after his presentation, and you barely manage to keep up with the barrage of content. You’re more than grateful when your manager inevitably wraps up the session, reminding everyone to head to a nearby restaurant for a team lunch immediately following.

As the room begins to empty, you take your time finishing up the notes and firing them off to the broader audience. When you finally close your laptop and look up, you realize nearly everyone has left now, though as fate would have it, Yoongi has also lagged behind. He’s standing hunched over the conference room table as he types something into his own laptop.

You try not to overthink it as you hug your computer to your chest and take a few steps toward him. “Yoongi?”

He hums a response, and when he glances up at you, the bags under his eyes are just as prominent as before.

“Are you, uh— coming to lunch?”

He rolls his eyes, like the question is ridiculous. “I can’t. I’m drowning in shit I put off for the last two days.”

His words make you take a step back, and you immediately feel stupid for asking. Why do you even care what he does? “Right. Got it.”

You don’t wait around for him to say anything else, you just shove your laptop into your purse and pull the strap over your shoulder as you head for the exit.

Largely preoccupied with getting away from Yoongi, you don’t pay much attention to your surroundings as you slip out of the room, and you only get a few steps down the hall before a voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. “There you are.”

“Jesus!” you gasp, whipping around to find Jungkook leaning up against the glass wall of the conference room, his arms crossed over his chest. “You fucking scared me, Baby Goth.”

“Sorry.” He gives a shy smile, nose scrunching slightly like he’s embarrassed. “I wasn’t gonna let you ditch me again. Lunch?”

You do your best to match his smile. “Let’s go. I’m starving.” 

The two of you meet up with the rest of the team at a restaurant well out of your price range, and Jungkook babbles freely as he stuffs his face, seemingly unbothered by how little you have to say in return. The chatter of so many people at the long table is a white noise that you can’t focus on any part of, and Jungkook’s usual comforting presence feels overwhelming today, nearly stifling. You push food back and forth on your plate but barely eat, your stomach uneasy for reasons you don’t want to dwell on.

“Min Suga seemed like he didn’t even want to be up there.” The mention of Yoongi’s pseudonym is enough to snap you out of your haze.

“Huh?” You glance up at Jungkook, your eyes widening slightly, and you force yourself to eat another bite of pasta as he continues.

“I don’t know, he went through it so fast. Guess it makes sense. He hates anything that drags him out of his lab, right?”

You aimlessly twirl your fork against your plate, around and around. When you first started this job, you would have agreed with Jungkook without a second thought. Laughed about it, even. Now you’re not so sure. You don’t want to add to this growing sense of friction, the weird energy in the air, but the words come out anyway.

“He was nervous, Jungkook.”

When you meet his gaze again, Jungkook looks confused, and you instantly regret saying anything at all.

“What, did he tell you that?”

You nod as you take another bite of food to avoid having to explain yourself.

Jungkook’s eyes drift down to the table between you, distant, his brow furrowed like he’s suddenly doing some complex mental math. “When?”

“Last night,” you murmur through your mouthful. “We both worked late. I helped him practice a little.” The explanation was meant to make the situation sound less incriminating, but somehow you feel like it only makes it worse. You hope Jungkook can’t tell how warm your face is starting to get.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his gaze still not meeting yours. “I thought you said you didn’t stay late. When I asked you this morning.”

A rush of adrenaline hits your bloodstream so hard it makes you dizzy. “I—I didn’t. It wasn’t that late. Like an hour max. Didn’t seem worth mentioning.” You set your fork down, quickly hiding your hands in your lap so Jungkook can’t see the way they’ve started to tremble.

His only response is a slow nod, and then he goes quiet in a way that’s rare for him. It feels like an eternity of sitting and eating in silence before either of you says another word.

The conversation eventually picks back up again, and when it does, you try to tell yourself you’re just imagining that it’s slightly more stilted than before.

As you and Jungkook trail after the rest of your coworkers on the walk back to the office, you trade a few more polite questions about work-related projects, and then you fall quiet again, seemingly out of things to say. It’s a few stretches of city blocks, and then you see Jungkook’s head tip up, and he outright sniffs the air.

You can’t help but laugh a little, mostly because he looks like a dog, and then you smell it too. The unmistakable aroma coming from the street cart up ahead. You smile softly to yourself as you both slow to pass it, ogling rice cakes and fish cakes simmering in a pan of spicy sauce.

“God,” Jungkook groans appreciatively. “I would absolutely destroy some tteokbokki right now if I didn’t think I’d literally explode.”

“This is what happens when you help yourself to thirds every time you eat,” you chide him with a giggle, and the two of you nod to the vendor before you continue on toward the office. You only take a few more steps before you falter, and Jungkook turns back when he notices you’ve stopped.

“What’s up? Did you want to get some?”

You don’t know what makes you lie. “Uh, no. I, uh— I just realized, I think I left my scarf back at the restaurant. I’m gonna run back, but don’t worry about waiting for me. You’ve got work stuff.”

Jungkook shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “It’s cool, I can go with you.”

“No, that’s okay,” you say, firmly enough to make it very obvious you don’t want company. Maybe a little too firm, because Jungkook blinks, like he’s taken aback. Your stomach twists with a feeling that you imagine must be similar to having just kicked a puppy.

“Oh. Alright, well. I’ll see you later, then.” He pauses for a moment, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, and then he turns on his heel and keeps walking in the direction of the office. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch Jungkook’s retreating form until he disappears down the city block.

You try not to overthink the interaction as you retrace your steps to the cart, then head back to the office with a takeout bag gripped in one hand. Thankfully you don’t have to fumble for another lie of an excuse, because you don’t run into Jungkook or anyone else in your straight shot from the entrance to the door of Yoongi’s lab. Quick as you can, you punch in the lock code, then push the handle down and slip inside.

It takes you a minute to process what you’re seeing as you shut the door behind you. Yoongi’s arms are folded on the desk in front of him, and he’s slumped forward, head buried in the crook of his elbow. For a brief moment your heart drops, and then you take a tentative step closer and realize there’s no shake or shudder to his shoulders, only the smooth rise and fall of deep, steady breathing.

He’s asleep.

You close the remaining distance until you can reach out and gently place a hand on his back. “Yoongi?”

He inhales sharply, and you quickly pull your hand away like you’ve just been burned. Tilting his head to one side, he cracks an eye open, mumbling something that sounds like a question but is otherwise fully incoherent.

“You fell asleep,” you say dumbly, and Yoongi slowly sits up with a grunt, his eyes squinting, clearly readjusting to the room around him. He leans back to stretch, and several places in his back and shoulders crack impressively loudly.

“Fuck,” he sighs, voice strained, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Why are you in here?”

“I brought you lunch,” you murmur, lifting the takeout bag for him to witness. He frowns at it, then up at you, like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.

“Thanks,” he eventually manages. “You can just leave it. I’m nowhere near done with all my—”

You cut him off before he can finish. “Go home, Yoongi.”

The look of slack-jawed confusion on his face is enough to nearly make you laugh. “What?”

“I said go home.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not my boss.”

“I’m not saying it as your boss,” you sigh. “But you need to eat, and sleep. This isn’t healthy.”

Yoongi huffs a little, exasperated. “That’s easy for you to say, but I have so much stupid admin stuff to get caught up on.” He gestures halfheartedly to a massive to-do list pulled up on his monitor, one he’s barely a quarter of the way through.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you hum, feigning thought. “If only you had someone who could help with that. Some kind of… Admin Bitch.”

The comment must catch him off-guard, because he outright laughs. “You know, I still haven’t changed your contact name.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Then you should go before I question why I’m being nice to you. I’ll leave a note for tomorrow with anything I can’t figure out for myself. Assuming you trust my ability to do my job.” As if to indicate that you are no longer open to discussing the subject, you shove the takeout bag into Yoongi’s chest, and he wraps both arms around it, still looking entirely dazed.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t fight you, just slowly rolls his desk chair back and gets to his feet. You watch carefully as he shifts the bag of food to one arm, then grabs his work bag and slings it over his shoulder. “I, uh— thanks.”

You wave a hand as if to tell him not to mention it, and then you plop down into his chair and get to work, barely phased by the sound of the door clicking shut when he leaves.

~*~

As you settle in at your desk the next morning, it dawns on you how close the Grammys have started to loom, made abundantly clear by the overwhelming amount of prep you find yourself launched into. You don’t think you look up from your screen once, not even bothering to greet coworkers as they push through the doors, until the muted tap of something being placed on your desk startles you.

You see the cup of coffee first, and when you glance up expecting a pair of Baby Star Candy eyes, you instead find Yoongi hovering at the edge of your desk, like he’s not sure what he’s doing there. You make zero attempts to hide your total shock at whatever the fuck is going on in this moment.

He looks— good. Fresh-faced, like he managed to actually get some sleep, a little less gaunt. Even his expression seems weirdly pleasant, something you might mistake for happiness if you thought that he was capable of such an emotion.

There’s a crinkling sound, and when he gently sets a small wax paper pastry bag on your desk next to the coffee, you’re sure that you’ve overslept your alarm and are in the depths of a wild, ridiculous dream. It’s the only way any of this can be happening.

You blink up at him as you hesitantly reach for the bag, like you’re scared it might bite you.

“It’s maple,” he says as you slowly pick it up and investigate the contents. It’s still warm. “I asked for the most disgustingly sweet thing they had.”

Too overwhelmed, you set the pastry bag back down wordlessly. As you do, it’s only now that your eyes focus on the letters “AB” sketched in black marker on the side of the coffee cup, where a barista would typically write your name.

Yoongi’s eyes must be watching yours carefully, because he huffs a laugh as he sees realization dawn over your face. “Making them actually write Admin Bitch seemed a bit much.”

You can’t manage to find a laugh to match his, can only sit there, shell-shocked. When you look up again, he’s already walking backwards in the direction of his lab, but his eyes are still on you. “I’d tell you not to tell anyone, but I don’t think they’d believe you even if you did.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

You remain unconvinced that both of his gifts aren’t secretly poisoned, but your desperate need for a fresh hit of caffeine overwhelms any other emotion. Carefully, you lift the cup to your lips and take a sip— it’s not scalding, but still perfectly hot, and your eyes widen as the flavor hits your tongue.

Two cream, three sugar. Exactly how you like it.

