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[2chopsticks2eyes]

Well Shit

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~30k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe, Vaginal Sex, Protected Sex, Unprotected Sex, Friends With Benefits

Summary: Your ex is a cheating bastard who had been your only experience with sex (which he was absolute shit at). Getting back into the dating game was not what you expected, so your older brother's annoying best friend, Minho, decided to offer to show you the ropes on what it's like to have actual good sex.

Author's Note: This work was inspired by a request from @kyungpenguin33. This took longer than I expected because life hit me like a truck for a while. But hopefully, nothing slows me down for the next fic I have in store!

__________________________________________

“He didn’t even fucking deserve you anyway! You’re too good for a guy that constantly smells like pickles and dick cheese.” Your best friend Tiffany blatantly carped as she sprawled out on your bed while mindlessly scrolling away on her phone.

You had just recently broken up with your boyfriend of three years and for some goddamned reason, Tiffany had to bring up the topic constantly. Apparently, once you get to college, boys decide they want the next, new thing. You just wished he would have ended things with you before he started fucking half of the ‘sorostitutes’ that were willing to open their legs for him.

You felt like a jug of milk. What was once a refreshing, healthy relationship, started to slowly become sour and curdled. You thought you two were in love, hence the long-lasting relationship, but you guess he saw the expiration date before you did.

It had been about a month since you ended things with him, yet here Tiffany was, rambling on and on about how she always knew your relationship ‘was doomed to fail’ and ‘emotionally toxic’. You couldn’t help but wonder, if she ‘always’ knew that, why did she never say anything to you about it? Why did she constantly fawn over him? Why did she feel the need to whine about how she was ‘so jealous of you for snatching him’?

Now, you loved Tiffany, you did. She was always there for you when no one else was. Even if she mostly acted as if you were a child and considered herself your influencer. You learned to look over it because, whatever she did, she did it out of love, right?

That’s what led you to invite her over to your house, well, more like your family’s house because who the fuck can afford to live alone on campus as a broke college student these days? 

Anyway, you were currently laying down on your stomach on the plush carpet of your floor with oodles of papers and textbooks spread around you while Tiffany, still on your bed, continued to berate you with nonsensical chatter.

“I knew he was a bad apple from the start, but I didn’t say anything because I wanted to be a good friend and be supportive of you. And now what? This is where it got you.” 

You rolled your eyes and slumped your head down into your hands. “I get it, Tiff. I should have seen this coming. But I’ve moved on now…” You were… partially telling the truth. “...and so should you. I’m glad you care about me, but I don’t even want to think about that douchebag ever again.”

She lowered her phone and raised an eyebrow at you that silently screamed ‘uh-huh suuuure’, then she sighed deeply and returned to her mindless scrolling with a ‘higher-than-thou’ look on her face.

“Tiff, didn’t you come here to study with me? We have finals in two weeks and a paper due in economics tomorrow.” You said while assessing her lax composure. 

“Oh, I’ve already gotten that taken care of. You really need to stay on top of that kind of stuff, ya know? Or else the next three years of your undergrad is going to be a disasteeeer~! Not to mention veterinary school after that!” 

You scoffed and returned your attention to the mounds of work around you. Here we go again with the whole ‘I’m more mature than you’ act. It’s true that you really needed to pick up the slack, but you also knew that Tiffany was only at a marginally passing grade. She always half-assed her work.

The sound of a phone buzzing pulled your attention and you looked up to see Tiffany putting her phone up to her ear. “Heeey baby! What’s up?” You internally cringed from her zero to sixty babygirl voice. “Right now? Yeah! Totally free!..... Uh-huh….. Of cooourse….. Kay kay! Be there in a jiff! Love ya babe! B-byyyeeee.” You wanted to gag but quickly composed yourself when she returned her focus to you, sitting up from the bed as she spoke. “Jay’s wanting to go out tonight so I’mma bouce!”

You wanted to say ‘why did you tell him you were free if you were obviously here for me?’ But you decided to just let it go. You weakly nodded your head. “Kay, have fun.” 

“Oh you know I will.” She said in a suggestive tone. She basically skipped away but stopped with her hand on your bedroom door handle. She turned back to you with a brazen smile. “Like, I know we’ve only been dating for, like, a week, but my god that man is way better in bed than my last boyfriend was.” She spoke quietly as if someone would hear her gossiping in this completely empty house.

“Who, David?” You engaged ruefully, not quite sure which poor soul you friend was preying on this time.

“No, silly! It’s Mark! David was the one I dated before Chad and Chad was the one before Mark.” She giggled bubbly.

You chuckled. “Man, you really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and looked at you pitifully. “I can’t help it that I have standards that these guys can’t live up to!” She released the doorknob momentarily and began to look quizzical. “Now that I think about it, maybe I could hook you up with Jackson! He was one of the better ones!” She declared jovially while pulling out her phone again. “Plus, someone needs to show you what a good fuck is like now that your previous old scrotum has moved on…” She rambled as she searched through her phone.

You sprung up from the floor like lightning and rushed over to her. “Nononono, Tiff. No matchmaking, please. Especially not with your sloppy seconds!” You pleaded while holding her arm pathetically.

“Too late, love! Already sent your number to him! You’ll thank me later, trust me.” She winked at you and gave you a peck on the cheek. “Love ya lots! Lemme know what he says!” When she turned to the door and opened it, both of you were startled out of your skin to see a man with sandy blonde hair holding his hand up as if he was about to knock on the aforementioned bedroom door that was now wide open.

Lee Minho.

Why this motherfucking bane of your existence was here, knocking on your door, you didn’t know. But your focus was shifted by the bubbly giggle of your best friend. “Oh my god, Minho! I didn’t know you were here! Why didn’t you come and say hi to me??” Her exuberant voice rang loudly.

Your best friend was a serial flirt and everyone knew this, but it still pained you to watch it unfold firsthand anyway. Especially to the man she knew to be a close family friend.

“Uhhh, actually I came here to see your friend.” He awkwardly stated before he turned to you with a big, annoyingly cocky smirk. “Hey there, kitten.”

You just grumbled and pushed past him and grabbed Tiffany’s arm to see her out. 

As you two retreated, Tiffany hollered over her shoulder to him. “I hope we’ll cross paths on campus later! Bye, Minho!” You heard Minho reply with a faint ‘bye’ as you ushered her out with a quick hug goodbye.

Now, here's the thing you need to know about Minho, you don’t hate the guy, you just find his existence to be extremely annoying.

Lee Minho was your two-year-older brother’s best friend since you were in middle school. For as long as you could remember, Minho was a constant visitor at your house. He was always treated like family by your parents and that had never changed over the years. However, when your brother decided to study abroad and Minho wanted to stay at home and go to the nearby community college, you figured he would slowly drift away.

Nope. Why would you think such a thing? You already knew it was his life goal to be a pain in the ass.

That motherfucker would come to your place weekly, almost even several times a week, just to hang out with your family. For some reason, you were the only one who found it weird because your parent’s welcomed him with open arms like he was a part of the family. Even going as far as giving him the key code to the house! It wasn’t like he had a bad relationship with his parents or anything, he had a wonderful family! Which just made it more annoying when he would come around.

You couldn’t really figure out just why he got under your skin so much, he just did.

Which is why, when you shut the front door behind you and turned back inside to see a smug grin stretched across his unreasonably handsome face, you felt the urge to just go ahead and punch the pretty off of it. “Mom and Dad are out of town right now. You’ll have to come back next week to annoy me.” You said scathingly as you marched back to your room.

You could already feel yourself tense up when he turned to follow you. “Well, what’s the fun in that if I can just annoy you now? Just ‘cause your big bro’s gone doesn’t mean you can get rid of me that easy.” You dropped back down to the floor where your circle of stress resided and he plopped down onto your bed, immediately making himself comfortable on it as if it were his own damned cotton duvet he was sprawled across.

You snapped your head at him. “Do you have any particular reason to be here other than to drive me up the fucking wall with your shit?” You gave your deadliest glare, but that just seemed to amuse him further.

“No, that’s about it. Gotta keep you on your toes, ya know? Plus I would never be opposed to… what was it you said? ‘Driving you up the wall’? Sounds like a really fun challenge to me.” His smile was evil and you hated that it made him look even more attractive.

You scoffed in disbelief and returned to your notes. “Great. I feel honored to have warranted your undivided attention.” Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Well, if you have nothing better to do, at least keep it zipped up while I study for my finals.” 

“Oh? You sure you don’t want me to zip it down instead? You might find something even harder than those finals there, kitten.” You shot daggers at him with your eyes but his suggestive smile remained all the same. This motherfucker… did he really just say that?

This was a norm between the two of you. He would teasingly make lewd or flirtatious comments to you and you would always tell him to kindly fuck off. You never truly had any malice to your words and he knew this. So, the playful banter continued.

“OR I might find myself with an outrageous hospital bill after I shove your testicles so far up into your ass that you choke on them.” Your voice was saccharine sweet as you openly threatened him. It was as if you were a well-behaved waitress that would spit in his pudding spitefully.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Sorry, babe. I’m not into the whole cock and ball torture kink. Maybe we can explore what you like instead?”

You hoped he didn’t notice the red tint to your ears as you muttered expletives under your breath. “What I’d like is for you to shut the hell up and let me STUDY.” You obviously sounded absolutely done with his playful banter and he finally relented.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Fine. I’ll leave you be this time, kitten.” He stood up from the bed and crouched down in front of you, flicking the edge of the textbook you were scanning over. “But if you ever need help with any of this, let me know.”

You just hummed your response, opening your laptop in front of you and refusing to make eye contact as he reluctantly slunk away from you and out of your house.

When you heard the front door shut, your head dropped from your shoulders to hang in front of you as you groaned. Why, just why, did you both end up wanting to be veterinarians? He constantly made fun of you, saying, “oh, it’s so cute how you want to follow in my footsteps!” or “you chose this major to be closer to ME, didn’t you?” 

UGH.

And that stupid smug face of his he made when you had finally declared your major was on a constant loop in your brain. He only called you that stupid nickname because you had rescued a cold and starving kitten on the side of the road when you were in high school and he named you that because that’s what made you find your dream of becoming a vet.

You were IN LOVE with your little Boots. Not to be mistaken for footwear, you named your kitten Boots because she was entirely black except for her four white paws. She was your number one emotional support after your breakup and you had no clue what you would do without her.

As if on cue, Boots casually walked into your room, licking her chops (most likely just finishing demolishing her food bowl like the little piggy she was), and nonchalantly plopped down right on the entirety of your keyboard as if it was her own personal heating pad.

“Boo-baby! I’m working!” You made no move to do anything about it because when cats demand your attention, it’s a crime not to comply. She just stared back at you with an adorable slow blink and your hand moved on its own to start petting her.

Her purring instantly started easing your mind and a fond smile bloomed on your face involuntarily. Slowly, her soft fur and soothing sounds washed away your worries. You felt the stress of school turn into confidence that you knew what you were doing and a reminder that your grades have been awesome. You felt that the annoyance of the people in your life, your ex, Tiffany, Minho, well… they didn’t really matter in terms of you living your own life.

This is your emotional support. Your precious Boots.

Without any words spoken or her even knowing what was going on, she knew when you were suffering. And she always made it her job to help you. That’s why it hurt your soul to meet people who say they hate cats because they are ‘evil’ or ‘assholes’.

Okay, yeah, they definitely can be assholes, but they aren’t inherently evil! They just have unique… personalities. It takes time and love to earn their trust, but when you do, the bond is like a special gift that is only reserved for you.

It was at that moment when you were lost in your thoughts that your phone buzzed. When you unlocked your phone, you saw a text from a random number.

Unknown Number:

Hey, is this Tiffany’s friend?

You:

Yeah, who’s asking?

Unknown Number:

Hey, this is Jackson

We met a couple of times a while back

Tiffany’s ex, remember?

You:

Yeah I remember

Look, I’m sorry if Tiffany told u something weird

I know she had good intentions but…

Please just ignore her lol

Sorry if she made u feel uncomfortable 😅

Jackson:

Nah, I’m not uncomfortable at all 🙂

Actually, I was kind of looking forward to talking to u

You:

Really?

Why tho?

Jackson:

I dunno 😅

I know we only met a couple of times

But I remember u were pretty cool

Really cute too 😉

You blushed a bit and found yourself kind of nervous. It felt like it had been ages since you were single and you just kind of forgot how to interact with guys that were interested in you… but you were kind of excited that someone was into you. Even if you felt like an utter twat trying to think of a response.

You:

Really?

Ur not so bad urself 😅

Jackson:

Oh yeah?

I know me and Tiff used to date and all but…

I was kinda excited to hear that u were available

You didn’t know if you wanted to thank Tiffany or strangle her.

Jackson:

I was wondering…

U have any plans for tomorrow night?

Okay. Keep it cool. Don’t be weird.

You:

I have class until 6

But after that I’m free

Jackson:

Nice, u wanna go to Sideways with me?

I hear they’re giving people one free shot tomorrow

You weren’t a huge fan of the local bar, too many college students and not enough dancing, you were more into the nightclubs where you could just dance to your heart’s content while blending into the crowd. Plus, who takes a girl to a bar for a first date? But you weren’t about to tell him that, so you figured one night wouldn’t hurt.

You:

That sounds like fun

Count me in

Jackson:

Awesome! It’s a date, then! 😉

I’ll pick u up at 8?

You:

Sounds good!

See u tomorrow! 😊

Jackson:

Bet, see u then

You screamed internally and looked at Boots. “Holy shit, Boo-Boo… What the fuck am I doing?” She just stared at you blankly, deciding she was bored with you now as she stood to stretch dramatically before she hopped up on your bed to make herself comfortable there instead.

You tried not to spiral into anxiety but this would be the first date you had been on after your breakup. You had no clue how to act or dress or not seem like a meager airhead that spends her Saturdays watching anime and cuddling her cat in bed wearing nothing but her panties and an oversized graphic t-shirt.

…Yeah you desperately needed assistance. You just prayed that Tiffany would be available to help.

________________________________________

“Not this… ew, no… oh GOD definitely not!” You just sat at your small vanity while Tiffany was raking through your closet to find you something to wear.

Classes were a lot less stressful that day than you had imagined and Tiffany was more than eager to help you get ready that night. You were thankful that you had a good amount of time to get ready because Tiffany was being super picky. Like, she looked like a fucking hound dog sniffing out anything that seemed even remotely designer.

“Do you have ANYTHING sexy in here?! I feel like I’m browsing through the clearance section at GAP!”

“Hey!” You knew she was kind of right, but she didn’t need to point it out so blatantly!

“What? It’s true!”

You huffed. Your ex never really took you out on fancy dates so you never really had the need for anything other than everyday clothes.

“Well excuse me for not dressing like fucking Kim Kardashian at the Met Gala!” She just crossed her arms and raised a brow in a ‘come at me, bitch’ kind of way. You sighed in defeat. “If I have anything remotely suitable, it’s probably buried in the back…”

You turned around to your mirror to continue with your hair and makeup, which was a whole other challenge in itself. You were already basically finished but you decided to be meticulous because, why not? Your new first date since high school should take at least a little effort, right?

“Well it’s not anything near perfect, but this will have to do.” You turned back to your friend laying out one of your black, tighter-fit dresses. “Where are your heels?”

You stood up and walked over to assess the dress. You hoped you could still fit in it, it had been forever since you wore it. “I can’t wear heels, remember? I would legitimately break an ankle if I stepped on anything that wasn’t even a tiny bit of flat ground. And even that is not guaranteed to keep me upright. Heels on me are just a hospital bill waiting to happen.”

She looked crestfallen. “Oh right, I forgot you’re clumsy as fuck. Those weak ankles will be the death of you, I swear” You giggled, knowing she was completely accurate in that statement. She hummed as she assessed your limited amount of shoes. “I suppose these strappy Mary Janes would look cute. Not necessarily the sexiest, but they will suffice.”

You had already stripped and were about to put the dress on when she stopped you. 

“You’re not going to wear that underwear, are you?” You looked down at your plain, black cotton bra and panties and shrugged. 

“Yeah, why not? Black works pretty well, no?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have anything sexier?”

“Why? It’s not like I’m guaranteed to fuck him on the first date.” You stated as you grabbed the dress.

She grabbed it back from you with an incredulous face. “Are you serious?” She put the dress back down on the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders, donning her typical expression of looking down at you as if you were a child. “Honey. Now I know you haven’t dated in a while, but when a man takes you for a night out at a bar, he’s wanting to do the nasty, bump uglies, go home for ramen, Netflix and chill, beat that puss–”

“Alright! I get it! I get it!” You interrupted before she could plant any more images in your head. And really? For a first date? At this point, you really did feel out of the loop. You had only had sex with one guy, were you ready to go that far with a guy you barely knew?

“Well… I’m just gonna play it by ear… if he doesn’t like my underwear, he can go milk his monster by himself.” 

She sighed and stepped back, rubbing her temples. “Fine, but if that happens, don’t come whining to me and asking for more hookups.”

You didn’t even want this hookup in the first place! You had to internally hold yourself back from throwing a bitch fit and just forced yourself to calmly reply with– “Okay, Tiff. I won’t.”

She looked smug for some reason and you slid your way into the tight dress. “Ew! How is there already so much cat hair on it?!” She whined, trying to pat the hair off your ass.

“I have a cat, Tiff. Cats shed. You know this.” She looked annoyed and retrieved the lint roller from your nightstand.

When she finished rolling all the hair off you and you put on your shoes, she had you spin to assess you. She sighed. “Well, you’re no Audrey Hepburn, but at least you’re giving the right vibes.”

It was at that moment you both heard the front door open. Your parents were still on their anniversary trip so there was only one person it could be…

“Minho! We’re in here!” You quickly shushed your best friend, but the damage was already done. The door to your bedroom opened and Tiffany immediately walked over to grab him by the arm. “Ohmygod, perfect timing!” She was wrapped around his arm like a monkey and he looked slightly awkward until he looked at you. “Look at my masterpiece! I mean, probably not a masterpiece, per se. Especially with the limited resources I had to work with, but isn’t she great?!”

He was frozen next to her as he looked at you. “Y-yeah…” He seemed to snap out of it and he returned with his usual cockbox smirk. “What’s got you all dolled up, gorgeous?”

“None of your goddamned busine–”

“She’s got a hot date tonight! Like super hot.” Tiffany cut your scathing remark off.

Minho’s smile slightly faded and you rolled your eyes. “Okay, let’s not get carried away, Tiff. He’s a good-looking guy you decided to force upon me, that’s all.”

“Oh don’t give me that, bitch. I know you’ve already thought about fucking him ten ways to Sunday and back!” I mean with all the talk of fucking the man, how could you not imagine it?

You figured spit boxing was no use and, as if fate was on your side, Jackson texted you to tell you he was here. You huffed at the pair and grabbed your clutch purse. “Whatever, I have to leave anyway. Just lock up when you decide to leave…” You marched past the two and straight for the door before you felt a hand grab your wrist.

“Hey…” You raised a brow at Minho who had broken free from Tiffany’s iron grasp. “Be careful, okay? You have my number so call me if you need anything, yeah?”

You felt goosebumps and brushed off his hand. Was this Lee Minho being serious for once? What was the world coming to? “Yeah. Okay, whatever.”

And with that, you walked out the door, leaving Tiffany in your house alone with Minho. For some reason that just didn’t sit right with you. Why though?

________________________________________

The date was going… not as well as you expected…

The car ride was nice, he made pleasant conversation and he was super flirty. But when you guys got to the bar, Jackson ran into some of his guy friends and ended up getting absolutely wasted. However, he did keep you close to his side the whole time. Maybe a bit… too close? 

He had his hand around your waist the entire time, keeping you pulled close to him, and he paraded you to his friends like you were a fucking strumpet and they quickly seemed to take a liking to you as well. He had then decided to take you out back because he and his friends wanted to smoke.

“You want one, gorgeous?” Jackson offered you a cigarette and you declined.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.” You decided not to mention that you thought smoking was absolutely repulsive and gave you the urge to blow chunks. However, you remained vigilant in your composure.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t wanna try?” His buddy said across from you, absolutely sloshed.

“I’m good, thanks.” You couldn’t hide the disgust in your voice and there was a lull in their conversation.

One of the taller, beefier friends of Jackson spoke up. “That’s a real pretty girl you got there, Jax.” He tilted his head to address you. “You got any friends, darlin’?” 

Before you could answer, most likely to tell him to kindly fuck off, another man spoke up. “Or maybe Jackson wouldn’t mind sharing.” You immediately felt chills wrack your body. You didn’t know these men… you didn’t know what they were capable of…

They all laughed and you looked at them with disgust. You turned to Jackson and spoke quietly in his ear. “Can we talk?”

He looked at you with a lopsided grin and pulled you back inside, winking to his friends as he closed the door behind him. He led you to a quiet hallway next to what looked like the bar’s stockroom. You felt his hands move to your hips as he pressed you up against the wall. His hands roamed up and down your sides, making your skin crawl, as he looked down at you with hunger. “Kay, baby. Let’s talk.” 

Without any further indication, he started hungrily kissing you. You didn’t want to not reciprocate, but the man was all tongue and it kind of made you sick to your stomach, especially with the taste of cheap beer and smoke lacing his spit. You gently pushed his chest, but he refused to back away. You moved your head to the side to escape his mouth, but he just continued to kiss down your neck.

“Jackson! I really just wanted to talk!” You tried to reason while he continued.

“We are talking, baby…” He growled against your skin.

You had lost your patience when he started groping your ass. At this point, you found yourself pushing him, hard. “Get the fuck off me, Jackson! I want to go home!”

He froze in place, and when he stood back up straight to look down at you, he looked pissed. “What the fuck, bitch? You come out drinking with me, cling to me all night with this sexy little black dress, and then get pissed from a little kissing?!” He looked really pissed off and you wondered why in the world would your best friend hook you up with this guy. “You’re just a fucking cunt tease. Find your own ride home.” 

And with that, he stormed back into the throes of the bar. You were speechless.

‘Find your own ride’?! It was already past midnight! Public transit had already finished their routes for the night, your parents were out of town, and you couldn’t afford an Uber! There was only one other option and you really really didn’t want to have to resort to it.

You angrily stormed out of the bar and pulled out your cell phone. Here goes nothing…

The dial tone only rang once before you heard the receiver. “Hello?”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself before you responded. “It literally pains me to say it, but I need your help…”

________________________________________

You stepped into the sleek, white KIA sedan and buckled up, refusing to look at the driver. You could feel his stare on you, but you really didn’t want to have to explain this whole embarrassing experience to him.

“I don’t even get a hello? So cold.” The teasing lilt in his voice made your blood boil, but he was doing you a favor, so you felt the need to indulge him.

You turned your head and donned a sickly sweet smile. “Hello, Minho.” Your smile instantly dropped when you looked straight forward again, waiting for him to get the fuck on with it.

“Oh, what lovely company you are! You should call me more often to come pick you up at 1 o’clock in the morning!” He said as he began to drive away from the front of the bar.

He had a point. This was actually a really big favor he was doing for you and you were being a raging bitch about it. You grumbled in frustration that you were forced to be grateful to this man. It was silent for a moment before you forced yourself to say something. “I’m sorry, Minho…”

You watched as he side-eyed you. “For?” He seemed to be genuinely at a loss for what you were talking about.

You felt the stress from the situation cause your inhibitions to falter. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you instead of thanking you for your help. I’m sorry that I was naive and thought that I would be able to go on dates like a normal person so soon after ending my three-year relationship. And I’m sorry to myself for being an idiot and letting that douchebag and his friends treat me like a whore and then let him kiss and touch me even though I didn’t want it!” Your voice became more and more upset the more you rambled on.

Minho full-on looked at you now. “He touched you?! Without your consent?!” He was visibly pissed and you couldn’t fathom why. “Who the fuck is this guy? Tell me his name. Does he go to our college? I swear, I’ll go full Bruce Lee on his ass.”

“Calm down, Nancy Drew. It’s over and done with. I’m never going to see that twat-waffle ever again…” His death grip on the steering wheel slowly relaxed, as well as the tension that was rising in the air.

It was silent for a moment and then you suddenly heard chuckling coming from the man beside you. “What?” You were about positive you were about to get miffed at him again.

“Did you really just say ‘twat-waffle’?” He asked while laughing.

You wanted to respond with something more defensive, but you couldn’t help but find his amusement contagious. “What? That’s what he is!” You involuntarily giggled through your words. “Seriously though, if that’s what guys are like nowadays, I might as well say goodbye to my sex life because there’s no way I’m dating that kind of trash! Not to mention that most men are incapable of making a girl climax anyway so that makes it even harder to find someone to date!” Shit… maybe you had one drink too many…

“Hey! Not all guys are like that!” He looked at you in mock offense. “In my book, if a guy can’t get a girl to cum, he doesn’t deserve to either.”

Your giggles turned into full-bellied laughter. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my brother’s best friend! Don’t tell me you’re going to join Tiffany in gossiping about my ex too!”

His smile vanished. “Why? That asshole doesn’t deserve a single breath of air let alone a whole conversation about him. He deserves to be left forgotten and the world will be better off because of it.” Minho had lost all humor at the mention of him and he spoke to you dead-serious. “You deserve to be with guys better than him. Better sex than him too from what it sounds like.”

You scoffed. “Yeah well, unfortunately, he has the only dick I’ve ever known. I don’t even have anything to compare him to, the bastard.”

He finally pulled up in front of your house and cut the engine. “You could compare him to me. Someone who actually knows what he’s doing.”

You started cracking up, but your laughter slowly faded when you realized he wasn’t laughing along with you. Wait, was he serious? Surely not… Your face morphed into one of perplexity. “You’re joking, right?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” He raised an eyebrow and looked as if he was challenging you. “Personally, I think you need to explore your likes and dislikes with someone who’s willing to be your guinea pig. We already know each other well, meaning I like to believe you trust me more than a random hookup. So, the way I see it, it makes sense that I would be better fit to show you what it’s supposed to be like before you go chasing guys that would probably end up like that, quote-unquote, ‘twat-waffle’.” 

He said while using his hands to motion his quotations, immediately opening the driver-side door and stepping out of the car before you even had time to process his words.

You had short-circuted and you were frozen in your seat as if you were glued to it. Hundreds of images, ones that you never thought in a thousand years would have crossed your mind, began flitting through your brain. You quickly came to your senses and ran after him as he began unlocking the door to your house.

“If this is just one of your stupid tricks, it’s not a very funny one, Minho. It’s actually really fucking shitty to joke about.” You declared, furious and defensive as the two of you stepped inside. 

He huffed and turned around to face you in the entryway. He looked slightly annoyed. “Like I said, not a joke. If you don’t want to and you think I’m crazy for even offering, then you can go back to dating douchebags who fuck like jack-rabbits just to leave you unsatisfied and I can go back to enjoying the fun task of annoying the hell out of you. No harm done.” He smirked as he walked off with a shrug to head toward the kitchen.

What the actual fuck was he thinking? How did he even come to this conclusion? No, why did he even want to fuck you in the first place? “You’re right, I do think your crazy–” He turned back to you, now holding a fresh glass of water, with a complacent expression plastered on his face. “...but…” You took a second to look at him. Really look at him. 

It had always pissed you off that he looked like a fucking Greek god with absolutely zero effort. He was cocky and proud and knew just what to say to get what he wanted. He was one of those people that, when you complimented him, would just agree with you and praise himself. He might have been the least humble person you had ever known.

Still… He wasn’t precisely rude about it, he just had an insane level of self-confidence. You supposed he deserved to be proud. His face was naturally beautiful, but you knew he at least put in some effort. Before your brother left, he and Minho would hit the gym constantly. And, by looking at the chiseled-looking man in front of you, he never stopped. From his teen years to manhood, age definitely treated him nicely.

Okay, if you were being honest with yourself, you may or may not have pictured what might be under all that linen. He is a gorgeous man, after all. And as you stood there staring each other down, your eyes drifted to his lips. It had been so long since you had been touched…

You found yourself licking your lips and he reciprocated the action. 

Minho suddenly walked up to you until he was inches from your face, looking down at you with an intense expression. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You bit your lip as you searched his eyes, looking for any sign of this being a sick prank. There was none.

“But?” He questioned with a smirk and a raised brow, imploring you to continue your statement.

What is he doing to me? I must be going crazy… Shit shit shit…

“...but…” You sighed, dejected. “You have to promise not to tell anyone…” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said the words that seemed to escape on their own. You were even shocked with yourself for even entertaining the idea.

His face morphed into several different expressions simultaneously. Shock, hunger, eagerness, and anticipation colored his eyes, but he donned a collected appearance. “You’re not drunk, are you?” He asked tentatively.

You looked at him in the eyes again with a scowl. You might have a bit of a loosened tongue, but you knew for a fact that you were nowhere near drunk. “If I were drunk, I would have vomited on you for even asking.”

With your scathing remark, he returned to his normal irksome demeanor. He smirked and bent his knees a bit to be at eye level with you. “Is that so? Then maybe I should just go home? Since it is sooo beneath you to see what I can do… how good I can make you feel…” He whispered so close to your face that you could feel his breath against your lips.

He brushed past you and headed toward the front door. You cursed yourself for what you were about to do, but the discussion was already leaving you needy as hell. “Wait.” You said with irritation coloring your voice, refusing to turn around to face him. You heard his footsteps halt and you closed your eyes with a short, exasperated sigh. Still unable to face him, your voice was firm. “Prove to me what you can do and I might be willing to use you…”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was wearing an infuriating, triumphant smile.

He said no words, but you heard quiet footsteps grow near. As you waited in anticipation, you felt a shiver run down your spine when he gently swept your hair back off the side of your neck. You felt his breath against your ear before you heard his words. “My pleasure, kitten…”

First, you felt a single chaste and moist kiss be placed at the base of your jaw and you let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t realized you had been holding. Your fists were clenched so hard you could feel your nails digging into your skin.

Next, you felt the feather-light touch of his hands start to creep from your sides, down to grasp your hips. His now firm grasp pulled your ass back to be flush against him and he continued his slow torture of gliding his moist lips up and down your neck, your hairs standing on end with the ghosting breath against your heated skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop.” You hadn’t realized that your breathing had become heavier, but you heard his whispered words against your neck loud and clear. You didn’t trust your voice, so you just responded with an aggressive nod.

You felt his teeth as he smiled against you and his thumbs started rubbing circles into your hipbones. You were feeling the dizzying effects of his touch and smell and your mind was racing with thoughts of what he was planning on doing to you. As he started kissing your neck with a bit more purpose, a sudden thought popped into your head. “N-no marks…”

He hummed against your skin and you felt his tongue dip into your clavicle. “Of course…” His mouth started kissing, licking, sucking, and nipping just fervently enough not to leave marks and your breathing picked up as his hands started to wander. When he was sure that you weren’t going anywhere, his hands started gliding up your stomach to just below your breasts.

He teased you, acting as if he were about to make a move to cup them, but his hands started gliding back down. You found yourself desperately wanting him to touch you as his hands smoothed down the fronts of your thighs until his fingertips reached the skin at the hem of your dress. Your heart was thumping when he groped your thighs and his thumbs circled around just the inside of your thighs over your dress.

His ministrations were painfully slow, from his continuous devouring of your neck to the teasing of his hands. He denied you further touch again as he moved his hands, still playing at the edge of your dress, around to lightly grope your ass.

You were about to snap and you couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You spun around in his arms, obviously taking him off guard, and you didn’t allow yourself to think as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stole his lips with your own. Holy shit… you were kissing Minho…

At first, he seemed to be shocked by your boldness, but soon he began to kiss you back with equal amounts of fervor. His lips were soft and plump and his tongue danced along with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You arched your body into him and he wrapped his arms around you, hands still tracing patterns down your lower back.

When he pulled you closer to him by your ass, you moaned into his mouth. You knew your panties were drenched and you were almost embarrassed at how quickly he managed to get you basically dripping for him. How could such a pestilent man affect you so intensely?

However, when he pushed you up against the wall and pressed himself against you, you could feel he was equally as affected. You hadn’t realized you were shaking in his hold until you moved your trembling hands up to tangle in his blonde locks. “Shit, Minho…”

You whimpered into his mouth and he shushed you. “Shhh, let me take care of you, kitten.” He sealed his lips to yours again and you felt his hands grope your ass once more before gliding one of them down to the hem of your dress again. Only this time, when he moved to the inside of your thigh, he dipped his hand underneath your dress to tease the edge of your panties.

“Oh fuck…” He chuckled at your falsetto, whispered words and he returned to attacking your neck as his fingers moved over to rub circles over your thin underwear.

Your head was thrown back in ecstasy as he pleasured you in slow motion. You had no clue why being this frustrated from his teasing would turn you on so much. You tried to grind down on his hand, but he still only lightly pleasured you.

“M-Min… please. Oh god!” He pinched your clit over the material and chuckled when you jumped.

“Tsk tsk tsk, so impatient.” He sighed against your neck before standing straight and looking down at you. “You can’t rush perfection, kitten. I’m going to take my time ruining you…” He pressed his lips against yours and you pulled him back by his hair.

“Well then take your time in my bedroom and not out here in the fucking hallway. I don’t want Boots watching.”

The smile that grew on his face as he laughed at your statement made your head feel fuzzy. Then, before you knew it, you were in the air, quickly wrapping your arms and legs around the man as he carried you to the bedroom, your dress hitching up to your hips at the action. He shut the door behind him with his foot and he gingerly sat down on the bed with you still stradding him. “Do you want me to strip or do you want to do it for me?” He raised a brow (those damned sexy eyebrows) in question and licked his lips with a lopsided grin as he pulled you as close as humanly possible.

Gosh, this man was infuriatingly sexy. “Aren’t you supposed to show me what I want, mister expert?” You quipped as you rested your arms on his shoulders.

He flashed his teeth and leaned back slightly, stripping only his t-shirt off before returning his hands to rub up and down your bare thighs. Your ogling eyes were beyond obvious and he gently grabbed one of your hands. He moved your hand to glide from his bulging pecs down to his chiseled abs.

He released you and allowed you to keep mapping his skin out with your hands. You wanted to lick him all over and trace every vein and crevice on his body. You found the courage to latch your own lips to his neck now and he hummed contentedly. You found yourself involuntarily grinding against the bulge in his sweatpants and he groaned.

His hands that had returned to your ass moved up to the back of your neck and one of them found the zipper on the back of your dress. You were shivering with excitement as you felt your back being exposed slowly to the chilled air and his hands felt like they were on fire as they caressed your bare skin.

However, instead of stripping you completely, his hands moved back to your thighs to creep up under your dress again, halting your movements. Your anticipation had stopped your mouth against him and you began panting into the crook of his neck. 

When he reached your panty line, his fingers deftly dipped underneath your underwear this time and you moaned into his skin when his fingers dragged through your folds. “So wet already…” He whispered in your ear before grazing his teeth over the shell of it. He quickly flicked the pad of his thumb over your clit and you hugged him close with a gasp. “Can I taste you, sweet thing?”

You could almost cum from those words alone. Your ex refused to eat you out because he thought the idea of it was disgusting. This made you extremely self-conscious of having him, or anyone else for that matter, see you naked for too long. However, Minho had you wound up so tight that the coil in your stomach was bound to snap at any moment and you really wanted to take him up on his offer.

You pulled back and looked back into his eyes which were black with desire. “Y-you… you want to do that?” The disbelief in your voice was apparent and you moaned when he shallowly dipped his finger inside you.

���Fuck, more than anything…” He bit his lip and you held onto his shoulders as he pumped his finger in and out of you.

Sooner than you would have liked, he pulled his finger out and your breath shook when you saw him lick his finger clean.

“Shit…” He said with eyes closed in bliss. When he opened them again, they were filled with pure, carnal desire. In the blink of an eye, he had you on your back with your dress shucked off and thrown into the dark abyss that was your room.

It was dark, only the moon shining through your window illuminating the god-like man above you, so you weren’t too terribly self-conscious. But with the way Minho sat there on his knees between your legs, staring down at you, it had you squirming a bit. Shit, maybe I SHOULD have worn sexier lingerie.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous…” His hands roamed over your thighs and drifted around to undo the latch of your bra. It quickly joined your dress and you cried out when his mouth was like a magnet to your nipples. I guess he doesn’t care about the underwear…

You couldn’t control your hips as you rutted up into him, desperate for stimulation as your nipples were being abused. You had to admit, the man did wonders with his mouth, and the thought of that tongue between your legs had you whimpering.

Without removing his mouth from your nipples, you felt his fingers loop under your underwear. He finally relented his attack to free you of your underwear and your whole body went stiff as he lowered his face between your legs.

He must have noticed because he immediately halted and looked up at you. “Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” You were pleasantly surprised that he was so concerned about your comfort.

“No no, it’s okay! It’s just… he never… I’ve never had anyone…” You were too embarrassed to say it out loud, but he seemed to understand.

“Man, he’s more of a piece of shit than I thought…” You gasped when he kissed your inner thigh. “Just lay back and enjoy kitten. I’ll show you how it’s done.” And without further ado, he moved to hover over your entrance.

You shivered and your eyes closed in anticipation when you felt him blow his hot breath over your sensitive folds. And when you finally felt him… OH… MY… GOD…

You were incredibly grateful your parents weren’t currently home because the moan you belted out was absolutely filthy. Your hands instantly flew to his hair and he had to hold on to your legs to keep you from crushing him between your thighs.

It was everything you wanted and more and you were feeling delirious from it. He had started by sliding his tongue through your folds from base to your clit and then he closed his puckered lips around the sensitive bead and sucked while circling his tongue around it. You were almost sobbing it felt so good. When you felt him insert a finger and find your G-spot, you went insane.

“HOLYFUCKINGSHITRIGHTTHERERIGHTTHEREOHMYGODYES… Please don’t stop! Fuck please… Fuckyesyesyes! Don’t stop! Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplea– AHH!” You unexpectedly came with furious power and you could feel yourself soaking his face violently.

In the moment, you felt like you were in heaven, but when he popped up from in between your legs with his stupid ass smirk and your release dripping from his chin, you were mortified. 

“Oh my god, Minho, shit I’m so sorry! Shit. Fuck! …That’s so fucking embarrassing…” You buried your face in your hands, so mortified you wanted to cry, and he immediately grabbed your wrists, pulling them away to show his befuddled expression.

“Embarrassing? I thought that was the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do!” He looked at you like you were crazy, but your face was still bright red. Apparently, he could even notice that in the moonlight because he then guided one of your hands to the crotch of his sweatpants to feel his erection. You gasped at the heat you could feel all the way through the thick material. He leaned down and growled in your ear. “Does this feel like I thought it was embarrassing?”

You pressed your palm against him and he groaned in your ear. You were desperate to feel him inside you and you were suddenly bold enough to slowly dip your hand into his pants to palm him over his boxers.

“Fuck… do you have condoms.” He said as his head dropped to your shoulder.

“Y-yeah… top drawer.” You said motioning to your nightstand. 

He hopped up and made quick work of removing his sweatpants and boxers. Holy shit. Either your exes dick was super small or Minho’s dick was super big because the difference was catastrophic. When he knelt between your legs again, condom in hand, he must have gauged your expression. “Everything okay?” You could hear the humor leaking through his restrained voice.

Your blood was indubitably boiling. It’s just not fucking fair to be so fucking perfect. Just more grounds for him to be cocky as hell. You cleared your throat and looked to the side. You had to say something because, honestly, you were genuinely uneasy about it. “It’s just…” You side-eyed his beautiful dick again. “...I haven’t… I don’t…” You sighed in frustration, not knowing how to say it.

He began patiently stroking it. “The suspense is killing me, kitten.” He smiled sarcastically and you stared daggers up at him.

You huffed and looked away again, eyes involuntarily snapping to his dick again for a half second. “Like… how do you know it will fit? I mean your’s is like way…” You peered up at his face which was trying desperately to not erupt in laughter. You sat up and shoved him. “I’m serious, asshole! That thing is terrifying!”

He had exploded and your push caused him to collapse on the bed in hysterics. He was holding his stomach in pain from how much he was laughing and you glared at him.

“Fine! If it’s such a joke to you, then whatever! Now, if you’ll excuse me–” You attempted to get off the bed, but in the blink of an eye, you were on your back again.

“Now now, let’s not throw a temper tantrum, little thing.” You shivered as he licked up the column of your neck. “Not only can I make it fit, I’ll make you beg for it.” He kissed your cheek before grinning down at you mischievously.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Prove it.” This one challenging statement had him instantly devouring your mouth as his hands eagerly roamed your body. You tasted a hint of yourself on his lips and you couldn’t explain why that turned you on so much. He had you heated up again in no time, and when you felt two of his fingers slowly enter you, you moaned with his lower lip between your teeth.

He started pumping his digits in and out of you with blinding speed and it was almost too much for you. Involuntary ‘ah, ah, ah’s fell out of your mouth when he moved his mouth to your nipples and your eyes clenched shut when you felt a third finger join the others. He slowed his pace so he wouldn’t hurt you, but when you felt him insert a fourth finger, he knew exactly what to do to distract you from any discomfort.

He dug up into your g-spot again while his thumb circled your clit and you were shouting out expletives again. You were whining and thrashing and he sat back on his knees just to watch you fall apart. You felt another orgasm wrack your entire being, but your body screamed more, more, more. “Minho, fuck! Minho! Minho!”

“What is it, kitten? What do you want?” He gave you an evil sneer as he moved in inches from your face. You glared at him before you basically punched him with your lips.

“Fuck me right this instant, goddamnit!” You shouted with your head thrown back when you released him, gasping for air.

He pulled back again and laughed. “As you wish, your highness…” Your whole body slumped into the bed when he removed his fingers and you were panting from the intensity of the situation.

“Wait–” You snatched the condom from him, leaving him with a dumbfounded expression. “I wanna do it…” You ripped open the package and threw the wrapper into the void, tentatively taking his unbelievable cock in your hand and looking up at his expression as you slowly stroked him.

He looked like he could cum any second from finally having some stimulation after holding back for so long. Before you knew it, you gave him a little kitten lick on the tip, collecting a load of precum, and watched as he visibly shivered. “Fuck, kitten…” He sounded almost like he was in pain. Watching his throat bob as he dry-swallowed gave you a longing you couldn’t explain.

You decided enough was enough and you rolled the condom down his length before laying back and spreading your legs.

He bit his lip and his black eyes were devouring you, but he stopped himself as he hovered above you. “Jokes aside, tell me if I’m hurting you at all, okay?”

You felt your heart thump violently and you sensed an uncomfortable swirling in your stomach. Why was he being so nice to you? You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Okay…” He smiled sweetly for once. “Now, for fuck’s sake, can you please just fuck me?” 

He cackled at your impatient remark and you gasped when you felt the heat of his tip poke at your entrance and he dragged it up and down your folds. You dug your fingers into his shoulders as he hovered over you, watching you to assess your expressions, and he slowly sank into you. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight discomfort, but the delicious feeling of his hot tumescence dragging against your walls had you seeing stars.

You whimpered as he slowly entered and you were glad to see that he wasn’t completely unaffected. His brows were furrowed as well and when he went as far as your pussy would allow, he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, keeping himself still as he breathed heavily. “Shit…” He mumbled.

“Yeah… shit…” You agreed as your fingers tangled themselves in his sandy hair. How did you get in such a situation to have Lee Minho buried deep into your sopping cunt? You both lay there trying to control your breathing while he remained motionless inside you. After the discomfort lessened and your desire grew, you started to squirm. “Minho… move…”

He began slowly grinding into you for what seemed like ages. And when you desperately rutted up into him, he wasted no time in receiving the hidden message. Immediately, he slowly pulled back and you felt him start to languidly place wet kisses across your collarbone. You cried out in ecstasy when you felt him expertly rock back into you.

His pace slowly started to increase and his kisses became more hungry as time passed. You pulled him up by his hair and made him lock lips with you, hoping that would stifle your moans.

It didn’t.

You were whimpering into the kiss and his hips moved in a way that hit all the right places. He released your lips so he could grab one of your legs and hold it in the crook of his elbow. He then proceeded to snap his hips into you as if his life depended on it.

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You cried out.

“Tell me how good it feels, kitten.” He said between breaths, eyes searching your own.

“Shit sofuckinggood– ah! Fuck! So good Minho!” You were just about sobbing now and you couldn’t find it in yourself to give two fucks about the undoubtedly cocksure smile that painted his face.

“Damn kitten, you’re so fucking tight. That asshole has no fucking clue what he lost. Fuck!” He sped up his thrusts and you were clawing at his chest, unable to handle the raw pleasure he was bringing you.

This was the most incredible feeling you had ever had and your reactions were like you weren’t even yourself anymore. One particular thrust had you screaming. “MINHOFUCKSHIT! DontstoppleaseMinhodontstop!!!”

“Fuck, I would never…” He huffed and he seemed close as well with the way his rhythm stuttered and his thrusts became more powerful.

You came while screaming his name and he came while burying his face in the crook of your neck with an animalistic growl. He rode both of you through your orgasms and then gingerly pulled out so he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Wait here.” Was all he said before he stood, tied the condom, and walked across the hall to the bathroom. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to. He returned with a washcloth and began cleaning you. Okay, he has definitely proved himself.

When he finished, he collapsed next to you on the bed with heavy lids, turning his head to look at you. You returned his gaze and sighed. “I guess I have a new guinea pig…”

________________________________________

Your economics class had just ended and you and Tiffany decided to grab some coffee and hang out in the campus courtyard before she went to her next course. Thankfully, you were free for the rest of the afternoon and you were desperate to get home and take a hot bath, maybe watch some porn, and take a well-deserved nap. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure something was really wrong with him. Like, he could not hold a conversation for shit.”

You laughed at your friend’s ramblings about her latest breakup. “Wait, so this one was Jay, right? The one you went out with after my place last week?” 

“Yyyep, that’s the one. Like I said before, the sex was amazing, but I need to date someone with an actual functioning brain.” She huffed and slurped down some of her drink that looked like a cupcake version of a coffee. “Like, how hard is it to find someone who’s able to fuck me like a whore but talk to me like an adult?! Those men are, like, nowhere to be found!” An image of Minho slamming his cock into you flitted through your mind, but you quickly snapped out of it.

You just continued to laugh because you knew Tiffany dropped guys left and right all the time for the smallest things. “There’s no such thing as a perfect man, Tiff. Might as well accept the truth.”

She grumbled and began to tie her hair up. You took a sip of your iced americano and arched your brow when your friend’s eyes lit up and she instantly took her hair back down and combed her fingers through it. She waved her hand in the air to someone behind you. “Minho! Over here!”

Oh no…

You whipped your head around and, sure enough, the man was walking toward you two with that same annoying-ass grin. After that night almost a week ago, you sent Minho home with an awkward (and slightly sexually charged) goodbye when you decided to take a shower. Since then, the only communication you had with him was a simple exchange of texts the following day:

Minho😈:

How r u feeling today?

Sore? 😏

Kitten😼:

Why? 

R u wanting me to leave u a Yelp review?

*Lee Minho: too cocky for his own good*

Minho😈:

Oh? So that WASN’T the best sex of ur life?

Could have fooled me 

I counted and… 🤔

Do u want to know how many times u screamed my name?

Kitten😼:

Ur fucking crazy

I have to go get ready

Later, psychopath 🖕

Minho😈:

Can’t wait 😉

…That had been the last form of communication you had had with the man and you definitely felt like you needed to have a serious conversation with him. But you were NOT prepared to see him NOW!

You quickly spun back around and scrambled to pick up your phone to make it seem like you were doing something else other than having an internal panic attack. “It’s about time I caught you on campus! I was starting to think you were avoiding me!” You couldn’t help but glance at your friend when she flirtatiously held his forearm when he reached the concrete ledge of the garden the two of you were sitting on in the courtyard.

“No, not at all. I’m actually glad I ran into you guys.” You refused to look up at him although you could feel his eyes burning holes into you.

“Oh is that so? Well then join us!” She tugged on his arms and you closed your eyes, praying that he wouldn’t accept.

“Sure, I’ve got some time.” Your eyes immediately snapped open and you watched as Tiffany pulled him down to sit on the other side of her. You scowled up at him when he leaned forward so he could talk to you around her. “Hey there, kitten. You seemed to be super interested in your home screen there.”

Tiffany giggled and you looked down to see that you hadn’t even unlocked your phone in your attempt to look busy. You could feel the blood rush to your ears but you just shoved your phone in your bag and fixed your vision on the bustling students roaming the courtyard. “So what if I am?” You tried to deflect the conversation. “Why are you here anyway? Where is your normal posse of goons? The ones I actually like?” And by goons, you mean the infamous Chris, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, and Felix. There were Seungmin and Jeongin as well, but they decided to pursue the same path as your brother, but you still missed them…

“Oh, they’re nearby. I told them to meet me out here when they were finished getting their coffee.” Of course they would happen to be here at the exact same time as you. 

“Then why aren’t you with them? Did you get lost?” You said as you finally turned to look at him with a sarcastic leer.

Fuck him for looking so incredibly gorgeous for no goddamned reason.

“Nah. I saw you guys out here and I thought it would be fun to come annoy you.” He winked and your face twisted into a disbelieving scoff.

“Okaaaay, I think I’m going to head to class early, babe. I see you two bicker too much anyway.” Tiffany stood up and said to you with a giggle, clearly trying to escape the awkward tension. “Oh! And Minho…” She opened her backpack and ripped a scrap of paper off of her notebook, scribbling something on it and handing it to him. “We never really exchanged numbers even after knowing each other for so long! So I thought I’d finally give you mine.” She bit her glossed lips with a flirtatious smile that annoyed you for some unknown reason. “Call me any time.”

And with that, she strutted off to class. The man looked surprised but slipped the paper into his jeans pocket nonetheless. He smirked at you and you realized you had a disgusted look on your face. “Are you seriously wanting to bag my best friend now? You’re disgusting.” 

Your gut churned as you looked away and you froze when you heard him scoot closer to you. “Why? You jealous, kitten?” You could hear the smile in his voice and you scoffed, head turning in the opposite direction from him before turning back.

When you looked at him, he was a lot closer than expected and your breath hitched for a moment before you regained your composure. “And what, exactly, would I have to be jealous of?” You tried to sound firm, but you could feel a hitch in your breath in between words.

You could have imagined it, but you watched as his smile faltered just slightly before returning to its teasing appearance. “I dunno, you tell me. Afraid of someone playing with your pet?”

You had to turn away because looking at him was just too intense. You scowled at the concrete, an uncomfortable retching feeling building in your stomach from the topic. “You can fuck whoever you want, Minho. It’s not like I actually own you…” You puffed out a half chuckle at the idea. You looked at him again and his smile, although still stretched across his face, was lacking in vibrance and color. “I’m just your friend’s naive little sibling that happens to have a pussy. You said it yourself, you offered yourself up to just be a guinea pig because I’m inexperienced. Nothing more.”

Why did it make you slightly queasy to say that? It was the truth.

Now his smile had vanished entirely. “Hey now, that’s not true and you kno–”

“Baby girl!!!” Minho was interrupted by a man running at you full sprint behind Minho and a smile automatically stretched across your face. You immediately stood up and opened your arms as he crashed into you with a crushing hug, picking you up and spinning you around with glee as the two of you giggled.

“Oh my god, Jisungie! It’s been so fucking long since I’ve seen you!” You giggled in his arms. “I know my brother isn’t home these days, but, sheesh man, you know you can still call or text, right?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, girly.” He made a pouty face as he set you back on your feet and held you by your shoulders. “But I figured Min had been keeping you up to date.” He stated as said man stood up next to you with a grumble.

Jisung was a part of your brother’s group of friends even though he was your own age. However, Minho and Jisung hit it off the most and they undoubtedly had the closest bond within the friend group. This being said, the two ended up being roommates once Jisung graduated high school, and, unless Minho was loitering at your house, the two were attached at the hip.

Unlike Minho, you and Jisung always got along swimmingly. Actually, you loved everyone in your brother’s group except for Minho, which is why it was kind of a comical irony that you and Minho had ended up in your current situation. They all also knew your particular distaste for Minho…

As if reading your mind, the rest of the group soon followed Jisung as you could see them walking towards the three of you. Felix’s arrival was much like Jisung’s as he wrapped you in a huge hug and kissed you on the cheek.

“Where the hell have you been, princess??” Changbin said as he came and ruffled your hair with the annoying title most of them had taken to calling you.

“Buried in my studies, that’s where. As soon as I started here, I instantly regretted cramming most of my credits into freshman year.” You chuckled.

All three of the boys that were also in their freshman year, Jisung, Felix, and Hyunjin, groaned in agreement. “Tell me about it! I even signed up for the bare minimum and I feel like my life is crumbling. I don’t know how you do it!” Hyunjin whined.

“But it’ll be worth it. I did the same in my freshman year and, now that I’m in my senior year, I don’t feel like I’m killing myself just to graduate with my bachelor's.” Chris said from where he had his arm flung over Minho’s shoulder as the younger man wore an artificial disgusted guise from the action.

“You really do need to take it easy sometimes though, love. You’ll burn yourself out.” Felix said with a concerned smile as he played with your hair. Jisung had wrapped his arms around your waist from the other side of you and rested his head on your shoulder and you giggled at the two boys’ affection.

“I know, I know. I just want to make sure I can make it into Veterinary school after graduation.”

“Which reminds me. WE were having a discussion so will you guys–” 

“You two?! Talking?! Without tearing each other apart?!” Hyunjin dramatically interrupted Minho as the group looked back and forth between you and him with befuddlement in their eyes.

“Yes.” Minho said through clenched teeth with a scowl at the man who instantly recoiled. The feisty older blonde quickly pried Jisung off of you and eyed the younger’s amused expression. “Now kindly fuck off, all of you vultures.” Minho continued as he grabbed your backpack from the ledge and wrapped his warm fingers around your wrist and briskly dragged you away.

“Bye, princess! I’ll text you and we can all meet up sometime!” Chris bellowed at your retreating form.

“Sounds good!” You waved at the five smiling men with your free hand and they all waved back.

Minho led you out of the courtyard and through a couple of buildings, finally leading you to a semi-demolished parking garage that was notorious for being unoccupied. When the two of you walked in, you saw his car parked in probably the only spot that wasn’t in ruins.

“Have you gone completely brain-dead? Why are you parked in this dilapidated lot? You know they have much closer parking with way less risk of being squashed by rubble?”

He just shrugged as he opened the passenger door for you to get in and simply replied. “Free parking. And I don’t mind walking.”

When he finally hopped in the driver’s seat and started driving you eyed him. “Where the fuck do you think you’re taking me?”

“You don’t have class, right? I thought I’d take you to mine. Make you some dinner as thanks.”

To his? As in his apartment?! “Thanks for what? For letting you fuck me? I’m pretty sure there was a mutual benefit there, Min.”

He puffed out a half-chuckle. “No, you pervert. It’s a thanks for trusting and listening to me the other night by giving me a call to pick you up when you needed me.”

For some reason, you felt your cheeks heat up and you scoffed. “Trust might be an overstatement, but that was just because I didn’t have any other choice.” He shot you a crooked grin at your snide comment.

“Well then, I suppose this is me thanking you for using me for yet another reason.” He winked at you and you turned your head to look out your window with a scowl and crossed arms when you felt your face turn bright red.

When you entered his apartment, it wasn’t quite what you imagined. For some reason, you expected to see posters of half-naked women on the walls and trash everywhere. But, as far as you could see, the place was actually clean and decorated very nicely with spotless surfaces and the only thing that you could see that you had expected were the various game consoles by the TV. The typical fuckboy energy was noticeably absent. 

There were two separate rooms on the left side of the large living room and a sizable bathroom close to the entryway. The kitchen was on the far wall with some pretty flowing curtains hanging from the windows surrounding it. The living area was directly left of the entryway in front of the kitchen with a large sectional couch and a cozy armchair.

His place was… really nice.

As he shut the door behind him and took off his shoes next to your own, he assessed your face as you looked around. “What do you think?” He almost sounded… hopeful?

You contemplated your response. “It’s… a lot more mature than I had expected…” You couldn’t look at his face as you verbalized the semi-compliment, instead running your fingers over the soft leather of the couch and taking in the concentrated scent of pure Minho.

Why was that so appealing to you?

He chuckled behind you and you whipped around when you heard he was much closer than you had anticipated. “Well… thanks? I guess?” You cursed yourself when your eyes flitted down to his plump lips. And, judging by the shit-eating smile on his face, he knew.

However, instead of acting on it, he just walked around you into his open-floor-planned kitchen. “What do you want to eat, kitten? Canned tuna? Maybe with some warm milk?” He teased.

“Har, har. You’re a comedic genius, asshole.” He just cackled at his own lame excuse for a joke. “I dunno, what do you have?”

He pressed his palms on the countertop of the island and leaned forward, your eyes lingering a bit too long on the prominent veins of his forearms. “I was thinking kimchi fried rice, does that sound good?”

You basically moaned. “Oh god, my favorite.”

He flashed you a crooked smile. “I know.” And with that he simply turned around and got to work, leaving you caught off guard and a tiny bit flustered.

________________________________________

“That was probably the best kimchi fried rice I’ve had in my entire life.” You groaned from where you sat at the island counter, holding your stomach from how much you ate. “I feel like I’m about to explode, though.”

He briefly lifted a brow at you over his shoulder from the kitchen sink where he quickly washed the dishes. “Was that a compliment I just heard?”

You flipped him off and he guffawed. “Don’t flatter yourself, it was merely an observation.”

He wiped his hands off and moved to stand on the other side of the island from you. “Do you want some wine?”