Before you’ve even had time to swallow, Jungkook is suddenly rounding the corner from the opposite direction, and you have to make a conscious effort not to choke.

He slows to a stop, and you watch him take in the coffee cup clutched between your hands like a lifeline. “Hey! You seriously snuck out for coffee without me?” His tone is mock-hurt, but you can’t help wondering whether it’s entirely put on.

Your gaze drops back down to the cup. “Sorry, JK. Someone else picked this up for me.”

Jungkook doesn’t pry into your vague statement, but a sinking feeling in your stomach tells you that maybe he doesn’t have to.

~*~

It’s Saturday night by the time your schedule aligns with Jimin’s for a night out, and given that it’s the last time you’ll see him before you leave for Los Angeles, you manage to guilt him into driving. The bar you choose is a shitty dive nowhere near your office, where you’re certain you won’t have to worry about any accidental encounters.

Or any encounters at all, as it turns out. The place is dead.

“I think we’re single-handedly keeping them open tonight,” Jimin murmurs with a grimace as you grab a pair of stools.

The bartender pours you each two shots and two beers, then returns to their side work at the far end of the bar in an apparent attempt to give the two of you some privacy.

It’s only once you’ve had your first shot and are halfway through the accompanying beer that you’re able to speak the words aloud: “I had sex in the office again.”

Jimin glances up at the ceiling, as if asking for strength, and you recount the full story mostly to the wood grain in front of you, unable to look your best friend in the face while you catch him up on everything.

When you fill in the final details, Jimin nearly spits his drink out. “Suga really hatefucked you on a conference table?! I need to go buy some lottery tickets.” He throws back his second shot, and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows it down. “God, I love being psychic.”

You shove an elbow into his ribs. “Listen. I don’t know what’s fucking happening anymore, Mochi. Sometimes he’s insufferable but now sometimes we apparently mildly tolerate and are even nice to each other. Like, coffee and a pastry nice.” You smack your hand on the bar for emphasis as you repeat the words. “Coffee. And. A. Pastry.”

“So,” Jimin clasps his hands together as he surveys you. There’s a look on his face like he’s clearly expecting you to draw some conclusion from all of this, but it seems to have entirely escaped you. “What have we learned?”

You drop your head down on the bar with a resounding thud. “We’ve learned that Min Yoongi is ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Voice muffled slightly, you groan. “Don’t make me say it louder.”

“No, what did you just say?” You lift your head up to look at him, and his expression is deadly serious, his eyes sharp and focused. “Min Yoongi? I know Min Yoongi.”

You give him the same look right back. “You what?”

“We were trainees together. I— wait, Min Yoongi is Suga the producer? Really?!” He scrambles for his phone and you just sit there, dumbfounded.

“How are you only now telling me that you know him?”

Jimin glances up, incredulous. “Um, hi, because you literally never fucking told me Suga is Min Yoongi?”

You roll your eyes. “Please, surely I have said his name to you at least once.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to smack the bar, and he does so loudly. “Run those tapes back, ma’am! We have always called him Suga.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never even Googled him?!”

He makes a face like the mere suggestion is ridiculous. “I am an adult, with a job and a very needy boyfriend. Your chaos already monopolizes too much of my time.”

The search on his phone loads, and you watch Jimin tap and scroll slowly, mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Min Yoongi is Suga. Wow. I think I need a minute.”

Jimin’s earlier words finally catch up to you, and you finish the last of your first beer before you dare ask the question. “Yoongi was really a trainee?”

“He was,” Jimin confirms, gaze still locked on his phone. “Obviously he didn’t debut either. He left a few months before I did. I always wondered what happened to him.”

“What was he like?” Your voice comes out soft, a little unsure.

His eyes widen, staring off unfocused as he searches through his memory. “I mean, we weren’t super close, he’s a few years older than me. But it doesn’t sound like that much has changed if I think about what you’ve told me. He was quiet, not too personable. Worked hard. Didn’t really seem that close to anybody. I think maybe he had a difficult home life?”

Your stomach drops a little as Jimin pauses, choosing his words. “Like I guess his parents weren’t very supportive. So I think he felt like he had a lot to prove, and had really high standards for himself. But he obviously loved music. Makes sense that he ended up a producer. It’s like me and dance, right?” He picks up his beer with a shrug, staring thoughtfully down at the amber liquid. “Man. Those years were tough.”

As Jimin takes a sip of his drink and then continues on about his trainee days, your head starts to spin. You throw back your second shot in hopes that it might help.

You wish you could go back and unlearn this information, unsay the name Min Yoongi. Because you don’t want to think about him. You don’t want to know that Min Yoongi gets nervous about public speaking, that he likes his coffee iced, that he can’t say no to street cart tteokbokki, that he used to be a trainee, that he worked an unpaid job in Daegu, that he had a disapproving family and never felt good enough and maybe still doesn’t.

Min Yoongi was so simple when you first met him, back when he was a two-dimensional character, the antagonist of your TV show life, your enemy. But now he’s none of those things. He’s a real, flawed, complicated person, and your feelings for him are confusing and overwhelming. And you deeply do not want to think about your feelings. You don’t want to examine them, don’t want to hold them up to the light for fear of what you might find. It occurs to you in this moment that you don’t want to think about anything at all.

With a sigh, you scoot your chair back from the bar, then get to your feet.

“What are you doing?” Jimin interrupts himself to ask as you dig your phone out of your purse.

You’re doing the only thing that makes sense. “I’m gonna go fuck him,” you say, resigned, and then you make your way out the front door of the bar as you pull up Yoongi’s contact in your phone.

It’s only as the line starts to ring that you realize you don’t exactly have a location in mind. Sex in a bar bathroom is an experience you have no desire to repeat, and the thought of Yoongi seeing your shithole apartment makes your drinks threaten a return appearance.

You’re starting to consider that maybe you should just hang up and forget the idea entirely when Yoongi’s voice startles you.

“Uh, hi?”

“Hi.”

There’s a pause as you realize you didn’t actually plan how to have this conversation, and then you and Yoongi speak in tandem.

“I was just wondering—”

“Is there a reason you—”

“Shut up,” you snap, agitated by your own awkwardness. “What are you doing right now?”

Yoongi laughs darkly into the phone. “I’m sorry, is this a booty call?”

“Answer the question, asshole.”

There’s a slight shifting sound, like he’s making himself comfortable. “Nothing. Drinking.”

“Great, same here.”

Another pause, and you swear you can hear Yoongi slow blinking, can see the stupid smirk on his face when you close your eyes. “Would you like to come over, then?”

“Yes,” you answer, trying to sound more confident than you feel, and then you falter slightly. You’re not about to ask Jimin to drive you— you don’t trust him enough to stay in the car and behave, not when he’s been drinking. “Uh, are you by any chance near a bus stop?”

Yoongi doesn’t even try to suppress his snort of laughter. “I’m not. But I can send a car.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say quickly, trying to think. “I can figure something—”

“Please,” Yoongi cuts you off. “If you’re really calling me begging to get fucked, the least I can do is provide the transportation. Just send me your location.”

“Fine,” you concede, and your voice comes out harsh. “But to be clear, I am not begging.”

He hums a low note, like he’s thinking it over. “Not yet,” he ultimately responds. “See you soon.”

You swallow hard as the call disconnects.

The time it takes for the car to arrive is just enough for you to slip back inside and finish your beer, and Jimin’s eyes narrow with frustration when you’re unable to explain yourself.

“Didn’t you just complain that this man was ruining your life?”

“Yes,” you retort. “And then I thought it over, and I decided that’s my job.” Your phone buzzes with the notification that the car is outside, and you quickly swig the last of your drink. “Bye.”

Jimin’s face twists like he’s holding further commentary back, which you didn’t think he was capable of doing without combusting. “Alright, babygirl,” he finally sighs, defeated. “Call me if you need saving.”

“I always do,” you deadpan as you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek.

~*~

Yoongi doesn’t say anything when he opens the door for you, just nods his head to the interior of his apartment to gesture you inside, letting the door swing wider so you can step past him. He shuts it again as you slip your heels off, and it takes you a second to adjust to your true height difference, the fact that you have to look a little further up to meet his gaze now.

“Want a drink?” is his delayed greeting, and you shrug.

“Yeah, okay. Just whatever you’re having.”

Without another word, he turns and heads down the hallway, and you follow after him, taking in your surroundings as you move further inside. It’s only now that it occurs to you how rich he must be. His place is identical to any one of the swanky, million-dollar Hannam apartments of which you’ve spent thousands of hours watching YouTube tours. You try to keep your expression neutral as you follow him into the living room, but it’s hard not to be impressed.

Yoongi crosses the room to a mini-bar, built into the far wall and softly backlit with inset LEDs. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you hover nervously for a second, then finally choose to drop down onto the large, L-shaped couch, setting your purse on the floor next to you.

“Thoughts—” When Yoongi’s voice breaks the silence, you start a little, not expecting it. “—on single malt whiskey?” He turns over his shoulder, and you shrug back at him.

“Never met one I didn’t like.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up, just barely. “Alright.” You watch as he grabs a dark green bottle off the shelf, coating the bottom of a glass with the amber liquid inside, then just barely topping up what must be his own drink. He crosses back to the couch, hands you yours, then drops down a respectable distance away from you with a sigh of effort.

The atmosphere is certainly different from what you’d expected, and Yoongi must be able to tell you’re a little on edge, not sure what to do or why you thought coming here was a good idea.

He glances over at you as he swirls the contents of his glass. “Not feeling up for much small talk tonight. Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” you say quickly. “We don’t have to talk.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you grit your teeth in anticipation of the smug smile, the cocky smirk at your unintended double meaning, but it never comes. Yoongi stays just as he is, slouched forward, his eyes unfocused, like he’s got a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once.

You turn sideways on the couch so you can look over the back of it and out of the large picture window behind you, where the city is alive in a blur of light and color, bracketed by the dark swath of the Han River.

Yoongi’s whiskey is strong but smooth, tastes like the bottle probably cost more than the entire bar-tab you and Jimin rang up tonight, and you sip it slowly. The thought of your best friend sparks something in your mind— you find yourself speaking again in spite of your previous statement.

“I just found out that you know my best friend. Park Jimin.”

At this, Yoongi looks up, clearly stunned. “No shit?” You nod, taking another pull from your drink, and he shakes his head. “I haven’t heard that name in years. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you murmur, the sharp taste of alcohol lingering on the back of your tongue. “He’s really good. He actually just performed in the concert I took Jungkook to.”

Yoongi pauses, glass halfway to his lips. “What group is he in? For someone in the industry I am atrocious at keeping up with this shit.”

“Oh, he’s not, he’s just a back-up dancer now. He never debuted.” 

Yoongi nods slowly. “Well. Makes two of us.”

Your chest starts to tighten a little— you’re weirdly nervous to talk to him about this. It feels like uncharted territory. “I can’t believe you were a trainee.”

He leans back, resting his free arm over the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly. “I can’t either, most days. It was a long time ago. Feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Torn between deep curiosity and not wanting to pry, you stare down at the liquid swirling in your glass and leave it up to Yoongi. To your surprise, he keeps talking.

“So what did Jimin tell you about me?”

The unexpected question makes you laugh a little. “Uh… I don’t know. Said you sound like you’re still the same as you were back then. Keeping to yourself and working a lot.”

You don’t know if you should repeat everything, but the liquor loosens your tongue. “He said your parents weren’t very supportive.”

You glance up to see Yoongi shake his head, matter-of-fact. “They were not. So you can imagine how well they took it when I quit.” Your heart sinks at the thought. “Probably put a chip on my shoulder, if I want to be introspective about it. Explains the workaholic tendencies, maybe.”

He takes a longer sip of his drink this time, chasing his swallow with a grimace as he stares at the floor. “It’s funny. I always feel like I have to do better, even now. I get obsessed with work because it’s better than being depressed. And most of the time it feels like there’s nothing else to do anyway. I just work myself to death because it’s my only reason to stay alive.”

Your stomach drops sharply, and you can’t help but look over at him as he continues, feeling thoroughly unprepared for this sudden insight into the inner workings of Min Yoongi.

“It doesn’t even matter what milestones I hit, the fame, the fortune, whatever. I’m going to the fucking Grammys next week and it still doesn’t feel good enough.” His eyes flicker up to find yours, and his voice is quieter now. “Even if I win, I know it won’t. How sad is that?”

“You sound like my dad,” you mutter into your glass, and then your gaze snaps back to Yoongi as you realize what you’ve just said.

He looks as surprised as you feel, and you steady yourself as you take a swig of your drink and swallow it down. Fuck it. If he can overshare, so can you. “Work always came first, before family, before everything. And you know what happened? He dropped dead in his office before he even turned fifty. They said it was probably stress.”

There’s a flash of something in Yoongi’s eyes, but he doesn’t try to interrupt you.

“It makes me so mad,” you say, and you will yourself not to get emotional, your grip on your drink tightening slightly. “Because he worked so fucking hard thinking that once he got to a certain place, he’d be happy. Just a little more, then he could relax. But he never got there. He worked non-stop his whole life and then he fucking died. That’s it.

“And you know what’s really fucked up?” You don’t wait for Yoongi to respond— you can’t stop it all from coming out now, like a tap turned on high.

“People say grief makes you resilient, that it makes you stronger, or kinder, that we go through these things and they’re hard but you learn from them and grow or whatever the fuck. And I don’t feel like any of that shit is true for me. My dad died, and I just got worse.” A self-deprecating laugh flutters out around your words. “I’m selfish. I’m lazy. I make terrible choices. I deeply cannot fucking stand myself, if I’m honest with you. Jimin is like the one friend I still keep in touch with who knew me when my dad was alive, because everyone else just… didn’t know what to do with me. And I don’t blame them.

“And it makes me feel like such a fucking asshole, because he died, and I’m sitting here complaining about me. It’s like I don’t even miss him as much as I just miss… the way things used to be. The person I used to be.” You let yourself take a breath, but the final thought, the part you don’t usually say out loud, slips out with it. “It’s like she died, too.”

There’s a long pause that feels like an eternity, and you realize your heart is racing in your chest. You lean back against the couch with a sigh of frustration, too embarrassed at your own word vomit to do anything but stare at the stupidly high ceiling. You’re so wrapped up in the rush of saying it all— it’s been a while since you’ve gone this deep with anyone— that it takes you a second to notice that Yoongi is laughing softly.

“Wow. And here I thought you were just a slacker.”

The words make you glance over at him. You haven’t divulged these feelings to many people, but nearly everyone you’ve told has responded the same: awkward apologies, shitty words of affirmation you didn’t ask for, waxing poetic bullshit lies about how you’re not a bad person. A road paved with good intentions, things meant to console you that only make you want to scream. 

But Yoongi gives you none of that. He just nods, like he understands.

“Well,” you counter, trying not to let the shock read on your face. “I thought you were just an asshole.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am an asshole. I’ll own that.” He smirks into his glass as he takes another sip of his drink. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

He suddenly pauses, like he’s not sure how to word it, like he maybe regrets asking the question at all. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so hesitant before. “You have to not make a big deal about it.”

“Okay,” you say simply. You’re willing to return the favor.

“The night I left the studio door unlocked, and there was the break-in,” Yoongi starts, his thumb fiddling with the ring on his index finger. Something twists in your stomach, an intuition you can’t explain that makes it immediately clear to you what he’s about to say. “I wasn’t thinking about locking up that night because I... was planning to kill myself.”

It’s like all the air is sucked out of the room, and you will yourself not to react, gripping your glass until your knuckles blanch. Your eyes drop to the floor as you try to process the weight of his words.

“But you didn’t,” you reply dumbly.

“No, I didn’t. I walked up and down the bridge over the river for a long time. Probably an hour, maybe more, I don’t know.” You look up to the window again, tracing the inkblot snake of the river in the distance.

“I thought about it, and then I decided to go home. I thought that maybe I could give it just one more day and see what happened. And then when I got to work the next day, I was in such deep shit about the break-in, I felt like everyone would blame themselves if I did it after that. Like they’d think they were too hard on me.” He laughs bitterly to himself. “Like I’m not always the one who is hardest on myself.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe. “I don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “You don’t have to say anything. It just feels nice to tell someone.”

There’s a heavy silence between you, and heat rushes to your face as the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “I’m glad you didn’t do it.”

He glances over at you, brows pinched together like he doesn’t believe you. “You hate me.”

“I do not!” The insistence in your voice surprises even you. In an attempt to ground yourself, you press your palm to the side of your drink and try to focus on the feeling, the cool surface against your flushed skin. “I mean, I definitely did. But now, I don’t know. Would I really be wasting my Saturday night here if I hated you?”

Yoongi pauses with his glass halfway to his mouth, and you can see him fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Look at me, you came over here to fuck and I turned it into a therapy session. Christ.”

With a final shake of his head, he downs the last of his drink in one swallow. “You want a tour?”

You follow Yoongi as he takes a winding path through the various rooms of his apartment, and you continue to sip at your drink, barely processing any of what he shows you. Your mind is still spinning from the conversation, and that paired with the cotton fuzz of strong liquor makes everything feel muted and far away.

As anticipated, the tour ends in his bedroom, which matches the rest of the place: sleek, minimally decorated, and bathed in the soft glow of inset strip lighting that runs the length of the ceiling.

When Yoongi sets his empty glass down on the dresser, you mirror him, then watch as he steps in to close the distance between you. As your eyes search his, you realize you’re once again caught between conflicting versions of Min Yoongi, still trying to reconcile the one you thought you knew with the person who just spilled his guts all over the living room floor. It feels impossible to hold the two of them together in your mind.

Up close, his smirk seems to soften. “You’re a lot shorter without those heels.”

Before you even understand what you’re doing, or why, you take his face in your hands and kiss him. It’s only a split second, your lips barely brushing over his, and then you quickly pull away, struck by the reality of what you’ve just done.

“Shit,” you breathe, dropping your hands and taking a step back. You stumble slightly as a hot wave of shame rushes up in your chest. “Sorry, I just—”

You don’t get to finish the thought, because Yoongi’s touch is sliding over the curve of your waist, and then he’s dragging you back toward him until his mouth finds yours again. The taste of whiskey lingers on his soft lips as they move against yours— you can’t help but whimper a little at how hungrily he kisses you. Like he’s wanted to do it for a long time.

The idea overwhelms you, and you pull away from him again, your lips still ghosting over his. “Yoongi.” You try your best to sound firm when you say his name, pressing one hand against his chest as you look up at him. “This… can’t mean anything.”

You can feel the heat of his breath when he laughs softly. “It doesn’t have to. I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

Too desperate for his mouth to want to argue, you decide to let him win. “Okay,” you sigh. Your hand is already tangled in his long, dark hair by the time his lips meet yours again.

“Get on the bed,” Yoongi murmurs between kisses, and you do as he says.

Moving backwards, you crawl up toward the pillows while Yoongi crosses the room to hit a panel on the wall, dimming the soft lights overhead until they’re barely there. He comes back to join you, strong hands wordlessly guiding you to lay down beneath him.

It’s weird to not be rushing through this: to feel like you can take your time as he kisses you again, as you lick into his mouth to roll your tongue over his, as one of his hands starts to creep under your skirt to gently rub up and down the length of your thigh.

The motions of his hand push the fabric higher and higher, until it’s as far up as it can go, and he leans back, clearly not satisfied.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, and you nod, sitting up to help as he pulls your dress up over your head.

It occurs to you a beat too late that you’ve never been this naked in front of him before, and your heartbeat flutters. “You too,” you murmur, pinching gently at the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, and he smirks as he reaches one hand between his shoulder blades to tug it off entirely.

You take him in as he drops the shirt to his bedroom floor: he’s broad-shouldered in a way you’ve never noticed under all his baggy clothes, with firm definition in the muscles of his chest and arms, and there’s a flush of warm glow to his pale skin.

As you blink up at Yoongi, more than dazed, you realize his eyes are roaming over your body, too. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and you resist the sudden urge to hide from his surveying gaze. “You have great tits.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that, and the surprise of it makes you laugh.

“Just for that, I’ll let you see them,” you say, unable to keep the teasing edge out of your voice as you lean forward to reach behind your back. Your hands shake a little more than you’d like as you fumble to undo your bra and toss it off the side of the bed to join everything else.

Your nipples stiffen quickly in the cool air of his room, and when you lay back again, Yoongi covers your body with his, the movement paired with a groan that’s nearly a growl. You can’t hold back your own soft sounds as his lips and tongue move down your neck, and it occurs to you now that there’s so much that the two of you have never done before. So many steps you skipped.