You glanced at your phone for the time and saw it was already almost six. You thought for a moment and assessed the cute, pleading pout he donned. You rolled your eyes. “Fine, it’d better not be shitty box wine though.” You eyed him speculatively.

He looked disgusted. “Gross. I’m not a Neanderthal, kitten.” He pulled out two wine glasses and sat them on the counter. “Red or white?”

You just stood and walked over to the living room to judge the comfort of his couch. “Don’t care, surprise me.”

As you plopped down, you could instantly feel yourself being absorbed by the plush cushions and you groaned. You closed your eyes for one moment and listened to the pouring of the wine and the clinking of the glasses before he stood in front of you, setting the bottle on the coffee table and handing you a rich red wine. You claimed the glass, swirled it a bit, and sniffed before taking a sip.

The bitterness was perfectly complemented by the sweet and fruity undertone, an obvious decadent fermentation. This surely had to be an expensive red. “Holy shit, Min. What is this, Merlot? Pinot Noir?” You tried to look at the bottle from where the couch was swallowing you, but the label was facing away from you.

“Cabernet actually. You like it?” He inquired as he sipped his own serving.

“It’s probably the best red I’ve ever had.” You savored another large swig.

He narrowed his eyes with a mischievous smile. “The best food and the best booze? I’d say I’m a pretty good host.”

There he goes with the self-appreciation again. You rolled your eyes and continued to drink enthusiastically. “I would hardly consider this booze, Meanhoe. But don’t worry, you still have time to screw it up somehow.” A sudden thought crossed your mind. “By the way, where’s Ji? He should’ve been here by now.”

He just chuckled and refilled your empty glass, which you accepted eagerly. “I told him to stay at Chan and Changbin’s place tonight.”

You arched a brow at him. “You told him to? And why is that?” You were inexplicably anxious as you guzzled your drink a bit. Shit, you were going to develop an alcohol dependency from being around this man.

A grin slowly grew on his face once he took a sip and sat his glass down. “I told him that I was having a pretty girl over tonight.” He was slightly leaning toward you, now biting his lip to tame his smile.

You were drinking more out of bashfulness now. You knew your face was flushed, but you tried to maintain your composure all the same. “How presumptuous of you. Is that the only reason you invited me over? Am I just here so you can bag me and send me on my way?” Your stomach churned painfully at the thought. It’s your fault anyway by agreeing to this mess.

His face fell and his eyes widened in panic. “What? N-no, I–”

“Because if that’s the case, I think I should just leave now.” You chugged the rest of your glass and set it down on the coffee table. 

He gently kept you seated by placing a hand on your bicep. You could feel his heat searing through your shirt. “Kitten, no! Listen! I’m sorry I said that. I really just wanted to make you dinner.” You eyed him hesitantly. “We haven’t talked much since that night and I mostly just wanted to get the chance to talk to you alone…”

In your rush to get up, you hadn’t realized how close the two of your bodies had become. You were lost in his pleading eyes as you mumbled. “Then talk…” You tried to sound begrudged, but your voice came off more wistful than you had intended.

His thumb stroked your bicep from where he continued to hold onto it and he sighed. “I know that the other night just kind of happened out of nowhere.” You bit your lip and blushed, memories of the night flooding your vision and making his grip on you seem more intense than it actually was. He sighed and released your arm, allowing your vision to clear a bit. “I wanted to apologize for what happened… I know you’ve always hated me and I didn’t mean to take advanta–”

“What? I don’t hate you.” You blinked at him, bewildered. Yeah, you were always annoyed by him and were irritated by his constant overwhelming presence and teasing. But you wouldn’t say you hated the man.

He looked at you perplexed. “But I thought–”

You cut him off again by placing a delicate hand on his thigh and raising a brow. “Minho, just because I have a general distaste for your antics doesn’t mean I hate you.” He gazed into your weary eyes for a moment and then looked down at where your hand was resting on his bare thigh where his shorts had risen from sitting down.

You were suddenly all too aware of how you had involuntarily leaned toward him, and you pulled your hand back as if you had just placed it on hot coals. You cleared your throat and sat straight again. “So… you don’t hate me?” His wry grin made your blood boil. Damn girl! When did you become so thirsty?

You scoffed and tried desperately to look anywhere but at him. “Don’t get a big head Minho, you still are the most infuriating person I have ever met.” You pushed his shoulder and he cackled. Your lame attempt to hold back a smile was futile as you leaned back and let the couch envelop you once more. You lifted your chin to indicate the wine bottle on the table. “Do you have any more?”

________________________________________

You had tears in your eyes as you cackled hysterically when Minho was telling you of the time he and Jisung had been forced to make out at one of their parties during a truth or dare game. He explained that the rest of the group was even more bashful than they were when it was all said and done.

“When we dared your brother and Felix to do the same, even though Felix didn’t mind, your brother had to drink the nastiest assortment of cocktails just to get out of doing it. We teased him for months and Felix, to this day, threatens him with smooches.”

You had fallen over on his shoulder and clutched your stomach as it ached from the laughter. He couldn’t control his own chuckle as he sat down his half-empty wine glass next to yours and the two bone-dry wine bottles on the table. Needless to say, you were pretty tipsy.

“What do you mean by make out though? Are we talking just swapping a bit of spit? Or were you full-on licking each other’s tonsils?” You felt a lightbulb blink on in your head and you shot to sit up. “Ooh ooh! Show me how you kissed him!” You puckered your lips and leaned toward him, still unable to contain your giggles. He looked startled momentarily and he leaned back to look between your eyes and awaiting lips before you saw the makings of a smile grow on him.

“Oh, it would be my pleasure, kitten.” You watched the signature evil smirk on his lips and your breath hitched when his palm cupped your rosy cheek. Like a tiger, he pounced on you, making you lightheaded as he immediately intruded your mouth with his tongue.

He was relentless and you were struggling to keep up with his expert tongue as it roamed your mouth and he bit at your lips. His free hand wrapped itself around your waist and held you close as his lips pressed against you aggressively.

When he finally pulled back his hands and released your lips, you found yourself subconsciously reaching for him again. He looked almost as caught off guard with the kiss as you were. Your eyes were glazed over in a wild drunkenness on Minho that affected you way more than the wine had. His face abruptly turned serious when your hands wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair to prevent him from retreating.

He searched your eyes and you found yourself feeling hot all over when he wiped away a stray tear that had escaped from your laughter just moments before the tension rose in the air. Before you knew it, you were surging forward and capturing his lips with yours once again.

He hummed in a surprised tone and returned his hands to your waist as you devoured him. Before long, you swung a leg over to straddle him and pulled yourself flush to him when the ache between your thighs became too strong.

He smiled against your lips but pushed you back by your shoulders. You glowered at him with a huff as he chuckled at your cute pout. “Kitten, I told you this isn’t why I brought you here. Not to mention the fact that we’ve been drinking.”

Your arms that were still wrapped around him still tried to pull him infinitesimally closer and you basically growled like a cock-hungry animal in heat when he resisted. “I get that you’re trying to be polite, Minho, but I legitimately want the opposite of that right now.” His push wavered and you got close enough to whisper against his lips. “I want you to be disrespectful, Minho. I want you to be absolutely filthy.”

You briefly passed your tongue over his pouty upper lip and you could tell that his resolve was close to ruin. His closed eyes and the low rumble in his throat proved as much.

When he still refused to falter, you glared at him with a fire that could burn through his soul. Time to bring down the hammer. “Please, Minho. You aren’t likely to have me so shamelessly groveling for dick again.” You challenged and his eyes opened with a new darkness to them.

You slightly heard him curse under his breath and you were abruptly flipped over onto your back with the man between your legs, your hair splayed out against the velvety soft leather of the couch. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t requested me to be so rude to you, kitten.” He growled as he lewdly surveyed your body with his hands.

“Try me.” You dared him once again, already breathless.

He licked his lips and bit at his lower one as his eyes skimmed the bare skin from your ankles to your shorts. His hands roved over your legs slowly and the ache became even more prominent. You huffed in frustration.

“Minho! Get on with it!”

He looked down at you with an expression you had never seen before and you shivered when he grabbed your arms with blinding force and pinned them above your head. He whispered against your lips with malice. “You want me to be disrespectful?” You pondered, but could only dumbly nod your head as a certain vibration racked your body, the sensation making you an airhead fuckdummy. “Then shut the fuck up, kitten. Or you won’t get anything tonight.”

You were speechless. You had no clue how frightening Minho was when he wanted to be and you knew that you had probably drenched your panties all the way to your shorts with how aroused you were getting. His grip on your wrists had you arching up into him and his bulge against your crotch had you panting.

He sneered and abruptly smoothed his tongue up the column of your neck all the way until he sucked your ear lobe into his mouth and nibbled on it. You whimpered and spread your legs further to urge him to press closer.

To your dismay, he pulled his pelvis away from yours as if he knew exactly how much it would drive you mad. You groaned in frustration and glared up at the man smirking triumphantly above you when he wouldn’t release his grip on your wrists. “Fucking Lee Minho! You’d better do something soon or I’m just going to go home and take care of it myself!”

He moved a hand but refused to release yours as he held both of your wrists with the strength of the one that continued to pin your arms. “Is that so?” With his freed hand, he slowly traveled the back of his index finger in a feather-light touch down the center of your forehead. “Because I don’t think…” His finger slowly cascaded down the arch of your nose and over the crest of your lips to continue its way down your neck, cleavage, and abdomen. “...that you can touch yourself the way I can…” Well, shit.

His eyes that had been following the trajectory of his finger suddenly snapped back up to your face as he traveled his way down to the crotch of your shorts, sneaking up inside them from the leg hole and breaching your panties to just barely graze your throbbing entrance. Your brows furrowed and your voicebox had a mind of its own when it ripped out a desperate whine and a small “please”.

His eyes were dripping with lust and you watched as his tongue swiped over his delicious plump lips. “Fuck, that word sounds so pretty coming from your mouth… Say it again for me, beautiful?”

The fog of red mist that blurred your vision and rationality slightly died down enough for you to remember to act annoyed with him. You just glared up at his dark irises in defiance.

He smiled wickedly, knowing precisely what you were playing at. “Wanting to be a brat, are we?” His fingers, which were still playing with the edge of the crotch of your panties, retreated from your shorts entirely and you could have sworn you felt a frustrated scream rise in your throat.

“Wait!” You whined and his hand paused on your inner thigh. You closed your eyes and resigned yourself to becoming a vulnerable bitch-baby tonight, too heated for any alternative. When you opened your eyes, you made sure they looked like hot embers that would burn through his self-restraint and, if the defenseless expression on his face had anything to say about it, you had succeeded. And to hopefully drive your efforts home, you sensually whispered. “Minho… Please.”

The last word came out in a broken whine and you inwardly congratulated yourself when you heard his breath hitch just the tiniest bit.

You weren’t quite sure of the chain of events, but in the blink of an eye, you were thrown over his shoulder and carded away to somewhere else in the apartment. He moved so fast that before you could say anything, you were being thrown down onto a plush mattress and had hands fumbling with the button of your shorts.

When you lifted your hips so he could yank off all obstacles between him and your bare body, you sat up to quickly undo his own jeans. It felt like you couldn’t get them off fast enough, hands shaking with anticipation. When both of you were finally stripped bare, he had you pinned down again with one of his hands and his other hand was already exploring your wet folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” He groaned against your lips and you could only whimper in response as he slid two fingers inside you and immediately curled them to find your sweet spot again. “You want me to be disrespectful?” He questioned with a smile that pressed up against your panting mouth. When you nodded, he released your hands and crawled in between your legs. “Then I’m not stopping until you beg for my cock.”

The fingers inside you immediately got to work and he sucked on your clit with a force that blinded you. “HOLY FFF–” You couldn’t even finish the word as it got stuck in your throat from the overwhelming velocity he was working with to bring you to your first orgasm. Your hand involuntarily slapping and gripping the sheets with force.

Your jaw was slack and your whole body tense with all of the sensations you felt all at once. Your fingers slowly tangled in his soft blonde hair and you couldn’t even breathe when you reached your starry peak. When your orgasm settled and you finally exhaled with a loud, drawn-out grunt, you realized he wasn’t stopping nor slowing down. If anything, he seemed to be working even harder, flicking your pearl with his tongue even firmer, and thrusting his fingers even faster.

Now, instead of being unable to breathe, you were almost hyperventilating with the oversensitivity of it all. You could definitely finish your words now as you clutched the sheets with white knuckles. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Minho! Minho! OhgodMinho!” His name was a mantra on your tongue and you could almost see the smirk in his dark eyes as he looked up at you.

You were in too much bliss to care at the moment and after your next orgasm crashed over you, you came down from it with a sob. When he still refused to relent, you were in a purgatory of whether it felt like the greatest pleasure you had ever felt or the most painful oversensitivity you could think of.

However, after those first and second orgasms, the next ones seemed to have a snowball effect. The next one happened even sooner after the other and the next one was even faster than the last. This continued until your whole body was in a constant state of tremors. You could barely even recognize your own voice through your sobs as you begged. “P-p-please M-Min–” You exclaimed before a gasp of much-needed air. “Please! I-I need y-you!!”

He smiled up at you and relented, crawling back up to hover over you as he pressed the fingers that were covered in your juices to your awaiting lips. You sucked them in immediately, eyes hooded as you watched his lustful gaze. You suddenly felt him pulling your jaw down with those fingers to open your mouth for him and, once you had opened all the way with his fingers on your tongue, He stuck his own tongue as far into your mouth as he could possibly reach and he licked up the roof of your mouth.

The feeling of the wet muscle against your gums made you want to plead for him to do more god-awful things to you.

You whimpered as your free hand floated between the two of you to grasp his leaking cock. His mouth froze on yours and you felt the vibrations from his moan reviberate into your own mouth. As he released your jaw and moved away from your mouth, you began giving him lazy pumps to coax him to do more. “I need you, Minho. Please…” He froze in place, as if trying to regain his composure, but he failed miserably.

He seemed to be just as desperate as you because he was off you and pulling out a condom from his bedside drawer in a flash of dewy beauty. Your eyes hazily roved over his body as he tore open the condom. You couldn’t deny it, he was most undoubtedly the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on and it pissed you off to admit it.

When he had finally rolled the rubber over his length, you were startled when he roughly flipped you over on your stomach and lifted your hips in the air, slowly sinking into you as the stretch caused both of you to moan in tandem. He had one of his hands digging his fingers into your waist and the other tangling into the hair at your nape, both of them using you as leverage to begin forcefully thrusting inside you with a vengeance.

Your face, which was firmly pressed into the silky smooth sheets, was scrunched up in pleasure and oversensitivity that was arguably even more delectable than before. You had no clue why it felt so good to be manhandled, but you soon realized that this was yet another one of the unknown pleasures that Minho had introduced you to. You were bound and determined to discover even more with him.

You felt like you were melting into the earth as he pounded into you and you felt yet another overpowering pressure threaten to explode in your core. Every thrust pushed out a tiny yelp from your lips and you felt Minho move both of his hands to your breasts and bend down next to your ear. “You have one more for me, kitten. I know you do.” With that, he tweaked your nipples and you cried out loud enough you were sure you shook the foundations of the building. “That’s it, good girl. Cum for me.”

You were shaking profusely through your orgasm and he pumped into you with blinding force until he, too, came unraveled from the pleasure he found in you.

The air was mingled with your combined panting and the steam rising from yours and his skin. When you felt him pull out of you, it was all you could do to not pass out then and there. Your head was in a haze and you just laid there, limbs limp, for an unspecified amount of time. You could vaguely hear some shuffling from somewhere inside his apartment. Some running water, a door opening, and closing, then your field of vision was obstructed by the man standing in front of you in just a pair of boxer shorts.

Holy shit, he’s so goddamned gorgeous.

He set down a glass of water on the nightstand and started wiping your spunk and sweat off of you with a damp cloth. “M-Min, I can–”

“Shhh.” He quieted you, but you were adamant. He had made it painfully clear that none of this was serious, so there was no point in staying longer.

You reluctantly lifted yourself off of the bed and slunk away from his unidentifiable expression as he stood watching you, towel in hand. “I’m going to have to leave anyway so I’ll just save you the trouble. I’ll shower at home.” You really didn’t want to have to make the trip back to your place, but when you looked at the time, it was already almost time for the last nearby transit to stop for the night. “Oh shit, I have to go, I’ll miss the bus!” 

You rushed to collect your clothes scattered about the room and you watched out of the corner of your eye as the man aggressively threw the towel in his laundry bin. “If you are gonna leave, at least let me take you home.”

You grimaced at the sharpness of his voice. “What’s the big deal?” To the naked eye, he seemed blasé, but you could tell he was secretly aggravated by the way he pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

He swiftly ran his hand through his hair, still mussed from your eager fingers earlier. It seemed as if he was deep in thought, looking at nothing off to the side until he neutralized his face, looking back at you. “Nothing at all.” He shrugged, feigning indifference. “I would just rather you not head back home so late by yourself.”

You sighed in defeat, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. “Fine.” You grumbled and turned to head towards the front door. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” He asked as he hobbled after you while trying to put on his pants at the same time.

“Yes, Minho. Right now. I’ve sobered up and it’s making me super tired and I have class early in the morning.” Again, he was silent as he threw on the rest of his clothes and led you out of his apartment.

The car was eerily silent the entire way back to your house and when you got out of the car, his only farewell was a solemn “G’night.” Before slowly driving away.

Much to your dismay, the whole encounter made the night a sleepless one and you knew the next day would be a complete nightmare.

________________________________________

Your head drooped as you struggled to keep your eyes open in the back of class. Several times throughout the day, you had found yourself nodding off in every single one of your lectures. Not to mention the weather was absolutely horrid with the muggy April rain and thunder that threatened to lull you to sleep every other minute. By the end of your last class, you were finally confronted about it.

When you had eventually fallen completely asleep on your desk, you had awoken to a loud thud of a foot hitting the leg of your desk. Your head whipped up at the speed of light and saw your professor standing over you with an arched brow and a disapproving frown. “Really? Now? I would have expected this of some of the other students, but you?”

She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. You quickly stood up and collected your things. “Oh my god, professor I’m SO sorry! I had a hard time sleeping last night and–”

“I don’t care about the reason, just don’t let it happen again.” And with that, she left you without another word, bulldozing over the words that were lingering on your lips. 

You marched out of the classroom, unbelievably irritable and aggravated. It’s not your fault you were up all night! Your mind refused to let you sleep! If anyone is to blame, it’s Lee fucking Minho. Why did he have to act like such a pouty prick last night? Just because you saved him the effort of cleaning you even though you were going to immediately shower when you arrived back home?!

You were silently fuming as you made your way through the building and, on your way to the exit, the man of the goddamned hour showed up. Speak of the fucking devil! He was next to an open classroom door that students were filing out of while he leaned up against the wall talking to a classmate.

She was a small, cute, petite blonde and you don’t know why, but just the sight of the duo disgusted you. She giggled and placed a delicate hand on his bicep and you wanted to barf. You knew he was free to see and talk to whoever, but how was it fair that he was wide awake and acting as if he didn’t just get laid the night before while you were utterly miserable?

You had to walk right by him to get out of the building and you were feeling pretty petty anyway, so you used the students passing nearby to your advantage as you fell into step with them. When you neared the couple, his back was to you and you ‘accidentally’, and rather aggressively, shouldered past him and continued on your merry fucking way.

You hadn’t even made it more than a few meters before you heard your name being called and the pattering of fast-paced footsteps nearing you. You decided to just continue walking as if you didn’t hear him and you finally felt the man grab your arm and swing you around to face him. A scowl was already reared and ready to go on your face when he turned you around and it just deepened when you saw his stupid beautiful face with his stupid cocked eyebrow.

“To what do I owe this delightful company you bring on such a gloomy day?” What a complete shift from his icy attitude last night… You couldn’t disguise the absolute disgust that lingered on your face as the petite blonde who Minho had been talking to just moments before decided to slide her slim fingers down Minho’s strong forearm as she passed.

“See you tomorrow night, Minho.” She purred in a sultry tone and a lustful gaze as she walked away backward for a few steps before finally turning and strutting down the hall.

You turned back to Minho with the nastiest grimace you could muster and he looked at you even more smug than before. “Better watch out, kitten. Your jealousy is showing.” He chuckled as he whispered the words close in your ear. The entirety of your hair follicles stood on end and you willed away your goosebumps as you stepped away from him.

“Stop spewing your shit. What do you want with me, Min?” Your question was clipped and you didn’t wait for a response before you started walking towards the exit once again.

He quickly caught up to you and walked in front of you backward, facing you as if it were the easiest thing in the world to match your pace despite the direction he walked. His grin was still dopey and stupidly attractive. “Someone’s got her panties in a twist! Didn’t like my friend back there?” You could see the taunting in his eyes and you just wanted to wipe that stupid smirk from his face.

“I couldn’t care less about your friend.” You failed to hold back the venom from your voice as you spoke and his smile grew. You huffed. “Unlike you, I don’t spend all my free time fucking my friends.” Again, the words were dripping with malice.

His smile faltered. “And who ever said I was fucking around?” His voice had become slightly agitated and you tried to appear unfazed by it.

You shrugged and looked straightforward, just to realize the two of you had come to a complete stop in the abandoned hallway. “You seem to take that sort of stuff pretty lightly, considering all things, and it doesn’t take a genius to see the effect you have on people.” You didn’t even have the chance to gauge his reaction before you were pulled to the side by your forearm.

The next thing you knew, You were being pushed against the door of a small, dark room off to the side. Is this a fucking janitorial closet?

“For your information–” You couldn’t see his face too clearly, but his voice almost sounded like a snarl. Threatening even. “I don’t take that shit lightly. I barely even know that girl outside my classroom.”

“But she said–”

“For christ’s sake, there’s a party tomorrow night! It’s Chris’ last one before he graduates and he wanted me to be there.”

You blanched. “Oh…” You kind of felt hurt that you didn’t know about it, but these were technicallty your brother’s friends. They had no obligation to babysit his little sister while he was away.

You were ever grateful to the pitch darkness of the room so Minho wouldn’t see the sheer disappointment on your face, but his eyes must have adjusted to the light because you suddenly felt the feathering of his fingertips over your cheek. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, kitten.”

You willed back the angry tears and slapped his hand away. “There’s no misunderstanding, Min. We’re fuck buddies. It’s none of my business what you do and don’t do with other people.” It was silent for a beat before you continued. “And I don’t need to know what our–” You huffed and pursed your lips, whipping your head to the side so you didn’t have to face him. “...what your friends are up to.”

He was quick to place his hands on your arms and step closer. “Kitten! They’re your friends too–!”

You wanted to punch something and you cut him off with a raised voice. “And speaking of late night shenanigans–!” You pressed your finger to his chest. “You.” Your eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and you watched as he backed up with wide, befuddled eyes from your aggressive shift in demeanor. “I was up all fucking night because you decided to keep me all wound up from everything that happened last night!”

You could faintly see him trying to hold back an amused smile and stifle a laugh. You almost growled at him as you grabbed his retreating form by the shoulders and turned him around so you were the one pressing him against the door now. “It’s not fucking funny! I got chewed out by my professor because I fell asleep in class!”

He made no attempt to hide his amused smirk and he laughed at your pissed scowl. He leaned down to face level with you and narrowed his smug eyes. “Oh? Did I leave you wanting more?” You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. “Because I would have happily taken care of it for you if you had stayed with me.”

You were burning from the inside out and you couldn’t tell if it was from the rage or the tension that permeated the small room.

He straightened back up and sighed. “You only have yourself to blame, kitten.” He tried to free himself from your grasp, but you refused to release him. Instead, your body moved on its own as you crashed your lips to his.

You could feel the bewildered tension in his body only for a millisecond before he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against him, his tongue eagerly falling in sync with your own. You pulled back only slightly to hiss against his lips. “Fuck that. This is your fault and you’re going to fix it.” 

With that, you began quickly unclasping his belt and popping the button open on his jeans. “Woah! Kitten, we’re at school!” Although his words said otherwise, his actions made no move to stop you.

“Exactly. And you’re the one who felt the need to hide us away in this godforsaken closet, so we’re going to make good use of it.” You refused to look him in the eye as you sank down to your knees and mouthed at his slowly hardening dick over his boxer briefs.

The shudder of his breath was music to your ears and you hummed against him when he smoothed his hands over the top of your head. “Fuck, kitten…” He groaned. “I thought I was supposed to take care of you.” You felt the soft thud of his head leaning back against the door.

You pulled your mouth away so you could free his erection from its breaches. “Yeah, and I would rather be ‘taken care of’ with a hard dick rather than one so flaccid you’d think you just walked in on your naked grandma.” You eagerly sucked down his length and the weight of his cock on your tongue made you press your thighs together.

His voice was strained as he grunted his approval. “Trust me, kitten. You’re able to make me hard as a rock in no time at all, even without needing to do all this.” With that, he grabbed your hair and pulled your mouth off him. He bent down and angled your head up to look straight at him. “Now get up off that disgusting floor and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll feel it through next week.” The huskiness of his voice had you swimming in your panties and, after he tucked himself back in his pants, you quickly obliged as you let him drag you outside and to his car.

________________________________________

“Shitfuckshit more, Minho!” You were almost sobbing from the damned tease and the firm patterns he was applying to your clit in the car as he rushed back to his apartment. You were basically dry-humping his hand as he continued to torment you over the thin fabric of your leggings and you could almost cry in relief when he finally parked in the lot of his building.

You couldn’t get inside the door quick enough before you were on him like a pack of wolves, devouring every inch you could get your claws on. He was quick to respond as he returned your ravenous kiss and stuck his hand under the waistband of your leggings and underwear. His finger ran along your folds and you gasped at the delectable touch. “Shit… you’re so fucking wet…” He groaned against your mouth and you felt yourself being led backward so he could press you up against the wall.

He pulled away from your mouth to look at you as he slid two fingers into you and pressed his palm firmly against your clit. You threw your head back against the wall, jaw slack, as you held his strong forearm in a vice grip and ground down on his hand. All the while feeling the muscles move under the skin of his arm. He obviously enjoyed your reaction as he bit his lip to hold back a cheeky grin. You tried to restrain your noises, but a choked sob breached your lips when he latched his lips onto your neck.

His fingers were slowly thrusting in and out of you and it was heaven but hell at the same time. You couldn’t control the buckling of your knees and felt his other hand tighten around your waist.

When he was sure you wouldn’t fall, he retreated his hand from inside you and he laughed at your affronted face, completely offended that he would rob you of such pleasure. However, this was quickly rectified once he sunk down to his knees and stripped off your undergarments. You were breathing heavily as he looked up at you with blackened eyes that bore into your soul.

Wordlessly, he took one of your bare legs and draped it over his shoulder, pressing his moist lips to your inner thigh soon after. Your breath shuddered when his other hand ran its fingers through your inner labia once again and your gasp was evident when he gently kissed your clit. Still staring into your hooded eyes, he slowly inserted three fingers and you mewled at the stretch.

When his lips and tongue clasped around your clit, you were done for. Instead of thrusting his fingers, he was now digging and pressing rapidly against your g-spot as your orgasm washed over you. You whined and mewled as he led you through your high and you had absolutely drenched his face and your legs.

You grabbed at his shirt to pull him up and he chuckled as you pulled him by the collar to his bedroom.

You found yourself aggressively pushing him down on the bed and fumbling at his belt and jeans to rid him of them. When you finally shed both of y’all’s clothing completely, leaving no separation between your bodies, you instantly climbed up him to straddle him.

He quickly grabbed your hips as you lifted your hips to position him at your core. “Woah, wait! L-let me get a condom!” He shuffled to remove you from his lap, but you refused to move. Instead, you dropped yourself to place your sopping pussy up against the length of his flattened dick, not penetrating, just teasing as you slid your heat up and down him.

It looked as if the action knocked all of the breath out of him and the grip he had on your flexing thighs was enough to make you shudder from the delicious pain. He had his head thrown back against the plush bedding and had his eyes scrunched up as if he was using every ounce of his willpower to not just fuck you raw. But that was what you needed from him.

Still grinding on his twitching cock, you leaned forward to run your tongue along his collarbone. “Have you ever fucked anyone raw, Min?” You giggled as his head shot up and his eyes bulged out of his head.

“W-what?! No!” You bit your lip and closed your eyes momentarily, appreciating the drag of his tip against your throbbing clit.

When you opened your eyes again, he looked almost like he was in pain. “Well… I assume you’re clean… and I know I’m clean… and on birth control… and I’m used to not needing…” You looked away blushing and his dick twitched beneath you.

“Holy mother of god…” He slightly sat up and grabbed your face to smash your lips together, using his tongue to explore the entirety of your mouth before pulling back to search your eyes. “Are you absolutely sure, kitten?” He sounded distraught and your vision was hazed over with lust as you continued to grind on him.

“Of course, you might be a piece of shit, but I trust you…” You briefly moved your smirking mouth to nibble at his ear and whispered sensually into it. “I like the feeling of being filled up. The feeling of cum hitting my walls and spilling out slowly is my number one weakness.” He whispered dozens of expletives in response and squeezed you infinitesimally closer by your ass.

“Just a fair warning…” He growled against your neck as he lifted your hips. “I’m not sure how long I’ll last if I go in raw…” You giggled and reached in between your flush chests to grab his painfully hard erection to position him at your entrance and his breath shuddered as he rested his head against your shoulder.

Both of you emitted loud, pornographic moans as you sank down on him and you relished in the thought of your ass being bruised in the shape of his fingerprints. You had to wait and adjust to his size once more and you didn’t think you would ever be able to get over how amazing he felt. You were trembling, he was sweating, and both of you had moved to lazily entangle tongues.

When you made a move to start grinding, he gripped your hips again. “J-just a little bit longer… you have no idea how amazing you feel.” You don’t know why, but you felt a fluttering in your stomach and, in fear of what it might mean, you willed it away. Instead, you replaced it with mischievousness. 

You began a slow journey with your tongue dragging down his jaw, neck, and clavicle just to find your destination on his strong pec. You lazily kissed and sucked all around it and when you closed your mouth around his nipple, you squeezed your pussy tight around him just before you felt a jolt beneath you.

“Fuck!” He grunted and his fingers dug into your hips further, producing a pain that you would have never realized would be a turn-on. You could feel his glare burn into you where you were latched onto his pec and you hummed against him, repeating the action as you flicked your tongue. “Motherfu–”

He cut off his swear short when you felt yourself being lifted off of him and thrown onto your back in the soft bedding. You gasped and he growled as he sunk back inside you, this time not relenting as he crushed your cervix.

“You’re a fucking brat.” He snarled against where his mouth was devouring your neck. “You asked for this, kitten…” He left the skin of your neck chilled with his saliva as he pulled back and poised himself up on his knees. You were thrumming with need as you watched him grab your ankles and throw your legs over his shoulders, hefting your hips up with his strong arms and nailing you directly in your sweet spot.

The breath was knocked clear out of you.

Your eyebrows scrunched, your jaw slackened, and your whole body went taut with the overwhelming feeling of just him. He was all you could feel, see, smell, taste, and hear as he continued to relentlessly pound into you. Minho. Minho. Minho!

He folded you in half when he kneeled down to lick your lips open and you let him in willingly. It wasn’t long before your lips forgot to move against his as you released small “ah– ah– ah” ‘s with every thrust, all the while he was lapping up the saliva that pooled at the edges of your mouth. He barely had to even graze his thumb over your clit before you came with a cry of his name on your lips.

You were still riding your high when you ran a hand through his sweaty hair. You could see the restraint in his features. “Cum in me Minho, please.” His head dropped down to your breast with a moan and a few breathless expletives before you felt him empty himself inside you, a feral grunt seeping out of his clenched teeth that had bitten down on the swell of your breast.

You gasped at the delicious feeling and threw your head back, baring your neck to him and prompting him to glide his tongue up the length of it.

Once he pumped out every last drop and his tongue had finished properly tasting the entirety of your neck, he flopped over on his side next to you. The air almost seemed to be laden with steam and arousal and all of your exhaustion from the night before, that day, and the mind blowing sex came crashing down on you like a tsunami.

The last dregs of your consciousness were consumed with Minho cleaning you, changing you, and hydrating you before you passed out beneath the sheets that smelt like the concentrated scent of just Minho…

________________________________________

Hannie🐹:

Hey beautiful

Princess👑:

Well hello Jisungie

To what do I owe this rare attempt of social interaction?

Hannie🐹:

Oh shush, u haven’t tried to reach out either!

Princess👑:

True, but the question still stands

Hannie🐹:

Ur coming to Chan’s party tonight right?

You tried to bury the sting that the question presented, but it still hit a sore spot to know that even that one random chick Minho was talking to knew before you did. You gulped back the lump in your throat.

Princess👑:

I didn’t think I was invited

Hannie🐹:

What? Why wouldn’t u be?

Princess👑:

Well the fact that I had to hear about it from someone else was a big indicator

You cringed after you sent the message, realizing the salt that was poured all over that sentence.

Hannie🐹:

What?!?!

Princess👑:

It really is fine Hannie

No one expects you guys to include me just because I’m ur friend’s little sister

When he didn’t respond, you assumed he had just dropped the issue, deciding that you weren’t worth the trouble. However, as you were walking out of your last class of the day, your phone lit up in your hand with the caller ID indicating that your conversation was far from over.

“Hannie?” You raised the phone to your ear as you walked down the campus sidewalk.

“Pardon my manners, princess, but you’re a goddamned idiot if you think you’re only ‘his little sister’ to us.” You balked at his words. “For starters, you are our friend just as much as he is.” You felt your steps slow with each word from his mouth. “Secondly, the only reason you didn’t hear about it sooner is because Hwang Hyunjin is a complete pabo. He was in charge of telling you, like, a century ago and apparently he forgot to tell not only you, but a whole bunch of other people.”

Was that really true? Or was he just trying to make excuses?

“Either way, Chan definitely wants you there and I know for a fact that I want you there.”

“Ji, really, it’s fi–”

“Please?” You could practically already see the cute pout on his face and you habitually smiled.

After a long sigh and some deliberation, you caved. “Okay, fine. Send me the time and address.”

The next what felt like a whole thirty seconds was filled with the adorable sound of Jisung’s triumphant self-appreciation as he sent you the information. You couldn’t hold back the giggles of endearment for the man and the call ended with a smile on your face.

“Ooooh, who was that? If the smile on your face is anything to go by, its a boooy~” You heard your best friend’s chipper voice ring from where she sauntered up beside you, scaring you half to death.

You jumped and held your hand to your heart as she giggled at you. “My god, Tiff! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” She grabbed your hand that was pressed to your chest and swung your intertwined hands as she walked with you to the bus stop.

“Sooo, who was it?”

“Just Jisung.” You shrugged as the two of you sat on the bench to wait.

“Oh my gosh!” Tiffany gasped and clutched your arm, earning a raised brow from you. “Did he tell you about Chan’s party?! Are you going?!”

OF FUCKING COURSE she knew before you. You had to take a deep breath to maintain your composure and not blow the fuck up. “Yeah, are you?”

“Um, of course?!” She said as if you were crazy to even ask. “Do you think Minho will be there?”

Her question threw you for a loop and your mind was immediately brought back to earlier that morning when you snuck out of his apartment before he woke up. You definitely didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of being kicked out so you went ahead and took it upon yourself to initiate the task.

You sucked your teeth in and stood up, watching as the bus slowly approached. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

She flashed you a mischievous grin and swiftly turned to take a seat in the back. When you joined her, she swiveled in her seat to face you. “I want you to help me hook up with him.”

You felt like you had just been punched in the gut. “WHAT?!” You startled at your own raised voice and shyly bowed your head in apology to the few surrounding onlookers. You looked back to your friend and you really hoped your face didn’t betray your panic.

Why, of all people, did she want to start pursuing your Minho? No. No, he’s not yours. He’s just a friend. Was he even considered a friend? Shit, the lines were blurring.

“What? I totally know he’s into me and I might have a better shot tonight if you talk me up.” Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

Wait.

What did she say?

“How do you know he’s into you?”

She rolled her eyes with a cheeky smile. “He saved my number, love. He texted me today and asked if we were going to the party. A guy doesn’t save a girl’s number unless he’s for sure into them. Especially if the girl has been very obviously flirting with them and is not just a buddy-buddy relationship.”

You felt like you had just been bitch slapped and you sensed an indescribable feeling rise in your throat, prompting you to force yourself to swallow it back. Why was he texting your best friend? “H-how do you know he’s not already taken?” You knew he wasn’t, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of him being with your best friend.

“Again, he saved my number.” She actually seemed somewhat annoyed now. “What’s the big deal? Are you going to help me or not?”

Your throat was completely dry and you felt the heat pumping through your veins. “You can have so many guys, Tiff. Why Minho, exactly?” You grimaced as she crossed her arms and glared at you.

“Oh my fucking god. What is your DEAL? Is it just because you hate the man?! Get over yourself, sweetheart. He’s a grown man and I’m a grown woman and there is clearly a mutual attraction so I’m not going to let your pettiness get in the way of my fun. If it really bothers you, then forget I asked. I can win him over by myself anyway.” She sneered as she turned her attention to the window and thus ended the conversation.

You felt tears prick at your eyes and you didn’t quite know where you were, but you pressed the button to be let out of the bus anyway. Why? Just why did it have to be her to steal him? No, not steal… He’s not yours…

He’s NOT yours…

When you stepped out, you took a large gulp of fresh air and willed the tears away. You refused to let her demean you. You refused to let her ruin your fun tonight. You refused to let her win. The fucking bitch needs to be knocked down a few notches and learn that she can’t just earn everything by spreading her legs. Well, that is if Minho didn’t take her bait…

________________________________________

Tiff💞:

Hey babe

Can we just forget about earlier?

I’ll see you tonight kay?

😘

Not even an apology or anything. What a bitch. You probably looked like you had murder on your mind as you looked down at your phone and back up at Chan’s frat house. You took a deep breath to will the fury from your soul and smoothed your hands over your clothes, only slightly self-conscious of the dainty material you had recently purchased. 

For no particular reason whatsoever, you had recently decided to go shopping for a few outfits of the, um… more mature variety. Not to impress anyone in particular… Definitely not to gain the attention of a certain someone… You just wanted to broaden your wardrobe. That’s it. No other reason…

You still wore your regular combat boots because there was no overcoming your ability to break your ankles in heels, but the rest of the outfit was definitely new to you. (Plus, the black boots kind of looked cute with the rest of the outfit.)

Your sheer black tights were silky smooth up your legs to be met with a short (almost too short) high-waisted solid black mini skirt. The real kicker was your top. It was a jet-black eyelash-lace corset/cami top that rose well above your navel and you were almost too chicken to wear it due to it looking practically like lingerie. But the issues with Tiffany and Minho made you uncharacteristically bold that night. You decided to wear a form-fitting leather jacket (also black of course), but it still left most of your top visible.

You, once again, willed your breathing to steady as you walked up the steps and opened the front door.

The party was in full swing as you warily made your way through the party goers. It was almost impossible to focus due to the crowd, the noise, the heavy air, and the dim lighting (minus the flashing and colored lights that lit up most of the open area of dancers).

Is this the norm for college parties?

You didn’t even know where you were going, you just knew there was one person you were subconsciously searching fo–

…Minho…

You halted in your tracks and you watched in horror as you saw that your best friend had found the man first.

Bile rose in your throat as you watched Minho hand her a drink with a smile and she clung onto his arm like a fucking leach. Hyunjin and Changbin were with them, but Tiffany only seemed interested in running her hands over Minho’s muscular arm and talking in his ear, entirely too close to him with her filthy lips.

You were sure you were gonna be sick.

You saw Minho’s eye wander about the room as Tiffany took a breath long enough to take a drink, and you panicked when his gaze snapped to yours. Before you could even acknowledge either of your’s reactions, you beelined it to the kitchen with all the alcohol that you had passed earlier and shoved your way through the crowd to hastily find the room and make your drink. A strong drink.

You had just finished stirring it when you felt a gentle hand on your elbow. You whipped your head around to be faced with the bane of your existence. He was so damned beautiful you wanted to just punch him square in the face. The top half of the buttons on his black button-up were undone to show off the low neckline of his white undershirt, causing your eyes to want to wander down to his perfectly defined chest that was adorned with a single silver pendulum necklace and a beaded choker that would look feminine on anyone but him. His blonde hair was styled back out of his face and it accentuated his beautiful, dark round eyes.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you–” Before he could finish his sentence, he must have noticed your ensemble due to the fact that his eyes were bugged out and were blatantly gazing down at your clothes. “Oh fuck…” He whispered so low you almost didn’t catch it. When he cleared his throat and came back to the land of the living, his cheeks were pink when he said, “You look so fucking gorgeous…” Your exhale was shaky and you could almost get drunk off of his handsome grin alone. You hated it.

It took you a moment to rip your eyes from him, but when you did, you decided it was necessary for you to chug your drink for dear life.

“Woah, woah! The night’s only started!” When he made a move to still your cup, you pulled it away from him with a glower.

“For me maybe, but who knows how long you and ‘little miss man eater’ over there have been exchanging verbal foreplay.” Minho’s eyes widened comically and turned back to look at Tiffany who was glaring daggers at you both.

“I’m sorry, verbal what???” He asked incredulously as he turned back to you. You heard me dickwad. However, instead of voicing your thoughts, you just huffed out a disbelieving half-chuckle and turned back to refill your drink.

This definitely needs to be twice as strong.

“Oh my god, don’t tell me…” You rolled your eyes, already knowing where this was headed. “Kitten, are you jealous?” You turned back around to be met with a shit-eating grin and you were about two seconds away from kicking him where the sun doesn’t shine until you suddenly found the other five men you were here for huddled by a wall talking amongst themselves away from your so-called bestie.

You just clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes, walking away without a word and marching over to the group.

Jisung saw you first, a huge smile lighting up the entire room until it was instantly erased with an expression that looked like he suddenly shat out a brick. At first, you were concerned, that was until the other four followed his gaze and had the same series of reactions. It was only when you got closer that you saw all of them ogling your outfit and you found yourself wanting to shrink into yourself at the attention.

“H-Hey guys!” You said with a wary smile as you stopped in front of the semi-circle they made at your arrival. It was only from your words that their trances were broken and they all looked back up to your face with blushing faces before not-so-subtly avoiding your eyes. You felt embarrassment wash over you like a bucket of ice and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you averted your eyes down to make yourself look small. “I… I’m sorry… did I overdo the outfit? I haven’t really ever been to one of these parties. Heh…”

You nervously chuckled and rubbed the cold sweat off the back of your neck with one hand while the other was still firmly wrapped around your torso. “No!” You heard multiple panicked voices say in tandem before the sound of clearing throats.

Felix, the angel, smiled sweetly at you and stepped forward to wrap you in a hug. “Of course not, sweetie. You look beautiful.” He stepped back as the rest agreed and Jisung stole the next hug.

“More like a fucking goddess!” You felt your feet lift off the ground as he squeezed your waist and your cheeks flooded with heat when he pressed his soft lips to your cheek before retreating.

After the rest greeted you similarly, Chris stepped to the side to reveal a tray of shots on the small table behind him. “Now that the whole group is finally here, we can finally start the real fun!” You’re part of their group? Everyone grabbed one of the seven shot glasses before Chris handed yours directly to you with a whisper in your ear. “Don’t take anything from anyone unless they’re one of the six of us, yeah?” The hot breath you felt against you made you shiver, but you nodded regardless.

“Yah! Get out of her ear, perv!” Minho shouted from behind him as he held his own shot. Chris stepped back to look at him with raised brows, but you intervened first.

“Oh calm down, Minho. We’re all adults here.” Changing your threatening tone to a lighter one, you raised your glass. “To Chris’ last year! We’ll miss you Channie!” And you, in the slightly petty and tipsy mood, planted a kiss right on Chris’ cheek, startling the blushing man in the process. Tension set aside, everyone raised their glasses to dink ‘em and sink ‘em. Minho only downing his after he was finished glowering at your smug face.

You caught up with them for a little bit, but with every passing minute, you felt the drinks start to hit you. And, as per usual, when you drank, you got very… touchy-feely. Your first victim was Felix, but that was because the man was always ready for cuddles. After that, you had stolen Jisung from Minho, who was possessed with about the same amount of drunken clinginess, the latter having Jisung previously wrapped around him as the elder had his own arm thrown over his shoulder. However, Jisung was happy to switch to wrapping his arms around your semi-bare waist instead when you beckoned him.

It was just as Changbin was giving a very detailed speech to Hyunjin about the importance of cardio when you glanced over at Minho. Your eyes widened when you took in the absolutely livid expression he had directed at Jisung and Felix before a wry smile grew on your lips.

A plan formed in your head. A wicked, evil little plan to give Minho a taste of his own medicine. However, before you could execute it, the she-devil showed up and found purchase around Minho’s arm again.

“There you are! I thought you said you’d be right back!” She said with what was supposed to be a cute pout, but all you saw was the manipulative sneer hidden in her eyes as she glanced at you. Minho looked at her with wide eyes and then back at you with what looked like anxiety.

“Wha– I– Um…” As he was babbling in his loss for words, you pulled away from the boys surrounding you and turned around to face them with a dubious grin that didn’t reach your eyes.

With your back facing Minho, you downed your drink and rid yourself of your jacket, letting the refreshing air conditioning soothe your previously confined arms. When you placed your empty cup and jacket on the small table behind them, you extended your hands out to the men. “C’mon, who’s going to show a girl a good time tonight and dance with me?”

You eyed Chris who was already gulping down his own drink, the man staring at all the bare skin you had on display all the while, and setting his empty cup next to your own. You smiled up at him as he took one of your hands and you watched Jisung’s eyes flick over to Minho before grabbing your other one. Your smile brightened further and you hugged them both by the neck giddily before dragging them over to the makeshift dancefloor.

You could feel several pairs of eyes watch as the three of you retreated and you couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug with the thought of Minho and Tiffany being a couple of them.

You felt the alcohol wash away your anger and jealousy and let the upbeat music pump through your veins as you danced between the two men. At first, it was very PG, but the density of the crowd thickened and soon enough Chris was up against your backside while Jisung was against the front. The more hyped you got from the heavy air, loud beats, and strong drinks, the more bold your dancing became.

You had one arm thrown around Jisung’s neck and the other thrown around the back of Chris’ head from behind as you began grinding against the pair. They must have been equally as plastered because their roaming hands were definitely encouraging you. Jisung’s hands roved over your waist and abdomen as Chris’ paved their way up and down your hips and thighs.

All of you were sticky with sweat and the feeling of Chris’ breath on your neck and Jisung’s lustful eyes watching your body move was making you even hotter. Even though you were super insecure at the beginning of the night, you now felt bold and sexy and wanted. You felt a sliver of pride that you were still able to make men covet you even if… others didn’t.

After a while, you felt that same hot breath from behind you talk into your ear again. “I’m gonna tap out for a bit gorgeous.” Chris said before he kissed your cheek and weaved his way through grinding bodies to head back over to the group.

You returned your eyes to your remaining dance partner who met your gaze with hooded lids. You allowed yourself to be pulled flush against him, but you turned so your back was up against him now as you grinded and rolled against his firm body. Your whole mind was clouded and all you knew was how good the body against you felt.

With the man out of your line of vision, you closed your eyes and let yourself be consumed in the moment. Your hands reached back and threaded through his silky hair and you felt the fingers that trailed down your hips tickle the spot where your outer thighs met your skirt.

You gasped when you felt his hard cock push into your lower back and he squeezed you tighter when you rolled back into it. Gosh, Minho, you feel so good.

But why did Minho’s fingers feel longer when you went to grab them?

Your internal question was already forgotten when you felt his warm lips touch down on the soft curve of your neck and the next thing you knew, you were dragging him to the nearest secluded area to taste those lips that you always seemed to crave now. The lips that made you cum a hundred different ways by now.

Turns out the nearest secluded spot was a door that led out to a small side patio that was somehow completely deserted. Without much thought, you whipped back around with blurry vision as you pressed your lips to his. Well… tried to at least. It took a couple tries to hit your target, but when they did, you groaned and instantly tangled tongues with him. But…

Why does this seem so foreign? Does it just feel different because you were drunk? And had Minho been wearing a t-shirt this whole time?

When you allowed your hands to roam up under his shirt, the lustful groan the man emitted had your eyes flying open. That is definitely NOT Minho’s voice.

“Ji-Jisung?” He fluttered his eyes open when you sprang off of him, stumbling back like a fucking hooch monkey, and he gave you a confused blink.

“Wha– Huh? What’s wrong, princess?” He stumbled a bit as he picked himself off the wall you had pressed him against and you covered your mouth in mortification. You could only widen your watery eyes and shake your head in disbelief as you watched him look more and more concerned. It wasn’t until he grabbed your face to wipe your tears that you realized you started crying. “Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hurt you?!”

He sat you down on a patio chair to squat in front of you and rubbed soothing circles on your knee as you buried your face in your hands. “Nononononono!” Your turmoil was muffled behind your hands and you started sobbing as you looked back up at Jisung. “I-I’m s-so sorry J-Ji–” 

He was frantically searching your eyes and he ran his palms up and down your arms. “What in the world for?” Confusion was tattooed across his face and you felt even more ashamed that you would have to explain.

“I…” You tried to gulp down breaths to explain between sobs and slurred speech. “I d-din’know it was you who…” Another round of tears cascaded as you saw a distraught realization wash over him. You felt awful for using your friend so horrendously. You couldn’t believe how selfish you were just because you didn’t want to share…

Minho…

Minho must have gone home with Tiffany. Why wouldn’t he, right? She was beautiful and sexy and you were a completely sloshed jackass. He probably never wanted to see you ever again after one night with that dick-whipped cunt of a woman.

You felt your whole body start shaking as another round of sobs wracked your body and Jisung quickly wrapped you in his arms. “Shh shh, it’s okay. You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetie. It’ll be okay…” His calm and reassuring voice made you squeeze onto your friend for dear life.

“I-I’m s-so s–” He just continued his gentle hushing to get you to calm down and he helped you focus on your breathing. Tears still flowing down your face but sobs having died down, you sat back to look at him. “Ji…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. We’re both drunk, it happens.” He tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t do anything to make you feel like you weren’t an absolute piece of shit.

“Ji, I…” Your words had zero filter as they supplied a watery– “I-I think ’m in love w'Minho.”

His eyes widened. You expected him to freak out. To call you a whore or spit on you. What you didn’t see coming was the slow smile that crept across his cute cheeks. “Minho-hyung?” You nodded with a sniff and he instantly wrapped you in a hug again. His voice was muffled against your hair a bit, but he replied tenderly. “I can think of no person more deserving of your love than him.”

What on god’s green earth did he mean by that?

He sighed and pulled back again, wiping away more tears. “Have you thought about telling him that?” The question had your mind reeling and you felt sick of just the thought of it.

Wait. Maybe it’s not the idea that made you sick. Maybe it was…

In the blink of an eye, you threw yourself off the chair and leaned over the railing, immediately hurling your guts all over the manicured lawn below. As the snot, tears, and vomit evacuated your body, you felt Jisung’s cool hands pull your hair out of the way and rub soothing circles on your back. This man is just too good for this world…

You felt like you spent years over that railing, somehow more still coming out, until you heard the door to the house open and close. “What happened?” Was that Minho’s voice? Why is he still here?

You lifted your head to look back at him, not even considering the fact that you probably (most definitely) looked like a trainwreck on steroids. “W-why’re you he–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before you were ralphing again.

“Evidently, she’d mistaken me for you, do you have that water I asked for?”

“Yeah.” When did he even ask Minho to come out here?

“Here, kitten. Drink this.” He held up a bottle of water next to you and you eagerly grabbed it. “Don’t chug.” He said holding it out of reach before he gave it to you. “You’ll make yourself even more sick.” You sat down again and slowly nursed on the water as your eyes stayed glued to the piece of artwork that was Lee Minho.

You watched his beautiful lips move as he faced Jisung, but you didn’t hear any of the words that were exchanged. All you could hear was the thrumming of blood through your veins in your ears and the bass of the music from inside. Also when you heard the beautiful melody of Minho’s laugh… MY. GOD. The man was just too perfect…

Your vision slowly faded as you stared at his pretty eyes and you just wished you could dive into the two black pools of his irises. The darkness that was slowly encompassing your vision was thwarted when you felt yourself being buckled into the back of an Uber by Minho as he slid in next to you and gave the driver his address.

Before you could think about what you were about to say, you chuckled. “Y’mean Tiff in’t ‘lready spread-eagle on yer bed?”

You expected him to get annoyed, but he just side-eyed you with an amused smirk. “You’ve got it pretty bad, huh?”

“Well excuse me for having experience with a man who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for other college girls.” Well, that was surprisingly well-enunciated… However, before you could pat yourself on the back for that small victory, you were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and you raised your hand to take a drink, only to find your hand bottleless. Who the fuck drank all my water?

The look he gave you was melancholy and he gently pat your knee before responding. “Don’t worry, kitten. Tiffany isn’t at my place. And I doubt your parents would be thrilled to be woken up so late by hearing you stumble in the house at two in the morning. Hence my reasoning for us staying at my place. Is that alright?”

You didn’t even register your dumb nod as you zoned out on his beautiful face. His features were so breathtaking that your hand moved unbidden and you found yourself tracing the sharp contours with your shaky fingers. He didn’t move a muscle as your fingers ghosted over his nose, eyelids, jaw, and then finally the plump outline of his lips.

“Y-yer so b’tiful Min…” His eyes burned with a familiar fire and he gently lowered your hand when the car pulled up to his place.

________________________________________

Minho😈:

Where did u go?

Kitten?

R u at least safe?

Please talk to me

I called ur parents and they said ur alright

I’m sorry if I hurt u in any way

I would never intentionally do anything to harm u

U mean so much to me…

Just… let me know when ur ready to talk…

You scanned the texts that had been flooding in all day after you snuck out of his place without a word at the crack of dawn. Made easier due to the fact that he was courteous enough to sleep on the couch due to your inebriated state. You remembered everything. Everything. Including your agonizing realization of your feelings for the man. 

Your phone clattered to the ground when you chucked it and turned over in your bed to bury your face in your pillow. Luckily, you didn’t ever really get hangovers, but that didn’t mean you weren’t entitled to a day to wallow in self-pity. So this is where you’ve been all day, the night quickly approaching as you squeezed your pillow tighter.

You weren’t worthy of his attention. You were just a convenient pussy. Tiffany is way more experienced and probably showed him some of that expertise last night. If your last boyfriend couldn’t even be satisfied with you, who else would? You were a shit friend who used Jisung, one of your best friends, as a tool. You were worse than nothing. You were a disease.

You felt yourself drowning in a sinkhole of your thoughts before a knock at your bedroom door pulled you out of it. You kept your face buried as the door opened and heard your mom’s sweet voice. “Honey?”

You just responded with a non-commital grunt.

“Minho called again…” Silence. “Honey, I know you two were never on the best of terms, but he’s trying so so hard to mend that since your brother left. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I just know he sounded genuinely upset.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes and kept your head firmly planted in ur pillow, slowly suffocating yourself.

You felt a dip next to you in the bed and the gentle hand of your mother rubbing your back. 

She was silent for a moment before she sighed. “I never told you this, just because he asked me not to, but I think it might be necessary now…” That caught your attention just enough to twist your head to look at her loving smile. “When you and your boyfriend broke up, Minho called me every single day for a week to check and see if you were alright. He was the one who bought your favorite snacks every day, not your dad.”

You furrowed your brows and sat up next to her. “W-why didn’t he want you to tell me?”

She gave you a soft smile and patted your knee before she stood up. “That’s something you’re going to have to ask him yourself.” She turned back to you when she reached the door. “Your father and I are going to an office party tonight and won’t be back until late. Really late.” She raised her brow, hinting at a suggestion. “Call us if you need anything. I love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Mom…” You mumbled as she left the room.

When the door shut behind her, you pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your hands. How could this happen? You’ve disliked this man ever since high school, it just doesn’t make any sense to start falling in love now. I mean, his dick is magic, sure. But you’ve been craving to just see him any time of day just to simply be around him! He’s probably sick of your mixed signals and mood swings.

It had taken you by surprise when you woke up an hour later to the sound of the doorbell, not even realizing you had fallen asleep in the first place. Your parents had probably already left when you were sleeping, so you scrambled up out of your bed and went to answer the door.

When you opened the door, your heart stopped. No other man on the planet could sport a bare face, discheveled hair, and sweatpants and still look like a fucking god like Minho did. You had only started to realize just how gorgeous he was when he hit his senior year of high school. It had pissed you off at the time, but now… well, actually no, it still pissed you off. It just wasn’t fair to have such power over you with that piercing gaze and ability to make hearts stop at the sight of him.

“Minho…” You whispered as your eyes widened. He stood in the doorway and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, I… I didn’t want to let myself in because… because I didn’t know if you wanted to see me or not…” I always want to see you. You cursed your own thoughts for being so weak for the man. Without a word, you stepped to the side to let him in. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced, kitten. But I just had to make sure you were alright.” He mumbled as he looked down to step out of his shoes. “Or upset with me…”

Boots unexpectedly ran up to Minho with a cute little meow as she rubbed her face and beautiful black fur against his legs with quiet purring. You both smiled down at the adorable feline and Minho bent down to scoop her up in his arms, knowing how much she loved to be held (unlike other cats) by people she trusted. You felt a fluttering in your chest just watching him hold her. Knowing that, just like your precious boots, you had also come to care for the man. 