Like the way Yoongi cups one of your breasts in his hand, rolling his thumb over your nipple to earn a louder whine from you. “Shit,” you gasp as he does it again, his mouth still trailing kisses between the valley of your breasts.

“God,” Yoongi hisses against your skin. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

With his thumb continuing to work at one nipple, he takes the other into his mouth, and you can feel the way your arousal is starting to soak through your panties as he sucks firmly at the stiff peak. You arch up into him, and then he’s shifting to roll your nipple between his teeth and tug, and you can’t help it— you flinch and yelp beneath him, overwhelmed.

He quickly pulls his mouth off of you, eyes flashing up to find yours. “Sensitive?”

You nod, face flushing, embarrassed. “A little bit of teeth is okay. Too much hurts.”

“Okay,” Yoongi answers softly. He licks up the underside of your breast to pull the bud of it back into his mouth, and the swirl of his tongue there soothes like an apology. When he just barely grazes his teeth across the sensitive peak, it’s enough to make you keen, your eyes rolling back as they flutter closed.

“Oh, fuck, just like that.”

With a wet noise, he pulls off to switch sides, repeating the firm suction, the drag of his tongue, the slightest brush of teeth. His fingers pinch gently at your other nipple, made slick with his spit, and he keeps working you lazily, unhurried, until your body writhes underneath his.

“Yoongi—” You try to catch your breath, and you run a hand through his hair to pull his mouth off of you. His jaw is still dropped open slightly when he meets your gaze. “Touch me.”

His lips pull into a smug smile. “Told you you’d beg.”

Your grip on his hair tightens in response. “Not begging. Ordering.”

Yoongi tuts gently, like he’s disappointed. “I don’t follow orders, sweetheart.”

As much as his teasing irritates you, a twin smile to his spreads across your face. “I’ll kill you,” you murmur, releasing your grip as he shifts back onto his knees.

It gets harder to focus on your bloodlust when his palms run over the curve of your hips, then press between your legs to part your thighs. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he deadpans as his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties and he starts to drag the lace down your legs.

“That’s fucking dark,” you can’t help but laugh as you kick your underwear the rest of the way off.

Yoongi licks his lips, clearly distracted, and you spread yourself wider for him. “This pussy,” he grunts hoarsely, like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gets so puffy when you want it. All tight inside, too.” He unexpectedly slaps the whole of his hand over your center, and you gasp, your hips jolting up.

You don’t even have time to respond before he’s pressing a finger into you, your cunt squeezing tight enough to reward him with an audible noise as he fucks it in and out. “Fuck,” you groan.

“You get this wet just from having your tits played with, huh?”

The thorough analysis makes you huff a laugh, because he’s not wrong, and it stutters into a moan when his thumb gently starts to circle your clit.

“God,” you manage to choke out, “you’re fucking chatty tonight.”

Yoongi smirks, and you’re not sure why until he speaks again, his voice now pinched in a clear imitation as he withdraws his hand. “I’m sorry, is there somewhere you’d rather I put my mouth?”

Your jaw drops in disbelief as he repeats your own stupid tease from weeks ago back to you. “I’ve changed my mind,” you snap, sitting up a little, and Yoongi glances at you, already in the midst of settling between your spread thighs. “I do still hate you.”

“That’s fine,” he says with a shrug, and then he leans in to lick a thick, wet stripe up your slit. His mouth is immediately dizzying, and you drop your head back against the pillow, overwhelmed.

It’s another thing you’ve never done before, at least not with Min Yoongi. As he repeats the motion over and over, lazy long strokes where he drags his tongue from your entrance all the way up to circle your clit, you mentally kick yourself for every missed chance, every opportunity to have his mouth that you didn’t take.

“What the fuck,” you breathe.

Yoongi just barely pulls off of you, close enough that a string of your arousal is still joined to his lower lip when he speaks. “You’re not the only one with good head game here.”

He dives in again like he’s determined to immediately prove his point, and you shove your legs open wider as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

As much as you’d like to bruise his ego, it’s impossible to keep yourself from moaning when he pairs the firm suction with the press of his index finger back into your tight heat. As wet as he’s made you, he’s easily able to slide a second in beside it now, and your nails scratch helplessly over the sheets beneath you.

“Yoongi,” you gasp as he curls his digits to beckon inside you, stroking over your front wall and easily finding the spot that makes you gush. He does it again and again, like a button press, working up more and more arousal until you’re dripping down his wrist.

Even the way he hums against your pussy sounds like a smirk, but you’re too far gone to care. Yoongi starts to flick his tongue steadily over your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers pumping into your g-spot, and you can feel the pressure in your core building, a band pulled tight enough to snap.

Your hips buck up toward his mouth in an overwhelmed reflex, and Yoongi’s free hand is immediately there like he was expecting it. His palm presses firmly to your lower abdomen to hold you down and keep you there, and even that feels good too, renders you entirely helpless to his mouth and his hands as he takes you apart.

“Fuck,” you moan, loud and unabashed now. “Fuck, yes, I’m—”

The feeling overtakes you before you can get another word out, and you nearly sob as your orgasm rips through you, your whole body straining hard against Yoongi’s strong hand as he pins you to the bed. The extra pressure on your core pushes a rush of fluid out of your cunt, enough to soak the sheets beneath you as your muscles contract around Yoongi’s fingers.

“Oh my god,” he doesn’t even pull away to groan, and the low vibration of the words against your throbbing clit makes your thighs tremble.

There’s a wet smack of his lips and tongue as he finally relents, the pace of his fingers slowing as he continues to work you through the aftershocks. You desperately try to remember how to breathe as you start to come down.

Yoongi is a fucking sight when he leans back to look up at you: long hair falling in his face, eyes dark with lust, lips and chin slick with your arousal. “Did you seriously just squirt?”

It’s been a long time since anyone has managed to make it happen, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a different way. Still recovering, you can barely get the words out. “Shut up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘shut up’? It was hot,” Yoongi grunts, and you’re at least grateful that you don’t have to have the ‘it’s not pee’ conversation right now. He ducks his head down again as he withdraws his fingers, and his tongue drags up the crux of your thighs to chase a few stray droplets. You squirm, oversensitive, your legs nearly snapping shut around his neck, and he takes the cue to back off with a soft laugh.

You’re too spent to fight it when he starts to manhandle you a little, palms slipping under your ass to drag you further down the bed until your hips are flush with his, then encouraging your knees to pull up toward your chest. “Think you can do that on my cock?”

The question sparks something in your core, the first lick of a freshly lit flame, and you prop yourself up on your forearms to better meet his gaze. “Make me.”

Yoongi’s appreciative smile is nearly a snarl, and he shifts lower on the bed to quickly strip out of his pants and boxers. You watch as he starts to crawl back up your body, anticipation tightening in your core, and then a flash of realization crosses his face and he freezes.

“Fuck,” he swears, and your stomach drops.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m out of condoms.” Your eyes widen as his gaze meets yours. “Do you have any?”

You shake your head. “Not with me.”

A muscle in his jaw works as he exhales a resigned sigh, and you reach out, one hand finding his bicep to stop him before he leaves. You want it too much, bad idea or not. “Just… fuck me anyway.”

His expression goes deadly serious, and there’s a long moment before he responds. “You’re sure?”

You swallow hard as you nod, your eyes searching his. “Just pull out, okay?” You hate yourself for saying the final word before it even leaves your lips. “Please.”

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats back to you, and his hands press to your thighs again to encourage your knees up as he positions himself between your legs. There’s a feeling humming in the space between your bodies, like the reality of the situation has settled over the both of you. The reckless abandon of the previous moment is gone, replaced with something slower, more hesitant. Heavier.

With your eyes fixed on his face, you feel it first: the weight and warmth of his cock grinding over your slit, sliding easily with how soaked you are. You look down to see it for yourself, flushed dark and hard enough to leak precum, trailing a glossy sheen over your folds as Yoongi guides it against you, one hand gripped firmly to the base. He teases the head of his dick over your clit and keeps it there, and you’re still sensitive enough to whimper at the feeling.

“Please,” you repeat, and he’s too focused to be smug about it. He just nods as he drags his cock back down to your entrance, then braces one hand against your thigh and starts to push in.

You exhale softly at the welcome stretch, familiar made new at the lack of anything between you. You can feel it all: the thick swell of the head of his cock as he eases you open, how he throbs gently as your walls squeeze around him, so tight that you can even feel the prominent veins that trace down his shaft.

You’re still wet and getting wetter from the way he fills you up entirely, your arousal drenching the length of him when he bottoms out with an audible slick sound. His cock twitches, buried to the hilt, and even that barely-there motion is enough to coax a breathy moan from you.

“Shit,” Yoongi laughs softly, and the tinge of humility to his voice makes you glance up at him again. “Not gonna be able to go that fast. Feels too good.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just…”

The words won’t come. It would mean too much to say what you want, and this isn’t supposed to mean anything at all.

So you don’t say them: you just hook your arms over his shoulders and pull his mouth down to yours. “Just fuck me,” you murmur against his lips. He grunts a low note of appreciation as he kisses you, as he starts to drag his cock out of you just to fuck it back in again.

It’s shallow, it’s slow, it’s nothing like what you’re used to with Yoongi, but it’s good. Good enough to make your kisses sloppy when you trade open-mouthed breaths, good enough to make you tilt your head and slide the flat of your tongue over Yoongi’s unabashedly, like an earned reward.

He pushes your knees up a little more, thrusting deeper this time, and the new angle drags the head of his cock right over your g-spot. You whine at the heavy weight of him, the shudder that ripples through you in response, and he stays there, stroking steadily to rub that spot again and again until your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you gasp into his mouth.

“Shit,” he groans shakily, reaching one hand up to brush his hair out of his eyes. A few dark strands stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Squeezing me so fucking tight.”

Your arousal coils hot and fast inside of you as he keeps thrusting, and you have to break away from kissing him to tip your head back on the pillow and moan. “Fuck, please don’t stop, I’m—”

It feels like the final second before your climax when Yoongi pulls out, sitting back on his knees between your spread legs with a low groan. The sudden loss of his cock makes your walls clench at nothing, and you whine, petulant. “Yoongi!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, breathless. “Almost came.” You glance up to see him squeezing at the base of his cock with one hand, his chest heaving with effort. Your hips tilt up toward him, jealous.

“I miss your cock,” you whine, fucked close enough to be shameless.

“You’ll get it,” he retorts, and then you feel three of his fingers press in to fill the space he left behind inside of you. “Want to make you come again first.”

You keen as he starts to pump them, wrist angled just right to meet your g-spot each time. “Oh fuck, Yoongi.” The arousal in your core aches as he fucks you open on his fingers, and you can hear how wet you are in the soaked squelch of your needy pussy, can feel it leaking down your thighs.

His thumb brushes over your clit with every upstroke of his hand, and it makes you gasp, your moans starting to pitch higher. “Harder, baby, please, I’m so close.”

Too lost in the feeling, you barely notice when Yoongi laughs a little, but he does as you ask, and the way he pounds into you is just enough to work you over the edge. Waves of pleasure rip through your body as you come for a second time, squirting a little on his sheets again, your thighs shaking violently.

“That’s it, there you go, fuck,” Yoongi groans appreciatively at the sight.

You’ve just barely made it past your peak, still shuddering all over, when Yoongi withdraws his fingers to shove his cock back in again, and you keen.

He thrusts like a man close to his own end, fast and hard, his breath coming in ragged pants of effort and pleasure. Your pussy pulses around him, squeezing like a vice, so swollen with sensitivity that it really does feel like he’s splitting you open every time he fucks into you.

You moan unabashedly now and cling to him all over, legs bracketing his snapping hips, nails of one hand digging into his shoulder, the other hand tangled in his hair. Your cunt throbs and gushes around him as he strokes, and it still feels like you’re coming: you can’t tell if it’s an intensely drawn-out second orgasm or if the hot stretch of his cock worked you seamlessly into a third.

When he finally pulls out, you drop back against the bed with an exhausted groan, every inch of you fucked into oblivion. You can barely focus your eyes to watch as Yoongi shoves his hips up to straddle yours, one hand working his cock until his release overtakes him.

He flattens both palms to the mattress as he starts to come, groaning softly and rocking his hips so that his cock grinds against your stomach. The head of his dick twitches visibly, leaking pulse after pulse of sticky gloss over your skin, and he smears his cock through it as he ruts against you. He keeps going, rolling his hips and rubbing the mess across your stomach until he’s thoroughly spent, until you’re both flushed and sticky all over.

“Holy fucking shit,” is all he can manage when he finally collapses down on the bed next to you.

You glance over at him and nod, trying to imply without speaking that the feeling is mutual. He meets your gaze, and you lay like that for several long minutes of silence as your breathing slows, eyes fixed on each other as your heartbeats race through the comedown.

It’s hard to believe that any part of tonight has been real, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

As the post-orgasm glow starts to settle, exhaustion hits you like a train. You groan, breaking the prolonged eye contact to throw an arm over your face, blocking out Yoongi’s bedroom with the crook of your elbow.

You’re not expecting it when he softly says your name, and something in your gut tells you that whatever’s coming isn’t good. You will yourself not to look back again, to stay as still as a statue when you answer him. “Hmm?”

“You know Jungkook is in love with you, right?”

The plan to not move goes out the window at his words. Your pulse spikes, and you drop your arm to look at him, your face twisted in confusion. “What?!”

Yoongi studies your expression for a second, then makes a small hum of surprise. “Interesting. I figured you were just trying to let him down easy.”

“I— what?”

“You really didn’t know?” He scoffs, and his tone is enough to instantly make you set your jaw. “It’s pretty obvious. It’s funny, I guess he’s sort of inadvertently responsible for all of this.”

That takes a second to sink in, and you blink. “How?”

Yoongi stares up at the ceiling, seemingly nonplussed. “Well, when he asked me for the code to my office, I figured he wanted to take you in there and fuck you.”

Hot blood rushes to your chest, and you sit up a little. “You talked to Jungkook about fucking me?”

“No.” Yoongi blinks. “This was before anything happened. I haven’t told him anything. It was just clear he liked you, even back then, because I have eyes. So I was trying to do him a favor. He’s a good kid.”

You squint, still trying to catch up. “Why would Jungkook fuck me in your office?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it’s the only door that locks. Sometimes you get desperate.” You swallow the immediate urge to argue when your brain unhelpfully reminds you that you have in fact fucked Yoongi at the office. Twice.

“But you know, I figured he’d wine you, dine you, all that romantic crap first. I’m sure he’s a very respectable sex on the third date kind of guy.” That all-too-familiar smirk is back when he glances over at you again. “I guess neither of us realized who we were dealing with.”

You open and close your mouth a few times before you can remember how to speak. “I’m not having this conversation with you. Particularly not with your cum still on my stomach.”

Yoongi nods toward the en-suite. “There’s towels in there. Or you can shower if you want.”

Your head spins as you silently slip out of his bed, and you shut the bathroom door firmly behind you, wishing you could leave that entire conversation on the other side of it. Maybe his fancy shower will get hot enough to blast all the thoughts out of your brain, you reason, and it only takes a bit of fumbling with the knobs before you figure it out.

The water pressure is so much better than what you’re used to that you groan a little when you step under the spray. You turn in a semicircle, letting it beat down on your neck and shoulders as you close your eyes, willing the tension to melt out of your body. You really are exhausted, practically asleep on your feet, despite the way your mind is still racing.

You don’t know why you came here tonight. You don’t know what you thought would happen. You don’t know what makes you keep coming back to Yoongi, over and over, like a moth to a flame, like the definition of insanity. You don’t know why he opened up to you tonight, or why you decided to do the same— or what the fuck compelled him to say that Jungkook is in love with you. You don’t know if things are supposed to stay the same after tonight, or if they will be irrevocably different, and you don’t know which you’d even want.

You have no idea what you want, actually. Another drink would be nice.

The sound of the shower door opening startles you, pulling you up from your thought spiral, and your eyes snap open to see Yoongi shutting the door behind him. Without a word, he steps in to crowd you under the water, and you hate the way your heartbeat flutters when he’s close to you.

“What are you—” you try to ask, but you don’t get to finish the sentence before his hand cups your jaw and his mouth finds yours.

His kiss blots everything else from your brain, and in this moment, you’re grateful for it. You lean into him, letting him in deeper when his tongue traces your bottom lip, whimpering softly as his other hand presses to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You don’t know what he wants, either. Why he came in here. But you have a guess.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips. “I can’t again. I’m so tired.”

“It’s okay,” he answers softly, and then his mouth drags you back in like a riptide.

You don’t know how long you stay there like that, kissing him under the steam and the spray, but you’re breathless when you finally pull away to look up at him. Water droplets are twined through his long, dark hair, collecting delicately on his eyelashes, trailing down his neck and over the muscles of his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” Yoongi offers, and before you can even process the words, he’s stepping back to push the shower door open behind him, and then he’s gone.

With the glass fogged over completely from the heat of the water, and the white noise of the fan overhead, you have no concept of when he leaves the bathroom, or what else he might be doing. You just know you feel entirely alone.

After scrubbing yourself thoroughly with a washcloth that you lather in Yoongi’s soap, you emerge from the shower, grabbing a towel from the linen cabinet to wrap up in. It’s weird to smell like him, sandalwood and musk, somehow both comforting and alienating.

When you nudge open the door to his room again, it’s empty, and the inset lighting has been turned off entirely, the room bathed only in the glow of the bedside lamp that’s been switched on.

He’s left out one of his t-shirts for you, and you recognize it as one you’ve seen him in often at work. You remember Googling the label once out of curiosity and nearly passing out at your desk when you saw the three hundred dollar price tag. You pull it on over your head, then return to the bathroom to hang your towel up.

As you slip back into the bedroom, you can’t help but wonder where Yoongi’s disappeared off to, but you’re too exhausted to go looking for him.

Though you figure he’ll be in eventually, your heart still sinks a little as you pull back the covers and crawl into his bed. It feels so much bigger when you’re the only one in it. You decide to leave the lamp on, then turn over to press your cheek to the pillow, and the waves of sleep almost immediately pull you under.

You’re still alone when you wake up in the morning, the other side of the bed entirely undisturbed. 

Blinking slowly, it takes you a moment to remember where you are, and then the night comes back to you piece by piece. The lamp on the nightstand is still on when you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Yawning and rubbing sleep from your eyes, you push open Yoongi’s bedroom door and pad down the hallway, trying to make sense of things. You have to retrace your steps all the way back to the living room before you find him, curled up on his side on the couch with one arm tucked under his head, still sleeping soundly.

He looks smaller like this. More vulnerable, maybe.

You wonder if you should’ve asked him to join you in his bed, and you wonder why he didn’t. Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you decide to let him rest.

You move through his apartment aimlessly, like a patron in a museum. Something cracks open inside of you as you allow yourself to take in his place undisturbed, and with it, what could be. The idea that a night spent here could feel normal. The two of you in the clearly well-used kitchen, how you might sit on the counter with a glass of wine while he cooks dinner. Talking about your days, about the past and the future. Sharing a life. Fucking and showering and falling asleep in his bed, tangled up together.

For something so close, it feels impossibly far away in the harsh light of morning. It feels like something meant for a much better person than you.

When you make it all the way back to his room, you peel your borrowed shirt off and drape it across his bed like you found it. You retrieve your clothes from last night off the floor and pull them back on.

Thankfully Yoongi chose to fall asleep on the far side of the couch, so when you re-enter the living room, you’re easily able to grab your purse where you set it down the night before without waking him. You slip your heels on in his entryway, then open the front door and shut it as quietly as you can behind you.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scroll until you find Jimin’s contact, then press it to your ear as the line starts to ring.

~*~

You don’t hear from Yoongi at all on Sunday, and you barely see him at work the next few days. You don’t know why it surprises you. It makes sense. You said that night had to mean nothing, you left in the morning without another word, and it’s not like you’ve made any effort to reach out since.

But nevertheless, hurt feelings sit heavy in the pit of your stomach, stinging like salt in an open wound. You’re angry that Yoongi seems to be acting like nothing even happened. You’re annoyed that you have to spend an entire weekend alone with him in Los Angeles. And you’re pissed off that you have so much fucking work to do in preparation for a trip that’s all about him.

You keep your head down and just try to fucking survive. You stay silent in your meetings unless directly asked a question. You type furiously at your desk, forever behind on emails and late on promised deliverables.