You raised your hand to pet Boots, but your eyes were fixed on Minho’s. “I’m not upset with you Minho… If you want someone else, it’s not my place to get in between that.” You turned to head back to your room, but as you approached your bedroom door, a gentle hand loosely wrapped itself around your wrist and stopped you in your tracks.

You warily turned around and Minho’s expression was a mixture of anger and hurt. “If you think, even for a second, that I prefer her over you, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He said the words with a lethal calm that made shivers run down your spine. Your face was incredulous, but he ignored it. “The idea that I would prefer anyone over you is almost an insult.” You allowed him to pull your body closer to his as he now had his hands wrapped around your waist. “I think of you every morning when I wake up and every night when I go to sleep. I’ve been hating myself ever since we started this whole arrangement because I feel like I’m just taking advantage of you, which was not my intent at all. But I didn’t want to stop it either because I don’t want to… I don’t want to lose what we have… I don’t want to lose you…”

You closed your eyes from the burning you felt pricking at your tear ducts and involuntarily leaned into his touch when the backs of his fingers gently brushed over the flushed skin of your cheek.

“You’re so, so beautiful, kitten. Inside and out.” It was unlike Minho to get so sentimental, but he seemed to feel the need to speak his piece. Even if it caused a dusting of pink blooming on his ears and cheeks. However, your blush felt like it rivaled his as it radiated all throughout your body.

Your hands, which had been curled up against his chest, started fidgeting as you looked down at them. You didn’t know if you should ask him or not, but you decided you needed to know. “Minho… why… why did you call my mom to check up on me after my breakup?”

He stiffened momentarily, but quickly recovered. You looked back up at his face and it was turned to the side, completely crimson. “I…” His lips formed a tight line and then relaxed as he turned back to look at you. “I couldn’t stand the thought of what that prick did to you. I wanted to go beat the living shit out of him, crush his nuts, curb stomp him, anything, but I realized that you would most likely prefer comfort over violence. But I knew that one of the last people you would want to see would be me, so I tried to help from the sidelines.”

Your lip wobbled slightly and you pressed yourself a bit closer to him. You were mad that you couldn’t even disagree with him because, at that point in time, you would’ve dreaded the idea of this man, usually void of sentimentality, coming to attempt to comfort you.

The only real comfort you had was Tiffany and, looking back on it, she was pretty shit at it. Now that you’ve realized what a bitch she was, you could recount several occasions where she was just a toxic friend. And you were blind to the situation in favor of seeing the truth.

“So…” You were almost too afraid to ask the question you didn’t know you wanted an answer to or not. His hand that had been stroking your cheek moved to lift your chin up to look at him. His eyes portrayed patience and attentiveness to your words. “Did… did anything happen between you and Tiff?”

The corners of his lips turned down as he furrowed his brow, but it soon morphed into an expression that screamed ‘really?’. He sighed. “Like I said, I only prefer you. I have not and will not ever see her or want her that way.” His eyes flickered from your eyes to the floor in anxiousness and added with an adorably shy mumble. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

Relief washed over you like a tidal wave and your body moved on its own when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and ran your fingers through his sandy hair, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that you had not shared with him before now. You could feel relief flooding him as well as he relaxed under your touch, as if kissing you released all tension in his body.

This kiss wasn’t like the hungry and ravenous ones you two had always shared. This one felt as if you could melt into each other and become one. It was slow, sensual, and filled with all the love you could possibly portray. As you paused the kiss and pressed foreheads together, you closed your eyes as if to pretend you weren’t about to say the words just begging to leap off your tongue.

“Minho… you still annoy the shit out of me, but…” He offered a wry smile against your lips and you opened your eyes and disconnected foreheads to watch him raise his brow with a smirk. You bit back your smile and hid your face in his neck. “...I think I might be in love with you?” You said it like it was a question, almost too quiet to hear, as if you weren’t quite sure if you should’ve said it.

He was silent and you were apprehensive to raise your head. But, when you finally looked at him, you proceeded to witness the most beautiful smile you had ever seen appear on his face. You tried to suppress your suddenly bashful smile, but he only squeezed you tighter. He bit his lip to do the same with his own grin, but he morphed his look to something more mischievous. “Are you sure you don’t just like me for my incredible skills in providing mind blowing orgasms?”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a light smack on his pec. “Ah yes, you’re right! How have I been so blind? I’m only in love with your dick.” He just chuckled at your words dripping with sarcasm and stole a kiss, slow and controlled before he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too, kitten. I have for quite a while now.” Your eyes widened and you could have sworn you saw a bit of fear in his eyes before he was biting his lip again, a smile hidden just beneath the surface.

“W-wha–? How long?!” You pulled back slightly to see his full face and he giggled bashfully. Lee Minho being bashful? He was always so confident and controlled that you almost wanted to capture this moment on camera.

“Well… honestly, it’s been ever since you started dating that douchebag. I didn’t really know why I started to be such an obnoxious dick to you, but I later realized it was just because I was jealous.” He pulled you close once again and tentatively kissed your jaw.

Your heart was racing at the thought of him being in love with you even if you were with another man, yet not interfering directly. But now you finally had him, and you were determined to keep it that way. You squeezed yourself infinitesimally closer to him and kissed his lips slowly before saying, “Well, now I’m yours.” Your lips drifted to whisper in his ear. “Let’s make up for lost time.”

You made your point very clear when you grazed your lips and teeth down the side of his neck while pushing your pelvis into his. “Fuck…” He let out a low groan and slid his hands down to the lower cleft of your ass and gave your cheeks a light squeeze. He captured your lips with a sudden ferocity that made you tremble. Once he led you backwards into your room and pressed your body against the door as he closed it, your passion increased tenfold.

He ground his thigh against the apex of your glistening cunt, your panties dragging along your clit, and the pressure had you gasping against his tongue. Your hips couldn’t help but to roll against him and you could feel the effect of your efforts when he pressed his groin into your hip. You whined in pleasure when he lifted one of your legs and wrapped it around his hip, pushing even closer to you and making it easier to drag the length of your sopping crotch down him.

His other hand, which had still been kneading your ass, moved around to slip up under your shirt to feel the skin of your waist and lower back. You emitted a gasp and then a moan when you felt his warm fingers crawl up under your bra and fondle your erect nipple. You bit your lip to hold back an embarrassing noise you felt crawling to the surface when his lips latched onto your collarbone and started leaving sweet kisses up the length of your neck.

Your fingertips ran up under his shirt to caress his abs and pecs and he took it upon himself to take his shirt off, quickly ridding you of yours shortly after, lips barely leaving each other as you stripped each other completely bare and you pushed him down on the bed to straddle him.

“Shit kitten… you’re unreal…” He stared up at you as if you had hung the moon and he rubbed his hands up and down your thighs gently, as if you were a fragile porcelain doll. You leaned down and began marking up his beautiful chest, but he cupped your cheeks and brought your lips up to his own, placing his hands on your thighs once more. “Can I taste you baby? Make you feel good?” With each word, his hands drifted up to your dripping pussy until his fingers were teasing your entrance.

When he finally plunged a single digit in up to the first knuckle, you found yourself choking on a gasp and nodding frantically. He moved with a speed that made you dizzy when he flipped you onto your back and knelt between your legs.

He stared at your cunt with a hunger that made you shy, but you held back the urge to close your legs in self consciousness. When he looked back up at you and hovered his mouth over where you were aching for him most, he made eye contact as he licked a fat strip up the entirety of your crotch, making sure not to neglect your clit as he sucked it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around the swollen bud.

You threw your head back and moaned like a brainless whore as your hands gravitated to his beautiful blonde mane. However, your head wasn’t down long as you were determined to watch this adonis of a man feast on you. And when he inserted a finger inside you, you were done for. He held your hips down with bruising strength as you writhed beneath him and added a second finger.

You were reduced to a whimpering mess as the man fucked you with his fingers slowly, wanting to gradually build your pleasure. “Minho!” You whined in both gratitude and frustration. He smiled as he briefly pulled his mouth away.

“You gonna melt on my mouth, kitten?” You were beyond words and could only nod your head to communicate. “Say it again…” He breathed against you, making you tingle from the hot air coming from between his lips.

You immediately knew what he meant and your heart swelled. “I love you, Minho.” You gasped and rolled your eyes back as he instantly crooked his finger up into your g-spot and returned his mouth to you. Only this time, his tongue joined as he quickly thrusted his fingers in you with precision. “Fuck I love you so much! Shit!” You screamed his name as you did, indeed, melt on his mouth.

He lapped up your orgasm as if he was famished for you and his mouth slowly sucked and nipped its way up your body to latch onto your neglected nipples. You whined, just wanting him to be inside you already as you wrapped your legs around him and hung on him like a koala, pressing your body to his as you suspended yourself in the air under his crouched position.

He chuckled and pressed you into the mattress again, his warm chest and pelvis pressing against you. You rutted into him until you couldn’t take it anymore and pushed him over until his back was pressed up against the headboard and straddled him once more. “Please fuck me, Minho. I need you to fill me up…” You whispered against his lips as one of your hands tangled in his hair and the other was frantically stroking his dick. To make your point, You knelt down to hover over his cock and let a string of saliva drip from your mouth down onto his throbbing head right before taking him in your mouth.

His thighs tensed under your palms and you closed your eyes in bliss as you listened to the beautiful sounds he was making because of your efforts. You swallowed down more of him and you felt a shaky hand push you back by your shoulder. “Shit, you’re too good at that…” He heaved and roughly grabbed your hips to bring you flush to him, slightly lifting you so he could impale you on his cock.

You clung onto him as you sunk down and squinted your watery eyes to get used to that familiar, delicious stretch. The breath was stolen from you and you felt like you could cum without even moving, your emotional mindset making it all the more intense.

It wasn’t long before you needed more and you gradually started bouncing on him, burying your face in his neck and latching onto his neck with your mouth to muffle your cries of pleasure. He guided your hips with his strong hands and you could tell he was holding himself back from just bending you over and annihilating your pussy into the mattress, but all you felt were his sweet kisses across your neck and shoulder and whispered words of how much he loves you and how beautiful you were.

You weren’t sure how long you two were going at it, lost in the sensation that was just purely Lee Minho, until you ground into him harder and cupped his cheeks with your hands. You tried portraying every ounce of your love for him with that one kiss and slowly picked up your hips, only to drop down on his cock with dizzying speed and force. His mouth went slack against yours and you watched as his eyebrows turned inwards in bliss.

You continued the action a few more times, fusing your body to his, until he took matters into his own hands. Before you knew it, you were on your back with the man thrusting into you with a force that made you scream out his name. 

His mouth, hands, and tongue were all over you and your nails dug into his back with the ever-increasing intensity of his thrusts. “M-Minho! ‘M’so close…” You whimpered and he growled into your shoulder.

“Cum on me, kitten. Soak me.”

A few more thrusts and you were done for. You cried out your ecstasy and he followed soon after, riding you through your orgasms.

He was still sheathed inside you when he plopped down on your body to catch his breath. You carded your fingers through his sweat-damp hair from where his face was pressed against your chest and you watched as his breaths gradually slowed.

When he was properly relaxed again, his cock soft inside you, he brought his face up to yours to litter kisses all over your skin, pulling a giggle from you. His smile was blinding when he pulled back to look down at you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“So, does this mean I can properly call you my girlfriend now? Or do you fall in love with all of your FWBs?” You smacked his arm and he giggled as he laced his fingers in yours with the hand you had just used to abuse him.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Ah, yes. You mean all of the many friends I fuck?” He smirked in response and you just sighed and relaxed into his touch. “No, there’s only room for one annoying asshole in my heart. So I suppose I can accept your proposition…” His smile was both equally parts amused and bashful as he squeezed his arms around you and buried his face in your neck to take in a deep breath of your scent.

“It’s about goddamn time…” He said after another long squeeze and you couldn’t control your sudden urge to smack his cute ass. You squealed out a giggle when he startled and quickly pinned your hands above your head. His eyes were mischievous right before he bent down to bite you on your shoulder, causing you to moan and his cock to jump inside you. His mouth drifted up your neck until he was whispering in your ear. “I hope that was worth it, because now you’re never getting out of this bed tonight.”

And he wasn’t bluffing if the awkward (but not unwelcome) limp in your step the next day had anything to say about it.

________________________________________

“You’re shitting us. You two?” Hyunjin looked positively floored the next day you and Minho had the group all together and told them the two of you were dating.

“How the fuck did this happen? I thought you hated Minho!” Changbin, equal disbelief in his tone. Minho scowled at him and Changbin held up his hands in a hasty defense.

You had vehemently apologized to Jisung the next time you saw him and told him you’d never forgive yourself for what happened. He just laughed it off and said he was happy for you, but you couldn’t help but notice a touch of sadness in his smile while the rest of the group freaked out. However, Chris seemed a bit sheepish himself as well.

You tried to focus on the smiling face of Felix instead. “Don’t get me wrong, he still properly annoys the everliving fuck out of me, but I guess he passes for a tolerable enough boyfriend.” You smiled teasingly at him and he scoffed at you with a suppressed smile.

“So what does the big bro think about this?”

You smiled wide and confident at Chris’ inquiry and casually answered. “We’re avoiding telling him like the plague.” 

Minho spoke up at this. “So I swear, if any of you motherfuckers breathe a word before we say so, you will end up having a very short lifespan.” The group chuckled nervously and you whacked his shoulder while he had the audacity to act all innocent like he hadn’t said anything wrong.

“Why do you gotta be such a pain in the ass, Min?” You casually repremanded him with little to no bite behind the question, instead chuckling at him.

“Well I guess their dynamic hasn’t changed at least.” Hyunjin scoffed.

Suddenly, the group’s attention drifted to something behind where you and Minho were standing and you turned around to see Tiffany strutting straight up to Minho, acting as if you, or any of the rest of the guys for that matter, didn’t exist. “Hey, Minho! I was wondering if you want to grab lunch with me? I have a coupon for that sandwich place down the road and I thought I could use the company.” She ran her hand down his arm and circled his fingers around his wrist.

What a brazen bitch.

He pulled his hand from her grasp and immediately wrapped his arm around your waist with an annoyed expression directed at her. “Uh, no thanks. I was gonna go get lunch with the guys and my new girlfriend, so I think I’ll pass.” You heard Changbin and Hyunjin snickering behind you and you couldn’t contain your smug smile as you watched the rage morph on her face when she eyed where you and Minho connected.

She scoffed and looked at you like you were a pathetic worm, making you slightly curl in on yourself. The way she could make people feel like trash was one of her best capabilities. “Are you kidding me?! You were really so fucking hungry for dick that you felt the need to prove something to me by taking him? That’s just sad, sweetheart.”

Minho took a step toward her, not actually planning on doing anything violent, only to intimidate her just enough to have the enirety of campus feel the need to give him a wide berth. You held him back anyway and she just scoffed at him.

She slightly leaned around to look at you past his towering form and sneered at you. “Fine, have it your way. I already got to fuck your last boy toy anyway, I don’t need this one too.” Your heart dropped and she gave a wicked smile before turning and, right as she started leaving, you heard a voice speak up from the group of boys behind you.

“Oh just go choke on another cock why don’t you, deep-dished bitch.” She whipped her head around with fury in her eyes before hastily stomping away. You and Minho looked back incredulously at Jisung and he just shrugged. You don’t think you had ever heard anything so malicious from his mouth and a wide smile broke out on your face before hugging him. He gave you a warm hug back and smoothed his hand up and down your spine. “No one talks to my soulmate’s girl that way.”

You smiled up at him and squeezed him once more before returning to Minho, wrapping yourself around him and trying to ignore the fact that your best friend had fucked your ex without you knowing. However, knowing how much the men around you cared about you, you couldn’t bring yourself to give a flying fuck.

Minho leaned over to quickly press a kiss to your head and squeeze you. “Do you…” You vehemently cut him off with a kiss pressed to his lips as you shook your head. He smiled down at you and then began guiding you. “C’mon, Changbin’s gonna pass out if we don’t feed him soon.”

“Yah!” Changbin yelled and Minho cackled right before his phone went off in his pocket.

To both of your surprises, it was your older brother and as soon as Minho answered, you were sure the whole campus could hear the screaming from his end of the receiver. “WHAT THE FUCK MINHO?! MY SISTER?! YOU’RE FUCKING MY BABY SISTER?! YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD, DUDE!”

The two of you looked at each other in terror and you looked over to see Tiffany with her phone out and an evil grin on her face moments before strutting away. That bitch used my brother against me?!?! You turned back to the rest of the guys that had their eyes fixed on the two of you and their horrified looks confirmed your suspicions that they had, in fact, heard your brother’s bellowing.

Well shit.

________________________________________

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

ALSO: For those who I think would appreciate this: @lyramundana @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna  @channieandhisgoonsquad @guiltycoco-recs @cb97percent @charmercharm3r @sweetracha 

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want Masterlist

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe.

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader)

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

GENERAL TRIGGER WARNINGS/THINGS YOU CAN EXPECT

18+ MDNI, SLOW BURN yandere, romantic yandere with the 4 robin boys, rest of the batfam aren't yandere but still care about you, reader is a girlfailure, ex-step siblings (the dead mother trope), reverse harem, healthy dosing of enemies to lovers, my stupid romance novel tropes, fem!reader and afab!reader, all romantic leads 18+, the graphic violence, death and other such triggers of the original series, attempted sexual assault (chpt. 3), themes of depression/suicide, family death, themes of poverty, alcohol, mentions of alcoholism, my own mix of canon because honestly the canon right now is embarrassing, atypical/soft yandere behaviour, fluff and angst, suggestive and eventual smut, an eventual shared darling/polyandry, SLOW/INCONSISTENT UPDATES (aiming for once a month)

0. - The Second Worst Birthday Ever 1. - Not Quite An Isekai 2. - First (Second) Introductions 3. - Dreams And... 4. - Nightmares Too 5. - Meet The Adams Family 6. - Round Two. Fight!

Word Count as of the Chapter 5: 30k

Series tag (anon asks, snippets, updates and actual chapters all included): #series:WWW

More important asks/FAQ

Question about the boys being romantic or platonic Another question about the boys being hesitant or not Question about Damian being platonic or yandere Questions about Bruce being platonic or yandere Important note about the ex-stepsis thing Future sneak peek ft. Dames being stupid Question about happy/sad ending Future sneak peek ft. Dick being stupid

Fanart! Please give everyone here lots of love, their work is amazing!

Tim's Introduction Jason's Introduction Reader Under The Table SceneTM Reader Before And After The Worst Birthday Ever

[sungbeam]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 : a series!

[7 OF 11 NOW CUFFED!] ; it's cuffing season! — and the boyz are in for quite the adventure as they learn to juggle school, work, friends, and love.

starring: the boyz, f!reader

genre: college au, fluff, humor, comfort, assorted pairings

word count: 216k/?? // at least 20k+ words per part

**note: the main plotline (the 4 szns) can be read completely as stand-alones. all other spin-offs can also technically be read as stand-alones, but some might require context from the main plotline. (all prev yns will appear as __!yn)

+ ADD THIS TO YOUR LIST (taglist form: open)

a/n: i'm very excited for this series tbh and i really hope i retain the strength to finish it 🤧 a great way to help me out tho is to blow this post up by reblogging, esp since tumblr gatekeeps the actual fics when they're published :')

SEASON ONE: PARTY PEOPLE — jacob b.

yours and jacob's mutual friend kevin is convinced that you're meant to be, even if he only just met you. (trailer, 34k)

SEASON TWO: FLIGHT RISK — eric s.

you and eric met on an airplane, and that's where you thought it would end, but clearly the universe has a different plan in mind. (trailer, 30k)

SEASON THREE: OFF THE RECORD — j. changmin (parts 𝐈, 𝐈𝐈)

everyone thinks changmin is cute and harmless, but you know that's not who he really is. (trailer, 36k)

SEASON FOUR: AIN'T NO ROMEO — l. hyunjae

your best friend hyunjae ain't no romeo, but you're still in love... so let's hope he doesn't find out you wrote a whole play about him! (trailer, 30k)

— spin-offs & side adventures.

RHAPSODY ANONYMOUS — k. sunwoo

you never thought your humble, little podcast would ever touch somebody's soul like it did one kim sunwoo's. (trailer, 28k)

RESCUE PROTOCOL — kevin m.

another summer break, another annual trip to the lake! except, it seems like when you and kev get there, you'll have to make some tweaks to the original rescue protocol. (trailer, 29k)

AT YOUR CONVENIENCE — k. younghoon

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block. (trailer, 29k)

HOT COMMODITY — j. haknyeon

no matter how many times he's been to this restaurant, haknyeon swears he's not just here for the cute waitress. (trailer, __)

PINKY SWEAR — c. chanhee

you and chanhee are far from the years of pinky swears, but here you are, still lacing fingers after all this time. (trailer, __)

THE REVEAL — l. sangyeon

does sangyeon really have a secret girlfriend? well... let's find out. (trailer, __)

CLASS(Y) ACTION — l. juyeon

nothing is more cutthroat than the legal sphere, and sometimes we have to find allies in the strangest places—even if he spills coffee on you. (trailer, __)

EXTRA/"DELETED" SCENES

section under construction.

EXTRA, EXTRA CONTENT

— QUIZZES!

lmk what u got for a free smooch and a cookie 🤸‍♀️🥰

which love in unity boy will you be cuffing this year? (uquiz)

which love in unity boy will you be cuffing this school year? (**NEW & IMPROVED VER)

love in unity trivia !! for the main plot only (uquiz)

— ALT. READING ORDERS

if u want to read this series in timeline order, this is how it should be done: jacob/younghoon, eric/haknyeon, changmin/sunwoo, hyunjae/chanhee, sangyeon, kevin, juyeon

if u wanna read sungbeam's favorites: [under construction]

— SERIES TAGS: general series. any wip can be searched via "wip: _____" (usually just the initials, except for party people); or "the (member) fic™"

[amakumos]

haru yo, koi — yang jungwon (teaser)

full fic is out now! read here.

synopsis. Life is fragile. You’ve known this ever since you got diagnosed with a rare disease that gives you only 10 years to live. You tell yourself to not fall in love, but then you meet Yang Jungwon in the middle of a park surrounded by cherry blossom trees. But just like the fleetingness of the cherry blossoms, your romance with Jungwon is short lived. You can only hope that the universe will be kind enough to offer you a second chance.

genre. angst, fluff, friends to lovers to ?, inspired by the movie the last 10 years.

pairing. non-idol! jungwon x fem! reader

warnings. swearing, reader and jungwon are 22 at the beginning of the fic, mentions of death, hospital, illness & disease, scenes where drinking is involved

word count. est around 30k+ (teaser is approx 1.4k)

author's note. hellohello : ) this is the teaser for the longest every fic i have ever written!!! that’s so crazy!!!! the title is of course inspired by yuzuru hanyu’s program “haru yo, koi” :) i hope u guys enjoy this small little teaser of the full thing & if you’d like to be added to the taglist, just send in an ask !!

Cherry blossoms are known for their existence to be short-lived. They symbolise transience, ephemerality. They fall to the pavement as quickly as they bloom.

Just like the cherry blossoms, your existence will be short-lived. You’re running on borrowed time, and you don’t know when that time will run out. 

Every breath you take could be your last. 

There is a peaceful quietness as you wander around the park, admiring the vibrant pink hues of the flowers in full bloom. The faint smell of the cherry blossoms waft through the air, and you watch as some of the petals fall to the pavement. 

The quietness is interrupted by a dog bark. A white dog runs up to you, and you look at it, startled and confused. Suddenly, a boy who looks around your age runs up to you. 

“I am so sorry about Maeumi,” he says, attaching the leash back onto his dog. “He’s a little energetic sometimes.” 

You look at the boy, and something about him feels familiar. Those eyes – you’d recognise them anywhere. 

It’s Yang Jungwon, an old classmate of yours. He was the head of the student council during your time at the school, and you remember him even though you weren’t exactly there much due to your illness. But Jungwon was always a kind person, helping out anyone in need. He was friendly, and popular. You knew that many people had a crush on him, including your friend Minji.

“Wait a minute,” Jungwon’s eyes narrow suddenly. Something seems to click, and he gasps. “You’re (Name), right? We were in the same class in high school.” 

You’re surprised that even with all his busy duties in high school and with you constantly being away at the hospital, Yang Jungwon still remembers you.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, a small smile on your lips. “I’m surprised you remember who I am.”

“Of course I’d remember you!” Jungwon’s eyes seem to twinkle as he says the words. “We worked together on a project for biology once. Do you remember me?” 

You chuckle. “Of course. Yang Jungwon. Head of the student council.” 

Jungwon smiles. “Yeah. That’s me.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence where you and Jungwon just look at each other, small smiles on both of your faces. Maeumi sits patiently as a few of the cherry blossom petals land on his fur. 

“So… what have you been up to?” Jungwon asks you, looking genuinely interested. How are you supposed to respond to that? Because really, you’re not going to just tell him that what you’ve been up to is… hospital. 

“Um… work. Got a job,” you lie, nodding. “What about you?” 

“I’m a lawyer now,” Jungwon replies, and you smile. “Law. It suits you.” 

“Huh. Everyone tells me that,” Jungwon runs his fingers through his hair to make it a little neater. “So… what do you do at work?” 

“Writing. I… write.” Well, that wasn’t a complete lie. You do write, just… not for work. You’ve only been working on one thing ever since you got your diagnosis — it’s something akin to a diary, recounting your journey through the last 10 years of your life.

Maybe you’ll get to see it published before you’re gone.

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Jungwon beams. “I know your writing’s great. You wrote for the school newspaper, right?” 

It seems like Yang Jungwon remembers a lot about you. You wrote occasionally for the school newspaper when you were well enough to actually write. You’re surprised he remembers that, and you’re quite surprised that he actually read the school newspaper — you thought that with his busy schedule, he wouldn’t have had the time to.

“I did. You have a good memory.” 

“Thank you.” Jungwon cracks a smile. The boy looks at the cherry blossom trees, before returning his focus onto you. “They’re pretty, aren’t they?” he asks, and you nod.

“I like the colours.” you say, quietly.

“Me too.” 

“(Name), Soobin just got an emergency at the hospital, so he’s had to leave– oh!” Chaewon suddenly appears out of nowhere, startling both you and Jungwon. “Sorry, I didn’t know that you were talking to someone.” 

“Oh, it’s okay.” you tell your sister, who looks at you, then looks at Jungwon, then looks at you again. “Was I interrupting something?” she asks, with a small smile on her lips. 

“We were just looking at the cherry blossoms.” Jungwon pipes up. “I’m Jungwon. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Chaewon,” your sister says. “Do you know my sister?”

“We went to high school together,” you tell her. “Jungwon was the head of the student council. I’m actually quite surprised he still remembers me, considering how… you know.” 

“Yes. I know.” 

Jungwon doesn’t know exactly what you and Chaewon are talking about, but it seems personal — and he wouldn’t want to pry. And, you keep mentioning how you’re extremely shocked at the fact that Jungwon seems to remember you.

But, why wouldn’t Jungwon remember his first crush? 

Something about you intrigued Jungwon the moment you stepped into the classroom for the first time. It was seventh grade, and you had walked into the room with a small smile on your lips. Jungwon remembers you catching his attention instantly. 

You two were partnered together for a project, and you both had quite a few pleasant conversations while working on the assignment. Jungwon remembers walking home with a giddy smile on his lips after he had gone to your house. 

But gradually, you started to disappear. 

Throughout high school, Jungwon tried to talk to you as much as he could. Problem was, you were almost never at school, and when you were at school, Jungwon always seemed to be busy.

So Jungwon was never able to get closer to you. He couldn’t get to know you better, or find out why he found himself gravitating towards you. 

You didn’t even show up for graduation. 

The last time Jungwon remembers seeing you was in class one day. You were wrapped in a puffer jacket, a hand warmer in your hands. You looked pale. Jungwon assumed that you might’ve gotten a cold.

He didn’t know that you were sick. He still doesn’t know that you’re sick. Nobody from high school knows, with the exception of Minji and Wonyoung. 

He just assumed you were always busy with out of school activities. But he never forgot about you. 

“Oh, that reminds me. Ricky’s hosting a reunion party next week for our year? We’d love for you to come.” Jungwon says, and Chaewon nudges you gently. “You should go,” your sister whispers to you.

“Oh, I… I don’t know. I don’t think people there will really remember me.” you murmur, and Jungwon shakes his head. “No, they will! Just come along. Here, I’ll give you my number, since Ricky’s still making decisions on which restaurant he’s booking. I’ll text you the details.” 

You type in Jungwon’s number into your phone slowly, saving his contact. “It was really nice seeing you again. What a coincidence, right?” he beams.

“It was nice seeing you again too, Jungwon. I’ll… let you know if I go.” 

“I’ve got to run along now, a friend of mine’s waiting for me.” Jungwon says, a small pout on his lips. “But yeah, text me! I’ll talk to you soon.” 

“See you around, Jungwon.” you say softly, and the boy gives you one last big smile before turning around to leave. Chaewon looks at you with a wide grin on her lips. “Come on, you should go!” 

“I don’t know,” you say hesitantly. You’re not even sure if people remember you. Or know you at all. You attended school less than 20 times in your last year — to be completely honest, even you found it strange that you graduated. “What if people are like ‘who are you?’ It would make things really awkward.” 

“So? Jungwon knows you. Invite Minji and Wonyoung. There, you know four people. Come on, (Name). You should live your life to the fullest.” 

As you’re nearing the end of the 10 years that the doctor has given you, you decide that perhaps Chaewon is right. You’ve spent years wallowing in self-pity, spending all your days at home when you could’ve been spending time doing things that you’ve always wanted to do. See people you never thought you’d see again. Go to places that you’ve always wanted to go to.

You take a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll go.” 

And as a pink cherry blossom petal brushes against your cheek, you return home with Chaewon by your side, and the thought of Yang Jungwon in the back of your mind.

[keylimeyunho]

hard to ignore: part 1

part 1: “your dream”

pairing: reader x fuckboyidol!san genre: smut, fluff word count: 4.1k warning(s): none for this chapter

“the concert starts promptly at 7:30. make sure they’re ready by 5.”

he threw the keys in your lap, placed a folded paper on the table of your new trailer, and held out his hand. you immediately shook it.

“welcome to the team.”

you beamed proudly and nodded your head aggressively. yes, of course, they would be ready by 5, maybe even 4:30 if you got a head start. but the man proceeded to just stand in your trailer and stare you down.

“with this being your first time working with the boys,” he cleared his throat “i’m going to give a little word of advice before you head to their dressing room.”

he walked over to the couch across from where you sat at your trailer’s kitchen table, and relaxed his arm over its cusion. he stared you down once again, looking into your pupils as if he was scanning for information about you that he didn’t already know, or couldn’t find in your resume.

“there’s eight of them… and some of them are…different. don’t let them get to you.”

you tilted your head and laughed, but only a little. of course, they would each be different; they’re human, after all. why would you need to be warned about something so trivial? “what do you mean by 'different'?”

he kept a thin lipped smile and just exhaled out his nose, silently, keeping the eye contact. “you’ll soon find out.” the man then stood up, straightened his jacket, and headed towards the trailer door. “just…be cautious. we want this tour to go smoothly, okay? no mishaps.”

“now what does that mean?” you wanted to say but you kept that thought to yourself and just held a thin-lipped smile in return, holding a strong thumbs up to let him know yes, of course. because **you weren’t about to risk losing the only job you ever wanted on day one.t

you raised an eyebrow and kept eye contact with him. “no mishaps. i swear it."

—

after dumping out your enormous stash of makeup out of your suitcase, you realized you may have overpacked. every size brush dispersed over at least ten shades of concealer and a mountain of eye shadow palettes looked up at you. but you also knew it was best to not make the rookie mistake of giving these boys the wrong products, let alone the wrong shades.

after almost three years of cosmotology school, thousands of dollars in scholarships, and a handful of temporary salon jobs, you had finally landed your first big gig. and you weren’t going to be just any stylist. you were going to be working for one of the biggest names in music, in k-pop.

kq entertainment was one of the last companies you expected to even glance at your application, let alone accept it, but they were pleasantly surprised with your extensive resume of internships and recommendations from clients at your old job. and besides, they had just lost a series of stylists so they were desperate for someone to work immediately and last-minute. and with you eager to leave a job that could not pay your rent or even just your coffee every week, that made you the perfect candidate.

especially since you graduated top of your class and spent the entirety of your undergrad working as a nail tech and shampooer right after tech school, you had more experience and drive than anyone in the running because most people just worked to pass so they could get a mediocre job at their local hair salon, getting paid maybe 30k a year (if they’re lucky) to dye greying old ladies’ hairlines various shades of brown.

but this..this was your dream. creating something original and getting to express your love of fashion, hair, and makeup to put on a show. and doing that for a group as big as ateez was absolutely surreal.

you didn’t know much about them, besides the fact they were outselling arenas all over the nation. you never paid much attention to guys, anyway, even the ones who sat next to you in class and tried to write notes to you in the margins of your paper. but you were usually too consumed in what was on the board than what the guy next to you was doing. like you said, this was your dream. not the lackluster boys who were definitely failing out of their classes. and besides, those boys were never that memorable in looks, anyway.

closing the door to your trailer, you hit the dirt with your platforms and headed towards the boys dressing room. you decided to put on your most original look you could think of that was not too over the top for complete strangers. you strapped on some ankle boots paired with a lavender maxi skirt that matched the purple satin bustier you donned under a cropped leather jacket. you made sure to showcase your personality patches of your favorite bands that you sewed onto your messenger bag.

unfolding the paper the director had given you, you looked carefully down at the order of of which member you would style first:

y/n,

the boys are trailer 1024. the order for the makeup cycle will be

wooyoung, jongho, mingi, seonghwa, yeosang, hongjoong, san, yunho

today we only need you to prepare their makeup for the show. it’s their first night in seoul since the pandemic so tonight, they need to make an impact. play off their show outfits and give us something fresh.

- kq creative team

the list was new for you and the first time you heard any of the members’ names. despite the fact you had already met with the kq staff running this concert, you still had yet to meet any of the actual members. you shouldn’t be that surprised, considering they’re famous celebrities who definitely don’t have time to meet and greet all their staff. but since you were about to spend the next few months alongside them at every tour stop, your first official meeting with them being the tour’s kick-off was a bit nerve-wracking but nevertheless exciting.

walking through the rows of trailers full of kq staff, you finally located trailer 1024 about a couple doors down from yours. you saw a door with the word ARTIST in huge red letters printed on a paper taped on the door.

this will make it so much easier to get them ready everyday, you thought. not that far a walk.

you straightened your jacket and smiled at your reflection in the trailer window before knocking.

no mishaps.

the trailer door opened almost immediately, as if the person inside was waiting for you to rap on their door. A red-haired guy with bright brown eyes and a sharp jawline stood at the door. he was in a white tanktop, but below his waist were dress pants and dance shoes. he looked like he was halfway dressed to perform on stage and he looked a little too pretty to be their manager.

you held your smile tightly, waiting for him to say the first words.

“ah, are you y/n?” he said, leaning his elbow above his head on the edge of the door, flashing an unsurprisingly perfect smile

you nodded and bowed quickly, handing him the paper the director had given you. “at your service!”

keeping his elbow on the door, he took the paper out of your hands and scanned over it quickly. “nice to finally meet you, y/n.” he moved out of the way and reached out his hand to you. “i’m wooyoung. come in.”

you thanked him and he closed the door behind you as you took your first steps inside. it was double the size of your trailer but since they were the artists and you just came on tour for their makeup, it made sense they would have more leg room after each show.

you were expecting to see eight boys sitting on the couch waiting patiently for their makeup stylist; however, wooyoung seemed to be the only around.

“here- catch!” he catches you off guard and as you turn around, a drink can flies towards your head.

you were so entranced by the sheer size of their place that you didn’t see wooyoung go into their fridge and take out two redbulls. you catch the redbull with one hand, surprising yourself. he smirks a little before cracking open his own can. “nice. quick reflexes. you’re gonna need those if you want to work with us.”

what does that even mean? “everyone has been saying things like that about you guys. what exactly am i preparing for?” you crack the can open, as well, and take a gulp.

wooyoung plops on the couch and downs the can in under a few seconds. he sighs and runs his fingers through his red hair. “it means you’re our third stylist this month.” he tosses the now empty can like a basketball across the room and of course it lands with a perfect swish into the trash can next to the door. “and i don’t want to move onto a fourth.”

you sip carefully on the redbull can. between the director and now wooyoung’s words, you start to wonder if working with ateez was not what you had expected it to be. maybe these boys are going to be more work than just opening up a few eye shadow palettes and blowing drying their hair.

but wooyoung smiles at you softly before you let that thought fully form. “but don’t worry about it too much. with your experience, i’m sure we’ll be light work compared to the clients you’ve had before.”

that was true. working with screaming nine-year-olds and their 35-year old mothers was definitely the lowest you could have reached. you took wooyoung’s words with a grain of salt and stuck them in your back pocket.

“thanks.” you respond “but i do have one question…” you down the rest of the can and mimic wooyoung, tossing it behind you. “where are the rest of the members?”

wooyoung laughs. “we rotate, usually. the rest of them are getting changed or getting their hair done first. meanwhile, i’m scheduled for makeup first.” he gets up and starts heading down to one of the other doors in the trailer. “we each have about 20 minutes per rotation, so once you finish with me, the next one of us will coming knocking on the door.”

you looked at the clock on the wall in the trailer kitchen. five minutes had already past, giving you only 15 minutes left with wooyoung.

as if he could read your mind, wooyoung opens one of the doors. “welcome to the official ateez dressing room. come on in”

—

contrary to what everyone was saying, these boys were actually quite pleasant. for being famous celebrities who had fans cheering for them every night, you expected artists like them would walk around like they were above your pay grade (which they were) and deserved your utmost respect. but to your surprise, they were just- normal. some of them even shy.

for being the 6’2 rapper, mingi had trouble keeping eye contact with you while you looked at his face before starting, trying to get the lay of the land (or his visage). his fire red and orange hair intimidated you but as soon as you stopped looking he burst out . “i-i just want to say, i love your hairstyle.”

you touched your hair and looked away for a second. did he just compliment me? my hair?

“wow, um..thank you.” you blushed. “i think your hair is pretty nice, too..if not even better than mine.”

and even seonghwa, the greek god of a man with some of the most perfect features you’d ever admired kept giggling at every joke you made, some that weren’t even your best. you tried not to mess up his perfectly tousled blonde hair when powdering his face and drawing on his eyeliner carefully, but he flinched at your every touch.

“i-i’m sorry. i’m just scared i’ll mess you up." seonghwa says, looking away and scratching his arm nervously. "we haven’t had eyeliner in years, i'm happy you're bringing it back”

“really?” you lifted an eyebrow. out of all the concept photos you studied before today, you remember looking that the “say my name” era with smokey eyeliner was your favorite look. “well, good thing i’m here. i think it's time for a change."

seonghwa looked down and smiled slightly. “yeah..good thing.”

now, when jongho waltzed in, he had the most adorable smile you'd ever seen on an idol. stubby teeth and gums showing ever so slightly that made your eyes soften proved he was obviously the maknae. but you would never know because his vocals did not match that face.

he had begun practicing one of their sets. it made your heart flutter. you never heard such a powerful and angelic voice. (and you get to do his makeup?)

“you have such a beautiful voice” you said to him as you brushed the contour over the crest of his forehead. he flashed his gummy smile again and looked down shyly. “but, i will be honest, though," you admitted with a twinge of shame. "i really haven't heard much of your music."

jongho raised an eyebrow but quickly retracted it, at as to not mess up the contour. he didn't respond, but simply grabbed his phone out of his pocket, opening spotify.

the beginning note of a song began to play. he finally replies, “well, you should change that then.” the beginning note of their song "answer" begins to echo through the cool air of the dressing room. the music bounces around the room while you listen to his studio version which sounds just like the vocals you heard minutes prior.

now yeosang was the member who brought out your first real laugh of the day. walking into the room, he waved to you excitedly. "hi! i'm yeosang, nice to finally see your fa-"

yeosang didn’t notice your messenger bag by the door and is caught off as he trips over it. but instead of hitting the floor, yeosang somersaults over the bag and gets up like nothing just happened. standing there, stunned and surprised himself, he says, “you didnt see that.”

he looked down at your bag, about to pretend to kick it out the door, when he notices your patches. “pierce the veil? who is that?”

you smiled and this time, you take out spotify yourself to show yeosang your playlists.

next, hongjoong walked into the room. his hair was a striking royal blue and he was all suited up with a gold trim, black jacket. a regal look you were sure would make his fans go absolutely wild for him.

"y/n? it's so nice to finally meet you." he stuck out his hand. "our new stylist"

still holding eyeshadow brushes and cotton rounds in your hands, you weren't expecting such a nice greeting. you quickly set everything down and straighten yourself up to shake his hand. "that's me."

hongjoong settles down in the chair in front of you and closes his eyes.

"what are you doing?" you laugh, as you look for primer to start him off.

hongjoong immediately opens his eyes again. "oh.." he says nervously. "are you not starting yet?"

you chuckle to yourself, what an interesting guy. "i haven't even got the primer out yet."

his palm hits his face and slides down slowly in shame. "i'm sorry, i'm a bit of a mess. it's our first show since the pandemic and... i don't know. i'm excited to meet our fans again, but nervous they won't like what we have in store for them. it's just been so long since our last show..almost two years"

you stop rummaging in your bag to stare at him in shock. "what? of course they'll love you" you couldn't believe you were becoming a celebrity therapist, too. "and besides, you have an awesome stylist that will make you look out of this world."

hongjoong scratches his head and laughs lightly. "yeah..yeah you're right. i just love our fans so much, they mean the world to us"

you look at hongjoong as he continues to nervously scratch his head. where was the notion that these guys would be too much to handle? after only six members had finished their makeup, it seemed they were some of the sweetest and most devoted people you have ever worked with, even met. the stylists that decide to leave these angelic boys dropped the ball, big time.

—

as hongjoong thanked you for your hard work and walked out, you began looking at the list to see which member was next to come in. before you got your answer, you jumped as the door opened right as hongjoong closed it.

wearing another gold trim velvet jacket, held together by a single button, the most attractive- no, stunning man you have ever came across walked right through the dressing room door.

you never usually got starstruck and even the previous members were encapsulating beautiful. but this man, with his black hair still wet and slick from his shower and his jawline locked towards you, something about him made you almost stumble off your stool.

"oh. um..h-hi. n-nice to finally meet you" you said as you regained balanced, cringing at your own words.

he chuckled and closed his eyes, shaking his head. "oh, i already know you." he stepped a couple feet closer so you were now right under his gaze, under his chin. you could smell the faint cologne coming off his skin, making you want to get even closer to him to get another whiff, but you just stood there, in awe.

it took you a second to register what he just said. "wait..what does that mean?"

his brown eyes glinted and you could feel his breath on your face. a smile peeked at the corner of his lips and he said almost at a whisper, "you're that beautiful girl who lives three doors down from our trailer, right?"

looking into the dressing room mirror behind him, you gawk at yourself. is he talking about me?

turning to back to face him, you shrug. "n-no. i'm just your stylist." you go into your pocket and dig out the folded paper the director gave you to prove the truth: you really were just some girl kq hired to put makeup on him. he was getting you confused with someone else, someone much more interesting than you, right?

he took the paper out of your hand and suddenly began ripping it, shred after shred, letting the paper fall to the ground in between you. he bends down to look into your eyes.

my god, you didn't realize how large he was. you were too distracted by his broad shoulders that looked like they were about to burst out of his jacket. you could see right down the center of his shirt and you could almost see-

"i'm san and you're y/n, my stylist, the fine girl with the patches on her bookbag who lives in trailer 1021." he tilted his head and smirked, the tip of his tongue peeking out the corner of his lips. "don't act like i don't know exactly who you are. i know a pretty girl when i see one."

you stood there, stunned. there's no way he was still talking about you. "i'm not sure what you mean..san."

san stands back up. "tsk, tsk," he sighed, shaking his head so the water droplets fell off his soaking hair onto your shirt. you watch the droplets seep into the cotto, wondering if some of his sweat was mixed in. "don't worry, pretty girl. we'll get to know each other soon enough."

he proceeds to sit in the chair in front of you, innocently looking up with his adorable brown eyes, as if he was not just full-on flirting with his stylist seconds before. "just put the makeup on me, if you will."

you roll your eyes with a smile and start setting the concealer on his face.

"sorry, i-" you start to say, but your own giggles cut you off. "i just- i never heard someone say that kind of thing about me. caught me off guard, that's all."

san's eyes droop and he pouts. "you mean no one has ever told you how beautiful your hair falls off you." he touches the hand by your side, grazing his fingertips over your own. "or how hard you are making it to sit in my chair right now"

oh my god, you think to yourself, this has to be a all in my head. a member of ateez was sitting here flirting with you and trying to hold your hand, looking so enchantingly into your eyes.

part of you wants to grab his hand and rope your fingers between his and tell him, no one's ever told me that before, but i'll let you be the first. you sigh at the thought.

"no mishaps." the director's words ring in you're ears. you're here for one thing and one only. don't fuck it up.

as if he read your mind, san starts to drag his fingers over your palm, but you yank your hand away before he gets that far.

"nope, no one." you turn back to your makeup bag. "bow, please be silent while i draw on your eyeliner." you assert your dominance back in the conversation, trying to diffuse the hot tension boiling between you and the finest, yet most annoying man you've ever met.

san pouts again and his pupils grow, almost like a kitten's. he folds his hand in his lap and heaves out a sigh that you try to ignore. "alright, i guess. but at least let me see your face, pretty girl, one more time.. if i can't compliment it"

you turn around and give him a pity smile. "fine. now, close your eyes."

surprisingly, he does what you say, a thin-lipped smile stuck on his face as if he was satisfied with being nowhere else but here with you, letting you do whatever you want to him.

"so, who's your favorite?"

san's question causes you to shake and run a streak of eyeliner down his face.

"shit! sorry- um," you race to clean him up as he remains unbothered, waiting patiently for your answer. you wipe his face and admit, "i honestly don't have one, i mean, i just met all. of you "

san chuckles lightly, "don't lie, i know you have a favorite."

your face turns a shade of red that he thankfully can't see because he still waits patiently for your eyeliner with his lids closed. "i still have one member left after you. i'll let you know who i decide later."

"okay." san lifts his hand up. "shake on it."

now he's lost it. you know for a fact he just wants you to succumb to his charms (which you almost did, but you remained strong) and say oh, san, it's you, of course! but you were his stylist. you worked for him. an obvious power imbalance and obviously something that would mess up your career, and everything you worked for.

"i'm all good. i'll let you know my answer, if i feel like it." you assert with him. this time, san opens his eyes and smirks.

"well, princess, i don't think you-"

"all done!" you snap the blush pad closed, sarcasm hanging off your lips and not realizing he was about to say something. "thanks for being such an amazing client!"

this cannot happen again, before anyone finds out you and san were just within inches of each other, breathing on each other and feeling on each other's hands and-

"wait, y/n, can i-" san starts.

"i'm all good, actually, whatever it is. you need to keep the cycle moving anyway" you usher him out. however, he snatches the folded paper off the table and rips a small piece off, quickly scribbling something onto it.

he hands you the paper back, re-folded, and whispers in your ear, hot breath rubbing against your eardrums and making you squirm.

"for when you're ready."

he bows to you and closes the dressing room door carefully, leaving you in silence, standing with a paper in your hand and the air conditioner running loudly. you unfold the paper carefully and your jaw drops at its contents:

a phone number scrawled hastily onto the paper, attached with only the words, "for when my pretty girl decides to tell me i'm her favorite :)"

series masterlist | next chapter

tag list: @atinytinaa @cloudysannie @s10an

[mysafehaneul]

VIII. AQUAMARINE (M)

CHAPTER 8: THE GREAT WAR

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 30K (But since tumblr has decided to be a cunt so I have to upload them in 6 or 7 parts fml)

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

ANGST, SMUT, FLUFF.

The loudest noise in the world is sometimes the battle between the brain and our hearts, the war between your conscience and your desires. Yet the sad part is, no matter who overpowers the other there is no victory in this battle. Because a part of you always loses. But the point is not about win or loss, what truly matters is at the end of it all, you survived.

It was late afternoon, around 3 p.m. The sun hung in the sky, casting a warm and gentle glow over the city. You arrived at your office around noon after leaving the Jeon mansion at 9 a.m. Wonwoo had dropped you off at the office and then driven Noel and himself home. As you worked on your laptop, there came a polite knock at the door. The sky outside was painted with hues of orange and pink, a serene backdrop to your busy day. Rachel, your assistant, opened the door and informed you of a visitor.

"Boss, Rema is here," she said with a warm smile.

"Send her in and ring for some coffee and tea for us, please," you replied.

"Got it," Rachel nodded, her dimple showing slightly.

Rema walked into your office, her hair neatly pulled up, black pumps clicking against the floor. She wore suit pants and held her blazer and laptop case. Her expression showed signs of a long and tiring day. She chose the visitor's couch over the chair by your desk, kicked off her heels, and made herself comfortable.

"You don't mind, right?" she asked, referring to her relaxed posture.

You shook your head in a no and noted, "Long day, huh?"

"Just another never-ending one," Rema sighed.

You got up from your chair and walked over to the couch, sitting across from her with your legs crossed. Rachel soon arrived with a tray bearing cookies, coffee, and tea.

"Ah, the angel appears," Rema groaned humorously at the sight of the coffee, then greeted Rachel with a nod.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Rema sipped her coffee while you absentmindedly circled your finger around the rim of your teacup, lost in thought.

"So, why have you called me?" Rema inquired.

"Why can't I call on a friend?" you replied.

"In the office," she raised an eyebrow.

"Well," you sighed, "you caught me. I called you for a reason."

"I thought so," Rema said.

You gave her a playful glare and continued, "Victor told me that Noella made her will when Noel was just 3 years old."

"How does he know?" Rema asked.

"Because he introduced the lawyer to her," you explained.

Rema hummed in understanding. You continued, "And I'm glad that she did. Noella has always been a planner." You smiled at the fond memories of the text chain she and Jeonghan used to have, where they shared house ideas, wedding plans, and more.

"I want to make a will," you declared. Rema placed her cup back on the table, her full attention on your words.

"Life is very unexpected, and I don't know what will happen tomorrow. So, I want to be prepared for the worst-case scenario," you said, expressing your reasons.

"Has something happened?" Rema asked with concern in her voice.

You hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Not really. It's always best to be cautious."

"Y/N," Rema insisted.

"What?" You sighed.

"Come on, don't chew on it; spit it out," Rema urged.

You weighed the pros and cons of telling her for a few moments. You decided that having a witness and her professional advice might be valuable. So, you took out your phone from your pants pocket and opened your SMS window. Then, you opened the message you had received at 5 a.m.:

"You shouldn't have stuck your nose where it didn't belong. Count your days."

Rema's lips pressed into a thin line, and her brows knitted together in concern.

"Have you told anyone about it?" she inquired.

You shook your head, indicating that you hadn't shared the message with anyone else.

"So, what are you going to do? This is serious; it could be counted as a threat," Rema pointed out.

"Well, this is somewhat normal. Remember when there was a lawsuit due to the employee's embezzlement, and I fired them? I used to get texts like that," you recalled.

"Y/N, that time it might have been drunk rambling, but this… this feels kind of serious," Rema replied with a worried look.

You considered her words. "Hmm. I want you to look into this number and find out the person behind it. In the meantime, I want you to help me make a will about everything, from assets to projects."

Rema nodded in understanding but brought up an important issue. "Well, assets, shares, and projects with sole ownership can be taken care of easily. But what about that resort, Oasis? It's a joint project, so we'll need Mr. Jeon's assent as well in the precedence of the will, considering he's the 40% partner as well as your husband. He doesn't have to be present; the presence of his lawyer would be enough."

"I see," you acknowledged

She picked up a cookie, tilted her head in confusion, and looked you up and down.

"Something's different," she noted, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

You furrowed your brows and reached for your tea. "What is?"

"You look different," Rema said with an air of intrigue.

You brought the cup to your lips, taking a sip. "How come?"

"I don't know, your eyes are clearer, your shoulders are straighter, and your skin is also gleaming," she observed.

You smiled against your cup. "I don't know what you mean. I haven't done any treatment since my wedding."

"No, no, this shine, it's… it's like an after-" She stopped mid-sentence and gasped, covering her mouth.

"Oh my!"

"What!?" you questioned.

"You had sex," Rema blurted out.

You choked on your tea and felt the heat rising in your cheeks. A fit of coughs overcame you.

"My goodness, Y/N!! You naughty girl," Rema teased.

You rubbed your chest, trying to calm down. "Ms. Sinha, this type of conversation is not to be initiated in a professional environment."

"Cut the bull, Y/N," she said.

"I am not liable to answer," you replied, the corner of your lips twitching upwards, trying hard to suppress a smile.

"Who was it? Was it good? Well, the way you're glowing, I'm sure it was!"

"I'm not telling you, and since you're so curious, yes to the second one."

"Was it a hookup?" she inquired.

"What? No, it… it wasn't a hookup," you admitted, realizing you weren't even sure what to call it.

"Then who was it?" she gasped again, this time in excitement, and started hitting the couch next to her.

"Oh my, oh my! You slept with your husband," she concluded and doubled over in laughter, still hitting the couch. You were relieved you hadn't chosen to sit next to her.

"So much for 'he's not my type' and 'this is just a paper marriage; it means nothing,'" she chuckled.

There are two ways to deal with a situation where your friend is right about something and you don’t want to admit they are 1. Deny their hunch 2. Remain silent. You chose 2 because your embarrassment was refraining you from speaking. And concentrate on sipping your tea.

As your mind wandered back.

…

The room was bathed in the soft, early morning light. The gentle rays of the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue on everything they touched. Clothes were scattered haphazardly around the room, a testament to the passionate night of love that had transpired.

The air was filled with the lingering fragrance of your perfume from the night before, blending with the sweet, musky scent of intimacy. Your bed bore the tousled marks of your lovemaking, a testament to the fiery passion that had ignited between you and Wonwoo.

As your eyes fluttered open, you felt a solitary finger tracing a delicate path along the curves of your bare back. You turned to find Wonwoo gazing down at you, his sharp, intelligent eyes softened by the intimate moments you'd shared. He had removed his glasses, allowing you to see the warmth and desire in his gaze. His chin rested casually on his hand as he watched you with a mixture of tenderness and longing.

Wonwoo's voice was husky as he greeted you with a soft "Morning." You reciprocated with a mumbled response, stretching your body languidly. The soreness in your thighs and waist was a pleasant reminder of the intense night of lovemaking.

Curious about the time, you asked, "What time is it?"

"A few minutes to 6," Wonwoo replied as he moved a few stray hairs away from your face.

You contemplated the day ahead, mentioning your 1 o'clock meeting and your need to go, but Wonwoo hushed you with a gentle, "Shh, don't talk about work right now." He leaned down and buried his face in your neck.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the feeling of his hair tickling your nose and his breath on your skin. Your fingers started tracing patterns on his defined back, the muscles responding to your touch. You felt a pang of guilt for your actions the night before, but after multiple rounds of passion, you had little control over your desires.

Wonwoo began planting wet, open-mouthed kisses on the curve where your neck met your shoulder, followed by light nips and the warm caress of his tongue.

In your dazed state, you clutched his biceps and quipped, "Wonwoo, how can you still go on? Are you some kind of superhuman? We did it five times yesterday—"

He interrupted, "Five and a half. You fell asleep in the middle of it."

You felt his hips moving against your thigh, and something hot and throbbing brushed against your skin. The memories of the night before flooded back, igniting a familiar fire between you and Wonwoo.

Wonwoo pulled back the sheets that covered you, exposing your skin to the cool morning air, which caused goosebumps to rise across your body. Your hands reached down, and you took hold of his heated member. As your cold hands made contact with his sensitive sex, he released a low moan into your ear.

You began to rub your thumb over the head of his throbbing shaft, gathering the pre-cum that was leaking from the tip. Your fingers moved from the base to the top, using the slick fluid as lubrication. The rhythm of your handpicked up, and Wonwoo ceased his ministrations on your neck, his jaw slack with pleasure. Your other hand moved to his chest, fingers pinching his nipples.

"God, you wanna make me—" he began, but you increased your pace, interrupting him, "you make me wanna murder every bastard who got to experience this with you."

His face hovered over yours, and you could feel his member twitching and his thighs trembling. You leaned up, capturing his lower lip between your teeth, making him release a moan lost in the intoxicating moment.

"If that happens, you'll become a mass murderer," you said, every word dripping with seduction.

His eyes flashed open, hazy and dilated. Wonwoo removed his member from your hand and turned you onto your stomach, positioning himself behind you. He gripped your hips and arched them slightly, pushing your face into the pillow, muffling the sensations you felt as he rubbed between your ass cheeks.

You tried to protest, "Wonwoo, I was—"

But your protest turned into a moan as he entered you in one swift, deep thrust. He held himself up in a cobra-like position and began rutting into you. You were incredibly sensitive, so the penetration felt both intense and pleasurable. He lowered himself on top of your back and whispered, "Looks like your cunt now recognizes me," punctuating his words by dragging his thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in with force. "Do you feel how you grip me?" he added, his voice filled with desire.

"Yes, yes, yes, please move faster," you begged, your hand moving to grope his butt, emphasizing your plea.

He gave a throaty laugh at your desperation and reached under your pressed body to grab your breast.

"We have been at it since 1 a.m., yet you just can't get your fill, huh?"

"Says the guy who can't keep his hands to himself ever since."

He grabbed a hold of your hair and tugged it.

"Nnghh," you moaned as he turned your face.