The week passes by in a blur, and it doesn’t even occur to you what day it is until you find Jungkook waiting for you at your desk when you return from an afternoon meeting.

“Hi, Jungkook.” You try to say it gently, to not take your frustrations out on someone who didn’t even do anything. While you’ve made polite small talk all week, things certainly haven’t felt normal, and you can’t tell if he senses it too, or if you’re just letting Yoongi’s cryptic words plant imaginary strange vibes in your head.

To his credit, Jungkook seems unfazed. “It’s the last day before your trip!” he says brightly, and your eyes widen as you realize he’s right. “What’s the rest of your day look like?”

You take a seat at your desk and pull up your calendar to check, and he circles around to look with you. “That was thankfully my last meeting,” you respond. “Just getting back to my never-ending to-do list now.”

“Or…” Jungkook prompts, and you glance up to see him leaning forward to rest his elbows on the back of your desk chair, his chin propped cutely in his hands. “You could not do that.”

You blink up at him. “And what would I be doing instead?”

“I was thinking, it’s been a while since we’ve had a walking meeting. Plus it’s actually nice out. So you should take a break.”

Glancing back at your to-do list sends a fresh wave of dread through you, and then you snap your laptop shut with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

Not only could you use the break, but you want things with Jungkook to feel normal again, even if the weirdness is only in your head. Maybe this is what you need.

Down in the lobby, Jungkook holds the door for you, and when you step outside, you realize he’s right. It’s one of those clear-sky early spring days, warm enough out that it feels like the world is starting over, like everything is coming back to life. You can’t help but feel like you could use a fresh start, too.

Though you expect to be led somewhere with food, Jungkook takes a different route instead, and you follow him a few blocks over to the entrance of a nearby park. You end up side by side on a paved pedestrian path, the length of which is lined with trees that have only just begun to bud.

It’s quiet, save for the distant noise of the city, the rustle of nature, and the rush of the occasional cyclist whizzing past. You walk slowly as you chat about nothing of importance: work, music, his dogs.

Jungkook glances over at you during a moment’s pause, with a look on his face like there’s a question he’s been waiting to ask. “So how are you feeling about your trip?”

You can’t quite manage to keep your expression neutral, your eyes rolling like a reflex. “Whatever. I just want to get it over with.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods, and you can see he’s biting back some reaction. “For some reason I thought you might be excited.”

“What do you mean?”

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’ve been… different lately. About Suga. I thought maybe something was going on.” An uneasy feeling starts to wash over you.

“Nothing is going on with me and Yoongi,” you say, far too quickly. Jungkook glances at you, his brows pinched together slightly as if he’s unsure what to believe.

“Okay,” he says simply. You hope that’s the end of it, but then he keeps going. “That’s good. I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.”

Heat rushes into your face, caught somewhere between shame and anger. “Um, what does that mean?”

You grit your teeth when he just shrugs again. “I don’t know. He was such a jerk to you, and then suddenly it’s like you guys are hanging out and getting close and stuff—”

“We are not close,” you interject, and you hate how unsteady your voice sounds when you say it.

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “Because I thought maybe you might be, and it didn’t make any sense to me.”

Overwhelmed by his words, you come to a standstill on the pavement, and he makes it a few steps further before he realizes. As he turns back to face you, the words rush out before you can stop them. “I mean, I don’t see how it’s any of your business either way.”

Jungkook’s brow furrows again. “It’s my business because I care about you. He made you so miserable when you first started, so I don’t see how you could just forget about that and be into him, especially when you could…” He trails off and looks down, unwilling to finish the sentence.

“When I could what?” Another fucking shrug, and you can feel the rage inside you simmering now, threatening to boil over. Yoongi’s question comes back to haunt you— you know Jungkook is in love with you, right?— and the pieces start to slot together in front of you.

“When I could be into you?” you press him, taking an accusatory step closer. “Is that what you want to say?”

His gaze flits up to the trees above you, like he’s willing to look anywhere but your face. “No. I don’t know.”

The birdsong in the air has suddenly started to sound a lot more like screaming, and you have to suppress the urge to do the same. Instead, your voice comes out low and deadly serious. “You and I are friends, Jungkook. Just friends.”

“I know we are,” he says softly.

“Do you?” you snap back, vicious now. “Because it sounds to me like you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he responds automatically, in the same tone, and you scoff.

“Look me in my face and say it.” You take another step toward him, and his eyes meet yours. He’s silent long enough for you to understand the truth, and all at once, you feel like a fucking idiot.

“Let me make this clear to you,” you hiss. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and making my own decisions. And I do not have to explain or justify them to anyone, including you, because you are not my fucking boyfriend.”

When you spit the final word, Jungkook flinches like you’ve slapped him, but you can’t stop now. You’re so angry, it feels like it’s eating you alive. “When I want your opinion, as my friend, I’ll ask for it. Understood?”

You’ve never seen him look at you the way he does now, his eyes dark, his face twisted into a near grimace. There’s a long pause, and his voice is stilted when he finally speaks. “Yeah. Sorry I brought it up.”

The two of you walk back to the office in total silence, and Jungkook doesn’t try to talk to you again.

~*~

It’s early enough to still be pitch black outside when Jimin pulls up to the curb of your terminal at Incheon Airport.

“Thanks again for driving.” You yawn around the words as you reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. When Jimin suddenly pulls you in for a hug, you groan at the affection, but he pays it no mind, dotting kisses over your hair that make you squirm.

“Love you, have fun. And be a slut!”

You roll your eyes as you manage to peel him off of you. “Bye, Baby Mochi.”

Slipping on a face mask, you push the door of his car open and climb out of the passenger seat. You swing open the trunk to grab your suitcase, then slam it shut again and step up onto the curb.

Making your way into the terminal, you dig your phone out of your bag to double-check the text from Yoongi, and then you glance up at the sign overhead to confirm you’re right where he said he’d be.

It takes a second for you to realize the person walking in your direction is Min Yoongi. The black baseball cap pulled low over his eyes is certainly not a bad look, but when paired with his black face mask, it makes him almost impossible to identify, or get a good read on. Rolling your suitcase ahead of you, you move toward him, and the two of you meet in the middle.

You wore sneakers today, so he still seems tall.

“Hi,” you say simply, a thousand different emotions swirling in your gut. You do your best to ignore them all.

Yoongi hums a wordless grunt back in response, then turns to face the already bustling security line. You mirror him, and for a moment the two of you just stay like that, like you’re standing firmly in the present and unsure of what might be waiting on the other side.

He gives a tired sigh. “Ready?” You’re surprised to learn he can speak this early in the morning. 

“I guess so,” you answer.

Perfectly in sync, you both push your bags forward, stepping carefully toward a weekend that feels impossible to imagine.

chapter seven | masterlist | chapter nine

[melloianv2]

Genovese (Fake Peppino)

Go ahead look over to Dr Abe's Laboratory post if new or need refresher: link

and this

Guess am back with Dr Abe's laboratory

Wait a minute..., a new logo? why its pink? Well...this is afterlab. Am going to talk about it if I have to time too.

But in a short description: events that happened after the laboratory is destroyed. Its pink because it something to do with Abette. So this only content that only happens after the lab is gone, reduced to atoms.

Btw I named it Abe's Afterlab instead of Dr Abe's Afterlab, which I have done deliberately.

I'll still talk about the regular Dr Abe's Lab since am not finish obviously lol.

Back then...

(he can mimic others voices though, that is a way of talking...)

(i didn't mentioned he's 1 and play with toys because i wanted to look very cool back then /hj)

Back to afterlab:

There's two sections of Genovese, Sweet and Cruel.

We going talk about Sweet first since its the longest so..

Sweet

(It moves like hair though, weird. Due to error with his chromosome, he ended up have a limb hair instead of hair strings...)

(the hair string can move. But can he feel things like his arms? depends. He only use his hair string limb if he needed too.)

Origins

(it influence from other people and how he became himself.)

(btw am not going explain the actual event until the real post of afterlab comes sorry)

just sneaking this post here

Relations

(Genovese loves Peppino because he made in way to loves who ever he's loyal too.)

(Peppino had a hard to caring about Genovese, since he thought it weird to care about your own clone..)

(he is scared of him too btw, only when he's not in his dr abe persona...[we'll talk about that if i can])

Back to Sweet

(why did i make genovese 5 year old? because I can)

(jokes aside, because Dr Abe just got Peppino's DNA before he kidnapped him. So which is why he's quite young.)

(another flaw is he's native but he's not stupid. However he's not native to violence, swearing, drugs, alcohol, weapons like...at all (and cannib-) . He knows that stuff very well.)

Anyway now we at Cruel, its very short

Cruel

l

Extra

Genovese more likely insult someone if he's annoyed

Genovese's current clothing is actual clothing, and not something he shapeshifted in. Simply to blend in of course.

Genovese can fly when he shapeshifts something that is able to make him fly, however he gets tired very fast doing so.

Genovese used to not have an cruel side. back in 2021 during this au was developing.., he used to be fully pacifist and kindhearted. This was changed because due to nowadays. I decided to make him more half good now. Though, i think it fits better being half because I think it be better for him to struggle trying to be good (after being brainwashed for so long) instead of already being good.

Despite trying to be different from Peppino, He still have an habit of copying off what Peppino's wearing sometimes.

When Genovese doesn't want to play, he watch something on tv instead

Genovese is not allowed to use an stove or oven. Nor is he allowed to use a gun despite trying to use one.

Whenever Genovese is hanging out with someone without Peppino, it gets little embarrassing because he don't even know to use certain things nor when to know what's normal or not in the situation. He's still learning.

The reason why he has his eyes togther instead of being seperated because...

(he got surgery on his face to stop the melting. But the surgeon accidentally made his eyes together..)

Genovese would usually try to reason before attacking.

His tears are acid. touching him awhile crying is dangerous. Though his tears do not have the color of acid, but rather regular tears color

Genovese likes flowers, all flowers.

Genovese know a lot of ways to how to kill some one. Totally not taught to him, absolutely not. Nope.

Immature self is just as smart as mature self, he can catch things like mature self.

I don't know what I expect out of this so...

[ghostiiess]

[NSB HEADCANONS] - carving pumpkins with ryan

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

pov: it's almost halloween and ryan bought two pumpkins for you and him to carve together and do the best looking pumpkins ever :)

warnings: some swears here and there

type: fluff

member: ryan nguyen (azngami)

REBLOGS AND LIKES ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

taglist! (Open! Send an ask if you'd like to be in it!) : @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby @firebenderwolf @hyuneee0 @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

Bold can't be tagged.

so.. ryan was bored on a sunday afternoon

he was scrolling through his phone to cure his boredoom and saw an instagram post saying "buy pumpkins for halloween" (sorry i didn't had much inspiration for the add caption 💀😭)

ryan smiled and decided to go to the closest supermarket and brought two medium pumpkins for you and him

(More under the cut!)

he's just really creative

while you were doing your own things, ryan came into your room and smiled proudly of his projects that he wanted to do with you

"want to carve pumpkins with me?"

ofc, you said yes <3

and it immediately made him super happy

nguyen would have decorated the apartment with halloween decorations (i know ryan do not own an appartment since he's moving houses to houses with the boys, but let's say he have one with you lol) and spooky stuff around the differents room

i know ryan is a SIMP for christmas, but i also know he kinda like halloween (but not like he do for xmas haha)

ANYWAYS-

he would have put tablecloths or paper journals that you guys don't really use or read on your table to avoid a mess

this man brought even the little knife to do it perfectly

like.. this boy wanted to do this activity with you so bad

"i bet my pumpkins can be cuter than yours"

"lol, you wish"

"ooh y/n have some talk back? mmh i love it"

he smiled while saying that

"if you really think your chances to do an aesthetic and beautiful pumpkins are much higher than mine, then let's do a contest on our ig stories so the stars can vote. the loser have to do the dishes for the rest of the week and have to buy the other, snacks and drinks they want"

ryan love so much the stars

so you would agree to that challenge

and ofc, it would make him super happy

"alright, bet. we have 30 minutes to take all the inside out and we'll have 45 minutes to carve it. i'll put the timer"

"that's a serious challenge.."

"well yeah! if i have to carve pumpkins against my girlfriend, i better take it seriously. i would love to see you doing all the dishes and making me food" he said while laughing

he would definitively (try to) put pumpkin flesh on your face and on your nose

"sorry, it was too tempting"

he would laugh so much and take a lot of pictures

he love taking pictures with you

he love being loved by you <3

he would try his best to make you loose

"oh shit, yours is looking pretty sick.. mind if i add my little spice to it?"

"mind your little spice for later, i don't want to lose!"

"it'll make you win! you know how creative i am, right?"

"right.."

he would def carve something he found on pinterest or in google

' easy and funky carving pumpkins ideas '

" damn, these aren't easy! fuck that shit "

" i thought you were creative.."

"hey you, you know what, shut up, y/n!! mind your pumpkin!" he would say obvs laughing to make you know he's kidding

after that curving, he would be super proud of his pumpkin, but then... he would look at yours and be a bit jealous (just a little bit)

"woah.. y/n, you're really talented! it look fucking good and sick!! i love it!"

he tried his best

like literally

he wanted to win so so bad, but he know how great as an artist you are.. like, you could do whatever you want and it would still look sick and awesome

though, he would still be proud of his, he knew he wouldn't be able to win with your masterpiece

he would post a picture of both of your pumpkin and would add an instagram sticker with the choices (a poll lol) and would pray to win

he love seeing you winning because he can see you smile and can see how excited you are, but he still love winning times to times

after 30 minutes, he would check the results and see how he lost-

listen, he always thought you were a born artist, but he didn't know that his pumpkin was THAT bad looking?

ryan's pumpkin would probably look sick and super good, but you know.. the stars have choosen >:)

he was a bit sad, but at the same time, not really, because your smile when he told you, you won, was so worth it like?? his heart was filled with joy and happiness and excitment? ARGH THIS BOY LOVE YOUR SMILE SO MUCH

"i told you baby that i'll win"

he smirked

"yeah, yeah.. i guess, you're the real artist between us"

"don't say that, ry'! maybe you weren't born an artist but you're still good at dancing, at singing, at videos games.. ok, maybe not at smash, but still.."

"thank you baby.. HEY DID YOU SAY I WAS BAD AT SMASH?!"

"maybe, i did"

"alright, bet, you'll regret that, i'll beat your ass like i do every time when we play. you're going to be beat very easily"

then it turned into a videos games contest and let's say that even if you were trying your hardest, you lost.. sorry, not sorry

[chipped-chimera]

Today in fish nonsense! 🐟🐠- Tank is good to go! Cool wood piece is cleaned and time to spend way too long on a plan painting.

More below the cut.

Tank has been set up, leak tested so it's good to go (after I overhauled the layout of my office ... still dealing with the fallout of that though lol) and the piece of jarrah/mirra? wood that my Dad grabbed from the tree he cut down on a farm (noting this specifically because it's actually now illegal to commercially harvest Jarrah in my state - this was on private property so it's legal) has had the absolute crap scrubbed out of it - I mean literally, in the process I found yet another interesting hole in it so that's cool, then high-pressure blasted with water so I am finally ready to think about scaping.

Which apparently means spending longer than I should drawing a plan lol. This piece is super awkward to work with I think - while functionally interesting it has a silhouette that makes me oscillate between 'boring' and 'awkward'. After talking to some artist friends, generally it was agreed I'd need to put more stuff in there to actually make it look better, right now naked glass is super harsh. Problem is, rocks and wood? Well in the aquarium hobby that shit is expensive. We're talking 60 AUD+ for pieces of wood. I mean they are fully cleaned and treated (?) and selected for being interesting, but I have a budget and I'd like to save as much of it as I can for more than just harscape sooooo planning is just the right idea here.

Thinking seiryu stone because I looooove the white veining through it, and then for the branches to break up the shape it's probably going to be spiderwood or something (as much as I love mopani wood I don't think it usually sells branched like this - but I will watch out for it) but the good part is these pieces are all probably going to be on the smaller side since I have my huge hunk of feature wood for free.

I don't know how this piece of wood will interact with inhabitants, I've soaked it for probably a month at this point to get a large amount of the tannins out (and I know it waterlogs, which is great because I won't have to play 'how long will this take to sink') but also to help the looser material come off so all I'm left with now is the hard stuff. It's also now sitting in the sun (and I mean sun - it is going to be 40C today and the next few days so that shit is gonna bake 💀) but prior to that has been sitting in the sun either here or the farm for a total of about idk ... at least a month? Maybe more?

I've struggled to find information on whether Jarrah or Mirra wood is safe beyond one post on a forum where someone-who-knew-someone at a local fish shop had put a piece of this in his store tank and all the fish died. Beyond that? no more context. According to my freshwater ecologist friend I caught up with, she thinks it's probably going to be okay given the amount of time/work put in. I have not done a bleach soak and I don't think I really need to given the amount of time it's been soaking in regular tap water (so already contains chlorine) and sun exposure. There will still probably be tannin leakage into the water but I'm okay with having a mild blackwater tank after seeing one in my LFS, I actually like the slight tannin tint of water and how it makes everything a little 'softer'. But I do ACTUALLY want to be able to see though lmao. I've also seen Jarrah seed pods sold locally specifically for blackwater tank setups so it might be fine?

Either way the plan is going to be: Scape, plant, cycle and then introduction of some cheap shrimp as my poor guinea pigs to see if that wood actually is awful.

Right now I'll just have to painstakingly go through plant choices and placement and making sure it lines up with the planned parameters for the community. I absolutely will take suggestions btw.

More soon. Fish nonsense will contain fish ... at some point. I swear lmao.

[politemenacephd]

Question: So, if Miguel knows spider!reader in Arachnophilia, and spider!mig is mentioned in AFM, does reader know her own spider variant (personally or from Miguel/other spiders mentioning them) ??

I love both stories, and obvi the idea of Miguel & Reader being tied in several universes, but I was just curious on the idea of reader knowing.

oh im SO GLAD I get to talk about this THANK YOU SM cos its been on my mind for days!! I will use this chance to actually drop the dante fic cinematic universe timeline, which is: easing tensions - arachnophilia - a fortunate mistake - a fortunate mistake II There's certain things I gotta keep vague because I know how arachnophilia ends (and how it might tie into AFM II) and I don't want to spoil, but I'll talk about a bit because I'm rabid rn.

I wanna add for the sake of my lore on multiverse stuff, Miguel's who are turned into Spider-men are quite rare? I think this gets mentioned in AFM but Miguel's in general are rare, Spider Miguel's even more so. I took him saying Gabi's universe was the one where he was happy to heart, along with the fact we see zero variants of him in the society. That shit was always the most interesting thing to flesh out. I also don't know if I've ever talked about nena's multiverse story properly either, but its pretty tragic. She largely only exists in universes where Miguels' exist, and in all the ones where she comes into contact with him she dies. Our Miguel's universe is the only one where she doesn't, and Miguel blames this inititally on his canon but, as we know, canon isn't real, in reality it's because our Miguel was the only one with multi-verse experiences that humbled his apathy and violent tendencies. It's sort of like how meeting Miles put Peter B. on a better course, Peter's influence on Miguel is something no other Miguel had and it changed him in a way that made him capable of growing. Vig is the only other one we've met and it's obviously implied he was a poor partner who became a good dad after nena's death. Nena is like, universal collatoral damage, and it's only in the universe where she wasn't 'meant' to love him that she got to be loved. It's fucked up and she deserved better fr.

BUT I will say, to actually answer the question (sorry lol) the reader in arachnophilia is actually not a variant of the reader from AFM. I am sticking with the rule that AFM reader is never a spider, because its important later hehe.

BUT! But this makes Spider!Mig and readers relationship equally interesting to me anyway. I am a sucker for starcrossed lovers, excellent trope, and while it was meant to be a one-off I wanna use it to explore the idea of fully abandoning ones canon and exploring a relationship beyond the bounds of ones universe. I will be going more into Spider!Migs backstory for this, but I think the films never properly addressed the potential dangers/tragedy of love between people from different universes. I used it a bit with OG Miguel with my explanation for what happened with Gabi, E.g him trying to combine their universes, but this is especially spicy. So, again, actual question (I'm so sorry I swear this is all I think about, rip my PhD) as of AFM II reader also doesn't know about Miguel's variants beyond Vig, YET. Miguel is aware of Spider!Mig and reader as of AFM, and if you go back you can see a lot of his mindset in there, especially when he talks about not wanting kids because of his genetic mess and feeling like he's too dangerous.