His hips picked up a feverish pace, and your voice grew louder. He covered your mouth with his, muffling your voice with his as your passion continued to build.

"What am I going to do with this mouth of yours," he muttered, his breath heavy. He found himself coming undone. "Fucking… fuck," he grunted against your lips. "Fuck, baby, please tell me you're close."

You were nearing your peak, and in response, you tapped the sheets next to you. Wonwoo grabbed your hands and interlaced his fingers with yours, feeling the unforgiving, delicious grip as he spilled inside of you. Ever since you told him that you had an IUD inserted, he couldn't help but finish inside of you. You were both too lost in ecstasy to care, and you buried your face in the pillow, your muffled moans of pleasure escaping into the fabric.

Those poor maids passing outside the room had likely heard your passionate encounter. Wonwoo convulsed with pleasure until his strength left him, and he dropped his sweaty body onto your back. His weight was crushing, and after a few breaths, he withdrew his now flaccid and sensitive member, the remnants of your pleasure and his spent essence spilling out of you. He flopped onto his back, catching his breath as he ran a hand over his hair and head.

"That was…" he looked at the ceiling, "amazing," he breathed out and laughed. Coming to a sitting position, he looked at you. Your chest bore the marks of his passion, with his fingerprints visible on your waist and your behind. You lay there with your eyes closed, your hands resting on either side of your body, savoring the afterglow

"Ya, you're not touching me for at least a week," you announced in the room.

"So, we're doing this again?" He teased.

"You want this to be a one-night thing?" You opened your eyes to look at him. "Fine, I guess." You rose up and reached for the shirt near the bedside.

He got up from the bed and handed you his shirt. "Did you like trampolines when you were young?"

You looked at him, confused as you started buttoning up his shirt. "Ya, why?"

He sat down next to you and put on the glasses he had thrown there the night before. "No wonder why you like jumping to conclusions so much."

He smiled at your glare and reached to ruffle your hair, then leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. "Let's talk about this at home. You can sleep a little more if you want. I'll wake you up when it's time."

His fingers traced the marks he left on your neck and the visible cleavage.

"Too much time here," he said, tapping your forehead. "Takes away your time here," he pointed to the ground, signifying your present moment, your reality.

"Understand," and all of a sudden, he gave a playful smack on your sex, making you jolt and yelp. You hit his chest.

"WonWoo!!"

He laughed and started making his way towards the bathroom.

"Asshole," you muttered and went back to sleep. 'Ahh, how will I walk now?' you wondered as you shut your eyes.

True to his words, he woke you up an hour and a half later. As you dressed up in the bathroom, there was a knock on the door.

"Just a minute," you called out.

"Babygirl, would you like to have breakfast in the room or downstairs?" Wonwoo asked.

You were a bit surprised. "Emm, do we need to have breakfast?"

"Yes, y/n, we need to have breakfast. How can you not be hungry with all the activities—"

"Fine, okay, downstairs, please," you cut him off.

You gave one final look around the room. It certainly looked a bit disheveled. "Can you send someone to pack our bags and tell my parents we'll be joining them shortly? Also, check if Noel is up. If he's not, ask Cecilia to get him ready."

The maid nodded at his words and rushed out of the room. As you were busy packing your laptop and jewelry in your bag, Wonwoo reassured you, saying, "Don't worry, they'll take care of it."

"Still," you replied.

"Come on, y/n."

You took your handbag and followed him out of the room.

The dining room was grand and stately, reflecting the opulence of the mansion. It was illuminated by a crystal chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, casting a warm and soft glow over the long, polished wooden table. The table was adorned with white, pristine tablecloths and fine china. The chairs were upholstered in rich velvet, adding to the regal atmosphere of the room. A large, ornate mirror adorned one wall, reflecting the room's elegance.

At the breakfast table, there was your parents-in-law and Judge Haeri.

You had trouble walking, but you'd like to think you masked it quite well. However, you noticed your mother-in-law and Jungkook's mother sharing a knowing smile. You decided to concentrate on the food.

"Good morning," you greeted the table.

"Morning," they replied. Your father-in-law gave a nod of acknowledgment and returned to his newspaper.

"Did you sleep well, y/n?" Judge Haeri teased.

You saw both mother and son avoiding eye contact and suppressing smiles. From under the table, you subtly stomped on Wonwoo's foot.

"Ouch," he said out loud.

"What's wrong?" his mother asked, concerned. "Oh, just almost spilled the tea, no worries," he quickly replied.

"Yes, and what about you, Aunt?" you inquired.

"Slept like a rock," Judge Haeri answered with a smile.

You reached for the orange juice and a slice of toast, and Wonwoo quietly placed an omelet on your plate, mouthing 'eat.'

"Where are the others?" you asked.

"Sleeping. It would be a world record if Jaehyun wakes up before 10," Judge Haeri said with a chuckle.

"He still does that?" your father-in-law remarked, turning to the next page of the newspaper.

Judge Haeri shrugged, "I've stopped trying to change that habit after Jungkook. No use."

The conversation continued with everyone concentrating on breakfast. Wonwoo chatted with his mother and aunt while his father contributed a few remarks when his wife chided him.

"Yeobo, how many times do I have to tell you not to read at the table?"

Just then, a dressed-up Noel, still half-asleep, walked into the room.

Noel climbed onto your lap and gave you a sleepy grin. "Tante," he mumbled, his eyes half-closed.

"Aw, my baby is tired," you cooed, ruffling his hair. You turned gesturing to everyone present in the room. "Noel, say good morning."

"Good morning," he yawned, and you quickly covered his mouth with your hand, amused by his sleepiness.

Their eyes were filled with love at his cuteness. Your father-in-law put aside his newspaper and they all smiled in reply to his greeting.

"Come here to Grandpa, Noel," your father-in-law called, and you kissed Noel's forehead. He hopped down from your lap and did his penguin walk to the head of the table. Your father-in-law picked him up and asked, "How was your sleepover? Was it fun?"

Noel nodded his head against his chest. "Yes, we watched Hercules and then played with cars. Somi even—," he yawned, and the older women were awestruck again, "then we jumped on the bed, but we stopped because Aunty told us it's not good to jump; someone can get hurt." He rambled sleepily, and you and Wonwoo exchanged amused looks as he sipped his tea. "Then we played a pillow fight and then fell asleep. Aunty put us to bed."

"Oh my, our Noel did so much! He must be tired," your mother-in-law cooed. "What would you like to eat?"

"Noel's face lit up. "Nutella bread."

Your father-in-law gestured to the maid to bring Nutella bread. As she left, you chided him, "Chocolate first thing in the morning?"

"But I wanna have it," he whined.

"Still—"

Your father-in-law interjected, "Let the child have what he wants."

You looked at him and then at Wonwoo, and after a moment's consideration, you agreed. "Fine, but have some water and fruit first."

He began pouting, but Wonwoo gently said, "Listen to your Tante, Noel."

Your father-in-law pushed a plate of fruit in front of Noel and softly asked, "What would you like first apple or banana?" He picked up a fork to feed himself.

You and Judge Haeri shared a smile before returning to your breakfast.

As you sat in the car, Noel now fully awake and engrossed in his tablet, you bid your parents-in-law and Judge Haeri goodbye. You kissed their cheeks, promising Noel would visit them soon.

When you tried to sit in the driver's seat, Wonwoo gripped your hand, his face slightly pale. "Please, Y/N, I insist."

You nodded and settled into the passenger seat. The drive was mostly silent. Noel was busy doing his online assessment homework, and you replied to Victor's email with the shortlist of representatives who would take over the legal matters of the Switzerland branch.

you felt a sudden, chilling sensation upon receiving as you opened an unread text from a private number. The feeling of fear, dread, and confusion washed over. It was like an electric shock running down your spine, making you turn your attention to the rearview mirrors, checking if there was anyone following your car. Then, you turned to look at Noel, who was still absorbed in his homework.

"Are you okay?" Wonwoo's voice was laced with concern.

You took a shaky breath and tried to steady yourself. "No, nothing."

"Are you sure?" Wonwoo's eyes flickered to you for a moment, then back to the road.

As the car passed through the scenic greenery, Wonwoo's voice broke through your tense thoughts, "You look like someone's chasing you."

You swallowed hard and glanced at him, "Are you feeling car sick? Do you want me to pull over?"

You leaned back in your seat, the picturesque landscape trying to offer solace, "No, it's fine. Just drive; I don't want to be late."

He persisted, his voice laced with concern, "You know you can tell me if something's wrong."

You responded with a non-committal hum, your fingers typing a message to Rema.

| Meet me in the office. In court atm | | It’s alright, just meet me when you get the time. But today itself! Ok, g2g, his lordship is here 🙇‍♂️|

You locked your phone and kept it inside your bag. There was no use overreacting; this wasn't the first time. Instead, you began making a mental checklist of all the things that needed to be done. As you contemplated your tasks, you felt a comforting hand on your thigh. You turned and looked at Wonwoo, even though his focus remained on the road. You simply rested your hand on top of his as the cityscape unfolded around you.

"Hey, Wonwoo, can I ask you something if you don't mind?" you inquired.

"Sure, anything," he replied.

"When you were young, did your grandparents give in to all your whims and demands and make your parents do the same?" you asked.

Wonwoo thought for a moment before responding, "Well, my parents were usually busy working, so my grandparents raised me. My grandma used to spoil me, but my grandpa made me work for it."

"Ah, I see," you replied, keeping your true thoughts hidden.

"Is this about what happened at the breakfast table today?" he asked.

You remained silent, but Wonwoo seemed to understand your silence.

"Y/N, they feel guilty about the time they couldn't spend with me when I was little. That's why they might be projecting it onto Noel, or if we have our own kids, onto them," he explained, his voice heavy with the weight of family expectations. "That's why they were so worked up when they thought Noel would be all we have."

You leaned over to check on Noel, who was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. "So they're holding onto hope for us to have kids of our own?"

Wonwoo sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "I just told them that to buy some time and understanding, you know."

Fearing your conversation might wake Noel, you suggested, "Let's talk about this later." With that, you withdrew your hand from on top of his, allowing the two of you to continue your drive in silence.

Half an hour later, Wonwoo stopped in front of your office building just as you were about to exit. He said, "Aren't you forgetting something?" You turned back and took the laptop bag from the back seat.

"Are you sure you're not forgetting something else as well?" he teased.

You let out a sigh, then leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek, near his lips. You weren't exactly thrilled with him at the moment. He smiled and said, "Thank you for the kiss, but I meant your handbag."

You looked down and picked up your handbag from where it was by your feet. Noel started giggling in the back seat, and Wonwoo just laughed.

"You're unbelievable," you grumbled as you slammed the car door. You waved goodbye to Noel and gave him a flying kiss. He leaned against the steering wheel, waving back at you. You just gave him a glare before turning and walking inside the office building.

"Noel," Wonwoo said as they drove away.

"Yes, Dad?"

"Isn't your Tante cute?"

Noel thought for a moment and replied, "I think Tante is very pretty."

Wonwoo chuckled and said, "Well, there's no doubt about that."

As they both drove away, Wonwoo dropped Noel at home, changed his clothes, and then headed to the office. … "Ok, earth to Y/N," Rema snapped her fingers. "Come back, we were discussing something important here."

You shook your head slightly, refocusing on the conversation. "Yes, fine. I'll meet you by the end of the week with a rough draft. Please ask your asset manager to contact me. What are you going to do about Noel's custody?"

Rema leaned in attentively. "About that, listen carefully," you began.

Part 2

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 17 - Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader 🗡️ word count: 15.6k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️ chapter warnings: excessive drinking to numb/forget; so much fucking tension lolol; Hwasa (yes, that is the warning); new nickname for the bingo card (doll/dollface); Jeongguk is a flirty little shit & he got his eyebrow and lip pierced; mc learns to dance; use of "whore" (not derogatory but also kind of derogatory); smoking weed; mc confessing to "going all ways" (sorry straight readers, but i don't know how to not write a queer mc); mc has some complicated feelings and is doing her best; Jeongguk sometimes says the wrong thing but he is also doing his best; a healthy amount of crying; mention of dead moms; discussion of drug use & addiction; inexplicit discussion of sex (sorry lads, the smut is in the second half. it's worth the wait!!!)

🗡️ note: this chapter spans about three weeks, and there is no clear definition of time in between some scenes because mc is just kind of...dealing with the passage of time in her own way. so if it seems kind of disjointed, that is because it is meant to. also, as you may have seen, this chapter wound up being 30k words, so i have broken it in two parts and beefed up some of the scenes. i intend to post chapter 18 very, very soon. ok i love you, enjoy!

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin!

🗡️ posted on june 2023 | read on ao3

You love Yoongi; there is no question about it. 

Despite the hurt and confusion and pain, one thing that you are certain about, above all else, is that you love him. 

And that is why you drink. 

You drink to numb the myriad feelings. You drink to pass the time. You drink to forget. With a twinkling haze of intoxication, loud club beats, and bright lights, you drink, and drink, and drink. 

Jimin caves instantly on his insistence to not teach you how to dance, and you realize that he is not only a brilliant dancer, but that he seems to really enjoy having someone around to join him. Behind Paradise is a ballet studio that he owns and rents out to instructors. When he has free time, he goes there to practice in front of the wall of mirrors while some sultry melody plays on an old-fashioned boombox in the corner. 

Sometimes he throws on a hip-hop beat and does experimental moves with his body, contorting his limbs in square, jarring movements. Other times he drifts gracefully through the space to ballet pieces, muttering about Tchaikovski, Prokofiev, and other names of long-dead men that you struggle to pronounce. He is always magnificent—a true artist of his craft. 

It takes no time at all to become a friendly face at Paradise. Within just a few nights, the cocktail waitresses, dancers, bartenders, and regulars all seem happy to greet you. Jimin has introduced you to everyone as dove, a nickname you quickly warm up to, which is what everyone there calls you. 

Everyone, that is, except the new bar manager, Jeon Jeongguk. 

At Paradise, under the flashy red, purple, and fuchsia lights, he calls you dollface, or doll for short. And at first, you fucking hate it; the words stick like bile to your tongue, heavy and tacky. 

But the more he struts over with his black satin shirt unbuttoned just a little too low, hair slicked back, standing too close with his sticky-sweet whiskey breath and muttering shit like, "Looking gorgeous tonight, doll," you begin to warm up to it a little. 

"What happened to buttercup?" you teased the first time he tried the new nickname, and he rolled his eyes, chewing on a piece of pink bubblegum wide-mouthed like an adorable a fucking cow as he said, "That was the old me, dollface; I'm not the same person I was yesterday."

It should come as no surprise that Jeongguk is really beginning to grow on you. Now that he works the bar and you see him a lot more often, his attitude is much softer. He still teases you, and at times, it makes your fucking blood boil, but there is a softness to his gaze, especially when his smile stretches wide, that makes your tummy do a backflip whenever his presence lingers. 

All of this is extra dangerous in your current situation because the last thing you need while on sabbatical from both of the men who you continue to be in some unnamed but deeply romantic relationship with, is Jeon Jeongguk making you feel giddy. Try as you might to convince yourself that your feelings are purely a product of your loneliness, you know that is untrue; your feelings for Jeongguk had already begun to sprout, and, as time goes on, they continue to grow. 

You are also finding yourself charmed by Jeongguk's second-in-command, a wisp of a woman with a wide smile and even wider hips named Ahn Hyejin—stage name Hwasa. Hyejin is tiny, barely standing taller than Jeongguk's shoulder with her sharp stiletto heels on. But she commands a room, voice booming and deep when she needs it to be, making all the dancers do exactly as she says. 

Although you are surrounded by beauty in a place like Paradise, nobody steals your attention like Hyejin. Her beautiful diamond-shaped face is always made up with sharp black eyeliner and bright red lipstick. With wide, dark brown eyes that pierce into your soul, all it takes is one pointed smirk, and you are practically melting to her feet. She is always dressed a little revealing, showing enough skin that your eyes continuously trail back to her, just to get another glance.

You understand why men wage wars over love and lust. Hyejin is living proof of why so many sonnets and classic literature pieces are steeped in maniacal desperation over a woman some lonely man saw at a passing glance one time. 

Hyejin was once a dancer, too, but she worked her way into a management position, and all the family men who come to the bar treat her like a sister, including Jeongguk, who only reluctantly calls her Hyejin-noona because she is two years older than him and likes to insist on the nickname. 

She teases Jimin at times, too, being several months older than he is, and she uses it to her advantage when she wants him to do something for her. Jimin always grumbles, rolling his eyes while fulfilling her requests to make the stages and dress rooms better for the dancers, but he does everything out of love for her, and for his dancers, and he is grateful to have her on his management team, giving him advice on how to improve.

Hyejin is, in a word, amazing.

"I see the way you look at her," Jimin teases you tonight the moment she walks in sporting a red one-piece latex bodysuit with long sleeves and a deep v-collar, putting her thighs on glorious display. She wears matching red thigh-high boots, and her long, dark brown hair falls past her shoulders in waves.

Although you turn your head in the direction of Jimin's voice, your eyes stay on Hyejin as she struts over to the bar where Jeongguk is leaning forward on his elbows, getting his attention by draping herself over him and slamming her hip against his side. 

"Hmm?" you finally ask when seeing the two of them standing side-by-side has your cheeks feeling entirely too warm, though it still takes a few stray seconds to pull your gaze to Jimin. 

He has one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised, and he tongues the inside of his cheek, making you feel even more embarrassed. You are only human…what does he expect from you?

Tonight, Jimin wears silver shimmer on his eyes, with his brown hair styled off his forehead. His black satin button-up is undone to the center of his chest, and it is tucked into very tight, fitted black slacks, styled with black boots. 

Everyone at Paradise is honestly so breathtaking; it is no wonder the place brings in so many high-rollers willing to spend top dollar. Although you are determined to keep Jimin as a friend only—not that he has ever shown signs of wanting more from you—you still find yourself stunned by his beauty.

"Gonna start calling you fawn instead of dove," Jimin teases, and you snicker at the wordplay, unwilling or able to deny you have been fawning over Hyejin since the moment you met her. 

"I need a pet name bingo card," you tease, scrunching your nose to feign annoyance, despite finding it cute. 

You smell a familiar perfume—bright floral and lightly fruity—dance softly in the air before you feel an arm sling around your waist, and you take a fortifying breath before turning to find Hyejin's beaming red smile inches from your face. 

"Hey, dove," she greets in a deep, sultry tone that makes every little hair on your body stand up. 

"Hey, Hyejin," you respond as your cheeks become hot.

"What are you up to tonight?" she asks, giving your waist a squeeze before sliding her arm away but staying just as close. "Practicing any more of your dance moves?"

You giggle and shake your head, feeling nervous about talking to her, of all people, about dancing. Once Jimin let it slip that he was showing you floor moves, both Hyejin and Jeongguk began hounding you for a demonstration. 

"Ahhhh, probably not," you respond, sounding just as awkward as you feel. "I was planning on sitting here tonight and drinking all of Jimin's expensive whiskey for free."

Hyejin pouts and it sends your heart haywire, making you nearly cave. "I want to see your moves," she says in a sweet, baby voice that has you floundering for words—deciding that you would probably do anything to satisfy her. 

"Maybe once I feel more confident," you respond demurely, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

This seems to satisfy her, and she winks as she says, "Looking forward to it," before walking off to the dressing rooms to check on her dancers. 

"Holy shit," you mutter under your breath once she is gone, catching your breath as if you had just run a marathon. 

Jimin scoffs, teasing you as he says, "You are such a whore," and you laugh with him, rubbing your palms over your face. The effect that she has on you must be as obvious to her as it is to everyone else, and the prospect of that makes you nervous.

You have begun to dress a little nicer when you visit Paradise, starting from the first night Hyejn was introduced to you—wearing the more casual designer dresses that Jimin graciously brought from your room at the mansion, and letting him do your hair and makeup. She always gets a little too close when you have your cleavage showing, so you have been displaying it more and more lately.

"She's just so pretty," you complain as if it is an inconvenience, making Jimin laugh anymore. 

"Careful, doll," Jeongguk's voice speaks way too close to your right ear, causing you to gasp and flinch, turning in the direction of the sound. "Keep flirting with her and it might make me jealous."

You scoff and lean away from Jeongguk, who only crowds closer, teasing you with a grin. Recently, Jeongguk has gotten his eyebrow and lip pierced, both on the right side—your left—and he keeps his hair cut short with a sharp, dark undercut. Today, his hair is styled in a swoop over his forehead, and his delicate, floral musky scent is dizzying the closer he gets. 

Since working at Paradise, Jeongguk has begun to dress a little differently, and you find yourself unable to keep from sneaking glances at the slivers of skin he kept hidden behind buttons and t-shirts before. He continues to don his standard all-black attire, but he has also switched to satin, much like Jimin. His shirts are always unbuttoned to the center of his toned chest with no undershirt, and tonight he has several silver chains of various lengths and widths cascading from his neck. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," you tease as you take a step away from Jeongguk and spin on your toes, toward the bar. A sexy R&B song plays loudly, and you swish your hips to the rhythm, knowing without having to glance back that he is watching you. 

And although you tell yourself that you should not enjoy his attention so much—or anyone's attention, for that matter—you revel in the thrill it gives you. Yoongi and Namjoon have both encouraged you to pursue him, anyway…surely they wouldn't mind if you have a little innocent fun. After all, you have no idea when you may see the two of them again.

Nights at Jimin's house are lonely. His mansion is huge and empty, and you prefer not to spend much time there by yourself, which means you tend to be at Paradise from late evening to mid-morning most nights. At first, you thought your sleep schedule would adjust and you would become a night owl just like Jimin and Jeongguk, but as the days wear on, you find yourself exhausted, floating through a realm of half-wakefulness. The drinking likely does not help. 

But what other choice do you have? Despite the deep ache behind your ribs, it feels too soon to return to Namjoon. During a brief phone call shortly after returning from Paris, he mentioned Yoongi was in the countryside at a facility to help him get past the first three weeks of withdrawal. 

From time to time, you find yourself wondering how long it has been since you returned from Paris. It could have been weeks, but it could have been days; you have been disinterested in keeping track, finding the tangible passage of time too painful to confront. You figure the time will come when they are both ready to return to you and not a moment sooner; no use dwelling on it.

On the nights when all you wish to do is let go and forget, you either sit at the center stage and watch the strip shows with a drink in hand, or you head to the upper-level VIP section of the club and dance by the railings. When you are feeling outgoing, you find a group of drunk, friendly women by the back bar to become single-use friends with for the night and dance until bar close. 

Back when you first moved into the mansion, Paradise was apparently a dance club with a brothel beneath, just like Serendipity. But during the weeks leading up to your Paris trip, Jimin had been working on getting the space remodeled—hence why you had not seen him around much, for a while. There still is a dancefloor, but it is rather compact near the back bar; not too many people come to Paradise just to dance. 

The main room now consists of three stages—two smaller ones on either side of the room, and one large stage in the center, all equipped with a spinning poll. Everything is made up of dark wood, black leather, and chrome.

Beneath Paradise, there are still brothel rooms, but it is a very hush-hush affair that not too many patrons seem aware of. A patron can book any of the dancers for a private strip show and lap dance in a back room, but anything explicitly sexual is kept strictly to the lower level, and unless someone knows how to ask for it, they will get removed from the premises in a heartbeat. 

Jimin oversees all Paradise operations, but his main focus is on the activities that take place underground. Jeongguk and Hyejin oversee everything on the main floors, including the strip stages, the back bar and dancefloor, and the VIP bar upstairs, which is more or less just a mezzanine with a bar and booths that cost a pretty penny to use. 

Paradise is your oyster, and you more or less have free reign to do anything you would like.

During the nights when you do not feel like drinking, you go to the dance studio. Sometimes, Jimin goes along to let off some steam, either before he needs to run things at Paradise, or when he has a break in his duties. Other times, you go alone. 

You have been getting a hang of moving your body in ways Jimin has shown you, and in new ways that you are discovering on your own. And although you are nowhere near as flexible or fluid as he is, you are surprised by how your body can bend and move and stretch when you allow it patience and grace to learn how. You get why he, and the other dancers at Paradise, take so much pride in their craft. To the patron, it may just seem like stripping and ass-shaking for some loose notes, but to them, and to you, it truly is an art form.

On nights when you dance, the loneliness is not at all quelled, and you find yourself spacing out often and getting lost in your thoughts. But the more you move and let out all of your pent-up energy, the lighter the loneliness seems to feel. Some nights you are able to relax and feel at peace, rolling and stretching your body without a care in the world. It gives you hope that there truly may be a light at the end of this tunnel, no matter how long it takes for you to reach it.  

"Hey, pretty," a familiar sultry voice purrs, giving you goosebumps. 

It is some unknown night in the middle of the week, and you left a group of bachelorettes by the back bar to step outside and smoke a joint. It is rare that anyone is out here, and you are surprised to find Hyejin, of all people, leaning against the brick wall in this quiet, employees-only escape tucked away in a dark alley. This spot is nestled behind a tall fence, past which is a set of dumpsters and a narrow path out to the main roads.

Hyejin is beautiful as always, wearing a black long-sleeve crop top shirt and high-waisted short shorts, under which black garters stick out and are clipped to black thigh-high socks. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, slicked on the sides, and as she approaches, her mary jane heels clack against the pavement. 

"Hyejin," you mutter, swallowing thickly and abandoning the joint you had forgotten to light, cradling it in your fist. "Didn't realize you would be out here."

Tonight, she wears a nude lipstick rather than the red you have grown accustomed to, and her smile is not quite as warm. As she approaches, you are greeted by her lightly fruity, floral perfume. 

"Stepped out for a breather," she sighs, eyes falling to your hand before they meet your gaze. With a raise of her eyebrows, she adds, "Mind if I help you smoke that?"

Your brain has to reboot before you lift your hand to inspect its contents, and you remember what you came outside for, chuckling as you hold out the joint and lighter to her and say, "Of course. You can hit greens."

Every once in a while, Hyejin will smile shyly. She has a practiced shy smile that she uses on Jimin, Jeongguk, and plenty of her customers—honed to perfection to get just what she wants. But this one is soft and delicate, filling her beautifully golden-tawny-toned cheeks with a deep red blush. 

As she unfurls the soft smile that opens into a toothy grin, she reaches out both slender manicured hands and takes your offering, gently scratching her long, painted-black fingernails against your palms. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you giggle, squeezing your hands shut before opening them again.

"That tickles," you admit when she looks curiously, laughing softly at you.

"You're easily ticklish, hmm?" she mutters with the joint cradled between her lips, then flicks on the lighter, giving her face a beautiful golden glow while igniting the tip and sucking in. 

Hyejin takes a slow inhale followed by a sharp one, then holds her breath and passes the joint to you. When she lets out an exhale, smoke plumes in front of her, and you take a nice, big hit and hold it in, just the same. 

The smoke is warm in your lungs and licks at your senses. As you breathe it out, you feel a small sense of release, letting your shoulders drop and your body relax. 

When you turn to hand the joint back to Hyejin, she is standing much closer, leaning on the sliver of brick wall between you and the closed back door. You instinctively take a step back but rotate so that you are facing her, with barely any space between you. This time, when she smiles, her eyes have the sparkle that you are used to, but there is still an unmissable hint of sadness swirling in their deep umber depths. 

"You know, you can always talk to me if you need someone," she offers unprompted as she takes a hit and hands the joint back. 

You nod and mull it over, unsure where you would even begin. You have no idea what Hyejin knows about your situation, and although you think you can trust her, there is a part of you that is unsure whether you really want to talk about it, especially right now. 

"Thank you," you say before taking a hit and holding it in. Hyejin turns her head to blow the smoke away from your face, then she reaches out one hand and gently rubs her fingertips over your wrist, snaking them into the sleeve of your black denim jacket and sending a tingling warmth into your bloodstream.

You turn your head to exhale, then hold up the joint, asking, "More?"

"I'm good right now," she responds softly, and you move your hand away from her inviting touch to pinch the lit end off onto the ground. In your pocket is a small plastic tube into which you slide the joint, placing a little plastic cap over the end so that its smell does not stick to your clothing, and then you return your arm to its spot and allow her fingers to resume exploring your wrist and hand.

"I appreciate the offer," you try, hearing the way your voice trembles as the weed settles over you and fills you with a heavy-weightless warmth, buzzing in a deep thrum that tenses and relaxes and relaxes and relaxes. Sheepishly, with a giggle, you add, "I don't…really know where to begin."

Hyejin's hand sides into yours, palm against palm, fingers wrapping and holding on tight. 

"That's okay," she responds with a disarming smile. "I just wanted to offer, just in case. I know you have Jimin and Jeongguk, too."

At this, you laugh and sink further against the brick wall, tilting your head to rest against the scratchy, unwelcoming surface. "I do have them…for better or worse."

Hyejin laughs in understanding, then she rolls her eyes and says, "Jeongguk is so possessive; I thought the two of you were dating when you first started coming around."

"Oh?" you respond, a bit surprised by this news. Admittedly, when you first began coming to Paradise, you thought there was something going on between the two of them. It took a couple nights to realize that the way Hyejin hangs off of and pouts at her manager is all an act. "We're…not…" you begin, trailing off, unsure what to say.

"He clearly has feelings for you, regardless," she adds, and you search her face and fidget in place. Hyejin seems genuine and sweet, but you are so used to women in this line of work having ulterior motives and using kindness as a tool to gain information and an upper hand. But that does not seem to be what she is doing, and you let out the breath that had gotten trapped in your lungs and nod, chuckling lightly. 

"Yeah," you admit, feeling your cheeks warm. "He…certainly does."

"Oh my god," Hyejin teases, squeezing your hand until you look at her wide, beaming smile. "You like him too, don't you?"

Try as you might to shake your head and mutter, "No," she mirrors the movement, laughing and practically shouting, "Yes, you definitely do! You are a terrible liar, dove!" 

"It's…complicated," you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut with embarrassment. 

A sweet giggle flits through the air like a flutter of butterflies, and you open your eyes to find Hyejin regarding you with the sweetest smile. 

"I won't judge you," she assures, giving your hand another squeeze. "I don't know a lot about your relationship, but Jimin has mentioned you are dating two men, which…honestly, sounds like a dream come true."

Your heart seizes a bit around the word dating, and you swallow thickly and nod, unwilling to go down that path. Nothing has ever been established, despite your confessions of love and the huge, expensive fake-engagement ring that sits in your dark, empty bedroom. Sometimes, if you allow yourself to dwell on it, both the distance and time spent away from them make you worry that things may have an end date that is sooner than you expect. 

But none of this is pertinent enough information to share at a time like this, so you smile as convincingly as you can while saying, "It has its perks."

Hyejin returns your smile and closes the already meager space between the two of you to press a kiss against your cheek. Her mouth is soft and warm, and you let your eyes flutter closed, smiling from the smell of bluebells and apple that fills your senses. As she pulls her lips back, she stays close, cradling your chin with her hand while opening her mouth to continue speaking. However, the back door flies open, cutting off what she was going to say.

The sight of Jeongguk looking around the corner makes you gasp and back up, kicking up a flurry of feelings in your chest. Despite nothing happening between you and Hyejn, this feels like too precarious of a position to be caught in suddenly. Daresay, it may appear somewhat intimate. 

Jeongguk's expression is wide and shocked, but it quickly melts to intrigue. He steps outside and approaches, slinging an arm over both your shoulder and Hyejin's. 

"Well, what have we here?" he asks with a tone that is far too gleeful for anyone's good. 

"I was just telling our dove that I am here if she needs anything, and then I gave her a kiss on the cheek," Hyejin says, turning to Jeongguk and standing on her toes to plant her lips against his jaw. 

Jeongguk looks affronted and gasps as she says, "There, now nobody is left out."

"Listen, I'm not here to break up whatever is going on between my favorite girls." Jeongguk says, gaze on you as he raises an eyebrow and adds, "I just didn't know our doll swings both ways."

Feeling indignant and a little claustrophobic, you shrug away from Jeongguk's arm and give his shoulder a shove. 

"For your information, I go…all ways…" you mutter with a grimace, trailing off because you do not owe him an explanation. Labels for sexual orientation may work for some, but they have never been your thing; you like people for people, and it is as simple as that. Defensive, you add, "But she was just giving me a friendly little kiss on the cheek, so it doesn't matter."

Jeongguk grunts unconvincingly, then leans in close to say, "But a kiss between friends can easily spiral into something more, can it not?"

With that, Jeongguk takes a step back, leaving you standing shell-shocked and ready to smack him. Jeongguk winks and says, "Hyejin-noona, when you're ready, I have some things I wanna go over with for tonight," then he walks inside. 

Hyejin holds out her elbow, asking, "Shall we?" and you lift a hand to slide against her soft skin, allowing her to lead the way. 

Once you are back inside, the bachelorette group is still at the back bar, drunker and louder than when you left them, and you wave Hyejin and Jeongguk off as you walk over and allow the women to pull you into their chaotic little group for shots. 

You wake up late in the evening with a hangover after hanging with the bachelorette group the night and morning before, taking shot after shot of overly sweet liquor that was far too strong for its own good. It feels like it has been ages since you have felt so awful, and the thought of having even a drop more of alcohol makes your stomach churn.

So, tonight, rather than go to Paradise, you decide to visit the dance studio to practice the floor moves Jimin has been teaching you. Although you are still certain you have no desire to dance at the club, practicing the moves has been cathartic. And it helps you slow down on drinking. Being a lush for a while has definitely been one way to handle your myriad tumultuous emotions, but the hangovers are too frequent, and after what you felt earlier today, you are eager to change your ways.

Dancing also makes you feel sexy. You enjoy watching the way your body can curve and flex, bending and swaying in ways you had never really attempted before. Tonight you alternate between taking moves slowly on the floor, facing away from the mirrors, before attempting to add speed and flow to them while watching your reflection. 

With the cassette mixtape that Jimin has scribbled Whore Mix onto playing through the boombox, you stretch on a dark purple yoga mat that sits in the center of the floor while a sultry voice sings and raps over a beat that begs your hips to move, with the mirrors to your left and the studio door behind you.  

The approaching click-clack of boots against the wooden floor that greets you does not strike you as odd at first; you have grown accustomed to Jimin and his affinity for boots. So you continue practicing without turning to greet him.

Anchored back on your elbows, sitting on the mat on your left hip, with both legs bent, you stretch your right leg straight and fan it out at an angle lifted in front of you. In the same fluid motion, you lift your left leg, creating a v-shape in the air. Then you curl your legs in, trying to perfect the graceful movement that Jimin is so good at, twisting until you are on your right hip.

Only when clapping echoes through the room do you realize that the boots had stopped moving and that the tell-tale frenetic energy Jimin always brings to the studio is missing. You turn with a gasp and find Jeongguk standing in the center of the room, wearing his standard all-black. His button-up is undone enough to show a dip of his chest, as always, with no shirt underneath, and it is tucked into black slacks that are so fitted, the material strains against his thighs when he shifts from one foot to the other. 

"My, my," Jeongguk teases, approaching before squatting beside you. "What have I walked in on?"

Instinctively, you lean away, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. You sit wearing a tight purple sports bra and very tight, very short black athletic shorts, making you self-conscious to be met with such a hungry stare, especially knowing that he had been watching you, just now. 

"Jeongguk," you mutter, having to clear your throat to get more sound out. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to see if Jimin was here. Wanted to run a few things by him."

You nod, feeling like a fish out of water with how your mouth hangs open. Jeongguk's cologne is stronger than usual and a little different tonight—musky and floral with hints of spice—and you find it incredibly intoxicating. 

"But what I found is far more enticing," Jeongguk continues with a smirk.

Silence falls between you, and you feel your hands prickle with sweat. All you can think about is that kiss in Hong Kong and the chemistry you found in his lips—how delicately he asserted control but never pushed or pulled too much, causing you to unravel in moments. You want to feel that again—want to feel him again—so much that it seems like a bad idea for you to be left alone with him, like this. Flirting in the club, with people around, is one thing, but here, alone, seems dangerous.

Jeongguk stands, and you let out a heavy breath, then swallow a lump, feeling relief wash over you at the thought of him leaving. But then he walks over to the corner, to where some black chairs are shoved together, and he grabs one. Anxiety washes over you when he begins to bring the chair over, boot heels echoing loudly against the floor as he places it beside you and has a seat. He spreads his legs and leans forward, resting his wrists against his knees, tattooed hands so close you could reach out to him. 

With his lips tugged into a sharp grin, he says, "Let me see that move again."

You must look as stunned as you feel, blinking up at him, because he chuckles and raises his pierced eyebrow, clearly amused by your lack of response. 

"Come on, dollface," Jeongguk teases, leaning even closer and dropping his voice far too low for comfort. "Don't be shy."

Even as nervous as you are under his piercing stare, you like the attention he gives you. But continuing what was started between you without Yoongi or Namjoon present feels wrong, and it stirs up guilt and shame, starting in your tummy and working its way to your throat. You want to show Jeongguk your moves and crawl to him, grind your hips over his lap until he calls you noona and begs you for more. But not here. Not like this. 

Luckily, the click-clack that actually belongs to Jimin's boots storms down the hallway and into the room, giving you an out. 

"I told you to meet me in my office," Jimin complains, approaching with his hands on his hips, one balled into a fist that holds onto a manilla envelope. "Why did you come here? To bother her?"

"I must have misread the text," Jeongguk responds, eyes still on you while they glimmer mischievously before turning his attention to Jimin. "Office…dance studio…same thing."

Jimin lunges forward and slaps the envelope against the back of Jeongguk's head, saying, "Not the same thing, and you know it!" before shoving the document into his hands. 

You watch somewhat stunned as Jeongguk's mouth falls agape, and he chuckles. Then, as he begins to open and read through the contents of the folder, you take your leave, rolling the yoga mat in your hands as you walk away. Draped over one of the black chairs in the corner is a black hoodie and sweatpants, and you pad over, set the mat onto a chair, and slink into the garments, keeping your hair tucked into the shirt and the hood pulled low over your face.

"Gonna head back to work," Jimin says in a flurry, exiting just as fast as he arrived with the folder in his hand. "Come to the club if you want. Or call me if you need anything."

With a nod, you turn on your toes and begin for the door.

"And just where are you going?" Jeongguk asks, stopping you in your tracks and pushing a sigh from your lungs.

"Home," you say before your lips flounder, and you correct yourself, heavy-blinking. "Jimin's place."

With a hum, Jeongguk stands and says, "I'll drive you," picking up his chair to bring it back to where he got it from. 

Although you have made no plans for a ride, you know that Hoseok was at the club earlier, and you had planned to call and see if he was around. Jeongguk giving you a ride would definitely be convenient, but is that something you want right now?

"You have work to do," you insist, shaking your head and feeling nervous at the thought of being in a vehicle alone with him. 

But Jeongguk sets the chair down, takes you by the back of the arm, and begins to usher you rather forcefully out the door. As your sneaker heels dig into the wooden floor, rubber squeaking with each step he makes you take, you feel petulant, and you are dragged to the dark hallway before you manage to yank yourself out of his grasp and take an uneasy step back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you ask, feeling anger rise and fighting the urge to slap him. 

"What?" Jeongguk says through a chuckle, looming over you while he steps forward, closing the distance with each step you take backward until you hit the wall. "You're dancing like a whore now, so I figured you wanted to be treated like one, too."

Although you feel anger buzzing through you like a livewire, sending every nerve on high alert, more than anything, you feel deflated. Despite Jimin jokingly using that word to tease you, there is something about the way Jeongguk says it—something almost sardonic and mocking in his tone, met with how forcefully he dragged you out of the room. It settles like bile in your guts and makes you feel extremely uncomfortable. 

But, rather than put up a fight and challenge him, you storm away, shoving past his weak attempt to hold you back as you stomp toward the door. 

"Hey," Jeongguk calls, heavy footsteps trailing behind you. "What's the matter with you?"

Unable to hold in your rage, you spin on your toes, shoving your palms against Jeongguk's chest as you say, "What's the matter with you?"

Jeongguk hardly flinches, and when you step forward to push him again, he grips onto your wrists and holds you still, tugging you close to him but not in a way that is meant to be rough or suggestive. He almost looks worried, brows knit as he studies your face. 

"Hey, hey," he mutters, holding onto you just tight enough that you have no choice but to stop lashing out. 

Somehow it works. Maybe because you are exhausted, or maybe it is the floral, musky scent of his cologne—or a combination of things wrecking your tiny sense of sanity—but you hold still and let Jeongguk softly shush you while rubbing his thumbs over the knobby joints in your wrists.

"I don't like it when you talk about women that way," you say, feeling a swell of sadness fill your chest. You are aware that this is likely a trauma response to the way men have treated you in the past, but you need to at least attempt to establish a boundary. "I know we joke about it at the club, but the way you said it, I—" You close your eyes and shake your head. 

"When have I ever talked about women that way?" Jeongguk asks, voice sounding more defensive than apologetic. "Look, I was joking. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it, okay?" you insist, yanking your hands away until Jeongguk relents and folding your arms over your chest. "I was a whore before, Jeongguk. Is it so terrible? Do you really need to make it sound so demeaning? Yoongi's mother was a whore, too, you know."

Jeongguk's face pales, and he appears angry for a split moment, but you do not attempt to argue. Perhaps it is out of pocket to bring up Yoongi's dead mother, but you were a part of the honey bees who came after her; you belonged to the same organization, come hell and high water. 

"You're right," he says, taking a step back and sliding his hands into his pockets. "I don't look down on sex workers, and I shouldn't talk as if I do. I'm sorry I offended you. I know that we make jokes, and I guess I got carried away. I didn't consider how even playful actions might bring up bad memories for you, and I get what that's like."

Surprised and unsure what to say, you rock on your feet a little before settling on, "Okay."

"My mother was a whore too," Jeongguk adds, stepping forward slowly. "I never held it against her. Even when it got her killed, I never thought badly about her."

There it is, once more—the taste of guilt.

"Jeongguk," you say, taking a step forward, but he holds up his hand and shakes his head. 

"I offended you. I'm the one apologizing. Let me make it up to you by driving you home?"

You nod, conceding. "Alright."

The walk to Jeongguk's black sports car is quiet in a way that feels charged and awkward, but as you settle in, you begin to relax. Silence continues to hang during most of the drive, and all the while, you think of Yoongi. As you stare out at the city lights that fade the further you get from the city, you wonder how he must be doing and whether he will return home soon. 

"Did you supply the heroin?" you ask without thinking, staring out at the dark roads past the city line. 

As silence stretches, part of you worries that Jeongguk might be offended by your question, and you keep your eyes on the shadowed hints of trees, refusing to acknowledge the expression on his face. 

Finally, Jeongguk mutters a simple, "No," and you allow yourself to regard him. 

Jeongguk's jaw is tense, and he stares ahead at the road, tonguing on the inside of his mouth while both hands tightly grip the steering wheel.

"I didn't think you did," you respond softly, watching as his pierced eyebrow raises. "I don't know why I felt compelled to ask."

Jeongguk's gaze flicks to you, then back on the road. "Because you overheard my conversation with Namjoon that morning outside your bedroom. And because I was the one in charge of the drug operations."

"Yeah," you respond with a shrug. "But I don't think you would be that careless."

With a hum from Jeongguk, silence settles once more. You relax back in your seat, watching the road curve and become a little hilly before evening out. By now, you are familiar with this stretch, anticipating the sight of the property to come into view very soon. 

Whenever you pass the mansion these days, it is dark and quiet. If not for the outdoor security lights, it would be nothing more than a looming shadow—a silhouetted remnant of lives at a standstill. Namjoon must sleep in his own home, and from time to time, you consider walking down the dirt and gravel path to his property to see him.

But everything feels off balance in a way that you struggle to reconcile, and you feel like you need a little more time. You fish your phone from your hoodie pocket and check his Instagram feed, sad to see he has not posted anything to his story. 

Namjoon likes to post his workout routines, what he is listening to, and shots from trips to museums. Lately, though, he barely shares anything, making the lack of his presence feel heavier. You nearly ask Jeongguk to drop you off at his place, but you cannot seem to open your mouth to get the words out.

Instead, you text him. 

You: It's hard to keep tabs on you when you don't post story updates.

The message feels stupid, and you chew on the inside of your mouth once you hit send, staring at the screen and hoping that when he sees it, he does not find it annoying. Is there a chance of him being offended?

Three dots appear and disappear, over and over, making the anxiety in your tummy frantically build and crash like a wave pool that has just been switched on. But then he sends a simple little sentence that stirs both immense joy and deep, profound sadness— 

Namjoon: I miss you too, sweetheart.

—and you stare down at it until your vision blurs with tears.

As you open your mouth to ask to be taken to Namjoon's house, the dots appear and disappear again, and rather than speak, you clear your throat and wait for him to say more. 

"What is it?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn your head to him, confused at first, then realize he may have taken the sound as a feeble attempt at starting a conversation. 

"Oh," you respond, "Uh, nothing."

"Alright," Jeongguk says simply as he begins to turn into Jimin's driveway, waiting as the metal gate opens and allows you entrance.

As you pull into the drive, listening to the gate close behind you, the urge to cry becomes more difficult to tamp down. You swallow thickly, blinking away tears as Jeongguk stalls in front of the door. 

"You good?" Jeongguk asks, and you turn to regard him, but as soon as you open your mouth to tell him you are fine, the sounds die in your throat, and you have to swallow everything back down again. 

"Th-thanks for the ride," you manage to mutter as you get out of the vehicle and run to Jimin's door, punching in an eight-digit code and holding your eyes open as wide as you can manage for the retina scan. 

Once inside the dark, empty mansion, you sink against the cold, wooden door, feeling your chest heave with emotion so deep, you become nauseated. Gripped in your fist, your cell phone vibrates, and you lift the device in a shaking hand, checking the notification—

Namjoon: I miss your voice. And your smile. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

—which sends you crashing over the edge as tears pour and your voice comes out in a loud, terrible sob.

Your heart pounds as you cry, feeling the crushing weight of how deeply you miss Namjoon. Although each breath that enters and exits your lungs is a storm, rattling and shaking you to the core, you sniffle and hold your phone tightly in both hands as you place a call. It is late, but Namjoon is responding to texts, so perhaps he is free to talk. 

Namjoon picks up on the first ring, and when his deep, surprised voice says, "Hey, sweetheart," you sob even harder. How is it that something so tiny could make his absence feel so much heavier?

"Hey," Namjoon says, sweet and alert, "are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm okay," you cry, punctuated by a sniffle. "I'm at Jimin's. Everything is fine."

"Everything does not sound fine," Namjoon insists, and you smile softly at his concern, taking in a deep breath. "Do you need something? Can I…can I do anything?"

Namjoon still owes you an explanation, and it is not something you will easily let slip. But you are certain that you cannot continue to keep him at a distance, even if it means putting the much-needed conversation on the back burner. Although life with Jimin has been fun and a little exciting, the loneliness you feel from being away from Namjoon and Yoongi has a tendency to become excruciating. 

"Can I see you?" you ask weakly, like a child who is afraid of being scolded. 

The soft chuckle that proceeds, "Of course, you can," warms your heart, and you close your eyes and smile wide, clutching your phone tightly to your ear. "Give me ten minutes? I'll be right there."

With a wet, disgusting sniffle, you say, "Okay," and rub the back of your hand against your nose. 

"I'll be there soon," Namjoon says as he ends the call, and you nod to nobody as you drop your phone down and clench it to your heart. 

It takes effort, but you peel yourself from the floor and kick off your shoes before heading up the stairs to your borrowed bedroom, squinting as you switch on the light. The room is similar to your room in Yoongi's mansion, but the bedding and curtains are pinks and oranges—a permanent sunrise. 

As you cross the room to the walk-in closet, you pull off the joggers and athleticwear from earlier and find a cute, soft pair of pink sleep shorts and a matching, loose pink tee. Then you run into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Even though you did not drink anything tonight, you want to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruise, and you need to be minty fresh. 

By the time you are rinsing your mouth and wiping your chin off, you hear a loud knocking on the front door, surprised that ten minutes could have passed so quickly. You run out of the ensuite and find your phone on the bed to shoot off a message before heading down to let Namjoon in.

You: One minute!

Although the rest of the mansion is dark, Jimin also has security lights on outside, and they shine through the windows enough to cast a silver glow over the small mezzanine and down the steps. You scurry down quickly, feet carrying you light and fast, and when you get to the front door and fling it open, you hardly have a chance to take in the sight of Namjoon before he is crossing the threshold and lifting you into his arms. 

A sob quakes through you as you wrap your arms and legs around him, burying your face into his neck. He smells musky—a bit sweaty—but the bright cologne with gentle floral hints you are used to are present. Namjoon closes the front door, haphazardly steps from his shoes, and makes his way to the stairs, stepping slowly as he holds you tight. If you are not mistaken, it feels like his breathing shutters through him, and you wonder if he may also be crying. 

"I'm sorry," you find yourself muttering when the silence stretches on long and oppressive. 

Namjoon squeezes you harder. 

"No," he says softly, voice trembling, "sweetheart, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"I made you cry," you sob, feeling guilt and sadness fill your lungs until it hurts to breathe.

Namjoon chuckles and sniffles, reaching the top landing of the stairs and turning to the right, toward the only light in the home that is on. He says, "Making someone cry is a side-effect of being in love, I'm afraid," and your heart goes wild behind your ribs, bursting with affection. 

"I've missed you so much," you whimper against Namjoon's skin, and when he leans forward and attempts to put you down onto the bed, you tighten your limbs, clinging to him like a koala.

"Let me set you down so we can get comfortable," Namjoon suggests, and you shake your head, groaning as you hold on tighter. He sighs, and tries, "Come on, I want to see you. I want to kiss you."

Once his attempts are futile, Namjoon gets onto his knees on the bed and bends until you are lying on your back with him towering over you. You finally move your head away from his neck and heavy-blink as you meet his eyes—which are bloodshot and blinking back tears.

"I've missed you too," Namjoon says as he kisses you, soft and sweet and warm. "I'm so sorry for everything that happened. I should have told you about everything, but I was scared to."

Namjoon's kisses are salty and wet, and he trembles above you, gripping the blanket tightly in his fists on either side of your head. Finally, you concede to his need to get comfortable, and you press against his chest, rubbing your fingers over soft black cotton. 

"Hey, lay down," you say softly, pushing a little harder. "You were right, let's get comfortable."

Namjoon sighs through his tears and gets up onto his knees, then crawls over to the pillows and makes a feeble attempt at moving the bright pink and orange floral comforter away. You sit up and help him, then run to the door to close it before adjusting the dimmer switch, lowering the lights just enough so that you can still see him. 

When you turn back to the bed, Namjoon has figured out the comforter, which is bunched up at the end of the against his feet, and he is sitting against the wooden headboard with his hands in his lap, watching you with a soft expression while tear tracks shimmer against his cheeks. He wears a black tee and black joggers, with his legs extended out but one leg bent slightly at the knee, and he is breathtaking—just as you remembered him. Maybe even more so. 

He has gotten a haircut recently, just above his ears, making him look younger. And it is darker; a more natural color. Some time ago—maybe a few days, or maybe a week—Namjoon posted a mirror selfie of the cut, obstructed mostly by his phone, and you are happy to finally see it in person. 

As you get onto the bed, on your knees, Namjoon reaches for you, pulling against the backs of your thighs until you have no choice but to straddle his lap, giggling at his insistence. You settle and drape your wrists over his shoulders to rub your fingertips over the short hairs on his nape while Namjoon's smile oscillates between joy and sadness. 

"I want to tell you I'm sorry," you begin, without giving him a chance to speak. You have been thinking about this every sober waking moment of however much time has passed—and some intoxicated moments, as well—and you feel it is necessary to get it off your chest. Emotions rise as you gather your thoughts, and your next exhale comes out shaky. "I was angry in Paris, but the things I said to you and Yoongi did not come from the heart. I was hurt, and I still am, but…I don't understand addiction. I have no idea what Yoongi must be going through, and I—"

You choke on a sob suddenly as a flash of Yoongi's face comes into view. The hurt way in which he stared ahead, straight through you, while you screamed and cried and demanded to be taken home.

Gently, Namjoon rubs his hands up and down your back, covering you in comforting warmth. His smile is sad, but he does his best to show that he is listening and that he is receptive to what you need to say.

"I just feel so awful," you continue as tears fall. You are so tired of crying and hurting, but it is a necessary step in healing, and you do your best to let it quake through you and settle into your bones. "I love Yoongi. I don't want him to be in pain."

"He knows," Namjoon finally says, but you screw your eyes closed and shake your head. He may have an idea of what you are going through, but he needs to hear from you that you are sorry. You need to tell him, yourself. "Yoongi using again was a bit of a surprise to all of us. Although it is something I always fear may happen again, I really had no idea it would happen like that, especially on vacation."

"When is he coming home?" you ask, feeling hopeful.

"Less than a week," Namjoon responds, smiling sweetly as he lifts his hands to thumb away the tears on your cheeks. "I have cleaned out the mansion, and Jeongguk has made sure the team taking over his responsibilities knows that heroin and other opioids are off limits. Jeongguk was already avoiding selling either in the first place, but he has reiterated that fact, to be on the safe side."

"That day, outside my room, you said there was a package with what looked like heroin," you say, watching as Namjoon's face screws up with worry. You grimace, adding, "I'm sorry I was eavesdropping."

"That…I still don't have all the details ironed out," Namjoon responds sullenly, "but I am certain that Jeongguk had nothing to do with it. Yoongi admitted that he had sent for the package on his own, and it arrived from overseas with a bunch of tailored suits. I don't know how he got a connect in Italy, but I really shouldn't be surprised; Yoongi knows people everywhere."

You nod somewhat listlessly, waiting for the crucial detail where Namjoon tells you he threatened the Italian guy, or found some way to rough him up—whatever the case—in order to keep him from sending Yoongi junk again. But when he does not continue, worry and sadness sink into your tummy like a brick. 

"So…" you begin, heavy-blinking and feeling at a loss for words before settling on, "...how do we make sure he doesn't use again?"

Although Namjoon continues to smile, his eyebrows pinch sympathetically, and he returns to rubbing your back. 

"We just love and support him," he offers, which feels both gigantic and minuscule, all things considered. "We continue to be there for him and…hope that it is enough."

"That's it, huh," you sigh, defeated. 

"Yeah."

Silence hangs, and you let your vision blur, attempting to sort out what you could possibly do. What if loving Yoongi is not enough? What if the pressures of his lifestyle only continue to press and press on him until he sinks another needle into his vein, desperate for relief?

"I wish he could just…not do this anymore," you mutter, blinking Namjoon back into focus. "Maybe having all this power and responsibility is too much."

With a sad chuckle, Namjoon nods. "Yeah, well…the only way out of a life like his is death."

Although that is not the response you want, it is the one you expect, and you lean heavily into Namjoon, accepting it for now. There is not much more to say until Yoongi is back. 

"Can we sleep?" you ask, feeling your body become weighted down with exhaustion and warm with a comfort you have not felt in what has seemed like eons. 

"I would love to sleep," Namjoon responds sweetly, releasing you from his hold as you slide down to the bed and begin to reach for the comforter. 

Namjoon gets out of bed to turn off the light, and for a split moment, in the cold, crushing dark, you begin to feel anxiety rush over you. In the cold, crushing dark, you are alone, alone, alone, isolated and heavy and so terribly scared. But then the bed dips, and warmth slides into place beside you. Limbs settle with a familiar weight, and suddenly, the darkness feels and smells like home.

"I love you," you tell the darkness, gasping when lips graze your cheek, your nose, and finally, your mouth. 

"I love you, too," the darkness tells you sweetly as you begin to drift to sleep.

Tonight, you did not get to kiss Namjoon until your lips bruised, but you feel satisfied with the fact that you were able to lighten the burden of heavy sadness just a little. And, in a matter of days, when you have the same conversation with Yoongi, it may not go the same way, but at least the three of you can continue to take steps in the right direction, and that allows you to sink into sleep with a smile on your face. 

When you wake up alone, your first instinct is to panic. You sit up with a start and check for any sign of Namjoon, but the ensuite door is wide open, and there is no sound coming from inside. The spot where he had slept is cold, and you begin to worry that it was all a dream and that he was never here at all. 

Frantically, you begin to search for your phone, which is not on your bedside table where you usually keep it, feeling the overwhelming urge to cry take over. What happened last night, and why is there no trace of him to be found?

With a deep breath, you close your eyes and run over the events of the night. You came in and changed, then you messaged Namjoon to let him know you were going down to let him in. Vaguely, you remember tossing your phone to the bed, and you begin yanking at your comforter, desperate to find it. 

Your phone must have been wrapped up in the bedding, because after only a moment of tussling and searching, you hear a nice loud thunk against the floor, at the foot of the bed. You let out an exasperated sigh and crawl to the edge, draping your body over the end as you reach and search for the device that has managed to find its way just under the bed frame. 

As soon as it is in your hand, you turn on the screen, eager to find evidence of Namjoon's existence, with your torso suspended in air. As soon as you see a notification from two hours ago, you smile and wiggle backward into a seated position to properly read it.

Namjoon: Hey, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I left while you were still asleep. I tried to wake you, but you were out cold. I'll be visiting Yoongi this afternoon. If you want to come along and you see this before 2 PM, let me know. Otherwise, I hope to talk to you soon. Thank you for letting me in this morning; I slept better than I have in weeks. I love you. 

Although affection blooms brightly in your chest, you feel sadness squeeze you tight, like an old friend. You do want to see Yoongi. You want to see him so badly, it hurts. But you are not sure you want to see him before he comes home. Wherever he is staying, and whatever state he may be in…you are not sure that you are prepared for that. 