Miguel as a character is great, I can't say that enough, he's harboring so much self loathing and unaddressed trauma that while he wants to do the right thing he imposes very strict rules that always end in hypocricy. In the same way I think he's awful to Miles because he see's Miles making the same mistake he did (e.g destroying the universe for a loved one) and a lot of his violence is like, imposed, he's awful to his variants because he knows he's fucked up his own moral compass and takes it out on them.

But yes Miguel knows where they are, he has not told reader though, but I do want to have them cross paths.

[diagonal-queen]

Watermelon Cruiser

♡ pairing: Mark Twain x gn!reader

♡ synopsis: Mark flirts with everyone he lays his eyes on, but he could never quite seem to stray away from you especially. Being his best friend and confidant, you assumed it was just an act to tease you, but it begins to feel more personal than that.

♡ wc: 1.8k

♡ cw: A lot of swearing, alcohol, drinking, Mark also uses pet names like 'babe' and 'doll' because he would totally do that, reader (and Mark) is a little tipsy, Mark is a bit of a Casanova lol, mentions of sex, mentions of harassment, you and Mark make out, suggestive content, you and Mark share the love language of arguing.

note: Mark fandom rise up! I love this funky sniper 🌸 I don't know how to write drunk people because I myself don't have much experience with alcohol, so apologies for errors.

It took Mark a minute to answer the door. You assumed one of two options; either he was just being lazy as he sometimes tended to do, or he had one of his 'friends' over. You almost shook your head disapprovingly at the very thought. Whether or not he had company, you were there to stay.

"Oh, it's you!" Mark flashed you a smile once he opened the door to his apartment. "How was it?"

You didn't say anything as you brushed past him and entered his familiar apartment. Mark watched you toss your coat to the ground in frustration and storm across the room.

"It sucked," you complained, flopping down onto his couch. "So many fuckin' sleazy old guys there- why the hell did you recommend the place?!"

Mark had really talked the bar up when you first had the conversation. Whilst complaining about the inability to successfully wade through the dating pool and come out the other side with a partner, Mark suggested a bar he frequented, but that you'd never been to. He said it was easy to make friends there. Well, in this case, special sexy friends. But even you had to admit that was better than nothing.

Unfortunately your experience was less than stellar. You weren't sure if you just went on a bad day or if you were simply unlucky, but as you'd hoped against you were accosted by a few drunkards who were less than polite in their invitations, insults and the like. You decided, after getting out of there in one piece, to take your frustration out on Mark. That's why you were there, having angrily made your way to his home to harass him there.

"Sorry, doll," Mark shrugged, "I guess it's 'cause I'm a regular. Next time I'll come with you."

"Nuh-uh. I'm not going back there." You insisted, shaking your head adamantly. "I'd literally rather stay here and drink with you."

"That's great to hear. You want some right now?" He offered, cocking his eyebrow. You knew that he was half-joking, but you were fed up and getting drunk with your best friend sounded pretty nice right about now.

"Sure." Mark clicked his tongue before rising to his feet and traipsing to the kitchen. Once he was there, he swung open a cupboard which emitted a shrill creak.

"Whatcha got in there?" You called out to him.

"Whiskey. And...more of it than I remembered." He answered, bluntly. You groaned loudly.

"Do you have anything less...blegh?"

"You're so hard to please, Y/N!" Mark complained. "You prefer the sweet stuff, right? I have cruisers."

"You don't drink those, do you? Why do you even have them?"

"In case you want a cruiser." He answered matter-of-factly, pulling out a small bottle of pink liquid. "I have a couple more if you need them, but this should suffice for now, hm?"

"...yeah, sure. Thanks, man." You lazily nodded before accepting the cruiser once he'd returned to you. He himself had gotten himself an entire bottle of whiskey, and you were pretty certain he'd be able to drink the whole thing in one sitting without breaking a sweat.

Mark sat down on the couch and wasted no time taking up as much of the available space as he could. You had long given up trying to shake him of his manspreading habit, so you eventually learned to get used to either sitting on top of Mark or resting your legs on him. He didn't seem to care when you did either of those things, though.

You took a sip of the watermelon vodka cruiser.

"It's room-temperature," you wrinkled your nose in disgust. In reality, the drink was fine despite the temperature, but you and Mark just loved to complain about anything whenever you had the chance.

"You're unbelievably high maintenance, babe. I could offer you the finest old wine aged in a wooden casket and you'd still find something wrong with it."

"The thing wrong with the wine is that you're giving it to me," you sighed, taking another sip. You two continued to exchange remarks as you drank together. After reaching your second cruiser (this one being lemon-lime and also room temperature), you began feeling a little cranky. Whether this was because your body temperature had risen somewhat, or because Mark was enabling your anger by exchanging gripes with you, you didn't know.

"I dunno how you do it, but I'm just done with dating. Everyone sucks and everyone's fake, and there's no point in trying." You told him eventually, your head lazily bowed.

"Awh, don't be like that. There's a good guy out there for 'ya, babe. You just have to be patient sometimes."

"I've been patient, I'm tired of being patient!" You whined, poking his arm. "I want someone now! I want someone to materialise right in front of me right now."

"...I don't think that's possible," Mark sighed, leaning back on the couch and turning his head towards you. "They gotta walk through the door first."

"...right...yeah, the door. Maybe if I just..." you turned to the door and sharpened your gaze. "If I manifest it, someone will appear at the door."

Mark watched you for a moment, before putting down his bottle and standing up. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him approach the door you were staring at, before he turned back to you with a smirk.

"Behold. You did it."

You chuckled. "Get back over here, dumbass." Mark obliged and threw himself back onto the couch. "You're an idiot."

"I'm your favourite idiot, baby." Mark drawled, smiling at you. "You know you love me."

"Agh. C'mere..." you reached out your arms towards him as he scooted closer towards you. Once he was sitting leg to leg with you, you grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss.

You had actually kissed Mark before a couple times, either as a dare, a joke or because there were times when a makeout session with the only other person willing to do it was a lot cheaper than therapy. This was nothing new, but you hadn't been influenced by alcohol before. His lips, and his whole body felt warm.

Mark's arms wrapped around your waist as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like alcohol and mint- it permeated through your mouth as both of your tongues met once again. You were both too out of it to consider what either of you were necessarily doing, until Mark squeezed your hand in his and you broke the kiss.

"No, Mark. I know you just wanna fuck me," you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you. "You're a good guy, but I want an actual boyfriend."

"And what makes you think I wouldn't be the best boyfriend?"

"'Cause you don't like me like that! And you're a horny piece of shit, too. You couldn't stay faithful to save your life." You waved your arm dismissively. Mark gasped.

"Absolutely none of that is true," he countered defensively. "I would be the best boyfriend you've ever had. You'd be lucky to have me."

"Yeah, right," you scoffed, before letting out a small cough. "Wait- hold on a second."

"What?"

"You just said nothing I said was true, but I said that you didn't like me," you straightened and placed your bottle down on the coffee table in front of the couch. "What's that all about, huh?"

Mark didn't say anything. He just cast his emerald eyes towards you blankly and took another sip of his whiskey. You tilted your head as you waited for him to reply, but he just stayed silent. Though the air was a little tense, you felt almost as if Mark found the whole ordeal amusing.

"Mark?"

"...yes, dear?"

"Stop! Do you actually like me or are you just fucking with me?" You stood up. "You'd better not be fucking with me or I'll actually kill you. Huck and Tom have NOTHING on me."

"Don't bring them into this! Okay, fine." He dramatically exhaled, then leaned forward. "I like you."

You weren't actually expecting him to relent so fast. Caught off guard, you blinked and placed your hand over your mouth.

"...what?!"

"Oh, so you demand that I admit that I like you and then when I do it's a bad thing? I see how it is." Mark leaned back again and folded his arms, crossing his legs sassily. You stared at him incredulously, before slowly taking a seat beside him once more.

"...you're being serious, right?"

"Yes! Aren't you?"

"If you liked me this whole time then why are you such a manwhore?!" You quizzed accusingly. "You're always out and about. If you liked me, why didn't you pursue me?"

"Because how the hell was I supposed to know you liked me back?" Mark retorted. "Y/N, baby, I don't know if you know this, but I'm not actually that receptive! I thought you weren't into me, so I decided I should try to get over it. But it hasn't worked, obviously!"

"Then why'd you keep trying?"

"Because I really wanted it to work!" Mark argued, before his eyebrows knitted together. "Wait. Why are we mad about this? Isn't this, like...a good thing?"

"...I guess, yeah," you muttered. "But if it weren't for you this could have happened way sooner."

"If it weren't for me?" His eyes widened. "Go ahead and blame me, why don't you?"

"Well it's your fault, you should have said something!"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

The two of you continued bickering for a couple minutes, hurling childish insults at one another. You were sure that somewhere in Mark's building you were disrupting somebody's evening, and they were probably thinking that you two sounded like an old married couple. Ironically, you were a freshly-formed couple, but that didn't negate the point.

You didn't argue for too long, stopping after you said something like "Fuck you!" and Mark replied something like "Fuck me yourself!" and you both paused for a minute, seemingly both equally surprised by the statement.

"...uh, well- we're both kinda drunk right now. And very emotionally volatile," Mark noted. "I can't, in good conscience, have sex with you right now."

"Oh, but when it comes to any old random you find in a bar it's all good?" You frowned. Mark irritably threw his hands up.

"It's different with you. When we bang I want it to be...I don't know, nice."

"A nice, elegant bang..." you laughed to yourself. "Good choice of words."

"Shut up. You know what I'm trying to say," Mark's cheeks were pink. He was still very much self-reassured, but somehow he also looked a little shy. You'd never seen Mark look anything less than confident before.

"Yeah, I'm just fucking with you," you said. "I appreciate it."

"...good. You should."

"Okay, screw you, then."

"Screw me?"

And there you two were, right back at it. Arguing like a freshly-formed couple.

wow. i really like writing confession oneshots huh? it should be known that when it comes to alcohol i don't know anything. i had to turn to my best friend for their expertise on drinks and so i'm giving them a creative credit here. also don't ask why i made mark like this. he's like a fifties gangster fuckboy for some reason but honestly i kinda love that for him.