It is only 1:45 PM, so you decide to call Namjoon. Not only are you eager to hear his voice once more, but you are not eager to voice what is in your heart over text. 

He picks up on the second ring, sounding a bit winded when he says, "Hey, sweetheart."

"Namjoon," you respond brightly, smiling widely. "Hey, I just woke up and saw your message."

"Ah," he responds, breathing heavily, "what time is it?" After a pause, he shouts, "Oh, shit, Gguk, I gotta go!" 

You laugh as you hear them chatter lowly, then say their goodbyes, imagining how adorable Namjoon becomes when he is frantic—eyes wide and worried while he flails his muscular limbs around somewhat aimlessly. 

"Gguek and I were working out," Namjoon says as you hear the sound of a door open and shut. "Lost track of time."

You smile, nibbling your lip. "Good thing I called."

"Good thing, indeed. So, did you—"

You don't mean to cut Namjoon off, but there is enough of a break between his statements, that you say, "Listen, Namjoon, I'm—" then halt, realizing you had spoken over him.

"Go on," Namjoon urges, and you close your eyes, listening to the sounds of his breathing, of birds singing around him, and of feet walking somewhat frantically down the dirt and gravel path between mansions. 

"I don't think I can go," you finally say, feeling meek and embarrassed as your voice drops and comes out with a tremble. "It's just…I don't know what to expect, and it…it scares me."

Namjoon says nothing for a few moments, and it makes you worry. But then you hear him keying in the passcode to his home and let yourself breathe. He is probably too stressed to be multitasking while in a rush. 

"Can I call you back? Or maybe we can talk about this later?" Namjoon finally asks, and you let out an even deeper sigh in relief. "I don't blame you at all for not wanting to come, but it feels like there is more you need to get off your chest. I have to take the fastest shower of my life, though, so that I can leave soon."

"Yeah, no…yeah. That's…" you stammer, squeezing your eyes closed and allowing yourself to smile while hot tears run from your eyes. Namjoon is so kind and understanding—so caring and giving. Affection burns for him, and you want to hug him so tight and never let him go. "If you want to tell Yoongi that we talked, I think it might make things easier for me later, but do whatever feels right…I don't know."

"I'll tell him what we discussed," Namjoon responds breathily as feet storm up a flight of stairs. "I know it'll make him happy to hear how you are doing, and how you have been handling things. I'm bringing him home in four days, so we can all sit down whenever you feel ready."

Four days is not soon enough, yet it feels like no time at all. Looming and terrifying, yet promising. 

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, Namjoon."

When Namjoon says, "I love you so much, sweetheart. Thank you for calling," your heart squeezes, and more tears fall, cascading like tiny waterfalls. 

"I love you, Namjoon. Drive safe."

"Will do. Bye."

You mutter, "Bye," but your finger is already pressing the end call button, giving Namjoon all the time and space he needs to get ready. And then you hug your phone tight to your chest and continue to cry. 

Somehow, the happy tears feel thicker and hotter than sad tears—more present and urgent. If Yoongi comes back in four days, that means it has been just over two weeks in Jimin's home. You heavy-blink in an attempt to conceptualize the time, feeling ashamed by how little of it you remember. Briefly, you worry that you may have imposed, but Jimin has never so much as hinted at that fact, so you allow yourself to let the idea go.

It is difficult, at times, to accept the many ways in which you are loved. It feels strange to look back on how you ended up tangled in this web, with these men. Part of you wishes you and Yoongi could start over—meet organically and fall together not because of proximity and a need to cure a deep, aching loneliness that had built over years, but because you simply want to.

But could you simply want to fall in love with the head of a crime syndicate? No, you think. Probably not. 

Still, how do you explain that to someone who asks? I was kidnapped as collateral, but we fell in love feels like a story not too many people would understand. Probably, the average person would ask if you were alright and attempt to help you find refuge. Probably, they would be in their right mind to do so. 

The next three days drag. Knowing that you will see Yoongi and Namjoon again soon has you a little on edge, but not necessarily in a bad way. Your dancing suffers for it, and you find your movements too stiff, too off-beat; your head and your heart are clouded, and you cannot seem to get your body to do anything. Still, you try. Wasting away drinking at Paradise does not feel like the best way to spend your lonely nights, but you want to wait for Yoongi's return before spending too much time with Namjoon. 

Although the three of you have different bonds and dynamics, you almost feel guilty at the thought of hogging Namjoon to yourself while Yoongi is out healing in the countryside. Despite knowing he would tell you not to worry—to be with Namjoon and keep him company. 

And, part of you thinks of this time as getting your last moments in with Jimin before moving out of his space. You have not voiced it, but you have been going out of your way to spend just a little more time with him after work, before the two of you crash for the morning and sleep, curled up on the couch with whichever anime he feels like playing in the background—currently, Chainsaw Man. 

Jimin is phenomenal company, and you have really enjoyed following him around the house while he cooks, practices impromptu dance moves around furniture, and talks about nothing and everything. Even in quiet, still moments eating ice cream in the glow of the television, you feel the bond that has formed quickly and effortlessly, thankful to have a friend and ally on your side.

Despite the budding friendship, Jimin remains a somewhat secretive person. You have learned that his upbringing was privileged and full of wealth, but his parents were not kind about his desire to chase his own dreams instead of taking over the family business, and they quickly cut him off when he went to school for contemporary dance. It took no time at all for Jimin to wind up houseless, using his beauty to sleep with wealthy men and women for a meal and a warm bed. 

When Yoongi's mother found Jimin on the streets, she took him in with the promise of a better life, but how he came to replace her is unknown. How long Jimin spent on the streets, the kinds of things he saw in that time…all of those details, he hides behind a bright, practiced smile, only given away by the sadness that pours from his beautiful, round eyes. 

"I see myself in you, dove," Jimin says often, usually accompanied by a side hug or a kiss on the cheek. 

And at first, it made you feel strange. Jimin has come so far that maybe, you had originally thought, he sees you as a pet project; someone who needs to be fixed and turned into something beautiful. But now, you know that is not true. You know that Jimin sees persistence and survival; he sees someone imperfect but caring who just needs a little push to understand and figure things out, at times. 

Everything he has, he gained with persistence and survival; nothing was handed to him. Yoongi and his men, and possibly Yoongi's mother, taught Jimin the skills he knows today, that make him who he is. None of them became this successful alone; all seven of them play a crucial role. Eight, now, with you. 

You feel sentimental tonight when you lean against the bar cradling a glass of whiskey that you have been nursing for the last hour. Tomorrow, Yoongi returns home, and although it has not been voiced aloud, you can tell that the prospect has Jimin and Jeongguk in a better mood. You even spot Seokjin, Hoseok, and Taehyung coming in and out of Paradise, and they all seem chipper. 

Jimin is done up with pink and silver stage makeup, with his eyes and lips bright and shining. He wears his standard black satin top tucked into tight, leather black jeans, and tonight, he has a thick black rhinestone choker around his neck. 

Jeongguk, on the other hand, is pattern-clashing in a way that is both alluring and confusing. As standalone items, his silk, long-sleeve, plunging neckline leopard print shirt, and tight silver and blue floral lurex pants are solid choices. The shirt's neck falls nearly to his navel, showing beautiful topography of his chest—dips and hills of muscle and golden-tanned skin, accentuated by several mismatched gold necklaces; and the pants shine brightly in every light that dares grace his figure, drawing the eye to his muscular thighs and perky, round ass. But they look so strange and mismatched together, you cannot help but question what on earth he was thinking. 

"You sure have a staring problem, tonight," Jeongguk chides as he walks by, sending an inviting wink that makes you laugh far too boisterously.

"Just trying to figure out what you have going on, here," you respond with an incredulous smirk. "Did you get dressed in the dark, Gguk?"

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk responds, "Both items are Dolce and Gabbana, but okay."

And, without missing a beat, you say, "Pretty sure Dolce and Gabbana also produce plain clothes that would match better than this. Your black satin shirts would look really good with those pants, and…well, anything else would look good with that shirt."

"I don't expect you to understand fashion," Jeongguk teases, raking his eyes over your form as he takes a step closer. 

"Black, Jeongguk," you say, chin tilted high. "You have a closet full of black that would look phenomenal with both pieces."

With Jeongguk stepping into your personal space, that damned cologne hits you, and you begin to lose your composure. He really is suitable for smelling like a bouquet of wildflowers, especially with the spicy musk underneath; it is perfectly him. 

"I don't expect someone in boring Vuitton rags to appreciate the nuance," Jeongguk teases, voice dropping lower as he towers before you. 

"This dress costs as much as both that shirt and those pants combined," you bicker more quietly than before. The dress you wear tonight is certainly less flattering or flashy than what he wears—a Louis Vuitton brown and black knit mini dress with glitter thread mottling throughout. It has a square, rolled neckline and thin straps, but it hugs your curves nicely, falling mid-thigh. You raise your eyebrow to add, "Boss Min happens to like the way I look in Vuitton rags."

At the mention of Yoongi, Jeongguk softens, and you know you have won this round. Jeongguk scoffs, then slams back the rest of his drink, spinning on his shiny black leather boots before stomping off to where Hyejin and the dancers are congregated behind the main stage, going over something pertaining to the newly installed dance cages on either side of the bar, judging by how she points to them. 

You watch as Jeongguk walks away, allowing your gaze to linger on how those gaudy, silver-blue pants shimmer when they hug his ass, thanking your lucky stars that his silly fashion sense has, at the very least, provided you with a good show. 

When you turn back to the bar, you drink the rest of your whiskey and ask for another. The night is still young; the club has barely just opened and only a few patrons linger during the hours before the dancers take to the stages, but you have a feeling you are going to need to at least have a steady buzz to handle whatever bullshit Jeongguk is on. 

Two hours into your night, you are proven correct during a very flirty conversation with Hyejin about the dance cages—about how she thinks you should make your Paradise debut in one, asking if you would ever let her handcuff you to the bars—when the bartender informs you that the boss would like to see you in his office. 

Jimin seldom calls you to his office, but he is the only one who properly has one, so you head toward the back of the main room, past a security guard, and into a hallway that leads to Jimin's office, the dressing rooms for the dancers, and a meeting room that Hyejin and Jeongguk use when they need to. 

As you make your way to the door, you can hear the sounds of dancers chattering and laughing coming down the hall, and you assume that Jeongguk must be giving them their nightly pep talk in one of the dressing rooms. You knock twice on the office door, then try the handle. To your surprise, when you enter, the room is empty. 

Jimin has allowed you in his space alone plenty of times, so you make your way to have a seat in the leather armchair just in front of his desk. You decide to check your notifications while you wait and pull your phone from a small black purse that is slung over your shoulder.

The door opens and closes behind you, so you put the phone away before you have a chance to turn the screen on. And, instinctively, you stand to greet Jimin, surprised when you turn to find Jeongguk closing in, fast. 

Before you have a chance to speak, Jeongguk has the armchair shoved away, caging you against Jimin's desk, leaning close and low with both of his hands gripping the wooden surface. You practically sit against the edge, doing your best to lean back and away from Jeongguk, but he is a persistent, towering presence, and he wastes no time dragging his lips over your neck, just below your ear, sending a rush of arousal tingling through you at the touch. The scent of his cologne has your senses simultaneously dulled and on high alert.

"Jeongguk," you gasp, attempting to twist away but finding you do not want him to stop. "We can't—"

"I know," Jeongguk responds, voice deep and silky, lips dipping lower, dragging across your throat and leaving only the faintest hint of a spit trail. "Just want to tease you a little; make you squirm."

"Why?" you breathe, leaning back to create more space. 

When Jeongguk does not move, you lift your hands and press against his chest, attempting to push him back, but your palms slide on the silk shirt, and you wind up rubbing over his nipples, feeling metal under the drag of skin, causing Jeongguk to hiss as you gasp. Arousal builds and builds, and you squeeze your tights together, desperate to stave off the effect he has on you; you are, admittedly, touch-starved and somewhat feral. 

"I know you feel it, too," Jeongguk practically groans, still leaning way too close, voice spoken beside your ear. "We have undeniable chemistry."

"Of course I feel it," you respond, closing your eyes in an attempt to get your bearings while your heart pounds dizzyingly fast. 

Jeongguk asks, "Do you know how fucking hard it is to keep my hands off you?" in a tone that almost seems steeped in pain.

"Yes," you mutter softly, nodding shallowly. "I think I do."

With a sigh, Jeongguk finally takes a step back, but he stays close enough that you have to crane your neck; there is no room for you to stand away from the desk. The two of you stare at one another, and then Jeongguk scoffs and shakes his head. 

"Seeing you around so much has been…god, you drive me insane."

You chuckle, though you feel somewhat awkward being faced with his admission. Although, truth be told, being in Jeongguk's proximity so much during the last few weeks has also made you want to see him more and more; you know that, once you return to your normal life, you will come to miss him a lot. Or, perhaps, you can continue spending time at Paradise; there is nothing saying you cannot. 

"Last night, when I dropped you off," Jeongguk says, reaching up to gently cradle your chin in his hand, surprising you with his shift in demeanor, "were you crying?"

Although you glance away to respond, shyness rises, you nod slightly and say, "Yeah."

"Was it something I said?"

Quickly, you nod and return your gaze to Jeongguk, who looks genuinely concerned. "No. I was crying because I was missing Yoongi and Namjoon."

Jeongguk hums, drops his hand away, and takes a step back. 

Suddenly, the silence feels heavy, and you struggle to identify his reaction. He very clearly knows your involvement with both men, so why tense up at the mention of them?

"What's the matter?" you ask, unwilling to let anything weird hang between you. 

Jeongguk shrugs, but his eyes are on the floor, and it is clear that something is bothering him. 

"Jeongguk," you insist.

He sighs, and, without looking at you, says, "It just sucks that when things become normal again with you guys…I just…it's been nice to see you here."

"Ah," you respond. And you get it; it has been great to be around here and see him, Jimin, and Hyejin regularly. 

"But Yoongi will return and demand all your attention—" Jeongguk practically snarls, and you tut your tongue at him, staring incredulously as he balks at the interruption. 

"Yoongi does not demand anything from me," you say, standing up straight now that there is some space between the two of you. You feel defensive, but you can understand where Jeongguk is coming from; you really have not had any independence since moving into the mansion, but part of that is not having any direction or much desire to venture out, finding comfort and safety behind the familiarity of those walls. "Honestly, I have been loving it here. It's nice to leave the house for no occasion and see other people. I consider Hyejin and Jimin friends, and it has been so great having friends again. I don't want to suddenly stop seeing them. Or you."

"Won't you have your hands full with both of your boyfriends?" Jeongguk teases, and you are glad to see his mood has at least somewhat lightened; his smile has returned, even if his gaze remains sad. 

"Oh they definitely know how to keep my hands full," you respond with a wink, watching as Jeongguk's eyes and mouth widen comically. "But it is also nice having some space. Although I hate how all of this came about, I think taking a step back and allowing myself to really miss them and think about the many facets of our relationship has been important. I needed it."

"So I might actually see you from time to time?" Jeongguk asks, stepping close once more, seeming hopeful. It still amuses you when Jeongguk is all soft edges after so much time spent bickering with one another. 

This time, you step in close and rub your palms over his chest, making sure to drag your hands over his pierced nipples, smiling when he shivers beneath your touch. 

"We still have to finish what we started in Hong Kong," you say, voice dropped low and intentionally sultry. "I just haven't wanted to do anything without the others present…we haven't really discussed that, and I would feel too guilty leaving them out."

"I understand," Jeongguk responds, leaning into your touch and surprising you with a very soft, very chaste kiss on the lips before he mutters, "Taehyung will fucking kill me if we do anything without him."

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you drop your hands while taking a step back. Even after such a tiny taste, the urge to kiss Jeongguk is too great to stay in such close proximity. 

"We're going to have an entire audience, huh?" you ask, feeling more turned on by the prospect than shy.

Jeongguk chuckles and says, "Sounds like we will."

It almost feels surreal to discuss the topic of you and Jeongguk having sex so openly. Although you have had enough whiskey to give you a steady buzz, you are still clear-headed enough to spiral just a little over the thought of his body, and having it all to yourself. That is, unless the others want to play, as well; you really have no idea what to expect, and you are not certain you would deny them if they wanted to.

As you search for a way to end this conversation and return to the main bar before someone begins to notice the two of you are missing, Jimin comes barging in with his brows knit. Although you have done nothing wrong, there is a split moment of panic over how this may look, with the two of you in Jimin's office alone. 

But he simply glances between you and Jeongguk, huffs out a sigh, and says, "Oh, thank god. I was hoping to find you two in here."

"What's up?" Jeongguk asks, and you straighten out, worried that something may be wrong. 

"One of the regulars came in piss drunk and started harassing Hyejin. He groped her ass and when she slapped him, he got in her face. Security was able to intervene, but I need you to take him out back and fuck him up. Let him know shit like that doesn't fly at Boss Min's lovely establishment." 

Anger spikes heavily in your chest, and when Jimin turns to you and adds, "Dove, if you don't mind, I think she could use a friend," you nod, determined to do whatever it takes to make Hyejin feel safe. 

"On it," you say, walking past the men, down the short hallway, and out into the bar. 

Loud R&B music with a quick, enticing trap beat plays, and you stomp in your overpriced patent leather chelsea boots to the beat, storming into the main bar room like you own the joint and scanning the room for your girl. 

Standing at the main bar with her arms pulled tightly over her chest, is Hyejin surrounded by dancers. As soon as you approach, a girl who goes by Lily backs up and opens her arm wide to welcome you into the space. Hyejin is shaking when you drape your arm around her, hugging it loosely across her chest.

"Hey, beautiful," you say, and she turns and melts into you, throwing her arms over your shoulders and letting out a deep sigh. "Want to go out back and have a smoke?"

Hyejin hugs you tight and shakes her head, and you rub your hands over her back, waiting for her response. The dancers begin trickling out, having to get ready to perform, leaving pats on your and Hyejin's backs and soft words of support and encouragement. Once there is more space for her to breathe, Hyejin stands up straight and lets out another deep breath.

She is not crying, though her eyes are red, and when she looks at you with a frown, you gently place your hands at her temples and thumb at the smudged mascara under her eyes before muttering, "Perfect," with a grin. 

"I hate men," Hyejin says with a fake snarl, and you roll your eyes and nod dramatically, making her giggle. 

"Wanna talk about it?" you ask, and Hyejin shakes her head and says, "No. I want to dance."

Sitting on the bar is a half-empty pint of something bright blue, and Hyejin chugs it back, then leaves the empty glass behind and takes your hand, dragging you to one of the dance cages. The floor of the cage is raised about three feet from the ground and is a glowing octagon of rainbow color. Hyejin, wearing only a black satin bodysuit with lace trim and black stiletto heels, walks around to the back of the cage, closest to the nearby wall, and opens a door that blends in with the bars, then she takes a step up and hoists herself onto the platform. 

You follow behind and step up and into the cage, moving to the other side of the space to allow Hyejin to close the door. Although you are no stranger to dancing in sight of others, being in an elevated cage has your nerves spiked, and you wish you had taken a shot or three at the bar before agreeing to follow her. 

Hyejin wastes no time closing in on you with her fists around bars on either side of your head, and she holds on as she drops her hips low and swishes back up, all the while keeping her eyes on you. You sway to the beat with slower movements than the ones you watch Hyejin make, feeling entranced by her beauty and struggling to actually move the way she does. 

"Are you shy?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrow, and you chuckle, letting go of some of your anxiety while you nod and mutter, "A little."

Hyejin spins with her arms still lifted, and wraps them over your shoulders, then dips down again, rubbing her ass against your thighs before standing up straight. You realize too late that you are frozen in place with your arms somewhat bent, like a Barbie doll, and Hyejin turns and immediately starts to laugh, bending and flinging her hair in front of her face. 

"I'm not apologizing for who I am," you whine as you join her in laughing, feeling embarrassed by your inability to act like a normal person around her. 

"I would never dream of asking you to," Hyejin says as she leans back against the bars across from you, swaying her hips with an amused grin. "But it is very cute how flustered you get."

You roll your eyes and smile, glad to at least be considered cute. Flirting and being flirted with is hardly an issue, and you would probably relax more around her if things were not so uncertain at the moment, in your love life. You are sure Yoongi and Namjoon would not mind, but it is a conversation you would like to have before you allow yourself to get carried away. 

Or, perhaps, there is nothing to allow. Probably, there is no way in which things could get carried away, but you are once again spiraling because Jeongguk has gotten under your skin. With a deep inhale, you remind yourself that Hyejin is likely just being friendly and that you are allowed to relax and have fun with her. 

So have fun, you do. The song changes to something with more of a club beat, and Hyejin begins to pump her hands in front of her chest while shaking her ass in overexaggerated movements, gyrating in a chaotic circle. With your hands pulled over your head, you begin doing some wiggle-shake move creating waves all the way down to your legs, laughing as Hyejin throws her hands over her head in an attempt to do the same. 

"What do you call this one?" She shouts over the music, and you shake your head and say, "I don't know! The overcooked noodle?" 

Hyejin practically throws her body against yours with laughter, and you trip backward, catching yourself with a hand on one of the bars to lessen your collision. There are definitely patrons behind you who have a view of whatever it is the two of you are doing, and you try not to feel too embarrassed. 

"Yah," Jeongguk calls, making you attempt to turn around, trapped in place by a hysterical Hyejin. He rounds the platform enough to come into view and grabs onto two of the bars as he teasingly says, "You girls are gonna scare away the customers."

You raise one hand toward him as if threatening to strike him, shouting, "Oh, shut u—" but the word dies as soon as your eyes fall to Jeongguk's knuckles, which are scraped and bloodied. 

"Jeongguk, what the fuck?" you ask, reaching for the nearest hand, which he slides away. 

Hyejin stands alert, then squats to be at eye-level with Jeongguk, and you fully turn, checking to make sure he has no other cuts or bruises, glad that he seems otherwise perfectly fine. 

"Relax," Jeongguk grumbles, tonguing the inside of his mouth while he cracks the knuckles of one fist against his palm, then switches to the other side. "This is nothing; scuff marks. That guy didn't land a single punch before he was lights out."

You sigh but accept that there is nothing you would be able to do to convince Jeongguk not to fuck someone up. It is, after all, something he has likely been trained to do and is celebrated for within the ranks of the family. Still, you hate to see his pretty hands bloodied. 

"Well, you know I don't condone violence," Hyejin says, reaching her hands between two bars, smiling when Jeongguk steps closer and allows her to grab onto his wrists. "But I really appreciate you sticking up for me."

"Of course," Jeongguk grumbles, smiling the soft smile that he does when he is attempting to hide the sweetness that festers inside him, threatening to burst. Cute. 

With a sigh, Hyejin lifts the wrist that Jeongguk wears his watch on, yanking it close while tilting her head to get a look. "I should go tend to the girls," she grumbles, releasing Jeongguk and standing to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You follow Hyejin's movements, watching which bars are part of the door, nervous that they blend in well enough and that you could be trapped in this cage for the rest of eternity, then you turn back to Jeongguk, who has two hands on two bars, and is staring up at you. 

"So," he says, stretching himself tall to speak to you, arching his back and tipping his chin upward. "I was wondering…"

Since you are already in the cage, and Jeongguk had already been a menace to your health and well-being earlier, you decide to take a page out of Hyejin's book and swish your body in an inviting wave as you squat, dragging your hands down the bars but keeping them lifted above your head. 

Jeongguk visibly swallows, losing what he was just in the process of saying, and you watch as his eyes trail to where your short skirt hugs your thighs, undoubtedly giving him a view of the black panties you wear underneath. And although you do not mind letting Jeongguk sneak a peek, you are glad that the lights are fairly dim in the club.

"What was that?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and giving a look that feigns innocence. 

The expression on Jeongguk's face flashes comically from needy to pained to frustrated, and he huffs out a sigh, shaking his head as if trying to rattle his thoughts free.

 "What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me, is that we should have dinner soon."

Jeongguk's offer takes a moment to compute, and you stare at him, heavy-blinking, trying to determine whether he is asking you on a date, or if we means more than just the two of you. 

"We, as in…"

"You, me, and our men."

"Ah," you respond; that makes sense. "Yeah, we should. That would be fun."

Jeongguk nods, letting his gaze fall once more to your legs before drifting slowly back to your face. "I'll talk to Taehyungah. Perhaps he can host, and I'll cook."

With an incredulous raise of your brow you ask, "Oh, you cook?" in a mocking tone of sheer disbelief. 

Jeongguk reaches up and holds his hands over yours, gripping firmly while he leans in, head between the bars and close. From here, you smell his cologne; from here you resist the urge to lean in close and kiss him. 

"I happen to be an excellent cook, dollface."

"Is that so?" you ask, voice much less confident than a moment ago.

"That is so," Jeongguk says, then he leans in somehow even closer, making your head spin. "So, it's a date?"

"Yeah," you respond, feeling your heart go wild behind your ribs. "It's a date."

What you did to me made me see the world differently Mis lágrimas se secan solos, solos Pues mírame a los ojos Dime si ves el vacío que deja amor perdido Yo no duermo hasta que mis sueño' están cumplidos Sé que estoy perdiendo, pero el juеgo no ha concluido

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ahhhh!!! how are we feeling??? i presonally really love this chapter. the next one containing the promised smut™ is coming very, very soon!!!! i promise. i was sad to leave Yoongi out of this chapter, and it was not my intention to have a full chapter without him, but it made sense to split the mega chapter this way, and it felt wrong to rush him back without mc taking time to sort her thoughts out and attempt to gain some independence.

thank you for reading!!! 💜💜💜 reblogs and comments make the world go 'round, and likes are nice too!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

ANNOUNCEMENT — SEVENTEEN World

✧ The second chapter — Melon Pang! (Coming soon!!)

— CEO au, optional SMUT [18+], fluff, angst, slow-burn, strangers to lovers; word count: 10k+ (but based on the storyline probably closer to 20-30k lol)

💼 Part of the SEVENTEEN World Series ღ I advise you to read the prologue and Wonwoo's chapter first :) ✎ Really couldn't wait to share this teaser with you all!!!! But please note that it may take a while for me to publish the actual chapter since I still have a lot to write and I really want it to be perfect :') But I will (hopefully) publish some smaller projects while you wait for the chapter ^^

Barista!reader x Managing CEO Choi Seungcheol ~ The last thing Seungcheol expected was to argue with a random stranger in a bakery after an awfully stressful day. But how could he not when this person was about to take the last melon pan? You were in a similar position. Your boss had been nagging you non-stop at work and all you wanted was your favorite snack, followed by a movie marathon on the couch. Instead, you find yourself having to deal with this stubborn guy who thinks the whole world is his.

Preview

“Excuse me?” You turned around at the sound of a male voice, assuming that he was talking to you since the bakery was pretty much empty at this hour.

“Can I help you?” you asked wearily, raising your eyebrows at the blond man that had approached you – the mask he was wearing covered most of his face, so it was hard to get a read on him. And seeing as you’d gone through your fair share of uncomfortable encounters with strangers, it was only natural for you to have your guard up.

To your surprise, he pointed towards the hand that was holding the snack you were planning on buying. “Would you mind giving me that melon pan? I really need it tonight,” he spoke.

Your weary expression slowly morphed into a confused one as you raised the sweet bread slightly. “This...melon pan?” you asked, wondering where this was going.

The stranger nodded. “Yes, that one. I just got off from work and I’ve had a pretty rough day, so I need it. It’s my favorite snack and I’m not planning to leave the store without it.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the audacity of this guy. As if you would hand it over just because he supposedly ‘needed’ it. It wasn’t your problem that you'd been faster.

“Well, it happens to be my favorite snack too and I’ve also had a pretty rough day, so no. I’m not giving it to you.”

“Oh, come on. What’s it going to take? Name your price,” he motioned before reaching into his pocket to pull out what you assumed was his wallet. What the hell was he doing?

“I just told you, I’m not giving you this melon pan,” you responded firmly – your free hand automatically squeezed into a fist as you tried to keep your blood pressure under control. Getting into an argument with some random stranger was not part of the relaxing evening you’d planned.

“And I said, name your price. Everyone has one. How much do you want for it? Fifty thousand won? A hundred thousand? More? Just tell me. Money is not an issue here,” he shrugged nonchalantly, his wallet now wide open for you to see.

His outrageous proposition left you in a state of awe. The disgust was no doubt evident on your face, but he didn’t seem to care one bit.

“Are you seriously trying to bribe me for a fucking melon pan?!”

Judging by the way he was dressed, you were pretty certain that the guy was loaded – the combination of the dark brown suit and black coat he was wearing probably cost more than what you earned in a whole month.

Still, that didn’t give him the right to treat others like garbage.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He didn’t. “You have something that I want. You’re not giving it to me, so I’m offering you an alternative that will make both of us happy,” he stated, completely oblivious to the fact that he was coming off as an entitled asshole.

“You are so unbelievably rude,” you scoffed. “I’ve never met anyone as ignorant and entitled as you. Just wow. If that’s how you treat people in your life, then you probably don’t have many friends.”

It was clear that your words had struck a nerve when the shameless stranger narrowed his eyes in response. “I’m rude? I think you are pretty rude to someone who’s just trying to reason with you. Trust me, if you had any idea who I was, you wouldn’t be speaking to me like that.”

Oh look, he’s a narcissist too...surprising.

“Listen, mister whatever-your-name-is. I’m going to say this one time. I don’t give two shits about who you are and I’m not giving you my melon pan, so you can keep your damn money. Now, I’m going to walk away, pay for my snack and leave so that this,” you motioned between the two of you, “doesn’t escalate into something worse. Have a good life,” was the last thing you said before rushing towards the checkout.

Your blood was boiling by the time you left the store. The whole encounter with the rude stranger had put another damper on your mood, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth. Because just who the fuck did he think he was? And what kind of weirdo would try to bribe someone for a melon pan?

You truly hoped to never see him again.

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[bangtanfancamp]

Oh Christmas Tree | KNJ

∴ summary: you’re looking for a fresh start and a Christmas tree when you unintentionally stumble across the worlds most attractive dimples and the sweet, gigantic, bumbling man attached to them

Alt: Namjoon + a Christmas tree farm + his best friend’s girlfriend’s little sister = the best Yuletide he never saw coming

∴ masterlist

∴ part of the breakfast with bangtan series

∴ pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader, guest appearances by cultivating a life with you Hoseok x his y/n

∴word count: 10.8k

∴ rating: mature, 18+

∴genre: fluff, strangers to lovers. slice of life, Christmas romance

∴warnings: flirting, woke adjacent Christmas tree banter? sexual tension, joon is a big man (we all know this), a few subtle pov shifts- but only at already marked breaks in the story beats (should be easy to follow. Hopefully), subtle daddy kink, joonie has big boobies and he likes boobies, what was meant to be really soft smut that got a little out of hand honestly

∴author’s note: This started as a little scribble in March of 2021 that only involved the scene of y/n and Namjoon bantering about Christmas trees. I’ve been neck deep in 30k+ monster fic drafts for months and I just wanted to write something quick & fluffy so here we are. This y/n is the sister Hoseok’s girlfriend visits in cultivating a life with you. The stories are totally independent of each other but technically- chronologically- this takes place two winters later. Not meant to be hallmark movie related. I honestly just love the idea of Namjoon in one of his tiny little beanies getting tongue tied in the snow while surrounded by Christmas trees. Enjoy! Please let me know if you like it, if you like :) also… this is not proofread yet. I stayed up all night writing this and didn’t sleep. So I’m gonna leave this here, crash, and come back later to edit and add my copious italics, as I do.

───────────────────────

“My gosh, are these Christmas trees in outer space?”

You’d spent the last hour and a half being squashed in the backseat of your sister’s Mini Cooper. Your knees were beginning to ache.

“Oh don’t be a grinch, silly. We’re almost there,” your sister twisted to smile back at you from her spot in the passenger seat.

Her pink mittened hand was happily resting on her boyfriend Hoseok’s slim thigh. He reached down to tap out the rhythm to “walking in a winter wonderland” across the back of her knuckles as she beamed back at you, and you felt a little bit of your irritation melt away. It was nice to see her so happy. They were sweet to each other. It was lovely for them, but it wouldn’t help straighten out the kink in your back.

Who takes a coupe to pick up a live Christmas tree?

Hoseok caught your eye in the rear view mirror and smiled in apology as you shifted. He was as nice as your sister, just as keen to accommodate, and as soft for her as you were, if not more. His car was in the shop and yours hadn’t arrived yet. You’d driven a u-haul here from three states away a week and a half ago, settling down to take root during a holiday season best celebrated in an established home like the smart planner you were (not).

But for once, you didn’t care. Or at least, you were learning not to.

You’d spent too much of your life stuck in places you didn’t even want to be, taking life too seriously. Spent too many of the last few years feeling stagnant and like you were running out of time all at once. So when the opportunity arose, you took the first chance you got to move here. To be closer to your sister, to be somewhere where the air felt lighter, where you could be whoever you wanted to be.

And today, you wanted to be the owner of a live Christmas tree.

Give yourself something to smile at in your studio that currently consisted of bare stucco walls and aesthetic cardboard box piles.

When you’d mentioned it over the phone, your sister had known just the place.

“It’s the cutest little Christmas tree farm! Me and hobi get our tree there every year! They even have a hot cocoa stand up front for you to sip on while you pick your tree out. It’s owned by the sweetest family. One of our friends works there too. Oh you have to meet him!”

Your sister had gushed it all in one breath.

“Have to?”

“Absolutely. Not even a question. Get dressed! Me and hobi’ll pick you up in 10!”

That was that. You’d bundled up to the best of your ability, (Your wardrobe was not prepared for how chilly the winters got up here) and twenty minutes later, your sister and a blushing Hoseok were waiting for you in the parking lot in their jolly little holiday mobile.

Your sister had added reindeer antlers and a red nose to her Mini Cooper and jingle bells to the door handles. There was a set of white vinyl stickers with the silhouette of Santa’s sleigh and all nine reindeer plastered on the back window and a sprig of mistletoe-that she’d probably grown herself- twirling from the rear view mirror. Somehow she’d even gotten the horn to match the melody of “we wish you a merry Christmas.”

You’d have to ask how later.

The ride ended up being cozy enough. Now you were just eager to get out and get the feeling back in your toes. Hoseok tipped the driver's side seat forward for you to crawl out from the back. The second the icy wind slapped against your cheek you wondered why you thought going out in the cold would bring any sort of circulation back to your toes. You rolled your eyes at yourself and chuckled when you caught sight of the purplish tinge along Hoseok’s throat peeking out just over the edge of his chunky crocheted scarf. (Your sister probably made it for him. And now he was using it to hide her hickies. The little hoe.)

He felt your stare and blushed, his wide animated eyes becoming sheepish as he yanked his scarf up just the littlest bit higher.

So that was why that ten minute pickup time had stretched into twenty.

Good for the both of you.

Soon, the three of you were wandering through the farm. There was a section of freshly cut trees ready to take home near the front but rows and rows of trees still rooted to the ground off into the horizon, all dusted with this week’s newest burst of powdery snow. It was a magical thing to see really.

Your sister was happily tucked into Hoseok’s lithe side, one arm looped through his, the other hand cradling a hot cup of cocoa with a candy cane poking out of the lid. Nothing if not festive. You’d opted to save your cup for later. You liked the brisk air, and you liked both your hands being deeply plunged in the warmth of your fleece lined pockets.

“Cell reception is shit up here.” Hoseok piped up. “I tried to text Namjoon to see if he was working today but all I got back was the green text bubble of death.”

“Boo, Joonie’s the worst at charging his phone too. It’s probably dead,” your sister giggled.

“Guess I’m never gonna meet your jolly green giant, Hobes,” you bumped his elbow with yours.

“With the brain of archibald asparagus,” your sister added.

“Sexy brain, that man has,” Hoseok sighed with envy.

“Your brain is sexy too, babe.” Your sister tipped up on her toes to kiss Hoseok’s wind-chapped cheek.

“Not as sexy as his,” Hoseok nodded resolutely.

“Oh, what about when he wears his little wire rimmed professor glasses?”

“Too hot. He’d melt the snow,” Hoseok swooned.

“Goodness, are you in love with my sister or him?” You teased.

“Both,” Hoseok admitted, a little too sincerely, clutching at his heart over his oversized parka.

“I don’t blame him,” your sister nodded sagely. You quirked a brow at her and she simply shrugged, all innocence, zero guilt. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Trust me, it’ll make sense when you see him.”

“If I ever see him. I’m pretty sure he’s a myth.” Your skepticism came out with a snort and an opaque puff of air.

Geeze, it’s cold.

────────────────────────

At some point in the wandering, you got distracted watching a small child drag their parent by the wrist to the tree of their dreams. The scene was so wholesome and sweet. The little girl squealed with delight as a pair of squirrels skittered past them in chase, twining their way up her tree and darting down and away, ruffling soft powdery snow loose from the tree’s needles in their wake like a fairy sprinkling pixie dust.

The whole interaction was so idyllic that you’d stopped paying attention to where you were going and plowed directly into the broad back of what you were sure must be a bear. What else could it be? No man’s back was that broad, that’s for sure.

The force of it knocked you flat back on your bum, leaving you dazed in a little pile of crunchy snow and loose pine needles.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”

The words came too fast, too rushed, and at sure as hell too deep of an octave to come from anyone you knew, man or bear included.

There was a massive olive green, gloved hand shoved in your face- apparently attached to whoever was apologizing so profusely. You grabbed on and let it hoist you up. Goddamn, whoever this was was strong. After flying backward just a few seconds ago, you were now flying forward, toppling directly into what seemed to be just as equally broad a chest as the back you had crashed into moments ago.

“Are you alright? I can’t believe I did that. Are you o-“

The rambling ocean wave of a voice stopped crashing over you the second you looked up and locked eyes with what you were sure was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in person.

“Holy shit,” you muttered under your breath.

The man’s full lips seemed to gape as he looked at you.

Not necessarily in an objectionable way. It was more like, the tape in his brain had spun off the track and tangled itself up like an old cassette that needed help being wound back up again. It was like his thoughts were written all over his face. If you knew him better, you could have read them like a novel. For now, you knew one thing.

He was pretty when he was thinking.

Hell, he was pretty, period.

And two, he was solid as an ox.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Mr Yun’s gonna kill me if you’re hurt. I should have been paying more attention.” He patted down the sides of your ribs and torso like he was half expecting a bone to be jutting out.

“I’m okay. I’m good. i-“ am still holding his pecs, you realized.

What a Christmas miracle they were. Geeze. He had better boobs than you. You swallowed once then smiled up at him. “Do you, by any chance, work here?”

He blinked at you. There was snow on his eyelashes. His tiny dark green beanie wasn’t doing any good at shielding his face from the snow, but god did the color look good next to his golden skin.

“Um, yes, actually. I do. Again, I’m so sorry that I-“

“Shush, enough of that. You’re going to help me pick my tree.”

“I am?”

It was his turn to swallow.

“I mean, yes. Of course I am. Can. What are you looking for?”

He was nervous. So visibly nervous. You weren’t sure if it was because of you or if it was just his general disposition. Either way, you were hopelessly endeared by it. Pretty, bumbly, abominable snowman of a man. With great tits.

“Well, I came here in a Mini Cooper, so… whatever will fit on top of that, I guess.”

He blinked again, before he smiled- wide and gracious. His eyes crinkled at the edges and Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

His dimples.

How obscene.

“Sounds like a great place to start, to me.” He laughed for the first time. It was so boisterous and rich, you were sure he’d cause an avalanche.

The sound was as deep as winter, but soothing and warm. You already wanted to hear it again.

Oh boy. You really liked this one.

────────────────────────

“So what technically constitutes ‘ethically sourced’ when it comes to Christmas trees?” You looked wide-eyed up at Namjoon.

“Um… you know I… well, usually I-I would know the answer to that.”

“But right now, you don’t?”

“I mean, I can’t say that I do.” He shrugged ruefully.

“Despite currently being employed on a Christmas tree lot?” You arched a brow at him, a wry smile pulling at your lips.

“That does seem to be the case, yes.” His brows pinched at his own glum response.

“Are you new?” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you watched him.

“No, actually, I’ve been helping Mr. Yun since college… senior year of high school technically, actually.” Namjoon looked a bit lost in space as he wracked his brain for his qualifications.

“So you should have seniority around here?”

“Sort of ? It’s just , you know, mr. yun is a friend of my parents and he’s always been good to me so I always try to return the favor and help out every year, if I can.” He swallowed.

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He literally talked to people for a living. He could sell a polar bear ice, for Pete’s sake. But every time he made eye contact with you, he was practically on the verge of forgetting his own name so this whole witty repartee thing was an absolute struggle in ways it absolutely should not be.

“Well, he’s very lucky to have you then. Even if you can’t tell me where this tree came from.” You chuckled.

“No, I that- that I can do. All our Douglas firs come from grey farms about two hours north of here. Again, super kind family. They’ve been doing this for generations, actually.”

He found himself affectionately gripping the top of the tree while you smiled up at him like you had a secret and he felt a new rush of sweat rise beneath the fold of his beanie.

“So locally sourced then.”

“Family owned.” He nodded.

“Well now, that’s a great start. You know more than you let on.” You tapped an index finger into the down of his puffy coat and he felt himself flush, wishing he actually could have felt that touch.

Every part of him felt like he was back in middle school right now. It had been ages since something this simple was this difficult for him. Trying to figure out how not to trip over his words while maintaining eye contact with the you and your the luminous smile really wasn’t working at all. He should have been better at this by now, he sighed. His thirteen year old self would have been ashamed to see how little progress he’d made in that department in a decade and a half.

“So, should I choose to re-home this lovely tree, do you know of anyone who could, say, strap it to the roof of my car for me?”

Your eyes were twinkling, face framed by the softly falling snow flurries that had started up again and Namjoon felt himself swallow.

“I- I would be happy to find-“

“There you are! Finally found you- Oh, hey bro! So you are working today!” A voice bright like tangy sweet lemonade interrupted Namjoon’s inelegant struggle.

“Hoseok?” Namjoon looked mystified at the pair of you as Hoseok clasped a mittened hand around your shoulder. “How do you two-“

“This is my girl’s sister, y/n, remember? I told you we were helping her move in last week.” He explained with a happy shrug.

“This is… you’re… wow. Hey. Nice to officially meet you.” Namjoon released the tree to dizzily shake your hand, trying his best to ignore your amusement at his manic behavior.

“So you’re the mysterious friend who was too busy to help with the u-haul unloading, huh?” You quirked a brow up at Namjoon. He looked a bit green around the gills as his snow frosted lashes fell away from your gaze.

“We were slammed here that day. If it makes you feel any better, I got so much pine sap all over me that I had to toss my favorite gloves away.”

“Tsk. Now why would that make me feel better?” You teased as something mischievous glinted in your eyes.

“Because my shitty friend status made me suffer?” Namjoon shrugged.

“Well, we weren’t friends yet,” you grinned. “But now that we are, I think it’s only right that you should come over when you’re off to help the three of us decorate my new locally sourced, freshly cut Christmas tree”

“Oh absolutely!“ Hoseok piped in. “You haven’t hung out in weeks- you have to come.”

His endearing smile beamed bright across his face in a way that was impossible to fight. Bright red bits of hair peaked out beneath his beanie as he grinned widely up at Namjoon, and Namjoon was too distracted by his openness to process his nerves at the invitation.

“I mean, I guess I… I mean I wouldn’t want to intrude on…”

“Nonsense,” Hoseok interrupted,” you’d only be making the party better! Y/n needs all the friends she can get anyway. Poor thing’s stuck hanging out with us all the time- she could use a few new faces in the rotation, right little sis?” He hip checked you, ruffling your hair with the hand slung over your shoulder.

“Not your little sis yet,” you countered, eyes full of challenge.

“Wait, Hobi, this Christmas are you gonna…” Namjoon twisted his left hand, the gesture caught vaguely somewhere between the Queens wave and the single ladies dance.

Hoseok pulled a nervous face, brows lifting and jaw tightening until his smile bared all his teeth, as he patted the chest of his puffer coat.

“I’ve been carrying it around for weeks actually. Can’t seem to find the right time.”

“Are you insane?” You swatted him. “You brought it with you here? What if you lose it in the snow, you dummy?!”

“Ow!” Hoseok rubbed his shoulder dramatically. “The little ones are always fighters.”

You rolled your eyes as Namjoon blushed for reasons beyond him. Maybe he didn’t need any more explanation than the fact that you were cute as hell and he liked seeing you laugh.

“Your sister would never hit me like that,” Hoseok huffed.

“Yeah, she doesn’t have to because she knows I’d do it for her. Now why on gods green earth is the ring just chilling in your pocket while you stroll through endless yards of nature??”

“I keep it with me in case there’s a moment that just feels right. I’ll already be ready, you know.”

Hoseok’s face was far away, dreamy.

Namjoon was happy for him, even if he wanted a little piece of his friend’s wonder for himself one day.

“I still think you should propose to her at home in your little jungle. You have to know how happy that would make her,” you asserted.

Namjoon thought back to his last visit to Hoseok’s apartment. The walls had almost been alive with the amount of trailing vines climbing toward the ceiling. It was otherworldly, serene, like an indoor garden. It would be a spectacular place to propose actually.

“I think she’s right. It would be pretty damn perfect, Hob.” Namjoon offered.

“Ooo, did you hear that?” Slipping out from under Hoseok’s slinky arm, you attached yourself to Namjoon’s bulky one. “He already knows I’m always right. The company you keep, Hobi. I like this one.”

You squeezed Namjoon’s bicep, and he swore he could feel the warmth of your touch through his puffer jacket. He knew his cheeks had to match Hoseok’s fire engine hair now.

“Hey, be sweet to him. He’s sensitive,” Hoseok tutted as he pinched Namjoon’s rosy face despite being swatted away by one Namjoon’s big hands.

“I… is this the tree you’re settled on y/n? If it is, I should start getting it wrapped for you.”

“Hoist it on the beige Mini Cooper in the back, eh Hulk?” Hoseok patted his unoccupied bicep, giving it a happy squeeze as he pushed past Namjoon. “Im off to find where my poison Ivy wandered off to again. Probably somewhere talking to the cedars.” He shook his head softly but gosh, there was nothing but fondness in his happily crinkled eyes. “You two don’t get up to anything too wild while I’m gone now, yeah? We haven’t even brought out the baileys and the eggnog yet. Save it for later - or I’ll be the one kissing Joonie under the mistletoe.”

Hoseok wiggled his fingers and brows in puppety unison as he vanished through the trees, leaving Namjoon alone with you once again.

“He’s quite the character isn’t he?” You chuckled.

“You have no idea.”

“He’s good to my sister though. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

“They’re pretty made for each other,” Namjoon nodded in assent as you sighed.

It wasn’t until he looked down to catch your expression that he realized you were still holding onto his arm. Jesus Christ of Nazareth, was he going to faint in a Christmas tree lot?

You looked up then, a soft giggle bubbling out of you when you saw whatever his distress was doing to his face, and squeezed his arm before walking a few snowy paces ahead.

“Come on, tiger. The quicker we take care of this, the quicker we can get out of the cold.”

Namjoon had never followed anyone faster in his life.

────────────────────────

Why had the three of you come in a compact car?

This was pure delusion.

The tree Namjoon had helped you pick loomed over the front windshield like something from whoville. Good thing you weren’t the one driving. Good luck with that visibility, Hobi.

You and your sister stood side by side, linked at the elbow while the two men tied the tree down to the roof of the car.

“Think we’ll tip over in a strong breeze?” You queried.

“I think we’ll tip over if anyone even looks at us funny,” your sister giggled.

Her laughter was contagious and soon you were both cackling uncontrollably as Hoseok and Namjoon secured your dr Seuss tree to the roof of her car. Namjoon looked back over his shoulder, making accidental eye contact with you. You let your gaze rove over his absurdly pretty face, eyes lingering around the high corners of his cheekbones and the doughy imprints of those audaciously sweet dimples of his.

“My god, just look at him,” you sighed. “It’s like heaven tried to make focaccia bread when they made his face and decided to stop two pokes in because it was already perfect.”

Your sister looked between you and Namjoon, chuckling when the giant of a man turned away bashfully, as if those big shoulders could make him disappear.

“I told you he was pretty,” she shrugged. “And you gave me your judgy eyebrows.”

“I was a fool,” you sighed again. “In my defense, I didn’t know there could be boys prettier than Hobi around here.”

“Wait til you meet the children. Jimin and Jungkook are so beyond anything you could even comprehend. Beautiful little whores.”

“There’s more?” Your brows shot up high.

“Oh and Taehyung! Taehyung will charm you right out of your coat. He’s the dangerous one. I can’t even make eye contact with him without stammering,” she shook her head in derision.

“Whew boy, what a winter we’re in for.” You rocked up on your toes with a whistle.

“Winter is a mercy. Seokjin’s shoulders in summer? Glory be.”

Lovingly, you squeezed her tighter into your side. “At least we have Yoongi on our side.”

“Oh, no ma’am, we do not. He’s the worst one!”

“Min Yoongi ?” You gasped. “No!”

“Yes! He’ll sneak right up on you out of nowhere just when you think you’re finally friends and keep your glass full of wine all night until you accidentally spill all your most embarrassing high school secrets,” she muttered.

“No,…not the pyramid.”

“Yes, the pyramid. And he’ll get it on tape too. Adorable little bastard. Don’t let that cute little gummy smile fool you. He’s ruthless.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard your big sister curse before.

The pout on her face was too priceless not to laugh at so you did. The laughter was robust and full- it came straight from somewhere deep in your belly and pretty soon she was laughing too, hiding her face in the faux fur collar of your coat. The two of you clinging to each other as you cackled like wild children in the snow.

────────────────────────

Hoseok looked over the roof at the two of you and melted into an inordinately affectionate grin.

“You could just go ask her now and put yourself out of your misery, you know,” Namjoon chuckled to himself.

“Nah, she’s so happy right now. I’ll let them have their moment.”

Namjoon let himself study you.

The two of you looked so much alike yet so different. Your sister was all spun sugar and sweetness, quick as a dragonfly on the breeze. But you, well, he didn’t quite know how to put it into words. You were still sweet, but it was different. There was something more rich, a bit more solid about your aura. If your sister was candy floss, then his best guess - based on his limited interaction with you- was that you were salted caramel.

The thought had him pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. He wanted to know what else made up the pieces of you. He wanted to get off this shift so he could be in the same room as you. So he could be alone with you.

He wanted to get you under the mistletoe and taste those pretty lips of yours.

But of course, that meant he had to have a coherent conversation with you first.

“Hey, quit undressing my baby sister with your eyes,” Hoseok snapped.

Namjoon shook his head, rattled the stars out of his eyes.

“My bad. Sorry, man.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” Hoseok huffed. “Hey, I think I’m getting good at this protective big brother thing. That was pretty convincing right ?” He beamed proudly.

“More than you know… hey, we should be good here.”

Namjoon patted the now secure tree, rustling a bit of soft snow loose from its branches.

“Then it’s time to get this baby back on the road!”

Hoseok slapped the chassis and the car jingled— jingled!

“I can’t believe you’re gonna marry a Christmas elf,” Namjoon snickered.

“Hey, you’re one to talk, Yukon Cornelius. You work at a damn tree farm. Don’t judge me. Besides, I’m sure you’ll be next. Y/n is just as bad as her sister.”

Namjoon stole another glance your way, his eyes darting away in a flash when he realized you were already watching him, something sultry glittering in your gaze that he tucked away in his pockets to think about later.

“Maybe being next wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” he smiled to himself.

────────────────────────

Before you could get off the tree lot, Namjoon was running back to the car, something small in his hands that you couldn’t make out.

You were crammed in the back seat between the extra boughs your sister had bought to turn into wreaths and garlands. All the evergreen scents made you feel like a new car air freshener. God. It was gonna be a long ride back to the city.

Namjoon knocked on the glass in a hurry, and you rolled the window down. What on earth was he-

“You never got your cocoa.”

“What?”

“You said you were gonna wait to nurse it on the ride home so I got… I got you cocoa.” His volume trailed as he handed the cup to you, like he was second guessing every action in his life that had brought him to this moment.

“Oh, I…” you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t trust yourself not to open your mouth and accidentally tell him you were already in love with him and did he know a guy who could get you both a marriage license by sundown.

“Kim Namjoon. You absolute sweetheart,” your sister gushed from the front seat.

Namjoon’s cheeks went from rosy from the cold to plum from embarrassment. You’d never wanted to kiss someone’s eyelashes before.

“Well, that’s all. I gotta get back. i-“

“Thank you,” you whispered, eyes flicking up from beneath your lashes to meet his.

“I…. Yeah. I.. I hope you like it.” His smile was wide, inebriated, giddy. You swore you could see the stars during the daylight.

“I’m sure I will. Six o clock. Tonight. You can come right?”

He nodded, bobbleheaded and boysish.

“Yeah. I’ll grab the address from Hobi.”

“Oh will you now?” Hoseok piped up from the front.

“Hobi, shut up or I will end you,” you threatened through your own teeth as he and your sister laughed at you.

“Tonight?” You called to Namjoon as Hoseok began to shift the car into gear.

“Tonight!” Namjoon shouted back, both his arms waving over head as the car pulled off and he shrank into something small in the distance.

Settling back in your seat, you brought the cup to your lips and breathed in the steamy liquid. You noticed a little black heart drawn in sharpie on the cup, remembered seeing a sharpie tucked behind one of Namjoon’s ears and smiled to yourself like you’d just been passed a note in eighth grade.

You looked up to see two sets of eyes watching you in the rear view.

“Oh god, eyes on the road mom and dad. This has nothing to do with you.”

Your sister giggled, “well I for one am very happy for both of you.”

Hoseok chimed in with a “right? They’re cute.”

God. What a pair of menaces.

You sank in your seat but couldn’t help but smile.

“He is cute, isn’t he?” You whispered into your cocoa cup.

Maybe this wouldn’t be such a long ride home after all.

────────────────────────

“Why did I let you make me think this was a good idea? I don’t even have any furniture! What, we’re gonna make that Goliath sit on boxes for a chair?”

You were frazzled. Namjoon had texted Hobi that he’d be at your place in half an hour. Suddenly the idea of that massive man being in your tiny apartment drinking eggnog out of a solo cup that you’re sure would look like a shot glass in his massive hands made no sense at all.

“First of all, this was your idea,” Hoseok chuckled,” so don’t pin this on me.”

“Traitor.” You whispered.

“But if it makes you nervous, I can shout out the boys to swing by.”

“What? How does that make any sense? Why would we add more people I have no place for? Come on now, use the brain in that pretty head, Hobi.” You rapped your knuckles against his temple as he laughed at you- laughed!

“ I am! It’ll make it feel less like a date. Less pressure to talk one on one there’s a little more of a crowd,” he shrugged like it was that easy. Maybe it was.

“Okay. Fine. Do it. But somebody’s gonna have to bring food cuz there’s nothing in that fridge but eggs and kombucha.”

“God, we need to feed you, little one.” Hobi frowned, concerned.

“Groceries are on tomorrow's to do list. I wasn’t expecting to feed a small army today. I was just gonna grab some take out once you and the missus went home.”

“And you still can. I’ll see if JK can snag something from work.”

A key jingled in the lock as your sister shimmied her way in the door, arms filled with Christmas decorations with a string of gold tinsel draped across her throat like a feather boa.

“I’m back! Hobi, baby, I texted you. Can you bring the other bin up?”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and darted out the door.

“Holy mackerel, it’s gonna look like Santa’s workshop exploded in here.” You took in the sheer amount of tinsel, lights and decor your sister had managed to manhandle up the stairs.

“Oh stop you. They’re just extra decorations and props from the photography studio. I figured you can use what you like, and we’ll just put them back when the season’s over.” She shrugged.

“I’ll take free decorations that I don’t have to store any day.” You asserted with a grin. Peeling the sticky back off a command strip, you climbed up on a chair to hang the dang thing as close to the ceiling as you could reach. Your sister came behind you to spot you. No sense letting you break your neck before the guest of honor even got here.

“Most of our mini sessions are over anyway. Nobody should be trying to book their Christmas card photos after December 14th, and if they do, they deserve the Charlie Brown Christmas tree they get.”

It always tickled you when your sister tried to be matter of fact. You knew good and well she was too accommodating not to at least try to bend.

“Lay down the law, sis. Hey, hand me those string lights will you. Can you plug them in?”

The room burst into light in a cacophony of colors.

“Whew. Multi. Bold.”

“Sorry, I didn’t check if they were colorful or warm white first. Shoot.”

She looked so chagrined. It was so sweet. Here she was being so giving and thoughtful, and she really thought you were gonna have the nerve to be picky.

“Shush, you. They’ll look great. It’s kind of… cozy. Very vintage Christmas. Nostalgia chic,” you smiled, and she smiled with you, relieved.

“Hey, you don’t need to be nervous about Joonie.”

“I don’t?” You looked up at your sister through your lashes.

“He’s really a sweetheart.”

“I mean, I can tell that from space.” You smiled.

“Don’t be smart, you know what I mean, dummy.”

“Wait, which one am I ? Smart or dumb?” You laughed.

“Goofy. But I mean it. He’s such a good guy. His last relationship didn’t go so well,” the color of your sister’s voice changed then. “It was a long time ago. It was. I’m sure he hardly thinks about it anymore. It’s just, I think we’re all rooting for him to find someone who realizes just how lovely he is.”

Hobi chose just then to come clunking through the front door.

“Look who I found!”

Sure enough, all six foot something of Namjoon was right behind him, bashfully twisting a Santa hat between his nervous hands despite still wearing his little green beanie from the tree farm on his head.

Thirty minutes, my ass, you grumbled internally. But out loud you said : “Hey! You made it!”

He looked so big in your doorframe like that. Were his shoulders going to fit? Surely he was going to get stuck like Santa in a chimney flue.

“Looks like you guys got the tree up no problem.” He offered gently.

“Me and Hobi accessed our inner lumberjacks and got it done.” You flexed one bicep and Hoseok patted it like it was made of steel. You both giggled like the weirdos you were as Namjoon smiled softly, still hulking in your doorway like a vampire in need of an invite to cross the threshold.

“Come inside, you silly boy,” your sister tutted. “You’ve let half the winter in.” She tugged Namjoon’s sleeve as he ducked his head to come inside. God, you wanted to climb him like a tree.

He looked so nervous shucking his snow-caked boots off by your front door. It made you want to put him at ease.

“I can take your coat, and… whichever piece of headwear you’d prefer not to wear,” you eyed his double hat situation for the second time as he seemed to notice it for the first.

“Oh shoot. Am I still?” He snatched at his scalp and realized it was shrouded in green yarn. Pulling the beanie off, he inadvertently gave you a glimpse of his face framed by his thick head of tousled ebony hat hair. You weren’t sure if you wanted to climb up to fix it for him or pull him into your room and make it worse. “Can I use your bathroom?” He blurted.

“Mmm hmm. Down the hall, to the right.”

He thanked you, banking around you and the corner to hide in the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut, you locked eyes with your sister across the room. Even you felt how desperate you looked. She had the gall to laugh at you.

Traitor.

────────────────────────

Maybe this was going to be alright after all.

Sure enough, each of Hoseok’s boys rolled in, each one prettier than the last. The apartment had never been so blessed.

Jungkook brought two massive trays of food from chick fil a with enough side sauces to last until the apocalypse. What a fascinating juxtaposition he was. Wide eyes, innocent pink lips puckered unsurely around a little silver hoop and the dimensions of a Mack truck. How someone with that much ink curling across his skin was allowed to serve the lord’s chicken, you did not know, but you did know that god himself must have had a hand in sculpting his perky little peach of an ass. Glory.

Jimin and his obscenely pretty face brought champagne. Taehyung and his intense eyebrows brought vintage Christmas vinyls and a record player that looked like an old leather suitcase that he’d carried up the stairs on his hip like a briefcase. As soon as he’d gotten settled he’d put on Bing Crosby’s rendition of “white Christmas” and waltzed with Jimin around your kitchen island.

Seokjin brought the good food. Yoongi brought the good liquor. Your sister and Hoseok brought the laughter and joy.

It was a perfect way to spend a December night.

Somewhere during the course of the night, seokjin - who was wearing a Christmas sweater with an embroidered cat on it that he referred to as The Second Coming of Min Yoongi- decided to make an old fashioned popcorn garland for your tree. As he and Yoongi squabbled over how to properly thread a needle, you realized it had been ages since you’d seen Namjoon.

When he’d emerged from the bathroom earlier, his soft skin had been glistening as if he’d splashed water on his face. His hair looked to have been slicked back with wet hands, while one stubborn piece jutted forward to softly frame his brows. You’d gulped down your drink and avoided eye contact, knowing good and well your face was probably screaming “for the love of god, please marry me” every time you looked at him.

In your self-preservation, you feared it may have come across as plain avoidance. You needed to find him.

He’d driven all this way.

The tree farm was so far and he’d been working in the cold all day. Yet somehow he was here in your tiny home, without a single complaint.

Earlier in the night, you’d nearly tipped off your chair ladder trying to put the star on your tree and he’d caught you, scooping you up bridal style like it was as natural for him as breathing air. It was an unnecessary gesture. You really hadn’t been that far off the ground and the show of strength was absolutely welcome but embarrassing nonetheless. You’d been cradled in his chest again and god, it had taken everything in you to fight the instinct to bury your face between his pecs.

“Stop objectifying my sweet baby. You’ll taint him.” Hoseok had teased from across the room.

You’d shot him a death glare as a glum Namjoon had placed you gently on the ground.

“Sorry. Hope I didn’t make that awkward. I just… you were falling and…”

“It’s alright, Joon. Thank you.” Your smile was earnest. You watched the way his reaction played across his face like a movie. It made you want to kiss him. “Besides, I should’ve put the tallest man on the job in the first place.”

His dimples had reappeared then, and you’d felt the oxygen in the room go thin.

You’d been avoiding him ever since.

Pressing up off your IKEA futon and stepping around the push up - off a shirtless Jungkook was currently doing as Jimin sat cross legged on his back and Taehyung counted, you set off to find Namjoon.

In less than six hundred square feet, there weren’t many places he could go. Everyone else was in the kitchen/living room. That really only left the open bathroom, the balcony- which your sister and Hoseok were currently cuddled up on, watching the snow fall- and your bedroom.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected to find when you pushed open the door, but somehow Namjoon folded up on the floor studying the lower tier of your bookshelf actually made loads of sense. You hadn’t been aware someone that large could fold themselves into something so small. His long fingers trailed over the spines of your favorite books and something in your lower belly swirled.

You could have spent the rest of the night just watching him read.

That, however, even in your own home, might be kinda creepy so you decided to announce your presence instead.

“Howdy stranger,” you crooned, leaning shoulder first into the door jamb.

Namjoon startled, clutching his chest like you’d just given him a heart attack. His long limbs flailed, knocking into the bookshelf like the baby moose he was, sending a small picture frame careening down onto his head. It knocked his Santa hat off kilter, leaving the beautiful man looking like a bamboozled disaster.

Your laughter filled the room as he collected himself, straightening his hat and placing your frame back on the shelf. You came to sit beside him, hugging your knee and leaning one shoulder into his.

“Whatcha doing? Whatcha reading, more importantly?” You shot him a pointed look paired with a smile you hoped was disarming.

“Oh. Uh, nothing yet. I didn’t mean to pry. I just… well there was so much going on in the living room. I just wanted to get some air so I stepped in here, but I ended up getting lost in your book collection.”

His fingers trailed their spines again, and you felt a shiver down yours.

“You like to read?”

It was a pitiful question on your part really. Clearly he did. He was surrounded by your personal mini library, and it was the most comfortable you’d seen him be all day.

“Oh it’s the best thing, really. You can learn so much about a person by looking at the things they like to read.”

“And what have you learned about me?”

You felt yourself hold your breath as he looked down, dimples daring to show themselves again now that the two of you were in a private place.

“Well, it seems like you appreciate the classics, for one.”

His finger traced the curve of letters embossed in gold on an ivory spine.

“I went through an intense thrift shopping phase over the last few years. I got kind of obsessive about collecting beautiful books,” you confessed.

“You should come to my store sometime then. You’d love the first editions section.”

There was a pride glittering in beautiful dark brown eyes, the first swell of something like confidence showing in them.

“You work at a bookstore too?” You tilted your head to the side in question as his trademark sheepishness returned.

“Um, own. Co-own, really. Between me, Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Stop- seriously?” You felt yourself press into his space without meaning to. The sharp, earthy smells of cedar and pine still swirled on him, but underneath that was soft clean soap. You found yourself wanting to press your nose into his throat. You realized too late that your eyes had been doing it for you, and Namjoon had caught you doing it.

Cleaning his throat, something in him seemed to grow bold.

He didn’t shy away anymore. He pressed up off the palms he’d been leaning back on and leaned into your space like you did into his. His thumb pulled your bottom lip out of your teeth, tracing along the edge of it softly.

“Seriously.”He whispered, the timber of his voice deep as winter.

His deep set gaze grew heavy as the moment lingered. You caught sight of his tongue flicking out to wet his full lips as his thumb traced yours and suddenly you felt all your grace leave you all at once.

“You should stay.”

It came out breathy, soft. You knew your face must have given away how molten you felt beneath his touch. He chuckled gently, eyes warm as he smirked. Only half a dimple this time, you noticed.

“Stay?” He arched a brow your way.

“When the others leave… you should stay.”

It was crazy, but the lightheaded part of you that was under his spell couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more.

Suddenly, he was soft again. Eyes no longer serpentine but wide. Kind.

“Is that… would you… like that?”

You smiled at him, sweet as strawberries, and then you were kissing him.

Just once. Slow, gentle, but deep.

There was a hint of cinnamon on his lips. Hobi had picked up some horchata at his favorite taqueria on the way back. He must have given some to Joon. You smiled against his mouth, licked into it once. Felt his chest vibrate with the groan it created.

When you pulled back, he was dazed, staring at you like you were made of stars. Eyeing you like he wanted to know what else you were made of. His lip bitten like he was too hungry to wait.

“Stay.” You breathed again.

“I’ll stay.” He whispered back.

────────────────────────

When the last person had left the apartment, you’d locked the door behind them.

Suddenly it was truly just you and him.

You’d turned, back to your front door and looked at him, eyes sultry, smile sweet.

Namjoon was across the room, too busy drinking you in to remember how to move. But you hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You took your time crossing the small room. The vivid lights cast bursts of blue and red across your skin- it made your eyes look unearthly, tempting in a way Namjoon was incapable of fighting.

You stopped in front of him, palms pressed to his chest. He felt his eyelids grow heavy at the sensation, but he wouldn’t let his eyes close. Not yet. He didn’t want to miss a moment of you.

You slid your hands up his chest, alongside his throat, skimming his jaw and cupping his face. You stood between his legs and god, did he want to rock his hips against you. You were already leaning into him, your hips pressed into his pelvis. What were his corduroys gonna do? He knew you could feel him already swelling against you.

Your brushed soft thumbs across the angles of his face. He reciprocated by tenderly pushing your hair out of your face. Was your heart racing like his?

Slipping his hands down, he tugged the buckle of your belt forward into him with a thunk. He crept his thumbs beneath the sweater you’d tucked into your high black jeans, and let his fingers swirl against your stomach, smoothing over the dips at your waist. Your body was so soft. He felt himself grow warmer, swell against you harder. When your eyes clouded over and your bit your lip, he knew he was sunk.

“I’m gonna take this off now, okay ?” He whispered, tugging at your sweater as you nodded, glassy eyed and obedient, up at him. Jesus.

Why was he whispering? He didn’t know. It just felt right, he thought. Felt right like being beside you all night had felt. Felt right like he knew being inside you was gonna feel.

When he slipped the sweater up over your head, your earring got caught. A little gold hoop snagged in the knit.

Breathe, he reminded himself, go slow. You don’t have to rush.

He soon realized that was advice he was going to need to take to heart in more ways than one the second he untangled you and saw your glittering smile glowing brightly, saw the way your breasts were spilling smooth and fleshy over the confines of your lacy little balconette bra.

Jesus. Fuck.

Turns out he’d said both out loud and your glossy eyes grew hungrier the longer he looked at you.

“Do something, daddy.” You teased, voice low, gaze heady.

“Christ, y/n,” he drawled as his self-control blacked out.

Soon he was pushing your breasts together, burying his face between them. Sucking one into his warm mouth, scooping the other loose from the dark lace. He had one large hand firmly fitted just behind the buckle of your jeans as the other cupped your breast that wasn’t in his mouth, thumb diligently flicking your nipple until it grew stiff like a meringue peak. He slipped that one in his mouth then, tongue picking up pace his thumb had set and tweaking the nipple on your other breast.

You panted beneath his touch, sinking and molding into him like warm clay in his hands. He wasn’t sure when his hips had started to glide against you, but god, yours were moving too, supple and fluid like water. He needed to get you out of the rest of these clothes. He needed to find out if he could mark your breasts and neck black and purple with his mouth like he wanted to while he fucked you. You really did taste sweet, just like he thought you would. God, he wanted to take a bite out of you.

Pleasantries first though, he reminded himself.

Pushing his head back against the wall, he tried to catch his breath but your nimble fingers were working open the snaps on his corduroys instead.

“Question-“ he asked breathless.

“Answer,” you grinned, triumphant as you finally popped the latch on his pants.

“Jesus, fuck. Cripes.” His eyes fluttered shut as you ran his zipper down and reached beneath his boxer briefs to grab him.

“Which one of those was a question?” You smirked, licking your thumb before brushing it gently across the fleshy tip of him. His stomach dipped in, toned muscle crunching in on itself as your big man buckled under your touch.

“Okay, okay okay. I’m gonna have to ask this quick before you make me spontaneously finish on your tits touching me like that. Whew.” His eyes were blown, head back. Unprepared for you licking more fingers and slipping back down to gingerly play with his balls. “Oh my gooooooood. Okay. Okay. Okay. Marks?”

“Like hickies?” You asked curiously, your hand moving of its own accord to grip him firmly at the base and pull up.

“Yeah, yeah hickies,” he panted, his pretty skin growing sweaty.

“I like that.” You smiled, wide and way too pretty for him to handle right now.”it’s winter. Go crazy, big boy.”

He nodded raggedly, his brow furrowed deep as he bit his lip. He almost looked angry, he had no way of knowing it made you incredibly aroused.

“Tits. I like your…tits. A lot. So much. They’re so pretty.”

You smiled into his throat as you kissed his neck and pumped him silly.

“Joonieee, youre so sweet.” You nipped at his collarbone, giggling at shiver that ran through him.

“Would it… could I… Jesus, woman, why are you so good at that? Screw this. Fuck it. Can I cum on you, your chest at the end of this?” His eyes were direct now, serpentine and lusty as he licked his lips, ran a thumb along the swell of your breast.

“Yeah ?” You ran your tongue along his neck, sending another tremor through him.

“Yeah. You’d look so pretty with my cum on your chest. I mean, they look so pretty already, but Yeah, god yeah I want that.” he nodded.

“Okay. Promise. You can finish on my pretty titties, if you want.” You laughed.

“I want.”

“I’ll even let you fuck them if you want.”

“Christ. You said…what?” He was out of breath, lightheaded from the thought of himself being pressed between the two warm pillowy clouds on your chest.

“Uh huh, if you don’t finish inside me first, that is,” you breathed in his ear.

“Oh my god. Not fair. Get on the bed, now.” He said it with an edge, a grit you didn’t expect from your sweet nervous Christmas tree man. A bite that made you want to obey. Made you want to fuck his brains out. Made you want to be his baby girl so you followed along and played nice. He fumbled with your belt as you melted. You did what you were told and climbed back on up onto the bed, stripping the rest of the way for him along the way.

────────────────────────

As he followed, he pulled his thick wool sweater over his head, black hair falling in gorgeous eyes as he did. The full reveal of his torso left the space between your legs glossy and sticky in ways you hadn’t known it could be. His Jeans and black boxer briefs went next and then he was climbing up and over you, golden and lanky and strong and hung.

Jesus , fuck, Indeed.

He smiled at you, sourdough dimples and serpentine eyes as he slowed down.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?”

You nodded, obedient, nervous, eager. You wanted him. God, how did you describe how badly you wanted Kim Namjoon? His lips were plump, sweet, inexhaustibly delicious. His tongue slipped deep into your mouth, his hand firm but sweet on your hip as it climbed up your torso.

Your tits were in his mouth again, tongue flicking wildly as he moaned around your fullness and your nipple. He tweaked the other, switching back and forth as he rutted his too big dick into the meat of your thigh.

“Question,” you gasped, breathless.

“Answer, baby,” his hooded eyes were looking darkly up at you as his thumb slipped its way down to gloss smoothly over your silky clit. You cried out, and he smiled, mouth still filled with your voluptuous tit.

“Daddy?” You questioned, and the primal groan that rattled through his chest and through the sharp twitch of his dick against your leg answered any further queries you had to ask.

“Yes, please, baby. “

He slid up to suck a dark splotch into your neck, his dick sliding up and catching on the slippery ridge of your clit as he did.

“I can call you that ? Can I call you daddy?” You gasped.

He simply nodded, dropping kisses along your collarbone and throat as he lined up to finally slip inside you. The fit was snug, the drag of him along your inner walls sublime as he rocked, working you more and more open to the massive size of him. You smiled, delirious, giddy, as he fucked you like you were divine.

You came three times that night, he came twice. Once inside you and once on your pretty tits. Then one more time down your throat in the morning.

────────────────────────

“There’s not much, but I have…. Let’s see. Coffee, kombucha, seokjin’s leftover gingerbread men… oh and eggs. Can I make you eggs?” You fluttered your lashes up at him. “I’d really like to make you eggs.”

Namjoon looked so cute. Face puffy, lips full. Hair still damp from the shower he took. You’d both been too nervous to shower together, so you’d taken turns and done it separately. You thanked god you actually owned two bath towels to make it possible. He was so adorable. It made you want to cook for the man.

“Sure,” he nodded. Mercy, his voice was even deeper in the morning. He’d barely used it so far today, aside from the sexy groans that had spilled out of him this morning when you’d woken him up with your cheek resting sweetly on his inner thigh and his cock in your warm mouth. (You’d gotten consent the night before, of course.)

“Um, how do you take your coffee? And is scrambled okay? I make really good scrambled eggs.”

He smiled warmly, his gruff exterior softening with your exuberance. He nodded his assent and you got to work getting out the egg carton, your chopsticks, the milk and your lone skillet.

“Oh, wait. Your coffee, how do you take your coffee?”

You turned in your robe, a harsh pivot, just to accidentally end up nose to Namjoon’s sweatshirt covered tits with an Ooof.

He kissed your hair, a deep chuckle from the depths of his throat booming through his chest. He was wearing one of your giant college sweatshirts ( that fit just on the roomy side of just right on him) and his black boxer briefs, his substantial thighs looking gorgeous as ever as he stood barefoot in your kitchen. What a turn of events.

He slipped his sturdy arms around your waist from behind, pushing up against the underside of your boobs and buried his blushing face in your hair.

“Black. Just a little cream is good.” He murmured as you sank back against him.

You weren’t used to how soothing another person’s presence could be.

“Gotcha. I’ll grab the-“

He chuckled, pulling you tightly into him to stop your scurrying.

“Shhh. I got it. Thank you.” He pressed a kiss deep into the skin on your neck. It melted you just a little bit further into the solidity of him.

“For what?”

“Last night. This morning. Yesterday. All of it.”

His confidence dipped again. Cockiness replaced by a sincerity so disarming you felt your heart dip softly. He’s so sweet, you thought as you gently caressed the forearm he had draped over your stomach.

“Yes, well…I ….” it was then you realized you didn’t know what to say. In lieu of words, you kissed his palm.

“You’re already making us breakfast. Least I can do is grab my own coffee… you want some?” He nudged the tip of his nose against the top of your ear.

Being that close to his voice made you shiver. You nodded without realizing it. The sound of his voice made you want to be so obedient to him. Why were you so turned on by him being kind, damnit ?

His hands fitted themselves to your hips, pushing the fullness of your bottom back against his hips. You were about to tell him you take yours with sugar and more cream than coffee when your phone began to ring.

Startled, you bolted out of his arms to find… your sister trying to FaceTime you?

Kissing Namjoon’s cheek, you stepped away to answer. Queuing up the screen, you were thoroughly unprepared for brilliant, happy screams pealing through the phone. There was too much motion to make out an image at first, until finally. you caught a glimpse of sparkle. It was the ring Hoseok had shown you a picture of the day he decided to custom order it for your sister.

“Hobi proposed!!!” Your sister squealed. No regard for the neighbors, this one.

“When?”

“Last night. When we got home. Y/n it was perfect…. I could tell he seemed weird when we were on the balcony yesterday, oddly stiff. Like he was trying to tell me something, but it wasn’t making any sense. I teased him and told him to try again later. I was just being dumb- I didn’t know! but when we got home, I had gone upstairs to change out of my Christmas tree clothes and when I came back. He was on his knees in the kitchen.”

Your sister clasped a hand over her mouth as her eyes filled with happy tears. Smart boy, he’d listened to you and Namjoon.

“Y/n, I’m gonna be a wife. I'm gonna marry Hobi. Y/n, I’m so happy I could cry,” she sniffled as tears spilled over the backs of her knuckles.

“Baby, you are crying,” you teased, your own eyes growing glassy too.

“Hey, that’s MY BABY” you heard Hoseok yell from somewhere off camera.

“She was mine first,” you stuck your tongue out petulantly.

“Congrats, man!” Namjoon cheered from his spot by your coffee pot.

“Thanks bro!” Hoseok called back.

“Wait.” Your sister started….

Oh no.

“Was that…” Hoseok added.

No. No. No. no. No.

“Oh my god. Y/n, was that Namjoon?! Did he spend the night?!? Oh my gosh are you two in love now?!?

Startled you let you out something between a yelp and a shriek, dropping your phone on the carpet.

“Did you hold onto those arms of his all night?” Your sister teased.

“Wait-“ Hoseok interrupted ,” do you have a thing for Namjoon’s arms babe?”

“Everyone does,” your sister quipped.” You do too Hobi.”

“That’s not the point… eh! We’re Balenciaga buddies!” Hoseok cheered, the snap of elastic ringing through the air.

Apparently your phone fell in such a way that the camera gave them a beautiful view of Namjoon’s sleek black briefs and the tree trunks they were stretched around.

“Stop objectifying him!” You scolded Hoseok.

“I will when you do!” He taunted.

“Oh my god I can’t do this.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed as Namjoon scooped both you and your phone up from behind again

“Then I will.” He whispered in your ear. “Congratulations you guys!”

Hoseok and your sister gushed something sticky sweet about how obnoxiously in love you and Namjoon were and you couldn’t help it, you smiled too. You told your sister how happy you were for her, promising to call her later with all the juicy details before finally hanging up the phone and burying your face in Namjoon’s hard tiddy. Which he flexed for you, god bless him, before also flexing his yummy, yummy arms around you until you burst into a fit of giggles.

“I like this,” he whispered softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Me too…. Got any plans today?.”

“Nope. I’m off the rest of the weekend.”

“Wanna go grocery shopping with me after I cook you eggs?”

“Are you just using me for my car?” He squinted slyly at you with a smile.

“No. That hadn’t occurred to me actually. I was actually planning on using your height and your body for my own personal benefit.” You answered thoughtfully.

“Oh.” His eyes went a bit wide like he hadn’t thought about that option. “Well. Then. Can I use you for yours?” He asked innocently.

“Sure. Although, you should know, I’m all talk. I’m the biggest softie…. I’m pretty sure if you’d asked me to marry you when we were talking tree-sourcing ethics, I would have strongly considered saying yes.”

Crap. You hadn’t planned on admitting all that. This was his fault. He was just so damn sincere. Those stupid eyes of his were so goddamn kind. You kept forgetting to put a guard up around him.

As you braced for him to be thoroughly traumatized by your admission, nothing of the sort came. He didn’t say a word. Instead, he hugged you beneath the ribs and hoisted you in a circle, nuzzling his cheek tenderly into your cheek.

“Oh thank GOD” he exhaled.

“I’m sorry- what?”

“I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out how to tell you how much I like you without making you feel like you might become the subject of the next true crime podcast.” He ran a hand through his silky hair as you stood stunned where he’d set you down to process his words.

“You….”

“Yeah…”

“That bad?”

“Honestly I’m not opposed to taking your last name if you asked me.” He shrugged.

You covered your face with both hands, shaking it ruefully despite the cosmically bright smile on your face. Soon you were both howling with laughter in each other’s arms, smiling into Namjoon’s deep eyes.

“This is crazy! We’re crazy.”

“I know.” He nodded in agreement.

“I like you.”

“I really like you.”

“I don’t know the first thing about you.”

“Let’s find out together, shall we?”

You felt your eyes fill with annoyingly happy tears. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“You just moved here right?”

“Yeah. Finally- should have done it ages ago. My turn-Why do you and Hoseok have matching designer underwear ?”

“We all do actually. It was Jimin and Seokjins doing a couple Christmases ago.”

“But just one pair each right?”

“Yeah?” Namjoon nodded, brows hunched in confusion.

“Okay. So that means you’re telling me you and Hobi just happened to be on the same daily boxer rotation the day you both fucked a pair of sisters with the same DNA?”

“Please don’t word it that way.” Namjoon grimaced.

“I worded it how it is,” you shrugged.

“My turn. Why do you really want me to go to the grocery with you, Hmm?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Besides the company? For the view when I make you stretch for everything I’ve ever needed on the top shelf, Babyyy.”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?” He couldn’t contain his laughter.

“As a heart attack.” You winked.

“C’mon. Show me how you make these super fluffy eggs I’ve heard so much about. I’m starving. The gorgeous girl who owns this apartment milked me dry three times in less than twelve hours. I’m famished.”

Goddamn him and those cheeky little dimples.

────────────────────────

[hannie-dul-set]

LOVE VOMIT [n.] — the term when you become too full with your feelings too quickly and too frequently that you end up spitting everything out before even getting the chance to digest. this happens to you more often than you’d like to admit— every quarter, actually, ever since starting college. but what can you do when the prospect of falling in love is just too good to say no to? what can you do when maybe the next desert might actually stay inside your system this time?

or, wherein you fall in love with a different guy every season but fail to notice the one that’s been looking at you the whole year.

PAIRING. choi soobin x female! reader (ft. the rest of txt x reader). GENRE. slice of life, romance, humor, mild angst, SLOWBURN, college! au, orgmate! soobin, pining to the highest degree, multiple love interests, featuring some members of seventeen, enhypen, and le sserafim. WARNINGS. swearing, drinking, annoying org jargon, both mcs are pathetic, unrequited feelings. WORD COUNT. teaser: 429 | full fic: est. 25-30k. RELEASE DATE: late june to early july.

NOTE. i said i was going to post the preview at the end of the week but i got too excited 😭😭 this may be a soobin fic but. u see. i am in love with all five of them so YOU will also fall in love with all five of them i don't make the rules.

i also wanted to jump back into my comfort zone of writing ordinary college life tingz, especially now that i actually have 2 years worth of experience to draw reference from. anyhow, send me an ask/dm to be addded to the taglist. preview under the cut!

THE TIME IS SPRING. A soft musk in the air, freshly bloomed flowers lining the sidewalks, and the start of a new semester. There’s something gentle about springtime, reminiscent of crisp blankets straight from the dryer with lavender seeping into its cotton folds and sunlight leaking through pleated sheer curtains. The season is for cherry blossoms and picnic baskets, outings and first loves. You’ve always associated these things with spring, however none of these sensibilities are present tonight. 

Instead of clear skies and bright sunlight, the view through the diner windows is lit up by artificial lights and signages in the middle of a March evening. There’s no lilac nor daisies in the air, but cheap beer and the savory smell of fried chicken. It’s noisy, it’s loud, and it’s far from the gentleness of spring, but you’ve never felt more alive at this time of the year.

‘Why did you join Shutter.TXT?’ reads the sheet of paper sitting on your table. You’re all smiles as you listen to the answers of those sitting at your table, mindlessly nodding along after being three glasses in. Tonight is an orientation-slash-welcome party for the organization you impulsively joined upon entering the university. 

Because photography is my passion...because I want to explore other fields…because, because, because.

The answers carousel around the table, and honest to god, you stopped listening at some point because it’s getting repetitive. You don’t understand the purpose of this activity. Why else would you join a club for photography, videography, and editing if not for photography, videography, and editing? 

“Are you kids having fun?”

You perk up. The empty smiles you’ve been giving suddenly becomes brighter, your eyes crinkling at the corners. Spring came belatedly tonight, and it came in the form of your extremely pretty senior suddenly appearing behind your seat and you’re instantly all the more conscious about your posture when he leans down to check in on your group. He cranes his head to look at you with a smile. “Is it your turn?” he asks. The back of your neck is burning.

“Ah, yes,” you cough, clearing your throat to introduce your name. “I major in public administration. I know it’s pretty far from my discipline, but I decided to join Shutter.TXT because I didn’t want to be constrained in one field throughout college. I’m sure this organization will make my university experience a lot more exciting and interesting.”

Lies. You joined because of the very face that’s smiling at you this very moment.

“I look forward to working with you.”

love vomit. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[soleilnmity]

Media - ペルソナ2 ～罪が与えし罰～ 上巻 [Eng]

Title: 罪が与えし罰 (Punishment given by Sin) Volume: 上巻 (First Volume) Written by: 南原 順 (Jun Nanbara) Illustrations by: 上田信舟 (Shinshu Ueda) Publisher: Square Enix/G-Fantasy Novels (Label) Summary: This novel focuses on Tatsuya, Maya and Ulala, Katsuya as well as Nanjo and their thoughts/actions prior to the events of Eternal Punishment. It helps link both the story of Innocent Sin and Eternal Punishment together. Other characters are touched upon briefly, such as Anna Yoshizaka, Tatsuya Sudou and even Eikichi Mishina. This is the first part of two novels. The second novel can be found here

Google Drive link (Included in the folder are: The translation PDF, scans of the cover and the illustrations inside the novel in 600dpi resolution, and credit pages present in the novel) Personal Note: It took me quite some time to get this done, as I did it entirely by myself. So any error that may be found inside, please let me know! These novels are INCREDIBLY rare and stupid expensive (you might find them for over 30k yen sometimes, 12k for ONE if you're lucky). I lucked out last year and managed to obtain both for a rather cheap price (that if I mention it It'd give a heart attack to someone). At first, I wanted to wait until I could release both at the same time but it would take a lot of time, so I decided to release the first volume first (when I finish the second, I'll edit this post so both can be found together). I recently got a scanner (finally) so I can start scanning and translating all pieces of media that I own. I want to take a bit of a small break from translating big things like these and do some doujinshi scans for a little while www despite the scary count of the advertised pages (200+) the novel isn't actually that long. English isn't my first language, If you want to help in any way that'd be appreciated. If you find any typos etc please let me know. For now, I hope everyone can get to enjoy these unearthed 20+ year old novels for the first time ever.

[wardenparker]

Bright Lights & Broken Dreams - pt 2

Dieter Bravo x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst​

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+   Word Count: 30k Warnings: *Contains flashbacks*. Cursing, food/alcohol, drug use referenced underage substance abuse), controlling/abusive parent, false positive pregnancy, reference to underage sex with an adult, depression, really bad coping mechanisms, loss of virginity, praise kink, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, protected sex, piercings, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex. Summary: The blurred lines of playing lovers and being lovers have been blurred for you and Dieter before, but it seems like this time you might be much closer to your characters than either of you want to admit. Notes: Guys this story came out of a silly little dream that I had about hanging out with a movie star and allllll this angst is what poured out onto the page. Keri is a magician at helping me unravel all my wild thoughts 🧡🧡 The play we used for reference as their Broadway show is “In the Next Room (or The Vibrator Play)” by Sarah Ruhl in case anyone is wondering!

It should have been useless to be anxious when you got to the theater that night, but you couldn't help it. After delivering terrifying-yet-somehow-still-exciting news to Dieter before your shift at the restaurant, and then that shift going disastrously badly because you weren't feeling well, you were just hoping you could talk to him and try to come up with some kind of plan. You'd been dating for ten whole months, for crying out loud. You love each other. Surely you could come up with some kind of pathway through your future that could allow both of you to have your careers and still love this– this baby that you had created together.

Baby.

For such a small word it's fearsome. The idea of being a mother is more daunting than anything you've ever faced in your life but with him? Dieter makes you feel like you can do anything. His praise is like armor that shields you from the world. From all the scary things and hurtful things and the things that make you unsure of yourself. With him, you're sure you can make this work. Which is why you sit on your anxious hands and wait. Wait and wait, wondering if he's running late to show tonight since it's well past call time.

******

Dieter’s hands shake, from the nerves, too many cigarettes and fear when the phone rings and his father’s name comes up on the screen. He should have known he would find out quickly. The Hollywood circle is far smaller than people believe and Baxter Bravo was still in the center of it despite his ‘retirement’ ten years ago. “Dad.”

"Dieter." The elder Bravo coughs halfway through his son's name and doesn't bother to cover his mouth, making a hideous sound through the phone line. "You got a call today, unless I'm mistaken." And Baxter Bravo is never mistaken. "It's a good role. Decent enough, anyway. I'm having the maid air out your room."

“Yeah.” Dieter hesitates, still reeling over your news and honestly piss scared about it. “I might not take the roll.” He admits, knowing his father will disapprove. “I just found out that my girlfriend might be pregnant.”

"Don't be stupid." His father scoffs, the derisive laugh making him rattle. "Of course she thinks she's pregnant. How else is that pitiful little corn-fed thing supposed to get you to stick around?" He had met his son's paramour only once – at the opening night festivities that he attended with an appropriate smile on his face despite loathing Broadway – and he had been glad to forget the girl's name immediately after. "You can't possibly think she's serious. Of course you're taking the role."

“Dad, I love her.” It terrifies him, but he actually loves you. It had started out as something casual, a way to feed his ego and to get laid but there was something about you. He hadn’t gotten bored within weeks like he had expected. And watching you mature as a performer made him give serious thought about giving up acting and becoming an instructor. The only thing that stopped him was dear old dad. “I’m happy on the stage. The audience is amazing.”

"I knew I never should have let you go out there." Baxter huffs and loudly smacks on the end of his cigar. "I know she's been an amusement, Dieter. And that's fine. But you've been bred for far better than some mid-Western virgin and a smattering of applause. There is no immortality on the stage, son. Besides which, I've already accepted the role for you. So you'll come home immediately and I will graciously forget that you considered being disobedient."

“I’m fucking twenty-six, Dad!” Dieter shouts, frustrated that his father isn’t listening to him. Though that wasn’t unusual. He didn’t listen when he told him he didn’t want to act at six, or that he just wanted to go to school like a normal kid. Definitely didn’t listen when he said he wanted to go to school for art.

"Whatever does that have to do with anything?" His father asks, confused by the assertion, but rambles on before Dieter can reply in any way or shape. "I've had the attorney inform your landlord that you'll be out in forty-eight hours, and your airline ticket is being held at the service desk for when you arrive tomorrow. Noon flight, and if you're late I'll have to pay a fee to have the fare transferred to another flight, so please don't be a nuisance about it."

Dieter closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No.” He decides. “I’m going to stay here.” He tells his father firmly. “I can’t leave her if she’s pregnant.”

"She's not, though." There's boredom in his father's voice, as though Baxter has gotten tired of even having to speak to his own son. "She's a poor girl trying to trap a rich boy in the oldest way possible." A lazy puff of smoke curls out of his mouth and he sighs drearily. "But I can simply cut you off, if you're so determined to prove a point. Raising a bastard child that may or may not be yours on the streets of New York ought to be fun for you. Homeless and self-righteous. Is that what you want?"

“My money is from my acting when I was a child!” Dieter doesn’t know exactly how the money gets to him, just that he gets a healthy check every month.

"Your money goes through me." The reminder is as dark as it is serious, making his father's chuckle on the other end sound even more ominous. "Every cent you've ever made has gone into an account managed solely by me, Dieter. One call to a doctor and I can have a conservatorship in place faster than you dial a telephone. Pack, Dieter. Pack and come home to take your rightful place here or I will force you to. Am I making myself clear?"

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, running his hand through his hair as he paces in the apartment he had called home for the last three years. Knowing that he can’t see you, he’ll stay if he does. He’ll lose everything.

“You are a Bravo.” His father reminds him when he doesn’t say yes right away. “You will do the right thing, you have a family legacy to uphold.”

Closing his eyes, Dieter's lip trembles and he imagines your face. Tries to imagine it when he tells you he’s leaving and the way you would look so heartbroken. He can’t. He can’t see that. He can’t do it.

“Yes sir.” Dieter responds woodenly, hearing his father’s satisfied grunt on the other end.

“See you tomorrow.” Baxter hangs up the phone, satisfied his son will do as he is told.

******

"What do you mean he's not here?" You're supposed to be face to face with Dieter right now. Places has been called and the curtain is about to go up, but you're standing with his understudy and the stage manager on the verge of tears. It's worry more than it is anything else. If he's not here, is he okay? Is he hurt? Sick? Anything could have happened.

“He got the call.” The stage manager knows the two of you are sleeping together, everyone knows. It hasn’t been a secret for the entire run of this play. Although he had expected Dieter to tell you what was going on. “He left for L.A. Apparently got the role of a lifetime.”

"He..." In an instant, your heart and stomach drop through the floor and tears well up in your eyes. "He's..." The words won't even come, even breathing makes you feel like you're going to be sick all over the floor. "He's gone?"

“Shit, we’re about be ready for the curtain.” The stage manager looks at you with a mixture of pity and worry. It’s obvious Dieter didn’t say a word to you and just skipped town. Hating that he had to tell you the bad news and potentially interfere with tonight’s production. “Do you need a minute?”

"Ye–I–I–" The prop on the table a foot away from you catches your eye and you sob, loudly and openly. The baby doll is all wrapped up and swaddled to open the first scene. Just you and that little doll for a full minute until Dieter is supposed to walk out onstage to join you. But it won't be him. It won't be him on that stage or anywhere else, you realize all at once. When that baby doll in your arms is replaced with a real one, he won't be there either. "Stall." You beg, finally forming a full word as you throw yourself toward the nearest bathroom. "Two minutes!" You're a professional. A real professional, but you definitely do need to go throw up and rinse with a half bottle of mouthwash before you go out on that stage. He left you. He's gone.

Hiding in the darkest part of the theatre, Dieter keeps his hoodie up, not wanting anyone to recognize him. He knows that he shouldn’t have come. It would have been better to just walk away clean. To ‘wipe the slate clean’ like his father likes to say after so many of his misdoings or affairs when they were done. Getting to watch you perform rather than being a part of it. You’re beautiful, your performance even stronger than it normally is when he is your co-star. Making him realize that you don’t need him. Maybe you never did. All he had done was hold you back from your full potential. Right as the last curtain falls, Dieter turns around and heads for the exit. Away from New York and the one person who he had honestly loved.

******

In the month since filming began, an awkward truce has settled between you and Dieter. You don't openly antagonize each other any more, or even give each other the periodic silent treatment. You've become oddly respectful to the point of making it uncomfortably polite for people around you. The way the two of you tiptoe around each other is like the polar opposite of the way your assistants have become attached at the hip during every second of downtime that they have. Sadie and Desiree are possibly the sweetest couple you've seen in a long time, and as happy as you are for them, it makes you ache in the deepest corners of your heart and mind.

Dieter is in hell. Pure, unadulterated hell. You don’t insult him. You don’t ignore him. You’re polite to him. Making his skin crawl as he remembers all the times people were sickeningly sweet to him only to want something, but he can’t figure out what you would want besides this movie to be done. Snorting coke only goes so far and he’s almost bored with getting blitzed every night after filming is done, knowing you are next door and hating himself for wanting to go to you.

"I wish you would tell me what's going through your head." Sadie had asked you this morning, when you blankly accepted the cup of tea she handed you. Your anxiety had been high lately so she had insisted on cutting back on your caffeine intake. "You know you can talk to me." You can talk to her. And you probably should. But the fact is that you can't really find the words for what you're feeling. Being polite to Dieter is the only way you can get through the day without wanting to go to him and you can't do that. So you've just sort of...shut down. Everyone on set gets perfect manners from you, and no one can see the riot going on inside you.

Sadie frowns slightly and sighs, knowing you won’t open up. Ever since that first night, something has changed. “Let me go help Desiree.” She slaps her hands on her thighs. “Make sure he didn’t OD.”

"Is it really that bad?" You can't help the way your head pops up at such a casual remark, or the fear in your eyes when it does.

“It’s not good. Something– I don’t know. Desiree said he’s just given up.” She told you that she would tell you anything about Dieter, but she’s been hesitant to bring it up. “All he does is sit in his room and get bombed on whatever he has. She’s had a hard time getting him to eat.”

"I thought he'd lost weight." It's not as though you haven't paid attention. You spend most of every single day with the man. Blowing out a breath, you shake your head and stand up. "Will you do me a favor, honey?" When she nods, you wipe your hands on your pants nervously and return the gesture. "Order a pot of green tea and three shots of espresso to Dieter's room, and whatever Desiree says his favorite breakfast is. It used to be French toast, but I don't know if that's still true." Maybe you can get through to him and maybe you can't, but either way, you're going to try – and just hope you can keep your head on straight while you're at it.

“Okaaaaay.” Sadie frowns but she’s going to do what you ask of her. “It’s your day off today.” She reminds you. “You have tickets to the Tower of London and that tea room you wanted to try.” It’s been rare to get days off with the grueling schedule and luckily Dieter has sobered up enough to put in a spectacular performance everyday but it’s been rough.

"If it's my day off, then it's his day off." Considering you have very few scenes apart, your schedules tend to be identical. They won't be separate until you get to the location in France. "I–" When you turn to look at Sadie your eyebrows are knitted together in concern. "I'm worried about him," you admit quietly.

“Desiree is too.” She confesses quietly. “He’s – well, at least he’s been somewhat normal on set, but it’s been something.” She shakes her head, thankful that her boss wasn’t going through something like Dieter is, although Desiree is protective of him.

"She cares about him." It's good to see. And you do like Desiree a lot – she's a kind woman with fierce loyalties and a huge heart. And she looks at Sadie like she hung the stars in the sky. "I'm just...he might not want to talk to me. But I have to at least try."

“He might not know who you are, depending on what he’s taken.” Sadie warns you, aware that Dieter has done that with her quite a few times. “It’s fucking amazing he remembers his lines and the blocking.”

"I have to try." You reach out to squeeze her arm and head out the door, just to take six steps in the hallway to knock on his door. "Dieter?" His name is soft on your lips and there's no answer, so you try again. "Dee? It's me...can I come in?"

Dieter stares at the wall, not moving, not blinking. Barely breathing. Lost in his mind, fuzzy and muted. Barely hearing the sounds coming from the door. Staring at a single spot in the wallpaper that doesn’t match the rest. The pattern is off, just slightly. Like the wall was damaged and had to be repaired.

It's Desiree who opens the door, face drawn in concern. "It's not a good time," she tells you gently, glancing back toward the bedroom where Dieter is lying almost entirely catatonic.

"Sadie said he hasn't been doing well?" You're not about to let her close the door on you. Not when you're this concerned about him. You know things have been off lately, but that doesn't mean you're detached from it all. "I'm not here to chat or play board games, Des. I'm honestly worried about him."

“I–” Desiree bites her lip and decides to be blunt. “What happened that night? Did you see him? Did you talk?” She knows something had to happen for Dieter to sink this low. You seem to be a trigger for him, good or bad, she hasn’t decided.

"I'm afraid there's more than one that night to pick from." You tell her when she steps back to let you and Sadie inside. "If you mean the first night of filming? Yeah...we...we ran into each other at dinner. And I...I got mad. It's not my proudest moment, I'm afraid."

“What happened?” Desiree’s heart drops and she bites her lip as she looks back towards Dieter. Unsure of how to snap him out of this particular funk. She normally can, but nothing is working this time.

"He had a sketchbook with him." It's really not anything you're proud of, but you're honestly shocked that whoever had filmed it in the restaurant that day hadn't put it online. "I–I saw him drawing me and I kind of...well, I yelled. We came back here when I insisted that he explain to me why he was drawing me and he...well," you exhale deeply, remembering the deep lines of hurt in his face right before he walked out your door. "It didn't go well."

She can’t even begin to imagine what Dieter is thinking, but she nods. “Okay.” She glances over at Sadie and bites her lip. “We’ll go downstairs to give you two a few minutes.” She decides, desperate to have her boss back and willing to do whatever it takes.

Silent hugs of encouragement are had between the three of you, and you watch Sadie and Desiree go out the door before you step back toward the bedroom door. It’s open but you still knock, not wanting to startle Dieter. “Dee?” From the doorway you can see that the room has been left to get messy along with his mind. He’s laying on the bed staring at the walls and you gulp nervously. “Dee, is it okay if I come in?”

Dieter grunts, hearing you although it sounds like he is in a water tank. Wondering why he hears you, you shouldn’t be in his room. The blissful feeling of floating is starting to wane and he knows that he’s coming down from his high. Must be his call time for the day.

When the biggest response you get out of him is a nonverbal sound, you leave your bag at the door and push inside with worry worn on your face. “Can you talk?” You ask gently, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Fifteen.” Dieter croaks out. His voice is rough and raspy from not using it for so long. He always sounds a little hoarse, but it’s amplified by the cottonmouth the drugs leave him with.

“Fifteen what, Dee?” A deeply ingrained part of you just wants to reach out and wrap your arms around him but the fear is overwhelming. He might lash out or he might not want you here at all – regardless of you just trying to help.

“She was– was my father’s girlfriend.” Dieter tells you, tone flat and void of all emotion.

“Your father had fifteen girlfriends?” You ask, not understanding at all. Of course, you knew his father for a womanizing asshole, but not much else. Dieter has seemed to fear and revere him when he was younger, but you had only met the man once.

“N-no. Yes.” Dieter doesn’t know why he is thinking about this, but it’s what he keeps replaying in his head. “I was– fifteen when she– he sent her to my room.” His father had decided he was tired of his son being a shy virgin. So he had sent his twenty-one year old girlfriend to him to show him what to do.

“Oh god.” Dread curls on your stomach when you realize what he’s saying, and you shift closer to him on the mattress. “That’s all done now, Dee. It’s over. And he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” While the news of Baxter Bravo’s death rocked Hollywood a few years ago, you had paid it little mind. Now, though? Even that one little piece of information makes you want to dance on his grave when you get back to California.

“He had my money.” Dieter croaks, frowning and closing his eyes. “Threa-threatened to cut me off. If I didn’t– if I stayed in theatre.” His thoughts have shifted to his father, guilt and anger fusing together. “First time I got drunk was because of him. Eight years old at his party.”

“Shit…” He’s bouncing all over the place in his memory, and unfortunately there is a lot about his father that you just don’t know. But the piece about theater sticks directly into your heart – because the only time Dieter was in the theater was around the time you met. “When did he say he’d disown you?” You ask, trying to get him on a clear train of thought if that’s at all possible.

“I watched you.” His eyes open again and he turns his head to look at you for the first time. “I was in the back, I watched the entire thing. I couldn’t go without seeing it– you. It was your best performance. Without me.”

“The night you…” It’s an impulse, the way you reach for his hand, but your fingers tighten around his and the gesture feels so small. Not nearly enough, but you’re afraid to go further. “You watched the show the night you left?” You were broken that night – sobbing and sick to your stomach at every turn, lashing out at people who tried to take care of you because you were hurt and terrified. You couldn’t even let yourself drink after the show to numb the feeling because you thought you were pregnant. “Dee…” Your inhale is ragged. “It wasn’t my best performance. Not by a long shot. I was a shell that night.”

“It was beautiful.” Dieter insists, frowning at you, showing emotion for the first time since anyone entered his room this morning. “You were beautiful. And I–” he swallows. “I couldn’t keep you, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“Because of your father?” The pieces begin to slide into place in your mind, but the puzzle is still wildly incomplete. “Is that what happened?”

Dieter blinks, frowning slightly and then lifts his head. “Bambi?” He asks quietly. “Are you really here?” He’s talked about this so many times to a figment of his imagination he doesn’t know if you are real.

“Yeah, Dee.” You shift another few inches up the bed, keeping his hand in yours until you’re sitting right next to him. His eyes are glossy from whatever he’s taken but his words are coming a little clearer, and you’re hoping that’s a sign that he’s coming down. “I’m right here. I was…I’m worried about you.” There’s no past tense about it, but you bite your lip from saying anything deeper when he’s not entirely himself. “So I came over to check on you.”

“Why?” That confuses him. You hate him, you have every right to hate him after what he had done. Not just twelve years ago, but the way he had prodded at you and taunted you since then, fueling the hatred because it was easier for you to hate him than to delve into his losing you. “I– I left you. I left you for him.” He grunts, disgusted with himself for choosing a man who had never viewed Dieter as anything more than an extension of himself. Forcing him to choose the Bravo family dynasty and then dying on him a few years later, leaving a widow that was nearly too young for even Dieter to date.

“Because—” It sticks in your throat, choking you with truth and sadness and tears of regret. With anger and frustration. With things you have never said out loud to anyone before, not even Sadie or your therapist. “Because I c—care about you,” you manage to choke out, feeling the half-truth of it crack in your chest. The decade of anger and disgust really boils down to hurt and worry, when you’re honest with yourself.

“You shouldn’t.” That is the crux of Dieter’s issues. He knows he is completely unworthy of someone caring about him. It’s easier to not care when you push people away and they look at you in disgust. “I–” he closes his eyes again, humming to himself. “I love you.” He murmurs quietly, his mind settling and the rush of the high wears off as he fades into fatigue.

“Dee, can you stay awake for me?” You don’t know a whole lot about drugs or their side effects but you know that there are a whole lot of things that can make a person tired or even pass out, and you’re about as prepared for that as you are to handle what he just said to you — which is to say, not at all. You don’t know whether to trust it or not. Whether he would have said it at all, or if he would even come close to meaning it when his mind is his own. The best you can do is try to keep him awake and hope that Desiree sends up his breakfast soon.

“Hmmmm.” Dieter doesn’t want to, not when he is feeling this tired. “Bottle–” he gestures with one lazy hand towards the nightstand. “Red pill.” He needs a hit of speed to be ready for his call time. “Need.”

“What are the red ones?” You’re not prepared to give him more drugs, but if it’s an antacid or a simple ibuprofen or something, that’s different.

“First time I took speed– I was ten.” Dieter grunts. “Dad gave it to me. Needed to stay up for a night shoot.”

“Fucking hell…” If his father wasn’t already dead you’d be hunting him down yourself. How could a grown man do that to his child? “It’s okay,” you tell him quietly, putting your other hand over his. “We don’t need that today.” Or ever, but one step at a time. “We’re just going to sit together today, is that okay? Just you and me? Have something to eat and if you need to nap we can ask Desiree, okay?” At the very least, Des can give you a better idea of what his symptoms and side effects look like. She can give you some kind of idea of what to expect.

“Gotta–” Dieter opens his eyes again and gives you a soft smile. “Bambi.” He murmurs breathlessly. “Still so innocent.”

“A little less than I used to be.” In this, though? In the world of these abusive experiences and using drugs to compensate? You really are very innocent.

“Great ass.” Dieter groans, acting more like his normal front for a moment, but he means it. “I lied, your tits are amazing.”

You can’t help but snort, holding back an appreciative laugh because you don’t want him to think you’re laughing at him. “You were always a big fan of them.”

“Why did you rip my sketches?” He asks quietly, a question he has pondered for a long time but never asked. “Were they bad?”

“Because I—” Unconsciously, your hands tighten slightly around him, not wanting him to pull away. “I thought you were making fun of me. That you wanted to remember how much you had hurt me…and then I saw more and I…I was just confused as to why you kept drawing me.”

“That's all I have left of my beautiful Bambi.” Dieter chokes out, his face twisted in sorrow and remorse.

“Dee…” It makes you deflate, the confusion and the anxiety leaving your body so you nearly sag beside him on the mattress and shake your head. “You really loved me, didn’t you?” For years you had convinced yourself that it was a lie. That he had just told you what you wanted to hear and that he had never meant it. But the voice in the back of your mind that knew it wasn’t true seems to have been right all along.

“Told him I was staying.” He rambles, shaking his head. “Not going to Cali, but he said I would be cut off. Raising the baby on the streets. I’d be a bad dad.”

It doesn’t matter that the tests had been wrong – it was the fear that was real. And the fear that his father had instilled in him was real, too. “I’m sorry you were scared.” You murmur, still holding onto him. “I was scared, too.”

“I shoulda stayed.” Dieter huffs. “Been stronger. Always been so weak. You’re strong. So strong. Better than me.”

“It’s not about ‘better’.” It breaks your heart to hear him say that, and you shake your head. “We’re just different. That’s…that’s why we were good together. Balance.”

With his confessions off his chest, Dieter falls asleep, his soft snores coming out evenly with his breathing relaxed. Hand going slack in yours.

Once it’s clear he’s sleeping and not in some kind of stupor, you text Desiree to let her know that he seemed lucid before the snoring started and you sit back to wait. Unfortunately, you’re somewhat of a restless person and sitting while someone else sleeps just isn’t your cup of tea. So the compulsive cleaning starts. First it’s tucking him in properly, then dropping his rejected sweaters and t-shirts into the laundry basket in his wardrobe. It’s tidying his stacks of books, then art supplies, and scattered notebooks that you assume hold more sketches. It’s curiosity that does it – that same old thing that got the cat and now you.

The first sketchbook is the one you recognize from the sandwich shop, and you very carefully and quietly set to work taping the pages back in that you tore. The next has images of sets and landscapes – nothing out of the ordinary there. But the third seems to be self-portraits. Gruesome renderings of his own visage with gore and mutations, some intentionally missing whole chunks of himself from the image. Drawings where his chest has been torn open, or where he seems to have no space for a heart at all. It’s an overwhelming discovery, and you compulsively find yourself flipping through every single image until you’re sitting in the corner armchair silently crying.

Dieter sleeps for several hours without dreaming. Just the deep sleep of the exhausted. Until images of you start to creep in. Moments he has missed until he is running towards you and he can’t seem to catch you. “Bambi!” He moans, the word coming out gargled and far quieter than he has said in his dream. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The second you hear your name – your nickname – your head shoots up from the book you were reading and you head for the bed to sit with him again. Desiree had said he said Bambi in his sleep and she was being honest, though he had always talked in his sleep from time to time before. “I’m right here.” You take his hand again, not caring if you wake him up. He’s been asleep for hours and he needs to eat something. God only knows how long it’s been since he had a proper meal. “I’m right here, Dee.”

You’re running away from him, making him run faster. Trying to catch you before you disappear out of sight. Until you leave him. “Don’t go.” He whimpers, feeling a pressure in his hand and he squeezes it in desperation. “Please. Please Bambi.”

“I’m right here,” you repeat, watching his face contort in the dream, and you find yourself wondering if it’s unsafe to wake someone from a nightmare if they’re still tripping. But since you have no idea if he is still high, you decide to say fuck it and put your other hand on his shoulder very deliberately. “Dee, wake up.” You barely keep yourself from calling him baby — cooing the way you would have years ago. It’s too easy to slip back into. “Wake up for me? Please?”

Dieter’s eyes shoot open, like he’s had a shot of adrenaline shoved into his heart. Reaching out and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. “Bambi!” He gasps before he realizes he’s awake and gives you a confused look, “did I– where am I?”

“The hotel.” You nearly jump three feet off the bed when he woke up, but you manage to keep your voice calm. “We’re in the hotel. In London. Does that ring a bell?”

“Yeah.” Dieter groans and looks around, blinking owlishly, although his vision is a shit ton better since the lasik surgery. “Did I miss my call time?”

“It’s our day off.” He hasn’t let go of your hand and you don’t let go either. “You haven’t—I mean I—” You exhale to let the shakiness out of your voice. “I’m worried about you. Desiree says you haven’t been eating.”

“What?” He makes a face and then gives a small shrug before he grunts and sits up. “Not hungry.” He murmurs, feeling like everything tastes like despair.

“Says the guy who used to be able to eat two entire cheeseburgers plus fries in a sitting.” Looking down at your joined hands, you’re not sure if coming over here was a good idea or not, but you’re here. You made the decision. So you’re going to stick with it. “Does whatever you’re taking make you not hungry? Or is it the depression?” It’s not like you haven’t dealt with it yourself. You know what depression can do to a person and you know it firsthand.

Dieter looks away guiltily, remembering all the times that his father would tell him that there’s nothing a snort of coke or a tight pussy couldn’t fix. “I just– nothing tastes good.” He says finally, registering that his mouth is dry. “I gotta–” he moves to get up, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“There’s water right here.” That, at least, you could have ready for him. The bottle is ready and waiting on his side table where you point to it. “Do you…” your voice wavers but you clear your throat. “Do you remember talking to me this morning? At all?”

Dieter’s eyes narrow and and despite the drugs that he takes, he unfortunately remembers it all. The curse of a photographic memory, though it serves him well in memorizing lines. “I told you about that day. And my dad.” He gulps down the water thirstily and sighs when it’s gone.

“You did.” He also said that he loves you – present tense – but if he doesn’t remember that part you’re not going to put more pressure on the situation. “I’m sorry, Dee. I had no idea he was so hard on you.” You knew he was strict, obviously, but some of the things he described were downright odious.

“I’m sorry.” Dieter rubs the back of his neck and sighs. Aware of what he had blurted out to you in his very honest dialogue. “You can just– pretend I didn’t say anything. It’s okay. I won’t blame you.”

“Do you want me to forget?” It’s a very touchy game you’re playing here, and you’re not sure which way he’s leaning.

“I know you can’t forgive me.” Dieter murmurs quietly. “But no. Use it to make yourself feel better about how shitty I did you.”

“It sounds like things were a lot more complicated than I ever knew.” The urge to just reach out and hug him is so hard to ignore. There’s always been a magnet between you and it seems to have been recharged as more and more information came to light today. “I wish you had at least said goodbye, but I get now that you didn’t have a choice in leaving. We…we were just kids.”

Dieter snorts and shakes his head. “I was a grown ass man. I should have told him to go fuck himself. Sued him for my money.” There've been plenty of regrets and ‘would haves’ where you and that situation was concerned. “If I had said goodbye, I would have–” he shakes his head. “I don’t know. I knew I couldn’t face you. I’m a coward.”

“He was abusing you.” If he’s been in therapy, then he knows that already. But the stubborn voice inside you refuses to let him get away with putting himself down. “Of course you were afraid of him. He did that on purpose. But Dee…” You shake your own head this time and sigh. “He’s gone. He doesn’t get to keep hurting you like this.”

“The ghost of Baxter Bravo always haunts me.” Dieter tells you. “It’s like a never ending A Christmas Carol.”

“Is there…” It sticks in your throat like lava, some kind of fear that you can’t name, but you manage to swallow. “Is there anything I can do? To help, I mean?”

Dieter shakes his head, knowing it’s not your place to fix him. He doesn’t even know if you can. He’d just drag you down with him. “Doubtful. Unless you want to show me your tits?” He asks hopefully, lifting his brows.

You roll your eyes, seeing his walls go back up and shut you out all over again. Making it clear that he doesn’t want you looking into that part of his life anymore. “You’ll see them on set in a week.”

“I don’t–” he sees the way your expression falls, the annoyance you are trying to hide. “Thank you.” He offers, swallowing. “Life is full of regrets, right?”

“I guess so. Or…I don’t know anyone whose isn’t. So it must be universal.” This conversation feels like a time bomb, ticking away to the point of oblivion, and you just don’t know when the explosion is going to come. You’d thought it was just a second ago, but apparently not. So you try a different olive branch. “I don’t like being mad at you, for the record. Even if we’re not…what we were…I still don’t want to hate you.”

Dieter licks his lips, eyes quickly darting between yours and he lunges forward, desperately pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is needy and wanting.

It makes sense that your first impulse is to push him away. This impulse of his seemingly came out of nowhere, after all. The problem – or maybe more accurately, the complication – is that as soon as you register the fact that Dieter is kissing you, you become twenty-one all over again and hold onto him for dear life instead of using your hands on his chest to create distance. It’s pull instead of push, and the kiss lingers just long enough to become soft before your mind comes back down from whatever cloud it lighted on and you have to part for air.

He frowns when you pull back, wanting the kiss to go on longer, for it to never end. Opening his eyes with a small pout on his lips and wishing he could lean in again but your hand is on his chest gently keeping him in place.

“Wha—” With your mind going a hundred miles a minute, you feel like you’re spinning and holding on to him is the only thing keeping you from drifting away. “That—” One hand drifts to your lips to touch them like you’re not sure if the sensation is real or not. “You meant it, didn’t you?” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth, utter bewilderment obvious in your tone.

“Meant what?” Dieter asks, not sure exactly what you are talking about. He had meant everything he said.

“Before you fell asleep…” It’s been ringing in your head for hours. “You…said you love me.”

“Yes.” Dieter admits it quietly. “I don’t – I’m honest when I’m high. I have no filter.”

“I just…I spent a long time thinking you hated me. Or…or that you didn’t think anything about me. It’s…” You swallow again, fingers still tangled in his shirt. “An adjustment.”

“I’m sorry.” Dieter bites his lip. “It’s a – it's a safety thing. Push people away before they can hurt you.” He’s not proud of it, nor would he say that it’s right, but it’s what he does.

“I get it.” Shifting in place from mounting anxiety, you find yourself moving closer to him instead of just adjusting in place. “I mean…I haven’t had a relationship last longer than six months in…” You huff at yourself when you do the math. “In twelve years.”

He knows that’s his fault. He caused you to be that way. He had taken his Bambi, his innocent Bambi, and ruined you. He sighs softly and shakes his head. “I’m a piece of shit for that.”

“What happened was complicated.” That’s a very kind way of putting it, but you can’t bring yourself to be ferociously upset or angry with him anymore. Not now that you’re starting to have a picture of how bad the abuse was that he endured. “But it’s good to know that you didn’t do it on purpose. That’s…that means more than you know.”

Dieter nods, feeling like he should say something else but not knowing what. He’s not…good with emotional entanglements. Trying to keep everything surface level for so long had fucked with his heart. “I– that’s good.” He says awkwardly, his stomach deciding it would be the perfect time to rumble like Mt. Vesuvius.

“You need to eat.” It’s the spell that breaks the tension, and you sit back again on the mattress with renewed awkwardness. “I’ll, um…I’ll call for room service?”

“You don’t have to stay.” Dieter knows that you might not want to spend too much time with him. “It’s your day off. I doubt you want to spend it with me.”

“If you don’t want me to stay, that’s one thing,” you tell him honestly. “But if it’s up to me, I’d rather stay. I haven’t stopped being worried about you just because we talked without screaming at each other.”

Dieter frowns and wonders why you are worried about him. But he also doesn’t want to be alone. Instead he nods. “I– I need to shower. I feel grimy.” He knows he looks homeless routinely, but he does shower regularly. “Could you– could you order us something to eat? If you’re staying?”

“I’ll order some food, you go shower.” That gets you up at last, moving across the room to grab the hotel’s service binder from the table it’s sitting on in his front room. After a second you step back, hanging in the bedroom doorway. “Our assistants are dating, by the way. I don’t know if you know.”

“I figured when she snapped up the reservation she had made for me.” Dieter mumbles. And it explains why another woman had been coming into his room. “That’s how you found out about me talking about you in my sleep.”

“Yeah.” You nod slightly, but look up at him with a lopsided smile. “But you always talked into your sleep anyway. I could have been bluffing.”

He pouts, knowing that you could have been bluffing and he would have believed it, because he does dream about you. “True. But you burp in your sleep.”

“Which I’m pretty sure is the reason nobody sticks around more than a few months.” It’s a friendly jab at yourself, and you shrug it off. “Go shower. I’m gonna get us some food and let Desiree know you’re up.”

Dieter turns and stops. “Thank you.” He tells you seriously. “You could have just left me to my misery.”

“Turns out I might have a little soft spot for you.” A fact which is going to have your stomach, nerves, and heart in knots all at once.

“Don’t know why, but I’ll take it.” Dieter turns and walks into the bathroom, only pushing the door instead of latching it.

As soon as you hear the shower turn on, you call down for a sizable lunch plus a whole pot of the green tea he seems to be favoring these days, and then turn right around and call Desiree to give her an update. She and Sadie had gone down to Sadie's room to wait things out, and while you realize you might be calling in the middle of...things, it's worth the risk of interrupting them to let her know that Dieter is okay.

Standing under the hottest water the hotel provides, he leans against the shower tiles and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know why you are here, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in a long time. His head is pounding but he’s not reaching for the bottle on the counter just yet. Groaning as the water beats down on his skin and he reaches for the soap he prefers, eager to scrub himself clean.

******

The day has been such a whirlwind that you barely know what's happened except that from rehearsal to dinner to the cab right back across the city, you and Dieter have been inseparable. He’s been so kind and so attentive, answering all of your questions about what it was like to grow up in Hollywood and all of the exotic places he’s visited. He’s told you stories from movie sets and all about the sunny beaches out West that just beg for anyone to enjoy them. And now – on top of it all – you’re sitting in the living room of his upper East side apartment with him with glasses of sticky sweet rum and Coke to drink while you listen to someone across the small neighborhood playing piano with their windows thrown open. It’s so romantic you could cry, or maybe jump for joy. You certainly wouldn’t want to cry right now, with his fingers grazing your shoulder gently – a little more every time they pass.

He doesn’t understand how you are still untouched, so fucking pretty and clever, sociable when you want to be. Keeping his own ‘losing his virginity’ story to himself because what can he really tell you about that? Instead his fingers trail over your bare shoulder, your tank top is a toy at times as he hums. Itching with the need to draw you, another talent he doesn’t talk about. It was highly discouraged in his household. Hell, the only thing that was encouraged was acting and being a slut. Living up to the old man’s reputation. But right now, none of that matters. All that matters is how your body inches closer to him and those kisses that you’ve been enthusiastic about sharing have turned slightly greedy.

The dam broke at rehearsal, of course. The script calls for a kiss and he had kindly suggested that it would make it less awkward in the future to share a few early on. That led to a fairly intense make out session in your dressing room, and now this moment on his couch. You’re so drawn to him – unsure of how or why this is happening but determined to make the most of it. Dieter toys with the strap of your tank top, sliding it off your shoulder and grazing his fingertips across the bare skin to make you sigh and shiver. It’s divine and slightly intoxicating and he has completely wiped every thought from your head except for him.

"You need another refill?" Dieter hesitates to ask the real question he wants to. Wanting you to be comfortable. "Or water?" He probably drinks a little more than he should, smokes some grass and pops a few pills when he isn't working, but he wants you clear headed for what he wants tonight.

“I guess water might be smart.” You fluster slightly at the fact that you probably would have just had another drink if he hadn’t offered an alternative. To you, that signals the end of the night – he’ll be walking you to the door and sending you home soon. But what a day it’s been.

He nods, reluctantly removing his arm from around you so he can stand to get you a new glass. “Let me get it for you.” He bites his lip, wondering what you are thinking as you play with your rum glass. “So how do you like kissing me?”

The straightforward question earns an embarrassed giggle from you, and you take the last sip of rum and Coke from your glass while you think of the least embarrassing way to answer. "A lot," you admit, hiding your flustered face behind the glass. "I like it a lot. But I'm sure I'm not the first girl to tell you that."

“No, but you’re the only girl I want to hear it from.” Dieter flirts, turning around and winking at you from around the corner to the small galley style kitchen.

"It's going to be a really remarkable show." The playwright is amazing, the rest of the cast is phenomenal, and you're basically feeling like an imposter being a complete unknown and leading this cast of incredible talent. The fact that you've had a crush on your leading man since you knew what a crush was doesn't hurt either.

“Yes it is.” It only takes him a few moments to get your glass and he brings it back over to you and sits down to face you as he grins. “Because you are in it.”

"You're so sweet to me." You put down your empty glass to accept the water and feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Between how he keeps flattering you and being nearly desperate to kiss him again, you feel like you're on fire from head to toe – and the center is that familiar and powerful want that starts between your legs and grows infinitely.

“I want to talk to you about something very serious.” Dieter raises his brows and looks at you playfully, in a way that he can only manage when he wants to know something naughty. His fingers find your bare arms and he strokes the skin softly.

"Okay." There has been no shortage of conversation between the two of you, which has been nice, but you call yourself to order for something serious.

“So we’ve been….doing this–” he motions between the two of you and bites his lip, aware that you might not be ready for something like this. “But….do you want to have sex with me?” He asks. “It’s okay if you don’t, but I really want you.”

"I–" The surprise on your face is obvious as you set the glass of water down carefully on the table beside you and turn back to Dieter on the sofa. The answer is obviously yes, but it's a shock to hear him ask out loud. And a shock that he would want you when he could have his choice of anyone in the world. The signals in your mind cross themselves, and you're nodding yes right away, but what comes out of your mouth is slightly different. "I'm a virgin," you blurt out, unable to stop yourself from being honest to a fault.

He had known that. The way you responded to him had told him that, but his half hard cock twitches at the words. “That’s okay.” He promises you. “It’s okay Bambi, I don’t mind if you’re a virgin.”

"You don't?" As far as you understood, that was the worst thing a girl could be. It smacked of being prudish or snobbish, and even though there just hadn't been any boys at home that you were interested in. In the city you had focused entirely on your studies. Now your studies have led you here...and to him.

“I love that.” Dieter confesses, sliding closer another inch, his cock throbbing now and he knows if you look down, you’ll see his hard on straining against the joggers he was wearing. “I want to be the first one to touch you, maybe the only one.” He’s breathless, as if it would be a treasure to cherish.

The only one. It takes your breath away unexpectedly, and you can feel yourself staring with your mouth slightly open. He's remarkable and magnetic and the closer he moves to you the more you move to meet him, and your hand tentatively rests on his leg to steady yourself. "I want you to be, too."

Grinning, he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” He asks, wanting to make sure. “You want me to take your virginity?”

"I've..." Your fingers dig into his leg a little, curling as you lean forward a little and nod. "I've dreamed about it." You confess quietly. Those dreams were long before you met him, obviously, but here you are.

He nods seriously and points to your water. “Drink up Bambi, I want to show you my bedroom.”

“I’m not drunk,” you promise him, but drink the water anyway. It’s probably good to give you a minute to cool down before you spontaneously combust right next to him.

He smirks and shakes his head. “I know. I just want you in complete control of the decisions you make.”

“Saying yes to you isn’t exactly a difficult decision.” In fact, you’d be hard pressed to think of any time or place you would say no — the idea of turning down Dieter Bravo is unfathomable.

“Yeah but…” he doesn’t mention that he doesn’t want you to regret it, instead he just leans in and kisses your throat. “I want you begging for it.”

Somehow you really don’t think that’s going to be an issue, and the whimper that escapes your lips when you feel his tongue flick across your pulse tells him so. It’s all you can do to gulp down the water remaining in the glass he brought you so you can have both hands on him as he kisses his way along your throat and shoulder, then back up to your jaw again.

“You want to go to my bedroom?” He asks softly, keeping his voice low and easy. Hands ghosting over your sides and grazing over your breasts.

“Yes.” The emphatic nodding would have given your answer but you whine on the word, making it come out strained and eager. Like you’ve never wanted anything more in your entire life. And maybe – as of this moment – you haven’t. “Yes—I—please?”

Standing up, Dieter drags you up into his arms and rushes you towards the bedroom. He’s lucky that he even has a bedroom, most apartments are studio closets like yours. He nearly picks you up in his rush to usher you through the apartment, and you giggle against his lips as he moves you. Dieter groans and giggles as he slams his shoulder into the door frame in his eagerness to get you into the bedroom.

You’ve heard things, because of course you have, from girls around you. About how the first time is always bad, or it hurts, or it doesn’t last more than two minutes. There are always plenty of bad stories in circulation as warnings. But you can’t imagine Dieter would be a disappointment like that. Whether it’s the rose-colored tint of brand new feelings or that very long-distance crush that you nursed for forever…or even just the surety that anyone who kisses as well as he does can’t be bad in bed. Whatever it is, you’re more excited than you are scared.

“Now.” Dieter collapses on the bed with you and rushes to kiss you again. “I’m gonna lick your pussy.” He groans, reaching for your leggings. “Don’t be shy and try to hide from me.”

For just a second you’re tempted to point out that he seems to like when you’re shy, but when you register what he’s said you end up gobsmacked instead. Almost every girl you know has bitched and moaned about their boyfriends hating to eat pussy — and here you are with an international movie star about to strip your panties off.

Some people call him selfish, and he is. Dieter can be a needy, selfish asshole but he also has a massive praise kink. Learning quickly from his first encounter that the easiest way to earn moaned praises is for him to service his partner. Making them willing to fuck him again the next time, so he is a man who will happily bury his face in a cunt or wrap his lips around a cock. Now, he pulls back to drag your panties down, spreading your legs wide and tutting when you try to close your legs. Sensing your embarrassment, he flashes you a grin. “Don’t worry Bambi, I don’t shave either.”

“I would have…” You mumble, heat flooding your cheeks that has nothing to do with arousal. “But I never expected this.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi.” Dieter scoffs. “I like the au natural look.” He promises. “It’s womanly.” He grips your thighs and ducks down to suck your clit into his mouth.

It’s a shock to your system that makes you tense up at first, keening at the sensation that is completely unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. No fumbling hand in your panties could ever come close to the sensation of hot breath and plush lips on your clit. Not that any of the boys that came before him ever even knew where your clit was. This is the kind of pleasure that makes your back arch and your brain shut off immediately.

Humming, he smirks against your mound. Reaching up to push your shirt up so he can reach your tits. Eager to touch them. He’s wanted to see your tits since he’s kissed you. You shiver under his attention, body responding to everything all at once and yet focused entirely on the places that he’s touching you. He grunts in disapproval when he feels you move, but it’s just so that you can peel your tank top off, stripping away your bra along with it to leave yourself completely bare for him.

Groaning, Dieter reaches up with both hands, filling them with your tits and massaging them as he spells his name into your folds with his tongue, making sure to flick it over your clit as much as possible.

The breadth of his frame keeps your legs pinned open, body moving in waves underneath him as you arch up and roll your hips down alternately. You’re trying to chase every single sensation possible as the pressure mounts in your core, unashamedly whimpering and moaning at every turn. By the time your legs are shaking you’ve nearly forgotten your own name, but you sure as hell remember his – chanting “Dee” in increasingly breathless moans until the damn breaks and your orgasm washes over you with an intensity you’ve never felt before.

For his part, he’s incredibly patient for a man in his twenties giving pleasure to someone else. Keeping his tongue sweeping over your nerves with practiced skill and precision, groaning when you shamelessly press yourself harder into his mouth. Wanting and willing you to come apart so he can witness the spectacular sight.

“Oh my fucking god.” Most of the time, you really don’t swear. It’s not a big part of your vocabulary, or at least it hasn’t been so far. But as the aftershocks of that first orgasm at his mercy roll through you, you can’t seem to form a sentence that doesn’t include a curse. “D—Dieter—shit…that was…” It was amazing, but you’re not sure if gushing about it just makes it all the more obvious that he’s the first person ever to make you cum that way.

He chuckles as he gives your soaked folds another lazy lick before turning his head and kissing along your thigh. “You enjoy that, Bambi? I fucking love the way you taste. So sweet for me.”

“You’re so fucking incredible.” Without him holding you in place, you easily twist down the bed to meet him, eagerly tasting your own essence on his lips and tongue. Some people might not like it – most men you’ve known say they don’t – but you don’t care. All you care about right now is being as close to him as possible.

The kiss is messy, frantic. Aided by your fingers pulling at his clothes. The role of shy virgin peeled away and he’s left with his Bambi who is desperate for him. Dieter groans, hating that his lips break away from yours long enough to pull his shirt over his head, he has to be the one thinking rationally. “Condom.” He gasps, nearly whining when you cup him through his pants.

Like a shock to your system, you pull your hand back immediately and look guiltily away. Since you never thought anything like this could happen in a million years, you certainly didn’t come prepared. “Shit…” the murmur that passes your lips is fully regretful and your face drops.

“No.” Dieter cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours firmly. “I need to get a condom.” He clarifies. “I have one.” He keeps them in his dresser. He was just so overwhelmed he was reminding himself he needed to protect you.

“Oh.” Your whole face burns in embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you look away. “Right. I—I knew that—”

“It’s not on you to provide condoms.” Dieter has a fucked up view on sex and love, but he had always been taught to fucking wrap it up. His father didn’t want scandals about his son catching the clap.

“Okay.” Taking it as fact from someone who knows far better than you, you nod your understanding and tentatively press in to kiss him softly. “Whatever you say.”

He smirks, wonderfully entranced with your easy acceptance and he shuffles over, still kissing you so that he can open the small nightstand and pull out a ribbon of condoms. “Fuck baby, you’re so good to me.” He groans. “Lay back. Let me get this on.”

There is no instinct in you to question him or the situation. Absolutely nothing matters more here or now than him, and you just naturally assume that you aren’t the only girl to have ever felt that way. After all, how could you be? He’s a movie star. Of course he’s had sex with plenty of other people. But your mind rings with him saying he wants to be the only one to touch you and it’s the most utterly special you’ve ever felt in your life.

Dieter hops off the bed and smirks, making a little show of stripping off his pants and underwear. Watching your eyes widen gives him a quick ego stroke. Ripping open the foil packet with his teeth, he frowns slightly as he rolls the rubber down his length and strokes himself a few quick times. “Are you ready?”

It’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before – you’ve had boyfriends after all – but this is more significant than a hand job after prom or messing around on spring break. This is something you’re going to remember for the rest of your life. And you couldn’t be happier that it’s him, feeling like a string exists between the two of you that will keep you tied together forever. “I’m ready.”

Dieter climbs back onto the bed, his protected cock swinging underneath him as he slots himself into the cradle of your thighs. Taking his time to kiss you softly, letting it build up as if you have all the time in the world. The muted taste of rum on your tongue and your need are intoxicating and making him feel drunk off of you.

Desire outweighs your nerves, teaching your body how to move without the need for more formal instructions. Your hands wander and your hips roll, lips trailing down the column of his neck and tracing the prominent veins there in an attempt to memorize him completely. If he was handsome before – and he definitely was – he’s stunning now, moaning in your ear when your fingernails graze over his chest and scrape his nipple — which you somehow hadn’t realized was pierced in the darkness of his bedroom.

“Shit.” He hisses, cock throbbing at the sharp burst of pleasure. He rocks his hips forward, cock laying between your lips. “So sexy.” He moans quietly into your mouth when you find each other in the darkness again.

“What is?” You hum into the kiss, feeling emboldened by his praise. “This?” Nails finding their mark again, this time you bring both hands down his chest to play with the sensitive buds.

“Fuck, fuck.” Dieter whines, snapping his hips forward to grind against you. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

“You are, Dee.” The more he grinds against your mound, the slicker and more swollen your clit gets, making you lean into the motion more and more.

“You want me to slide inside you?” He asks, moans the question in your ear. “Break open your needy pussy on my cock?”

“Fuck.” Needy is definitely the right word, as you actually might combust if he doesn’t. “Please,” you nod frantically, rendering what he said about wanting you to beg. “Oh god, please do it—”

It takes just a moment for him to drop his hips and feel the tip of his cock catch at your dripping entrance. Your legs widen even more to let him in and he captures your lips again as he starts to rock forward. The feeling of fullness is indescribable, beginning right in the core of your whole self and spreading outward until even your fingers and toes feel different somehow. Even kissing him seems fuller now, although that might be from the reverberating moans you share as he sinks deeper inside your body.

“You’re so good.” He praises, breaking away from your lips so he can roll his hips back. “Tell me you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you. Tell me you are feeling this.” He begs quietly between kisses.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You promise him, shaking your head and brushing kisses across his lips and jaw. “Feels amazing, baby.” The little term of endearment slips without thinking about it. You might have been more self conscious or doubting about it if he weren’t inside you, but since he is you just relish it. The physical closeness and the intimacy of this moment that is so much more incredible than you could have expected. It is…different than you expected, though, and you squirm slightly under him. “So full, Dee. Fuck, I—does it feel as good for you?”

“So goddamn good.” He moans, ducking his head and tucking his face against your throat. Needing a minute himself shows how tight you get when you contract those muscles. “So good.”

The long moments – maybe whole minutes or more – that it takes both of you to get your breath back are exquisite. You start moving under him sooner than he moves on his own, not because you're impatient but because it feels too good not to. He takes his time establishing a rhythm. Letting you roll your hips up to meet his thrusts. Pinning you down every other thrust and letting you feel every inch of his cock as he pushes forward.

Every girl you know said that their first time was over in the blink of an eye, but this is practically lazy. Dieter is in no rush to have the night over with and though you're already climbing your way back up that immense mountain of pleasure, you're in no hurry for it to be over. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling a little bolder every time he groans at the tight squeeze of your velvet walls.

He’s determined to make this good for you. Kissing and sucking on your skin. Groaning because he feels how your walls tremble when he rasps in your ear. “So good baby.” He moans. “You’re doing so good for me.”

You'll feel him tomorrow in every way that counts, from the ache between your legs to the bruises he’s leaving on your skin. You'll taste him on your tongue and have the ghost of his kisses left on your lips, and every time you remember how deep his voice gets when he moans in your ear, your toes will curl all over again. Tonight, though, as you gasp and keen, wailing his name into the darkness, you can't help the curiosity rolling through you alongside the pleasure. "Want to t-try–" Gasping between thrusts, your lips practically tremble at his ear. "More, baby, please. I want to try everything."

“We will, baby.” He promises, twitching inside you. “Fuck, all of it. Gonna do everything with you, to you.” He wraps his hand around your shoulder to have better leverage to thrust into you.

"Everything." It's a vast, bottomless promise but somehow you don't doubt him. Like everything that he's done is everything that you're aching to try, and the things that he hasn't are the things that you were always meant to try together. The new angle he achieves with his arms wrapped around you like this gives him the perfect opportunity to strike a spot inside you that you've never felt before – one that turns keening wails of his name into shapeless cries and shouts, too lost in pleasure to even find words to express how fucking good it feels.

Once he gets that response out of you, Dieter clenches his teeth together and concentrates. Making sure he hits it again and again, wanting to hear you squeal his name. “There it is. Oh fuck, you gonna cum Bambi? You gonna soak my cock?”

Without enough presence of mind to even be able to form the word "Yes", you manage a nod, clinging to him and moaning so deeply you can feel it in your toes. It feels like you're about to shake apart and yet if you let go of him for even a second you might crumble from the inside out. Orgasms have never felt like this before – like a ticking time bomb inside your body might go off if he just strokes that spot inside you one more time.

Rocking into you is as close to secular prayer as Dieter has gotten…ever. “Oh god, oh god.” Is chanted on repeat, barely able to keep his eyes open as works his cock in and out of your pussy, poised on the edge of spasming around him.

It takes two more strokes, not one, but when you fall off the edge of pleasure you manage just a single syllable - crying "Dee!" Out into the night and sobbing as wave after wave of pleasure crests across the two of you. Your whole body seems to draw him in, cunt clenching and arms tightening, legs twitching at his waist before you slip away into a sky of stars that burst behind your eyes. The poets were not exaggerating, not one little bit.

He is tumbling right after you. Pushing as deep as he can with a worshipful groan of your name. Thankful for the condom because he would have never been able to pull out in time as he fills the prophylactic with a shudder.

The rush of endorphins that hits a second later has you giggling, dusting kisses across his lips and every inch of skin you can manage while pinned underneath him. “I—” As articulate as you try to be in everyday life, words fail you now. “Wow.”

As soon as Dieter gets done, he’s burrowing into your neck. Becoming an adorably snuggly koala. Always loving the post coitus high that comes from sex. “So fucking good.” He praises, scattering kisses over every inch of skin he can reach.

“You’re amazing.” Still working to catch your breath, your legs may drop back to the mattress but your arms keep him close.

Dieter’s hand slides between you to hold the condom as he pulls his hips back, but he doesn’t make any effort to move beyond that. “You’re amazing.” He counters. “How do you feel?”

“Empty.” The pout you throw at him and the way you bat your eyelashes is purely playful, but you do already mourn the loss of not having him inside you. “I feel amazing, baby.”

“Yeah? Give me twenty minutes and if you aren’t too sore we can go again.” Dieter chuckles quietly.

“You’re on.” The giddiness of it - the lightness - makes you feel like you’re floating on air. Either every girl you know was wrong, or you now have the world’s best experience of losing your virginity.

“I think I’ve created a monster.” Dieter moans playfully, pulling his head up so he can kiss the tip of your nose. “Wanna stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” In this moment, you’re certain you would stay forever if he asked you.

“Okay.” Dieter kisses you again before he starts to actually move. “Let me get this condom off.”

******

“Clear the set!” The order goes out after everything has been readied, everyone but essential crew retreating to other tasks to allow for intimacy on set. It’s a day you’ve been anticipating with immense nerves. These last two weeks have been complicated — more time spent with Dieter and less fighting has only left you questioning how you feel about him all these years later. Things had happened that he never shared. That you never knew about. And while he still hurt you, you can understand now why he acted the way he did. Maybe even forgive it, if he ever asked you. This scene is one you have been nervous for, not for nudity but for having to be almost entirely naked in a bed with Dieter? It’s consumed almost every thought for the last few days leading up to this shoot. So much so that yesterday when he sat next to you in your trailer, you erupted in goosebumps and immediately put on a sweater.

Dieter slaps himself, looking in the mirror at his reflection. While the lack of eating had cut some unwanted pounds off of his belly, he was still nervous about this scene. Crazy considering he was never shy about flaunting his body no matter what kind of shape he was in. He was nervous now because it’s you. Since that day, things have changed but he can’t say that you have forgiven him. The awkward moments are still there, but you are treating him like he’s a fragile bird with a broken wing. Which, he is, but he doesn’t want to upset the very relieving truce between you. His own dickishness to keep you at arms length had fallen away, with a quiet desire to be with you starting to take hold.

Only a few people are on set when you come out of your trailer, wrapped in a robe and striding toward the newly-finished bedroom set that makes your palms sweat. But you’re a professional above all else, so you hand off your robe to the only production assistant and slip under the sheets.

“Remember she doesn’t actually want you.” Dieter had actually agreed to the modesty sock, even though he tries to avoid it as often as possible. The last time he had a scene where it called for one, he had taped his dick to his thigh.

“You’re wearing it?” When he hands off his robe to the PA you can’t even hate yourself for looking. You have to work with this man. To function around him. You can’t hate yourself for looking, but you can curse yourself for being affected by him. “I half expected you to show up naked like the Emperor showing off new clothing.”

“Didn’t think you would want to see me in all my middle aged glory.” Dieter jokes, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck as he walks over to the bed. The intimacy coordinator is nearby but she had already said that she wanted to see how you organically greet each other.

“Why do you think I got here first?” You have to laugh at yourself, at least a little, being so anxious around the first man who ever saw you completely naked. It should be ridiculous, but instead your heart is threatening to beat out of your chest.

“Things have changed.” He also didn’t know what you would think about the…piercing he got after coming back to Hollywood. He doubts you’ve heard about it.

“You should get in.” Reflexively, you pull the sheets on the other side of the bedside to let him climb in, studiously keeping your eyes on his face.

It’s hard not to think back to that tiny apartment on the upper East side. Sharing a queen sized bed with you for months and thinking about asking you to move in when your lease was up. He has never told you that. Knowing it would just be another bittersweet symbol of the hurt he had done. Nodding, he slips beneath the sheets and settles on his back.

“I want to give you guys the chance to find a comfortable position organically,” Sam steps closer to the bed on set and crosses his arms over his chest. The director has no idea what has been going on between his lead actors, but he knows things are tense. “But you will have to touch. Sooner than eventually.”

Dieter twists his head and looks over at you, knowing that this scene calls for you to be on top of him. “Not like you haven’t been there before.” He murmurs quietly so no one else can hear.

You snort under your breath, knowing he’s right, and shift closer to him. It’s a simple matter of situating yourself above his waist, but you’re desperately afraid of giving yourself away when you do. Not that you might be aroused - being in a room full of relative strangers - but that he’ll remember the other things. Goosebumps and shallow breath, the way you squirm when something feels particularly good.

“It’s okay, Bambi.” Dieter knows that you are an accomplished actress. He might have a copy of every thing you’ve ever been in, but you are biting your lip like you are that shy virgin all over again. His chest aches with how badly he wants to kiss you. “You’re a professional. Just another day at work.”

“We both know it’s not.” It’s sweet of him to say so, though, and you hate the way it makes you ache that he’s started using your nickname in private again. It takes a deep breath on your part before you have the nerve to sit up, twisting the sheet around you for modesty and making it pool around the place you’re connected. It looks perfectly like you’re straddling him but you’re actually hovering a few inches north of where actual sex would require you to be. And yet? All either of you would have to do is shift once and you would be in place.

“No, it’s not.” Dieter can agree to that and his hand slowly slides up to hover over your waist. “Can I touch you?” He asks before setting his hand on your skin.

Goosebumps. You can feel them the second they happen, but there’s nothing you can do now. They’re there, and Sam has noticed enough to call for the heat to be turned up on set, mistaking it for you being cold. “We’ll never get through this if we can’t at least touch each other.”

“Figured I would ask.” He shrugs, not giving a damn if it takes longer than Sam would like. It’s more important that his partner is comfortable. He can’t flirt and joke like he would with someone else, because of your history together.

“And I appreciate that.” Tentatively, you let both of your hands down onto his chest the way the script had described. If Sam wants it changed, he can say so. Right now you’re just trying to baby step your way to even a tiny bit of comfort. “Are you…okay? I’m not sitting on you weirdly or something, am I?”

“I’m good, just let me…” Dieter slides his hand between the two of you to adjust the ‘sock’. “I’ll try to keep it under control.” He murmurs.

It takes a second, but the half-guilty and half-flattered grin that overtakes your face comes with a snort of amusement to cap it all off. You snort again, suppressing a giggle, and shake your head at him. “Good luck with that. He has a mind of his own.” Sam hasn’t said a word as he watches the two of you get comfortable, but even he smiles seeing you relax.

“Okay,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s just find the motion, before we add in the dialogue. I want you guys to see how easy or awkward or difficult it will be for you to switch places from here. Dieter, just go ahead and roll her over carefully, and that will lead us into the kiss and the rest of the dialogue.”

There is a thirty second pause. Ten seconds of that is Dieter staring up at you, as himself. Then the set of his jaw changes, his eyes darken and his brow pulls down just enough to signal a change into character. He’s not Dieter Bravo now, he’s the character he’s bringing to life. His arm swings around you and his hips roll, making a seamless transition to push you under him and as blocked out, his mouth fuses to yours in a frenzy of need and lust.

It’s acting. It’s all acting, you promise yourself, not letting yourself react in any way beyond wrapping your arms around his shoulders and returning the rapacious kiss. It’s false. Entirely the character in a way that the scenes of the two of you screaming at each other truly isn’t. “Hold.” Sam’s voice cuts through the tension, his footsteps on the wooden floor audible over the heavy breathing in the set. It might have been false, but it was still a kiss. “Try it again,” Sam insists. “Less forceful this time?” He hums while he thinks – a habit of his.

“Maybe we can get a beat of looking into each other’s eyes right before the kiss?”

That seems to be a good idea to the young director, and he nods. “Make the decision,” he tells Dieter. “I want to see you make the decision to have her.”

Dieter nods and resets, waiting for you to get back into position and covered like you had been before. It takes less time to slip into the skin of his character this time and the way he holds your eyes is more assessing before you see the way his face changes almost imperceptibly. Rolling you over again and the kiss is less forceful but just as passionate as the last.

This time your fingers are in his hair when Sam calls for a hold, and it takes you a second to come back to yourself, but the real problem is that kissing him again is doing things to you. You squirm slightly, hoping no one notices, and try to clear your mind enough to pay attention to whatever the hell Sam is saying. At the very least, you’re just determined not to make eye contact with Dieter between these rehearsal moments. It’ll give you away – but you aren’t even sure what feeling you would be betraying at this point.

“Something’s missing,” Sam is saying when you finally tune in. “There’s so much honesty…and I don’t…” He huffs out a sigh. “I don’t believe you. Either of you. When you hated each other, I believed you. The confusion, the yearning, the—everything else. But I don’t believe that when the cameras cut, you’re going to tear each other apart.”

Dieter frowns slightly. “What do you mean?” He huffs, not sure what the director is looking for. The way your hand had tugged at his hair with just the right pressure had made him start to harden. He had been working so hard on holding himself back. Not making it real.

“I mean…” Sam pauses, trying to suss out the right way to explain it. “There’s something about the other scenes that makes me hold my breath when you two get going. Something honest about them. But I’m not holding my breath now.”

“So you’re saying…” you sigh, pinned underneath Dieter and trying desperately not to react to what might be his cock twitching or might just be the fabric of the modesty sock against your thigh. “You can tell that we’re acting?”

Dieter mulls over the director's words, his fingers pressing against the divot of your hip and he nods. “We’ll reset and then I’m going to change it slightly.” He offers, looking down at you and silently asking for permission.

“You have an idea?” The question is more or less rhetorical, but he nods and you swallow your nerves. “Okay. Let’s reset.”

Dieter reaches down between you and removes the modesty sock and shoves it under the pillow to hide it from the crew as you adjust.

The second you sit up again to put your leg over his waist, your eyes widen and you look down at Dieter with an expression halfway in between murdering him and melting. Even if you'd never sat on his cock before you would definitely realize the difference between fabric and skin, and you swallow a gasp when you look down at him. "This is your idea?" You whisper, shifting on his lap to try to raise yourself up off of him so you're not sitting directly on what is now his hardening cock.

“Do you have a better idea?” Dieter shoots back with a snort before he grins at you. “Hey—”

Cutting him off by settling yourself directly on top of him isn't quite the victory you imagine it is, because you have to bite your lip to keep from reacting and end up pinching your eyes shut as you twist to wrap the sheet around you again. Thank god, at least, for pasties. No one needs to see your nipples bud and pebble with arousal. "This is going to be interesting," you murmur, looking down at him from this more-familiar position. There's a pretty solid chance that this counts as cock warming. Or it would, if your own modesty garment weren't in the way.

Dieter bites back a groan and stares up at you. “Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks, smirking slightly.

"The first time you asked me that, the answer was my virginity," you remind him extremely quietly, as if he might have forgotten what had happened then. The problem, though? Is that you want to say yes. You actually, completely, in this exact moment – you want to say yes.

This time, the expression is less the character and more Dieter. Letting his own emotions and confusing needs blend with that of his character, reaching up and cupping your breast over the sheet while he rolls you under him desperately.

You don't gasp this time, but whine. It's your sound, the one you make naturally, and the one that is automatic when Dieter grinds against your core. Your eyelashes flutter of their own accord and your hand reaches to grasp his hip in turn. The internal war of whether or not to succumb to him that your character is supposed to be having reads in your confused eyes as clearly as a neon sign, and this time when he leans down to kiss you, you meet him halfway there.

This time, there's a need that is more raw, realistic. It’s his need. His want that comes through the slot of his lips against yours. The subtle slide of his tongue into your mouth.

The hand you have in his hair pulls a little harder this time, your body lifts off the mattress and your other arm wraps around his torso to drag him closer instead of draping prettily on his shoulders. It's barely acting, in the sense that you're currently presenting as two fictional characters. That's the surface of what is happening, as you moan softly into his kiss. But the fact is that if he slipped inside you right now, you probably wouldn't hesitate to let him have you right there on that set. Which...is something you're going to need to think about later when your mind isn't completely fogged by desire.

Dieter doesn’t pull back, doesn’t stop kissing you. His hand squeezes your tit softly, knowing that there are thirty people watching the two of you simulate working up to having sex.

Neither of you heard the command from your director to hold, too wrapped up in each other and too overwhelmed by the pounding of your own blood to have noticed. It's only when you break the kiss to have a gasp of air and turn your head to the side for Dieter to trail his lips down your neck that you open your hazy eyes and see Sam standing there with his arms crossed and a slightly gobsmacked look on his face. "Well," he chuckles, when you snap back to reality and open your eyes in his direction. "That's more like it. Let's reset and get ready to roll cameras."

Dieter pants and closes his eyes, leaning down and pressing his head against your clavicle for a second before he moves over onto his back again. “That’s what you want?” He asks Sam, wanting to make sure he doesn’t need to change anything.

"See if you can add a growl without making it sound forced." Sam chuckles at the thought and steps off the edge of the set, bound for the chair with his name on it.

Dieter chuckles, closing his eyes for a moment and blowing out a deep sigh to try to calm down his raging boner. “Sounds good.”

“Need another second?” Since you know what he did - and have an inkling as to how thin the shred of Dieter’s self control can be, you don’t want to just hop back on his waist without warning. You’d either knee him in the dick by accident or end up making him moan out loud for real.

“I’m good.” Dieter knows that you are fully aware of what is going on under the sheet, and another conversation will need to happen. He will have to apologize to you. But for now, he reaches for you so he can be as close as he can be to you.

Onto his lap one more time, you wrap the sheet around your torso artfully and let the set dresser nitpick the specific placement of things until she’s satisfied and steps away. You place your hands on his bare chest and note with a frown that his own previously pierced nipple has healed through, but school your expression back into place when Sam calls for “Action!”

This time, Dieter gives the scene his all. Taking his need up a notch and just like Sam had asked, he included a small growl into the scene as he rolls you under him again and presses against you.

It’s a fucking miracle you can remember your lines or deliver then clearly enough for the boom mic hanging a foot and a half over Dieter’s head to pick up, because when Sam calls cut you half want to kick everyone off set and just rip the sheet away. “Let’s just set up for the next scene,” Sam instructs, sending the crew scurrying all around you. “Guys, you’re doing great,” he promises, stepping back up onto the set. “I want to try the image two ways – once spooning and once having you face each other. We’ll see which one we like better in post, okay?”

“S-sure—” You manage a vague nod, trying to remember what the next shot even is. Ah. Right. It’s him watching you sleep. The page in the script has whispered words of love and a kiss to your head while you sleep, and you had decided stubbornly not to read it ever again after the read through. The idea of Dieter ever saying sweet things to you again had been horrible at the time. But now? It twists deep in your heart how much you have to admit to missing those days.

The first set up is Dieter facing you. He’s managed to slip back on the modesty sock and his cock is only half hard now that the scene has cooled down and he doesn’t have his hands on you. “You good, Bambi?” He asks quietly after you get positioned.

“I’m good.” You have to be. There’s no option to go running off the set because you got horny and emotional during the last shot. “I just…” A soft exhale comes when you rest your head on the pillow next to him. “I wasn’t expecting Sam to want more.”

“No, no, no.” Sam huffs, like he has developed sonar hearing out of nowhere. “Get closer. You guys look like you’re politely keeping your distance at your in-laws. Sprawl out over Dieter,” he instructs you, coming back onto the set to look at things from the angle he wants. “One leg over his, hand on his chest. Intimate.”

Dieter reaches for you, pulling you closer and draping his arm around you. He moves closer and presses his face right up against you. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly.

“Hey.” It’s just a little whisper, but you smile as you flick your eyes up to look at him before closing them again when Sam pronounces the shot to be perfect. “You’re comfy,” you murmur before you can stop yourself, and squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment.

Dieter sighs softly, reaching up and his fingers brush over your cheek. “Dee! Wait for the call!” Sam yells, making him drop his hand. That part hadn’t been scripted.

“Yeah, Dee,” you can’t help the way you giggle under your breath, like you ought to be sticking out your tongue at him. Under the sheets, though, your hand comes to rest softly on his chest after not really being sure where to go. It’s a small gesture of comfort between you, but it’s there.

There's a small grin, quickly squashed before you close your eyes and Dieter settles down. When the director finally calls 'Action!', he reaches up again to brush your face lightly as he watches your face. "I do love you." He whispers softly, "I'm not a good man, I don't know why I am the way I am. I don't want to say the things that come out of my mouth." He murmurs quietly. "You are my world, even when you aren't around."

Professionalism, you remind yourself, trying desperately to keep your eyes shut and not react at all even though you’re fighting every instinct you have that wants to surge up and kiss him now that that dam has been broken again. It’s all you can do to keep perfectly still until Sam calls cut and tells you to hold your position so they can fiddle with the camera position for another angle. Your eyes flutter open, lip bitten as you try not to smile too much. “Good line delivery,” you murmur quietly, looking up at Dieter from your place in his chest.

"Dee, Dee." Sam tuts and walks over. "You are a man in love." He stresses. "Obsessed and yet completely aware that you have treated your lady wrong. This is supposed to be almost like your act of atonement." He sighs and motions. "Reset."

“You okay?” The direction seems harsh to you, but you don’t want to get in the middle of things. Your only job right now is to not react, but you still check on him.

"I'm good." Dieter brushes off your concern and waits for you to close your eyes again. Channeling images of the last time he saw you twelve years ago, watching you take your bow on stage before he turned around and walked out of that theatre and your life "Action!"

There’s something Sam is looking for but he can’t quite describe it. There’s a feeling that he’s gotten from the other big scenes that has made him want to alternately jump out of his chair in excitement or apologize for intruding on such an intimate moment. That’s what he’s looking for.

There are tears in his eyes when the director calls for the scene to end. The dialogue changed slightly, more personalized. Words that he had wished he could have said to you so many years ago come pouring out of his mouth as his fingers fan your face, tenderly brush over your features as if he’s memorizing every curve and valley.

“I don’t think we need to do the other set up.” Sam decides, apparently satisfied with the set up and the reset he has just gotten. With his hands on his hips, he seems to look at you and Dieter in that bed on set but not see you at all. “Good work today. Let’s call it an early night tonight.”

Blinking, Dieter shuffles back from you as Desiree rushes over with his robe. "Good work, Dee." She coos as he sits up and shrugs into the robe. He's a little raw, unable to look over at you at the moment as the lines between his character and himself have blurred more than he had anticipated. "Thanks."

“Dee?” Sadie has your robe out to you barely a second later, and you thank her with a nod and a silent moment of eye contact before turning back to him. “Can we…um…can we maybe talk?” The last few weeks have been so careful – such a tiptoeing around each other – that you haven’t done much meaningful talking. Just surface level stuff or spending time together in relative silence. Now, though, you feel like you need to talk to him or you’ll burst.

Nodding, he stands and quickly ties the robe shut. “Ten minutes?” He asks, needing a few moments to try and find an emotional balance so he doesn’t collapse against you and sob. “Or back at the hotel?”

“I’ll meet you at your trailer and we can drive back together?” You’re afraid of losing your nerve if you wait too long, but you also don’t want to scare him. Dieter can be like a horse sometimes – he spooks easily.

Agreeing, he gives you a quick nod and turns around to practically run back to the safety of his trailer. Feeling exposed and vulnerable as Desiree rushes along beside him.

“Do you guys have plans tonight?” You loop one arm through Sadie’s on the way back to your own trailer, trying to keep your spirits up.

“Just a night in.” Sadie admits with a grin. The relationship is everything she’s wanted and to be honest, she’s not looking forward to when the filming wraps. “With Dieter behaving, Desiree wants to stick close by just in case and to relax.”

“So if I send a bottle of something bubbly and dessert from room service, should it be to your room or hers?” Seeing Sadie this happy has been such a sweet thing. She’s not only fantastically on the ball as an employee but she’s also been just a wonderful influence on your life in general, and you want to do everything you can to help that happiness grow for her.

“I think I’m staying in her room tonight. But you don’t have to do that.” She protests. “Dieter just has her room number memorized and he might call on the hotel phone since he likes that better than cell phones.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” At the door to your trailer, you unlock and push inside first to let her in after you. “You take such amazing care of me. If I can do little things now and then to make you smile, I’m going to.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you back to the hotel?” She had assumed you meant to ride with Dieter and the assistants ride together since the cars needed to get back.

“You and Des enjoy some quiet time. I’ll drive Dieter and me.” Amongst other eccentricities, the man hates to drive. It’s secretly one of the reasons he loves cities and having an assistant. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t been behind the wheel of a car voluntarily since he got his license. “I—honestly I kind of need to talk to him. And I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to say.”

“The scenes were very…intimate.” Sadie answers honestly. “I know you are on better terms but talking will be good.”

“It was…a lot more intimate than it looked.” Disappearing into the tiny trailer bathroom to peel the modesty garment off your skin – thank god for bikini waxes – you re-emerge a second later and step into the little bedroom for clean clothes. “If not for that shred of adhesive, we would officially be making a porn.”

“Did he remove the sock?” Sadie asks, “Desiree swears she saw him remove the sock.”

Half-dressed, you stick just your head around the door of the little room to look Sadie dead in the eyes. “Oh yeah.” You confirm with a look of slight desperation. “Your girlfriend’s got a sharp eye.”

“Jesus.” Sadie shakes her head in horror. “I– what was he thinking?” She is still operating under the assumption that while things are better between you, you want nothing to do with Dieter Bravo once this movie ends.

“That it would be a more authentic reaction from both of us.” You shove away from the door again long enough to pull on your blouse and cardigan before coming out. “Which, let’s be fair. He was right. But I—” You blow out a breath and shrug your shoulders almost desperately. “I honestly don’t know anymore, Sadie. I don’t know what I feel, I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know what he wants either. It’s going to drive me crazy to do this whole movie without knowing when he’s crossing the line into reality and when he’s not.”

“Oh God.” Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open slightly. Realizing that her boss is falling in love with the man who broke her heart again. “Yes.” She decides firmly, nodding. “You need to talk.”

“The trouble is that talking to Dieter Bravo is like talking to a forest sprite or a fae or something.” With another shake off your head, you reach into the mini fridge for your water bottle and sigh after a sip. “You’re not going to get a straight answer, or if you do, it’s not going to be anything like you expected. And it’s going to cost you just for asking.”

“But you love him.” She murmurs quietly.

“I—” Most of the time, you really would like to think that you know yourself. The things that you want and the things that will help you be healthy and happy. Right now? You really don’t know if the thing you want is going to be good for you at all. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” you admit quietly. “I don’t think you can be as angry as I was with him for so long without there still being love left. That’s why it hurt so much.”

Sadie walks over to you, taking your hands in hers and staring into your eyes. “I love you, you are my friend and I want nothing but the best for you.” She assures you softly. “Talk to him. Be honest and make sure you know what you are getting into.”

“I love you too, honey.” While most of Hollywood would tell you that you were silly or overly sentimental for being friends with your assistant, but you hold her in a tight hug and let the tension roll out of you for a minute before exhaling deeply. “Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck.” She’ll cross her fingers and her toes for you if it means that you can have a significant, meaningful conversation with Dieter.

Dieter’s trailer is only a few doors down, and you walk over together so Sadie can pick up Desiree at the same time. You swear it feels like walking out in front of a judge when you knock on the trailer door, but since you haven’t been sick from nerves in years, it’s still a win.

Desiree opens the door with a grin. “Come on in. Dieter is just finishing getting dressed.”

“Long day.” The sun has well since set, and if it weren’t for how tense the last few hours had been, you would probably be starving.

“It has been.” Desiree nods, having calmed her boss down enough to be able to change and interact like a semi-normal human being after a small cry. “We are planning on marking it an early night. And he asked me to order room service for both of you.”

“That sounds like a good plan. And thank you.” Desiree’s exceptional eye for details and time spent with Sadie means she zeroed in on your favorite foods extremely quickly and anytime you’ve eaten with Dieter or as a group, she’s been pretty on point ordering for you. Although, the last time that the four of you all had room service together, you had splurged on luxury items and watched a few episodes of Black Sails together. That was actually a very fun night.

Dieter emerges from the back bedroom wearing a pair of loose palazzo style pants, a t-shirt and a crocheted sweater with his crocs. Hair still wet from his five minute shower and his face shiny and free of makeup. “Hey.” He murmurs quietly when he sees you, rubbing his hands on his pants nervously.

“Hey.” It’s such a small word for all the big things you’re feeling, but you put on a smile and point your finger at the door. “I’ll drive. You can look out the windows or meditate on the way back if you want.”

Swallowing hastily, Dieter nods. "Thanks, you know how much I hate driving." Especially here he was always driving on the wrong damn side of the road. It was nerve wracking. "Are you ready? I'm ready."

“Yeah, I’m ready.” To drive, anyway. You have no idea if you’re ready for this conversation. At least the hotel isn’t more than a twenty-minute drive away.

“Okay.” Dieter is the last one out of the trailer even though Desiree locks it for him. Trailing behind you and waiting for some kind of sign about what you want to talk about. Fingers twitching as he reaches for the ever-present candy in his pocket.

“You’re not in trouble,” you murmur with a shake of your head, opening his door for him when you reach the rental car.

“Shouldn’t I open the door for you?” He frowns at the reversal of roles and the way that all the women in his life are walking on eggshells around him right now.

“I was just trying to be nice…” It makes you frown much more deeply than you expected when the small act of kindness seems to upset him. And within seconds you’re rethinking everything you wanted to say, wondering if you didn’t just get caught up in the moment with him all over again.

“I know.” He blows out a sigh and shakes his head as you put on your seatbelt. “I just – I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not – I should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” If you surprise yourself with the honesty of it, he must be shocked. “Not really. I mean…I could have told you no. Or to put the damn sock back on. But I didn’t.” Both of you are buckled in and the car is on, but you haven’t pulled out of the lot yet. “Maybe it says more about me than it does about you, I don’t know. But the last few weeks have really…they’ve really proved to me…” You blow out an unsteady breath. “How much I’ve missed you.”

He bites his lip, closing his eyes and wondering briefly if he’s imagined you saying that. He’s had auditory hallucinations when he’s detoxed before and it’s been nearly seventy-two hours since he’s done anything more potent than weed or ‘shrooms. “I– can you say that again.” He begs softly. “Please?”

Your hand reaches carefully over the console, covering his larger one but not pressing any further. Just simple skin on skin in the most innocent way possible. “I missed you, Dee.”

“I miss you too.” Dieter turns his hand over and squeezes yours when your palm hits his. “I– today was– it wasn’t my character.” He confesses quietly. “It was me.”

“Apparently, it was both.” There’s a certain amount of pride in your voice for that fact, and you squeeze his hand back more tightly this time. “But…I was sort of hoping you would say that…that I was right when I heard you through the lines.”

“I’ve never done that.” He shakes his head in amazement. “Never.”

“Not even the first day of filming?” It seems silly to ask, but that moment had felt so real. Hell, it had been real enough for you to go berserk on him at the tea shop.

Dieter frowns and tries to remember what the first day of filming was. His brows shoot up when he remembers. “No.” He shakes his head furiously. “Not– no, I– not even then.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pull the slap.” It was unprofessional if nothing else, and you do regret hurting him. It had been such a horrible, complicated day. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. No matter how upset I was.”

“I deserved it.” Dieter can admit that. He absolutely deserved that. He had been hurt that you had seemed to anticipate it with glee, but he thinks you hadn’t enjoyed it very much afterwards. You hadn’t gloated, at least.

“This is the kind of stuff I wanted to talk to you about.” Carefully pulling the car out of its space and through the lot, you weave into London nighttime traffic deftly. “I just…I’m anxious as hell to talk about any of this. But I feel like the longer I put it off…I’ll psych myself out or convince myself that I’m overreacting. Or reading into things too much.”

“If I overstepped…..I’m sorry.” Dieter turns his head and looks out at the passing city. His heart aches when he realizes that he had been hoping for some kind of reunion of sorts but it sounds like you are not interested. “I know that when we are done with the press junket and whatever that you won’t want to have anything to do with me.”

“Dee...” His hand is still encompassing yours and you thread your fingers through his when you hear the heartbreak in his voice. “That’s kind of the opposite of where I wanted to go with this conversation,” you admit quietly.

“Wha—” he doesn’t trust himself to ask that question. Instead he just turns and looks at you in confusion.

“I don’t know how any of this will work with us now.” When you sigh this time it’s admitting to yourself that yes, this conversation is happening in a moving vehicle so no, you absolutely can’t cry during it. “We’re different people than we used to be in a lot of ways, but at the same time the fundamentals of who we are…well, they’re kind of baked into us.” At the next stop light, you turn to look at him and are so sure you see hope in his eyes. “And I don’t know how it would work. Or if it would work. But of all the things I regret, I don’t want to regret not taking a second chance when we had it.”

“You want….me?” Dieter asks, bewildered by that confession. “Like– another chance? You want to give me another chance?” He’s so confused, but his voice breaks. “Y-yeah.”

“I had planned on being more eloquent than this.” A whole speech had been forming in your head, rolling over and over as you tried to figure out exactly what you wanted to say. But in the end it has turned out not to matter. “I had this whole plan. I was going to have champagne and chocolates sent to Sadie and Des and to us and make it this whole romantic thing and I just…please don’t take the fact that I asked you like this instead of doing something absurdly romantic to mean that I’m any less sincere.”

“You wanted to give me chocolates and champagne?” His voice sounds awe-filled, as if he had never even had someone consider doing something like that for him. “We can still have them. I’ll order them.” He offers, squeezing your hand again.

“Then it’s you giving them to me and not me giving them to you…” The distinction is important to you, considering there was a time when you couldn’t give him more than a glass of water.

“I–okay.” He murmurs quietly. “Um,” he glances back at you briefly before looking out the window again. “This isn’t because you feel sorry for me, is it?” He doesn’t know if it would hurt him more or less than he had already been hurting.

“No.” The speed of your answer should probably speak for yourself, but you still keep a hold of his hand. “Pity isn’t a foundation for a relationship.”

His sigh of relief is quiet, but he knows you hear it. Realistically, he knows he doesn’t deserve another chance. Not after what he’s done, but you are giving him one. “Good.”

“It’s…” you steer the car into the underground parking below the hotel you’re staying at and glance over at him as darkness overtakes the car. “It’s because kissing you…even on set, even through the lens of characters…” Your voice is shaking as you park the car and you can hear it, so there’s no doubt he can too. “Kissing you today felt like coming home.”

“I’ve never been happier than in that little shitty apartment, wrapped up with you.” Dieter admits, swallowing down the thick emotions. “Not even winning that fucking Oscar.”

Now that the car is parked and things are out in the open, you sink back in your seat and unbuckle your seatbelt. “Maybe we’ll win one together this time,” you tease, trying not to think of the note he sent to your house after you lost a few months ago. That wasn’t really him. It was a coping mechanism.

“Yeah.” Dieter nods. “I meant what I said to you. You deserved it, and hopefully next time you’re nominated, you win.”

“You sent me a note that said ‘Whoops. Better luck when Meryl isn’t nominated.’” Actually saying it out loud makes you pause, and you shake your head at yourself for getting so wrapped up in seven stupid words.

“Yeah,” Dieter nods, wincing slightly. “It’s Meryl, I’m happy I don’t have to go up against her.” He huffs. “You would have won if her movie had come out the next year.”

“Come on.” One more squeeze of his hand and you let it go to pull the keys from the ignition and retrieve your purse from the backseat. “Let’s go upstairs? I’ll catch hell from Desiree if I don’t feed you, and that girl is scary when she defends you.”

Chuckling, he climbs out of the car. “She scares me.” He admits with a grin. “I think that’s why my agent loves her.”

“Your agent loves her because she is impossible for you to talk into your bed.” You grin at him as you round the hood of the car and hold out your hand for him to take again.

“That too.” He admits shamelessly. “Girl doesn’t like dick at all.” He huffs, smirking slightly. She had a knack for putting him in his place and it was something that was needed every now and again.

“She and Sadie have that in common.” The elevator to go upstairs isn’t far away and you let Dieter press the call button as you unconsciously lean into his side. “They’re very sweet together. I think Sadie’s nervous that you and I won’t be on good terms when filming ends. Like that would affect their relationship. I didn’t…I didn’t really tell her what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. Not all of it, anyway.”

“You aren’t giving me another chance because of your assistant, are you?” He’s joking, but he stares at you suspiciously.

“No.” The elevator doors open and you nudge him inside, pressing the button for your floor yourself. “I’m asking if you want to try again because I’ve…I’ve never loved anyone in the world as much as you.”

“There’s a reason why I couldn’t get a relationship to last.” Dieter admits quietly. “They weren’t you. And I fucked up the best thing I’ve ever had.”

“Well…” The elevator car starts to move and you shrug a little. “Better later than never. Isn’t it?”

“Twelve years later.” Dieter sighs, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bambi.”

“The person who owes us both an apology is your father.” Something which you will never get, unfortunately. “But barring that? I’d say…maybe we focus on the future instead of the past?”

The idea of a fresh start isn’t new to Dieter, they talk about that shit all the time in therapy but he bobbles his head, wanting it now. “Okay.” He agrees quickly.

From the elevator to his room, the two of you stay connected long enough to get inside and long enough for you to call room service for those bottles of bubbly and boxes of chocolates that you had planned for. According to the staff member on the other end, Desiree has already arranged your dinners. “I swear,” you hum, resting your head on his chest. “Between the two of them, they might start reading our minds.”

“I think they know us better than we know ourselves.” Dieter huffs, pleased that you have wanted to do something for him. “Um–” Dieter rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, a little shy about showing you his sketchbook since you had freaked out last time. “Do you want to see the rest of my sketches?” He asks quietly. You’ve done something for him, so he wants to do the same.

"Yes." They're intensely personal to him, you understand that now. It was something you couldn't wrap your head around before and you're embarrassed by how you reacted weeks ago. "I'm sorry I–um...is there any real way to repair the book? I'm so sorry, Dee..."

“I redrew it.” Dieter admits. “When I was – when I was high.”

"You've been doing that less." There's no judgment behind it. It's just an observation on your part. He's barely touched anything in the last few weeks, and nothing dangerous at that.

“You said you were worried.” Dieter explains. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

"How do you feel without it?" Mostly you were worried that he was going to overdose out of sheer desperation or depression, but from everything you can see, he's actually doing okay being more sober on a day-to-day basis. Or maybe he's just a good enough actor to get through the daily motions of life on autopilot.

“I–I don’t know?” He shrugs carelessly. “Weird. It’s all too bright.”

"That's the pot. It makes you more photosensitive. Not to a degree that could hurt you, but just enough that sunglasses are good." You follow him through to the bedroom of his suite where he keeps his sketchbooks, shrugging your own shoulders in turn when he looks at you in confusion. "I–I did some reading. In case you started having withdrawal symptoms or anything like that."

“I don’t know if I should have known or shake my head at you.” He snorts. “I’m sure you could have asked Desiree. I think the woman has a binder of all the drugs I take and their effects.”

"I wanted to put in the effort myself." It means a lot to you, to be able to step out of your comfort zone for him, and it probably is an obvious clue that you still felt strongly about him far before you were able to admit it to yourself. "What if something happened to you on her day off? Or in the middle of the night when I'm here and she isn't?"

Dieter swallows and feels guilty for putting so much responsibility on you. “I’m sorry.”

"It's okay." Your hand touches his arm gently and you offer him a smile, not wanting to dwell on too many heavy things all at once. "Do you still want to show me your sketches?"

“Yeah.” Dieter picks up the book and hesitates for a moment before he offers it to you. Reminding himself that you wouldn’t tear it up again. Maybe you would be impressed with the sketches now that you aren’t angry at him.

Cradling the book carefully, you sit down on the edge of the perfectly made bed and smile at the fact that Desiree found time to make it – because he certainly didn't do it himself. The early pages of the sketchbook are rough images of your face with your eyes closed, followed by several more that concentrate entirely on your eyes being open. As the book goes on, the images become larger and more varied. A full page is dedicated to a sketching of you wearing a dress that you particularly loved – it had been in magazines, if you recall correctly. The designer was someone previously unknown who had sent you a thank you card for mentioning her name to a reporter. The ones of you smiling are the most remarkable, though. With nothing but pencils, paper, and raw talent, he's made you more lifelike in that book that you are in some days of your own life. "They're..." you exhale shakily when you flip to a page that shows you sleeping. One hand lays in front of your face with a ring on your finger, almost like a dream. "They're stunning, Dee. You're incredible."

“I–” Dieter reaches out and touches the binding of the book. “I bring this book with me everywhere.” He admits quietly. “Desiree never touches my backpack. I don’t allow her to. It’s my carryon.”

"You bring me everywhere?" It touches you far more than you can really say, sticking in your throat and making you swallow thickly.

“Yeah.” Dieter knows that it’s dumb, perhaps even creepy to someone if they were to think about it. “Just– wanted you to know.”

"I'm flattered." When you reach for this hand this time you press a kiss to his palm and smile. "And I'm sorry again for...for being so over dramatic about discovering them. You have every right to express yourself and keep your memories however you want to."

“I get it.” He hadn’t been able to recreate that sketch in the new book. Not wanting to see that look again. “I understand, I do.”

"Maybe in the future there can be happier reasons to draw." Trying as hard as you can to lighten the mood, you tip your chin back to look at him and waggle your eyebrows. "Or sexy reasons?"

“Yeah?” Dieter’s brows shoot up and he gets a hopeful look on his face. “Would you model for me sometime?”

"I'm surprised you never asked me to before." You chew on your lip, brows furrowing. "Or...did you not draw back then?"

“Not really. Nothing beyond doodles.” Dieter snorts. “The idea of Baxter Bravo’s son being an artist beyond the silver screen was never an option.”

"You can do whatever you want now, you know." Arguably, he could before. But abusive parents have a way of caging in their children that cannot be easily broken. "I mean...even if you wanted to go as far as quitting acting altogether, you could."

“What the hell would I do?” Dieter’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Not even imagining what he would do since he’s not doing as many drugs and he doubts you would be interested in orgies.

"I'm not saying that you have to, or even that you should. You're an amazing actor, and you did deserve that Oscar." A knock on the suite door has you standing from his bed and putting the sketchbook back down on the blankets. "I just want you to be happy. That's all."

Happy. What would that entail? He frowns as you open the door, thinking about what would actually make him happy. You, for one. You would make him happy. He watches as they wheel in the cart of food and you sign off on the bill. “What did she order us?” He asks, striding over as the server discreetly exits.

"Looks like a roast dinner for two." The covered platters of beef, potatoes, carrots, peas, and Yorkshire pudding are as English as it gets, and the boat of gravy is steaming away happily. Beside it, the ice bucket of champagne and box of chocolates are a decadent cap to the meal. "She ordered us a celebration."

“Sounds good.” Dieter has showered but you are still wearing remnants of the makeup from the set. “Do you want to shower before we eat?” He asks, wondering if you would go back to your room after dinner or stay. Feeling off kilter from the way things have turned out. Who knew you would be the stronger of the two of you?

“Five minutes?” Considering your room is right next to his, you could be in and out in no time and come back in pajamas. “Everything will stay warm if we keep the lids on and…if today’s already been a lot we can just watch a movie or something. I don’t really mind…I just…” It feels so silly, yet it’s true. “I just want to be around you.”

“You could always shower here.” He offers quietly. “But – no, that’s stupid.” He shakes his head and waves. “Go shower and change. I’ll be right here.”

“Why is that stupid?” You tilt your head at him.

“You don’t have clothes and I–” he shrugs one shoulder. “I know that it’s dumb to not want you to leave for five minutes.”

“I—” Biting back the suggestion at first, a smirk ends up creeping across your face anyway. “If I shower after dinner I just…might not get dressed afterward?” It wasn’t so many hours ago that he was grinding against you in that bed on set and the memory is still making you a little hazy.

Dieter has been trying sooooo hard not to turn things sexual, especially given the way that he had finally been on even ground with you. Groaning quietly, he bites his lip. “What would you wear?” He’s a little breathless at the thought, remembering how you looked even with the modesty garments on.

“Um…I was kind of leaning toward wearing nothing? But I can borrow one of your shirts if that’s too fast or too uncomfortable.” The question makes you stumble a little, wondering if you misread any of the conversation that the two of you have been having. He had said that nothing this afternoon was faked, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s ready to just dive into bed with you.

Dieter closes his eyes for a moment, lips parted as if he is in prayer. “I–I can’t guarantee I won’t get down on my fucking knees and beg to touch you,” he admits, cock twitching in his pants. “Fuck.”

The reverence and desperation in his voice has your eyes flicking up to meet his again, and your lips twist into a relieved smile. “I wouldn’t be suggesting that I get naked in your hotel room unless you were going to be allowed to touch me.”

“You– want to have sex with me?” Dieter asks, slowly opening his eyes. “Or– is this something where I need to make things up to you?” He’s had partners that have been more dominant and denied him an orgasm. He didn’t mind it, as long as he got to eventually cum.

“It’s not a game.” You never played psychological games with him back then and you sure as hell aren’t going to start now. “I thought…after what happened on set…that you wanted to?”

“I want to.” Dieter nearly makes himself dizzy, nodding so quickly. “I– fuck, I’m aching.” He admits. “Been hard all goddamn day around you.”

“Yeah…” You smirk a little, cheeks burning at the memory. “I noticed.”

“No one could get me as hard as you fucking could with a look.” He huffs, pouting at you like it’s entirely your fault.

“Well I’m very sorry.” You’re not. At all. And your tone would make it obvious even if you weren’t stepping closer to him. “I’ll make sure never to look at you like I want you again.”

“You better.” Dieter whines. “I want sex in my relationship with you.”

Just hearing him say he wants a relationship - any kind of relationship - with you is enough to make you giddy, but this little back and forth you're having is fun. "We generally had a lot more trouble keeping our hands off of each other than not, if I remember correctly."

“I am older.” He warns you with a grimace. “And drugs can sometimes make things…uh, not hard.”

"I don't expect either of us to have the same sex drive we had in our early twenties." That would be completely ridiculous, and you reach out to offer him a place in your arms with a soft smile. "Things aren't going to be the same as they used to be, and that's fine. We're different people than we were. For now, all I care about is that you're willing to give this a try."

“I want that.” He doesn’t have to think about it. Of course he wants to have a relationship with you. He’s wanted you ever since he walked away.

"Then...?" You hold out your arms again with a little shrug, still hoping for a hug or almost anything that isn't propelled by a script or a set. As intense as filming had been, and as honest, it was still not fully you.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you want a hug and Dieter rockets forward to wrap his arms around you. Sighing softly. There's a distinct difference between how Dieter holds people on set versus in real life when he's only himself. When he's himself it's like being enveloped in the beaming embrace of summer sun. He's a blanket of warmth and comfort that could best be compared to hugging a weighted blanket. Your nose burrows into his chest and you let out a sigh that almost matches his, squeezing your arms tightly around him before just relaxing into him.

“This is nice.” He hums. Rubbing your back gently as he tries to stretch out the much needed hug.

"You've always been a sucker for cuddles," you chuckle softly, nuzzling against him as naturally as breathing. "Glad to see that hasn't changed."

“Didn’t get this when I was a kid.” He murmurs, not bothering to even try to move away.

"Glad to change that for you." The food can get cold, for all you care. Having him with his arms around you again is the most heavenly comfort that you've been without for so long. No one gives hugs like Dieter does.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there, wrapped up in each other's arms. The comfort of the moment is one that neither one of you is willing to give up. Not until he realizes that it’s getting late and you have to be uncomfortable with the makeup and adhesives from modesty garments still sticking to your skin. “Go shower. I will set up our plates in front of the tv.” He offers as he pulls away.

"If you insist." It takes you a second to open your eyes, and even longer to be willing to let your arms drop from him. "I'm going to steal one of your t-shirts to wear while we eat, if that's okay?"

“Yeah.” He grins, biting his lip and congratulates himself on not immediately popping off with something dirty. “That’s okay with me. They are huge and comfortable.”

"I'll be right back." It's only a single moment of hesitation, but you decide that you've talked enough for it to be safe and you lean forward to kiss his cheek before turning to head through his bedroom to the large bathroom that matches your own on the other side of the wall.

Dieter rubs his cheek, grinning again as he rushes over to the dresser where Desiree had put all his clothes. Picking out the softest shirt he had that wasn’t currently on his body.

Some old habits apparently will never die, and you’re grateful to see that Dieter’s obsessive exfoliation is one of them. His loofah is perfect for scrubbing away the last remnants of the work day, and whatever fancy formula shampoo he talked about once in an interview that he now has a lifetime supply of, is divine. Five minutes in scalding hot water from start to finish and you feel like a new person when you step out of the shower. There’s a towel on the counter that you didn’t put there and you smile to yourself – an expression that only grows wider when you step out into the bedroom after drying off to find that he’s picked out a t-shirt for you. It’s soft as a feather and a nondescript blue-gray color that looks as though he’s worn it a hundred times or more, and you’re swimming in the stretched out cotton when you put it on. After a quick debate about whether or not to dig through your eternally over-packed purse for the clean panties you know are in there through force of habit, you decide not to. You’ve already talked about having sex tonight. If you decide not to? Well, you can put panties on then.

He has moved the dinner from the couch to the bed and back again nearly half a dozen times. Unsure of when he became this neurotic, he justifies himself with the fact that he wants to make things good for you. Despite you wanting him, he knows he needs to make up for the hurt he had caused you. So now the plates are sitting on the coffee table and he’s even dug out those candles that were in the large gift basket waiting in his room when he arrived a month ago. The small lamp, the only other source of light beyond the tv, already turned to a movie that he vaguely remembers you enjoying.

"I was only gone for five or six minutes..." When you step out of the bedroom to find the living room has been transformed into a little oasis of romance, you almost sigh audibly. Candles and dim light accentuate the still screen of a favorite drama he's pulled up on the tv, and your dinner is sat out in front of the couch with the ice bucket of champagne and two glasses standing ready. It's so sweet that it makes your face burn. "You went for romance and I went slightly slutty."

“I like slutty.” Dieter nearly shouts it. “I like it a lot. Slutty romance.” He nods, patting the couch. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing panties?”

"You want to find out?" Of course he does, but you can't resist teasing him a little. You saunter up to the sofa to sit down next to him and make sure to flash him just a tiny bit in the process.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” He hisses, eyes fixed on the apex of your thighs until you cross them. “Eating– we– we need to eat.” He reminds himself.

"Sorry if the waxing is a disappointment," you eye him as you both pick up your plates. "But those modesty things we have to wear are sticky and the last thing I want to do after a day of filming is pull out my pubic hair by hand."

“It’s your hair.” He shakes his head slightly and shrugs. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

"I distinctly remember being told that you liked the au natural look because it was womanly." It's not as though you've forgotten a single thing from that night. It was one of the most important nights of your life. And happiest, honestly.

He smirks, remembering how suave that had sounded at the time. “That was good, wasn’t it?” He hums, sliding closer to you. “Smooth.”

"Considering how desperately in love with you I already was, you probably could have just grunted at me and I would have thought it was the sexiest thing in the whole world." It's honest, at least, and you lean into his side with the champagne bottle in your hands. "But it was definitely smooth."

“You’ve done really well.” Dieter compliments. “Your career is amazing and Heat Rush is probably one of my favorite movies of yours.”

"You've actually seen my movies?" It shouldn't surprise you, considering you now know he's had feelings for you all along, but it still makes you flush hot and duck your head before concentrating on uncorking the champagne bottle.

“I don’t watch my own movies, but I watch yours.” What that says about him, he’s not quite sure, but he shrugs and tries not to look too pleased with himself for you suddenly seeming bashful. “I was invited to a couple of your premieres, but I’d have ruined it for you if I had shown up.”

"Well, you're going to have to come now." Concentrating on pouring out two glasses means you don't have to look him in the eye, which saves you from looking him in the eye and letting him see how touched you really are. "Can't have my agent trying to manufacture a date for me when I can take an actual date to things."

“That might be better for you, considering my reputation.” Dieter knows the image that he has crafted for himself, so often compared his father.

Frowning, you had him a glass of champagne and examine his face before shaking your head. "Do you really think that I would hide the fact that I love you?"

“People will talk.” He points out, not upset about it, he doesn’t care what people think. About him. You are a different story. “Start a countdown for how long it takes until it blows up.”

"And?" The shrug of your shoulders is pointed as you turn to face him on the couch. "Worst case scenario is we find out we are very different people than we used to be, and we part as friends." A scenario – as you call it – which is highly unlikely because you doubt you could ever just be his friend, but if he decided that he didn't want to be with you after all you would take whatever relationship you got to have with him. "But if you ask me? It will be fun to watch them all eat their words one by one when we prove everybody wrong."

Everyone who has ever tried to ‘date’ him in the last twelve years has tried to change him. To make sure that his image is revamped and they prove to the world that they are the one who ‘tamed Dieter Bravo’, like they used to want to do with his dad and Warren Beatty. Although Beatty was a bigger prize since he had never married. Baxter was always sore about that. To hear you just casually say that their opinions would change is refreshing.

"I wouldn't start something with you if I didn't think it could last," you tell him, hoping that he remembers your policy of honesty in relationships. It had served the two of you well right up until the day his father stepped between you. "And...I would hope that you feel that same way."

“I just don’t want you to regret it.” Dieter admits. “You have before.”

“What I regretted was a situation I didn’t fully understand.” You put your glass down and sit up fully, trying to figure out if this is him telling you to run. If he unconsciously is trying to give you some signal or other. If it is, unconscious isn’t good enough. “The only reason I would back off now is if you told me that you didn’t want me for some reason. But the inability to see the future isn’t a reason not to try.”

Dieter nods and reaches for your hand. “I’m scared.” He admits. “I know if you walked away from me – hypocrisy, I know – it would kill me. Because I walked away and it nearly killed me then.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” Your fingers twine together and you squeeze his hand gently. “I’m scared, too. But…life is kind of terrifying on its own. So I’d rather be scared with the person I love than without you.”

Nodding, he sighs softly. “I know. I just–” frowning, he turns his eyes towards you seriously. “I’m tired of hurting you.” He confesses. “I’m worried that I will.”

“Then how about we talk about things?” It seems so easy and so obvious, but sitting down and having a serious conversation can be one of the most difficult things in the world sometimes. “Any time one of us is feeling off-kilter, or worried, or anything like that - we talk about it before it gets bad. That way we don’t ever get to the point of something dramatic or hurtful happening.”

That’s the smartest thing to do, but no one has ever accused Dieter of being the brightest. Still, he’s willing to do anything in order to make sure he doesn’t screw up again. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that. And I– I’ll start writing down when I’m feeling off.”

"We can set aside some journaling or sketching time, if you want." You tilt your head at him, knowing he doesn't know you keep a journal. You hadn't back then. "It's...something I've been doing since I started seeing a therapist a long time ago. I don't see her very frequently anymore, but I've kept up with my journal. It helps me keep my thoughts straight."

He winces slightly. “I can only imagine what is written in them about me.” He’s not vain enough to think you’ve thought about him a lot over the past twelve years unless it’s when he runs into you and there’s some little spat.

Frankly, you don't want him to imagine it. There've been some truly not-very-nice things that you've thought about him over the last decade, but they all came from a place of being hurt. A place that you are very much not in anymore. "It doesn't matter anymore," you promise him, picking up your glass again. "What matters is that we are good going forward. Together."

He chuckles and lifts a brow. “That bad, huh?” He teases. “I deserve it. I picked at you to keep you angry at me.” He admits.

"It was easier to be angry than to admit that I was still hurting." You shrug slightly and take a sip from your glass. "But that's...that's when I didn't want to admit to myself that I was hurt because I still have feelings for you."

“I’m surprised you do.” He’s gobsmacked by that if he’s honest. “I would have imagined it would have resulted in you not pissing on me if I was on fire.”

"Love seems to be a very illogical thing." Nudging him to pick up his plate, you trade your glass for your own dinner. "Fortunately, I'm a stubborn and illogical person to begin with, so I'm okay with it."

Laughing, he shakes his head and holds up his champagne glass to yours. “To being completely illogical.” He offers with a smile.

“Here, here.” Now that is something you will absolutely drink to.

Once the mini toast is done, Dieter removes the lids off the dinner. “We should eat before it gets too cold.”

"What a very logical thing to say." You tease, despite doing exactly as he suggests. For the first time in ages, you might truly be relaxed.

“Can’t have sex on an empty stomach.” He jokes, feeling more at ease with the situation. You’ve never lied to him, and if you say you want to have sex with him, that’s the truth. “Have to eat dinner before I can have dessert.”

That earns him a half-snorted laugh as you take your first bite, and you shake your head at him. "Eat up then. I'm in the mood for sweets tonight."

“Yeah? You want to drink champagne and eat those chocolates while I eat you?” The idea has him twitching in interest, the lazy indulgence of it enticing.

"Oh, I just meant that I want you." He always has been, and still seems to be, incredibly sweet. That's part of what his anger and seeming hatred had stung so badly. "But if you want to be fully hedonistic, I'm on board."

“Been a long time.” He admits with a shrug. “Need to get back into the habit.”

"If I ever object to having my pussy eaten, call a doctor because I've been body snatched." You tell him definitively.

He snorts and then busts out into a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Things really start to feel normal as you eat, joking at the movie and reciting your favorite lines here and there until your plates are empty. You creep closer together on the couch as time ticks by, pulled together with that same magnetic attachment that has always seemed to bring you together. Before you know it you're leaning into his side, fingers threading together and head on his shoulder.

There’s a sweetness to the moment that Dieter is reluctant to end. It could have been twelve years ago, the two of you sitting on his tiny loveseat couch in that apartment. Or in your dressing room.

"I missed this." It's a big thought for such a quiet moment, but you sigh into it and just let the truth of it settle around you. It's not a heavy or foreboding thought anymore, and that feels like a weight off your shoulders.

“Me too.” His hand slides around your shoulder and he pulls you against him even more.

"I'd suggest sleeping right here if we didn't both have the backs of people over thirty now." Back then, the two of you could and would sleep wherever you dropped. It was usually a bed, sure, but not always. One memorable night saw you falling asleep in his lap when you couldn't bear to tear yourselves apart after riding him.

He snorts and shakes his head. “We are getting old.” He admits. “Hangovers take forever to get over now. Do you remember when we used to perform while still drunk from the night before?”

"It's a fucking miracle I could remember my lines sometimes." Theater work really has differences from film work, and you giggle about it almost wistfully. "I think...I miss theater, too. I haven't been on an actual stage in years."

“Me too.” He hasn’t stepped foot on a stage since leaving the production you worked on together. His father would have pitched a fit and he didn’t have the heart to do it anymore.

"Can you imagine?" It earns another small laugh from you. "If we wrapped this movie and then ran off to play on a stage somewhere? Gossip magazines would practically sell our tickets for us."

He snorts and gives a fond smirk. “We find some hole-in-the-wall theatre in Nebraska and make it bigger than Broadway.”

"Would you go all classical on me and want to do Shakespeare and Chekov and Tennessee Williams?" It sounds like fun for once. Like something you could do without looking over your shoulder and making sure you're doing precisely what ten thousand sets of eyes want you to be doing.

“Why not? Or Oklahoma.” He chuckles, smirking at how his father would roll over in his grave. “Or do you think it’s sacrilege to perform that in Nebraska?”

"I think it's a sacrilege to perform Oklahoma! at all," you snort, enjoying the image of him in a cowboy hat regardless. "We'd do Shakespeare and musicals and classics and experimental whatevers whenever we felt like. The king and queen of Midwestern regional theater."

“Build a theatre that rivals Juilliard for performances for students.” Dieter slips into the dream a little more, enjoying the idea of it. “Teach the next generation of performers.” Hell, if he were honest, he thinks of you as a mentee of his.

"An institute for performers, staring with high school." There is a smile on your lips when you tilt your head to look at him. "Not kids. Kids should get to just be kids. No stage parents thrusting their children on our stages. We'd make sure of that."’

“Absolutely.” He nods in full agreement, hating being dragged around to auditions when all he wanted was to go outside and play.

"It's a beautiful dream, Dee." One that wouldn't necessarily be so difficult to achieve, given his multiple generations of accumulated wealth. It would take a little while to bring together the right people for a school, but a theater? The two of you could fund that yourselves without a lot of effort.

“It’s been a long time since I had a dream that was fun.” He admits softly. Smiling at the idea and tracing a pattering on your shoulder under the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Maybe it's worth going back on stage first to make sure it's as good as you remember?" Support is something that you know he hasn't really had, and that's definitely something you can give him. Your full and unconditional support for moving in a positive direction. Positive being whatever makes him truly happy.

“Yeah. It’s not good to just jump in.” He reminds himself, not wanting to jump in too deep, too quickly.

"But if you could..." He loves to dream - or at least he used to - and you don't want him to just box up the thought and tuck it away in his brain to forget about. "Where would you want to open it? Anywhere in the country. Or hell, anywhere in the world?"

Dieter frowns and considers it seriously. “I’m not really sure. Where would you want to go?”

"I mean, if we were really thinking about it?" You lean back against his arm on the couch and smile softly, letting childhood memories come through to the surface. "The theater that I did my first show at ever is in my hometown in Washington. It was this big deal summer stock left over from the 1930s or 40s, and they'd built up a hotel around it for a while. But the hotel went under and the theater squeaked by for a few decades more after it was demolished and..." you shrug slightly, knowing how nostalgic you sound. "I grew up in the mountains, so now it's this big, defunct theater in the middle of a valley. I wish it could be restored and turned into something great again. But I don't know if Snoqualmie, Washington is the place you want to build your legacy."

“That’s pretty cool though.” Dieter grins. “You get all the Hollywood types out there for the summer theatre program and then the local kids and kids who dream of theatre and can’t get the lessons.”

“Can you imagine?” It warms through you, the idea of your little town reinvigorated. “We get occasional tourists because they filmed some of Twin Peaks in my town. But a whole theater and a school? It would be something else to see.”

“That would be cool. Bring some more life to the area. Is it a nice vibe? I like a good view.” Dieter asks, not really caring about much, but this is the first thing that’s gotten him thinking about more than himself in a while.

“I thought it was boring growing up, but I like going back for the holidays and family stuff when I can. It’s pretty. And there’s something to be said for having all four seasons.” He sounds like he’s actually thinking about it, which makes you smile more than you would have expected. “If you decide this is actually something you want to do, I can help you look at different places. If…if you want me to, I mean.” It would be a drastic change in how he lives his life, and if he wanted you to come with him it would be a drastic change in yours. Who knows when or if it would ever happen. All you know is that it’s good for Dieter to dream.

“You would want that too?” He asks, surprised. Your career is taking off, still running like a freight train without the hints of or outright scandals he has weathered.

"I mean...I'm not thinking about taking a running leap out of Hollywood anytime in the next year or two, but I've definitely thought about what I would want to do when I get out. And I want to get out on my own terms, not because people have stopped returning my calls or because the only offers I'm getting are witches or overbearing mothers." You shrug slightly, nuzzling deeper against him as you do. "I don't want to wash up or fade away. I want to be present to enjoy every stage of my life. That's what I've always wanted."

“Whatever you do, you’ll be great at it.” Dieter knows that without even considering it very much. You’ve always had the raw talent that most people are in awe of.

"So will you." You're not about to let him think less of himself or avoid the very honest compliment just because he redirected the conversation. "And besides, if you decided to open your theater and drama school in my hometown I would certainly hope you would want me involved in things. It only seems fair."

“Oh it’s fair, huh?” He cracks a sardonic grin. “Because it was your idea?” He knows that if he did do something like that, he would absolutely want you involved. Your talent as an actor has only gotten better.

"Alright, maybe not fair." You have to laugh at it yourself, even a little, and bat your eyelashes at him. "More like...wishful thinking?"

“Wishful thinking.” He hums, enjoying the idea of you being interested in taking that on with him. “It’s something to think about. I think we do need more theatres.”

Empty plates and empty glasses stand by on the coffee table, and you smile from your place, tucked into his side on the sofa. It’s comfortable and also comforting, to be able to sit and talk like this. When you were young everything was about the here and now, but now that you’re adults the dreams are a vital part of pushing through each day’s monotony.

When the two of you are like this, Dieter wonders how the hell he had ever walked away from you. The way you calm him down amazes him, the nervous energy dispelled easily without the need for chemicals.

The movie ends soon afterward, not that you were really paying that much attention. You had talked all through the meal and maybe only sat and watched the last fifteen minutes. But those last fifteen minutes were calm and quiet and saw the two of you happily wrapped up in each other. It’s nice. It’s comforting. And it’s also making your skin tingle any place he touches you.

“Do you– do you want to watch another movie?” Despite having a call time tomorrow, Dieter feels like the two of you have all the time in the world. The way the sexual tension has shifted into something… more has him reluctant to give in to his body’s wants.

“If you want to.” Once upon a time he would have been tearing his shirt off of you at the first possible opportunity, but things aren’t the same as they were – and you have to remember that it isn’t a bad thing or anything to do with attraction. You’re both very obviously still attracted to each other if what happened on set is any indication. This is about being close again, and you reach to grab the remote off the coffee table to pass to him.

“Not really.” He admits with an amused huff at himself. “I kind of want to go to the bedroom.”

"Oh yeah?" The eyebrow you raise at him in sheer amusement comes with a smirk. "You thinkin' about asking me to come with you?"

“Hoping you would.” He chuckles. “It’s either that or I’m gonna need to go jerk off.”

"And that would be a damn shame." Nodding solemnly, you shift out of his lap and stand up before holding out your hand to him. "Come on, Dee. I don't mind leaving a mess for once."

He grins, remembering how you would want to pick up his apartment before going to bed when you were staying practically every night. “Yes ma’am.”

Your clothes from the day are neatly stacked on the dresser across from the bed, and the towel you used hung just as neatly in the bathroom. There's barely any trace of you here at all, but Dieter's marks are everywhere, just as they should be. This is his room and his space, and he's welcomed you into it. In some ways that first night together comes roaring back into your mind - but that night was a lot more about tearing each other's clothes off than this careful tiptoe of a dance you're doing right now.

“You still like the right side of the bed?” He asks, bolting towards the bed to pull the covers back. He wants you, he fucking aches with it, but he also wants to make sure you know that this isn’t just sex. “If you want to stay, that is. I don’t know. You might have a more comfortable bed than mine.” He jokes.

"Dee..." He's nervous, and you sure as fuck are too, but you cross the room to put both of your hands on his shoulders. "I want to stay. And I want you. It's okay. There's no reason to be so nervous." You should probably listen to your own advice. Oh well.

“It’s uh,” he shuffles and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this…sober.” He confesses, looking mildly embarrassed at the way his life had turned out.

"That's okay." Far be it from you to judge him for coping with the stressful way things have gone for him. "It doesn't have to be tonight. And if it is, it doesn't have to be a marathon."

“I want you on top of me.” Dieter groans breathlessly. “I fucking loved when you would grind down on me and fucking let me suck on your tits.”

"So specific." Yet you can't stop yourself from groaning, remembering how enthusiastic and sloppy he would get whenever the opportunity presented itself. "We should get in bed, then."

He bounces into the bed, flopping on it like he is about to start jumping as he pushes his boxers down and kicks them off.

You can’t help it, you smother your face with two hands to keep from becoming a giggling mess and end up barely stifling a snort in the process. “Is that my seat?” You tease, glancing at his half-hard cock when you put one knee on the mattress to climb in with him.

He pouts and wraps his hand around his cock. “It was hard all day.” He huffs at you. “It’s gotta let the blood flow back to my brain sometimes.”

“Only sometimes.” You move closer to him, about to put one leg over his lap when you stop short and groan softly. ��I knew I felt something,” you huff indignantly. With one hand, you reach out to wrap your fingers around his length and moan all over again at the way he twitches in your hand. The thing that has your attention, though, is shiny rather than warm. “When did you get your cock pierced?”

Dieter groans and his eyes flutter while he enjoys the curious trace of your fingers over the metal in his cock. “I– oh fuck, about a month after I came to California.” He admits. “Wanted to rebel and what better way than to get my dick pierced?”

“Enhances pleasure, I take it?” He’s squirming under the light attention and you shift to straddle his thighs while you explore.

“Yes.” He pants, cock now fully hard and curled nicely against his belly. “People– uh, seem to like it. And it feels really fucking good when someone plays with it.”

“Really good, huh?” You’re not as innocent as you used to be. Not by a long shot. And your experiences with men have been varied over the years. What you do know for sure, is that your experiences with Dieter were the happiest you’ve ever been. You tighten your hand around him experimentally, remembering how much pressure he used to like, and let yourself lean in easily to press your lips to his.

“Shit.” He hisses, muffled by your kiss and as soon as you lean in, he’s grabbing a handful of the overly large shirt. Bunching it over your breasts and dragging you closer to him while his tongue begs for entrance into your mouth.

None of the old feverish need for each other is missing from this moment, and it’s a perfect kind of ecstasy to realize that aging twelve years – a death sentence in Hollywood – hasn’t affected his attraction to you at all. You open up for him immediately, tongue sliding against his as you push your chest into his hands and start to pump his cock slowly in your hand.

The sounds that he makes breathe straight into you. Given up willingly and he kisses you like it is the last thing he will ever do. No one around this time, Dieter pours all of himself into you, giving into the need that seems to always come back to you.

There is no reason to hold back this time. No one to witness you or to have an opinion on what is happening except for the two of you, and you are the only ones whose opinions count at all. You shift forward, hand still wrapped around him and stroking his cock eagerly but now the heat of your core is hovering barely a hair's breadth away as you swallow every sound he has to offer you.

You still know how to touch him. His hands slide under your shirt, greedy for the skin he had wanted to touch but couldn’t before. Marveling at the way you still fit in his hands perfectly. “Fuck.”

"You let your nipple piercing heal," you pout, turning your head to kiss down the cut line of his jaw.

“Yeah.” He grunts when your teeth scrape against his skin. “Took it out eleven years ago.” He doesn’t tell you that he had almost had the damn thing ripped out by a jealous lover when he had been found in bed with someone else.

"At least you replaced it with something fun." Running your thumb through the dribble of precum at the head of his cock, you pull away from him long enough to suck the digit into your mouth and hum immediately, shutting your eyes for a moment while you enjoy the long-forgotten flavor.

“It’s supposed to feel good for you too.” He adds, like that had been the entire reason that he had gotten his dick pierced.

"I'm sure it will." You hate the way it makes you pause, but you lean in to kiss him softly and take an internal deep breath. "I...I have an IUD and...and I haven't had a partner in a while. Like...my last tests came back clean and I haven't been with anyone since..."

“I– the insurance physical.” Dieter admits breathlessly. “Clean…and I– it’s only…” he huffs at himself. “I haven’t been with anyone since I found out you were in this. And since the physical. I don’t get laid as often as everyone thinks.”

“We can change that.” One raised eyebrow aims itself at him and you can’t help but look amused with your own reaction. “I mean, it wouldn’t be all kinds of crazy orgies or random partners…but a world where Dieter Bravo gets laid every single night? That’s just about having a partner with a high enough sex drive.”

“Have you– since we– since I–” Dieter can barely think with his cock in your hand. He never could, the feeling of your soft skin gripping him so firmly, always making his brain short circuit into something magically blank to everything but the pleasure. “Orgy?” He finally manages, wanting to know if you’ve ever indulged in multiple partners.

“I–um…no.” The image that you built for yourself – the careful walls you constructed around the person you wanted to be seen as – would never have allowed you something so indulgent or hedonistic. Your image is modest and professional. It has been since the day you hit Hollywood. You were a Girl Next Door type in your first television show and your manager wanted you to keep that image. “But if you want—” You stammer, hands stilling as you try to sort out your thoughts. “I don’t want you to feel trapped with me, Dee.”

“No…no.” His frown matches the urgency in his voice. “That’s not– I wouldn’t–” He’s made a lot of mistakes over the past twelve years, but he would never push you. “If you wanted to, that would be one thing. But honestly?” He looks up at you seriously. “I would be jealous of someone else touching you. Like slapping their hands away to do it myself.”

“You always were a little greedy.” There’s nothing but fondness in your voice as you brush a tuft of stray hair from his face and lean in to slant your lips earnestly against his. “Possessive, I guess is more accurate. But…I’m not going to lie.” You flash him a grin. “I always found it kind of hot.”

“I wouldn’t want to share you.” He grins unrepentantly. “Never liked that idea. You were mine.”

You shift a little, cheeks on fire, and swallow a sigh. “Are.”

Quietly absorbing that new information, Dieter nods. “Then we are together.” He decides. “Just us. No licking frosting off someone’s tits or blowing the hot model from the shoot. Just us.”

“I mean…” Not wanting him to feel like he’s giving up his entire lifestyle, you take your hands away and wipe them self consciously in your thighs without even being able to tell if they’re sweaty. You’re just inexplicably nervous. Tonight had gone from sexy to serious very quickly. “If you want to lick frosting off my tits that’s completely cool — and if you’re doing a shoot for something, I will absolutely be blowing the hot model.”

“I just–I meant just us.” Dieter clarifies. “I want it the way it was back in New York. Me and you.”

“As long as that is what you actually want.” He has the biggest, warmest brown eyes and you just melt into him, feeling so freed by this conversation. The cage you’ve had around your heart for so long is finally open again.

“It’s what I want.” His hands squeeze your hips. “I think it’s what I always wanted when I could make my own choices.”

“We keep getting distracted with promises.” It’s endearing, and honestly pretty romantic, that as much as you might want each other, it’s the romance that keeps taking over. You cover his hands with your own and squeeze them gently. “Second chances don’t come around every day. I’m—I’m grateful for this.”

“I’m the one who fucked up.” Dieter admits. “I wrote you a letter, about six years ago. One of those twelve step programs where you write those who you wronged and don’t send them.”

“Did it help?” While you wish he would have disregarded the direction and sent the letter anyway, you know it’s more about admitting wrongs than reaching out. “To write it, I mean?”

“Not really.” He admits with a sheepish smile. “Because I knew that you still thought I hated you at the end of the day. I got baked the next day.”

“Then hopefully things will start to get better now.” It’s all you can really hope for at the end of the day. That things will return to how good they were between you since you know they’ll never be the exact same. Too much has changed, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t ever be that happy again.

“Okay. Now that I’ve brought the mood down, can we fuck?” Dieter whines, his cock twitching against you.

“Telling me you love me is never going to kill the mood,” you promise him, although you do laugh at the exaggerated pout on his face. Taking one of his hands off your hip, you carefully slip two of his fingers into your mouth and relish the way he groans while his eyelids flutter. Directing those same fingers down your body, you press the pads of his fingers to your slick slit and hum at the contact. No longer being shy about asking for what you want has its perks.

“Shit.” Dieter hisses, rocking his hips up so he presses the length of his cock against your cunt while he starts to rub your clit frantically.

If you had been thinking about it, you would have thought through it enough to expect him to go hard and fast getting you ready to take him, but all you had been thinking about was how good it would feel to have him touch you again. So when Dieter immediately starts rubbing your clit like he’s going for a High Speed score, you end up squealing and shaking against him in a fit of surprise. “Oh my—fuck— yes baby—”

There’s a magic to your breathy cry. Making him smirk and rub harder. Wanting to see if you can cum before he ever fucks you. You really had been planning on returning the attention while he fingered you, but the ferocity he goes into it with is enough to have your legs shaking immediately and your fingernails digging into his shoulders as your back arches and your hips start to roll.

Dieter doesn’t stop, not with you bucking and wailing on top of him. He bites his lip and watches as you shake, a sign you are getting close. “Come on Bambi.”

The tension coiling in your core is pulsing as fast as his fingers move, pushing you up toward the crest of your orgasm with force. You're on the edge almost before you can blink and rocketing over the edge with a high wail of his name that is barely muffled by burying your face in his shoulder as your body shakes. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit while you buck and shake through your orgasm. Marveling at how gorgeous you look.

"Fuck." Cutting off your own groan, you dive into kissing him as soon as your body sags, wrapping both arms around his shoulders and pressing him back into the upholstered bedhead with determination.

“Hmmmmm.” He groans and kisses you back just as passionately. Loving how soft you are after cumming.

It only takes small shifts to move forward, knees bracketing his hips and core hovering over his leaking cock as you lose yourself in more kisses. Everything about this is better than you could have imagined and you just want to drown in it.

“Baby…please.” Dieter groans. “You don’t– you don’t have to move, just– just put me inside.”

“If you’re inside me, I’m going to move.” It’s a promise as much as anything else, and you reach between you to stroke his cock a few times before notching the head at your entrance and sinking down on him slowly.

Dieter's mouth drops open and he lets out a low, pained whine. Nearly shuddering at the heat of your cunt wrapping around his cock and gripping him like a vice. Not knowing how it's possible that you feel even tighter now than you did when he took your virginity, his heels dig into the bed in an effort to keep himself still.

"Shit, shit, shiiiiit," your head drops back the further down his shaft you slide, eyes drifting shut in bliss and body shivering with pleasure. When your ass is firmly planted against his thighs you rock forward, gasping at the way his piercing creates an extra layer of sensation deep in your cunt when you move.

"Goddamnit, fuck, shit, motherfucking whore." Dieter hisses, eyes closed so he doesn't blow his load right this second. You are just like a fucking glove around him and he's overwhelmed by how good it feels to have you around him again. It was something he had dreamed of, jerked off thinking about but had never really believed it would ever be afforded to him again.

It's counterintuitive, but you smother a burst of giggles at his tirade of curses and lean forward to kiss him. "You okay, baby?"

"Gimme a minute....." He pants, chest heaving as he tries to think about anything but the wet clutch of your cunt. Your walls contract and he groans, cock twitching deep and he grimaces slightly against your lips. "Trying to– trying to make sure I don't fuckin' embarrass myself." He complains, as if it is all your fault. Which it is, but he's not mad about it. "Too fuckin' tight."

"No more Kegels?" You can't help but tease him, feeling the way your pussy throbs around him. It's brilliant and sinful and makes your mind fog with pleasure.

"Those work?" He pops one eye open to stare at you, trying to gauge if you are serious or not. "No bullshit?"

“You tell me.” Whining a little when he twitches deep inside you again, you flash him a grin. “You’re the one feeling the results right now.”

"Mean." He hisses when you tighten down around him again. "Brat." His nails dig into your flesh but not enough that he would leave more than dull marks on your skin, easily gone later.

“You gonna punish me for it?” It certainly wouldn’t be the first time the two of you ever played with power dynamics in bed, and your lips curl into a grin.

Dieter is a cocky enough man, well aware of his abilities in bed to change things up. Enough of an asshole to flip you over onto your back with a quick tilt of his hips and follow you, staying buried inside your body and snapping his hips forward sharply when he thrusts down. "Yes."

“Fuck!” It happens all at once, as the begging mess of a man flips on a dime to being dominant without warning. The true definition of a switch, all depending on how his mood runs in that moment.

His one chuckle is breathless, but the idea of taking charge helps him keep the bare thread of his control. "Yeah?" He rocks his hips back and decides that another rough thrust is exactly what you need. Wanting you to experience what it is like fucking him with a piercing. "That's what I thought."

It’s probably a very good thing that no one is in the suite next door, otherwise they definitely would have heard you wail at that hard thrust that ran the ends of that bent barbell in his cock all along the walls of your pussy, stimulating places you didn’t even know could have extra stimulation and making you gasp in pleasure. “Fuck that feels amazing.”

“Yeah it does.” He groans in agreement, moving down so he can gather you up in his arms as he starts to normalize his sharp, steady pace. It will kill his back later on, but he needs this.

"Goddamn, Dee–" Each thrust pushes the air out of your lungs and you moan without restraint, wrapping yourself around him just as surely as he wraps up in you. Even a puff of air between you is further apart than you want to be tonight.

Lowering his head to your shoulder, he moans your name quietly. Pressing his lips to your skin and grunting with every thrust as your walls quake around him.

Unlike other encounters - even other encounters with him - this isn't about fancy positions or how well you can bend yourself up to take each thrust as tightly as possible. This isn't about the acrobatics of sex. It's the intimacy. It's the way he fills you to aching with every deep thrust and the way you cling to him like a lifeline even when he pulls away again that leaves you breathless, not just the simple act of sex itself.

“Fuck— fuck baby.” He moans quietly. “God I love you. So much, feels so good.” He can’t stop moving, breathing you in. Touching you like he had wanted to so many times while on that damn set. Now he can and like everything else Dieter is greedy with, he is going to gorge himself.

“I — fuck — I love you so much.” It’s like he’s trying to swallow you whole and you would willingly let him. There’s nothing standing in the way of you positively devouring each other and you just as desperately are trying to burrow under his skin or just welcome him fully into your body every chance you get. Time doesn’t matter right now. He could be between your thighs for five minutes or five days. All that matters is that he is right where he wants to be.

There’s something almost ethereal in the air tonight - or that might just be the way your heart is pounding so wildly that you feel like you’re about to take flight. Every time you rise up to meet him he bears down again and meets you in the middle, creating a symphony of gluttonous, lustful sounds as your bodies move together in that bed and your moans twine together.

“Fuck, fuck Bambi.” He moans quietly. Biting the juncture of your shoulder. “Please cum for me.”

It’s barely a request, more like a prayer as you tumble together toward that brilliant and eruptive end. A drop of sweat from his forehead on your skin seems almost as lecherous as anything else, like the tantalizing cream on top of a favorite dessert. Your back aches again as his hands push under your ass angling your bodies so that you cry out with his next thrust – vision going white as the explosion of orgasm washes over your body.

“Yes,” your real name falls from his lips as a prayer, trying to rock into you through your orgasm. Watching as your entire body thrashes under him.

“Fuuuck, Dee—” The more he works you up, the louder you groan and the faster his name falls from your lips. It almost rolls you over into a second orgasm altogether and all you can do is pray he follows you. The way you soak him has him unraveling, the wet slaps of his hips nearly frantic as he shoves himself deep and cries out in the most soul soothing release he’s probably ever had.

Panting for breath, you wrap both arms tightly around his shoulders and hold Dieter to you like an anchor. “This is…not how I expected today to end,” you whisper quietly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “But fuck…I love you so much.”

Swallowing, Dieter tucks his head into the curve of your shoulder and tries to catch his breath. "I love you." He exhales breathlessly. "I've got– twelve years to make up for, so I'm gonna be a little clingy."

You can’t help but laugh at that, breathless and light, and you find his lips to kiss him gently. “That’s just fine with me, baby. I promise.”

Groaning quietly, he starts to roll the two of you onto your sides. He doesn't want to pull out quite yet, but he knows he's a hell of a lot heavier now than he had been twelve years ago. The skinniness of youth has filled into a broader frame.

“Now I know why some people have sex under blankets,” you giggle softly, tucking into his broad frame. “So they can go right to sleep after.”

"You want to stay like this for a while?" He asks, pulling you closer.

“We could lay like this forever.” Would people come looking for you? Sure. But in this moment you could not give a single flying fuck about the rest of the world.

"You might have to pee after ten minutes." Dieter teases, remembering how you used to claim you could sleep right after sex and always had to get up within ten minutes to use his small bathroom.

“Tease me all you want, I’m enjoying the romance of the moment.” You giggle against him and place a kiss over his heart. “I don’t want to go back to reality just yet.”

"I get it." Dieter's eyes are half closed and he strokes your back as he hums. "It's like being on that really good high and not wanting to come down."

“I guess that makes sex my drug of choice.” Or him, maybe — being with Dieter has always felt like a special kind of paradise while it lasts.

“Sex is always a good drug.” He agrees, knowing that tonight isn’t going to be one and done. Not when he’s wanted you all day. It might take awhile to recover, but he wants to make you cum again.

“The best.” Not that you have a lot of experience with others, but that isn’t the point. The point is him and you and getting your together back.

Humming softly, Dieter closes his eyes, the soft edge of a smile on his lips. “If I’m dreaming, I don’t want it to end.”

"I'm not going anywhere, baby." You promise, murmuring quietly in his ear. It's not that you're trying to rub salt in the wound that he was the one who left you back in New York, but the fact is - you probably never would have left him. The way you felt about Dieter while you were apart was a product of hurt, and of betrayal. Not that you didn't love him.

“You were always stronger than me.” He turns and kisses your face blindly. “Always.”

"I don't know about that." After all, he survived treatment from his father that would probably have crushed you if you had it from yours. "But either way? We made it back to each other."

“We did.” He reaches out and caresses your face. “I don’t deserve you. I never did. Just so you know that.”

"You deserve to be happy, Dee. And so do I." One of your hands comes up to cover his and you turn your head slightly to leave a kiss on his palm. "We had that spoiled for us by someone. But this second chance is just for us."

“Just for us.” He nods, opening his eyes to stare at you solemnly. “I love you.”

"I love you, too, Dee." And boy is that going to surprise the shit out of a lot of people.

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle    

My Masterlist!

[missrosegold]

and if my body should fade i'll trust you with my soul part II

Part I can be found here

Synopsis: You’ve always been able to see the man with white hair and charred skin around your village, even though it seemed that nobody else could.

Or, you ended up making a deal with death, and now he’s come to collect.

Word count: 30k

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem reader)

Warnings: Mentions of death, strong language, smut, so Minors or ageless blogs DNI. This is rated 18+ Additional tags listed below. This does take place in a somewhat medieval inspired AU so there are some misogynistic tones in some parts of the story.

Playlist: Sparky Deathcap – September (we got fire) instrumental version, slowed.

Thank you once again to the lovely @candycandy00 for editing this for me, and another massive thank you to miss @kimkaelyn for making the banner for me! (I love it so much!)

You sigh to yourself as you check medical supplies in your village’s apothecary, making a mental note to tell the healer you’re training under that you’re running low on Feverfew and Echinacea.

Fall has arrived in full swing. The dense forest that surrounds your town has changed its leaves from vibrant green to beautiful shades of red and yellow. It’s beautiful, but you’ve never been much of a fall person. You know what comes next. The autumn months mean winter is close behind, and you’ve never liked the cold. For some reason, you can’t shake the feeling that this upcoming winter is going to be a particularly bad one.

You shake your head and return to your task at hand, but you can’t stop your mind from wandering as you continue to take stock of the medical inventory.

After the mysterious disappearance of your betrothed, your parents didn’t try to engage you to anyone else, and you can’t help but feel relieved. Marrying one of the men from your village was never in the cards for you, a fact that you made very clear to them after your formal betrothal’s disappearance. You weren’t interested in marriage or raising a family of your own. Not right now, possibly not ever.

In the end, you decided to train under your village’s healer – a kind old woman named Chiyo, who’s been the town healer for longer than you’ve been alive – as a means of getting out from under your parents.

Despite word of your betrothal’s mysterious disappearance quickly spreading throughout your village, there had been some other potential suitors that had come to you after you had started training at the apothecary. While none of them were rude or malicious, you always turned them down with a gentle smile before sending them on their way.

Besides, none of them held your heart the way a certain pyromancer did.

You haven’t seen Touya for a few months now, not since the disappearance of your betrothed. You’re not completely sure what happened after Touya found him – you’re not sure if you want to know, even though you have a pretty good idea of what happened if the fresh burns he had come back with had anything to say about it. You know better than to ask though, knowing full well that Touya will never tell you the full truth, even if you already know without him having to say it.

You sometimes wonder if there’s anything left of the blacksmith’s son.

You know that you should feel shocked, horrified even, that your pyromancer was capable of doing such an atrocious thing. But all you feel when you think about it, is a strange sense of relief.

You wonder if that makes you a bad person.

Inwardly, you know it probably should, especially when the blacksmith came looking for his son not long after his disappearance. When he had asked you if you knew anything about why his son had seemingly taken off without so much as a word to anyone, you had said no, of course, because what else could you have said to him? It’s not like anyone aside from you could see Touya to begin with, and there no way to explain to the blacksmith the fate that had most likely befallen his son.

Regardless, all you knew was that you’d never see him again. Touya had made sure of that.

There are still search parties that go out every once in a while, looking for him and a part of you wants to tell them that it’s a waste of time, that he’s nowhere to be found, but you won’t. It’s yours and Touya’s dirty secret to share now, and it will stay that way until you take your dying breath.

You suppress a sigh as you take a break from checking inventory, and your thoughts wander back to Touya of their own accord. He had warned you that he wouldn’t be back for some time after he had brought you home – he had serious business to take care of in the eastern part of the country, and he wasn’t sure when he’d be back. You hope he’s doing well, wherever he is.

Your heart clenches when you think of him. You’re not sure what you are anymore. You told him that you loved him, and even though he didn’t say it back to you, you’re certain that he loves you too.

“You know why.” Those words have echoed in your head since he said them to you. You’ve known that the two of you have been bordering on the cusp of something for a while now, and that solidifies it.

You promise yourself that the next time he comes to see you, you’ll ask him what you are to him. What this is.

Eventually, Chiyo dismisses you in the midafternoon, and you find yourself taking the lonely path up towards Dabi’s temple. You’ve started going there a lot more in Touya’s absence. Ever since you kissed the white-haired pyromancer in Dabi’s temple, you had started making a habit of coming back to the derelict temple, in an effort to clean it up a little.

For some reason, Touya seems to have a fondness for the place, and you’re starting to understand why. Despite its outward appearance and dust covered insides, you’ve never once felt unwelcome in the temple itself. It’s calm and quiet, and the more you visit the abandoned shrine, you realize it’s really a shame that it was abandoned by the priests, because it was probably quite beautiful back in the day.

With that thought, you had decided to take it upon yourself to try and restore the temple back to its original glory.

When you had brought up what you wanted to clean Dabi’s shrine to the priests at Hawks’s temple, you had been met with disbelieving looks, as the temple itself had sat vacant for well over a century. But once you had assured them that you weren’t there to cause trouble, and that you only wanted to clean it up a little, they had relented, and even gave you cleaning supplies, telling you that if you needed help, all you needed to do was come and get them.

You had laughed to yourself as you took the cleaning supplies back with you to the temple. The only reason why you had gone to them in the first place was to tell them what you planned to do, regardless of whether they liked it or not. Hawks’s temple was the closest to Dabi’s, and you’d end up walking past it to get to the secluded shrine more often than not. The last thing you needed was them assuming that you were doing something strange, when it was the exact opposite.

You soon found yourself in front of the large double doors once more, but unlike the first time you had entered the temple, you didn’t hesitate to let yourself in this time, shutting them softly behind you. You set your shawl down by the entrance and take off your shoes to avoid tracking any dirt in from the outside. You breathe in deeply as the faint smell of incense hits your nose, looking around the large room with a content smile on your face.

It’s not perfect, but its far better than what it was previously. You’ve washed and cleaned the floors and walls, sweeping out almost a century’s worth of dust and other debris. You’ve scraped the ancient remains of melted candle wax off the alter in front of Dabi’s statue, and replaced the melted down prayer candles with new ones. You brought in some pillows and plush rugs from home that your mother was about to throw out, not wanting them to go to waste, and also wanting to make the temple more homey, in case anyone aside from yourself wanted to visit. You keep incense burning constantly to get rid of the musty smell that has always lingered around the temple, and it finally seems to be working. Lastly, with the help of two priests from Hawks’s temple, you were finally able to fix that damn hole in the ceiling above the statue of the Cremation God.

Now you’re at the temple to do one last thing: clean the giant marble statue of the Death God himself. You didn’t see much of a point cleaning it before the hole got fixed, but thankfully, the sculpture doesn’t seem to be very dirty. Still, you want to go over it, and wash down what you can reach – it’s only polite after all.

Besides, after what you learned about him from Touya, you figure that it’s not a bad idea to stay in the illusive god’s good graces--

“Hello Princess.”

You jump at the sound of a familiar smoky rasp, and whirl around, only to see Touya standing a few feet behind you, a smirk plastered across his dis-coloured lips.

“Touya! When did you get here? I thought you said you didn’t know when you were going to be back! Did you finish with whatever you were doing in the East early?” you gasp delightedly, as the tall man strides towards you. He shakes his head.

“No, the situation there is a bit more… serious then I originally thought. I’m probably going to be there for a while yet, but I had some time, and I wanted to see you.” He stops directly in front of you, and his smirk becomes softer. “How have you been? I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been… keeping busy.” You tell him, lacing your hands together in front of you. “I’ve started working at the village apothecary. Chiyo runs a tight ship, but I’m learning a lot from her and she’s good to me.”

“What did your parents think about that?”

“Well… they weren’t pleased, but that’s more to do with me telling them that I won’t be courting anyone anytime soon. I told them I wasn’t interested, nor will I ever be. My mother isn’t happy, but at least she hasn’t forced me into any other engagements… not after what happened before you left.” You tell him honestly, and Touya only nods, his expression not giving anything away.

“Glad they’ve finally taken the hint. What else have you gotten up to, pretty girl?”

“Take a look around, you tell me.” You tell him with a tiny smile. You watch his brows furrow together in confusion, and he looks around the room, only for his eyes to widen, like he’s seeing the temple for the first time.

You watch as he investigates the plush rugs and pillows you have scattered around the base of the alter, how he takes in the sight of fresh prayer candles lit at the bottom of the statue – how clean and bright and warm you’ve managed to make it, since you were both here last. He seems overwhelmed, like he’s at a loss for words.

“I did it for you.” You admit softly, feeling your face heat up with your admission.

“You did this… for me?” he asks slowly, not looking at you, as he takes in everything that you’ve done. You smile softly at him even though he can’t see it.

“You seem to be pretty fond of this place, and you know so much about its history, I thought that maybe I could fix it up a little so I could have something to show you when you came back.” That gets his attention, and he fixes his azure eyes on you, locking you in place.

“You did this for me.”

“I… yes… Do you not like it?” you sputter, suddenly worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“No, Gods no. You did this for me.” He says breathlessly. “This is more than I could have ever hoped for.” He closes the remaining space between you, and his obscenely warm hands find your waist, while yours automatically come rest on his chest. “God’s you did this for me.”

“Yes.” You whisper. “Touya? I don’t understand--?”

The words die on your lips as Touya surges forwards and presses his rough lips to yours. You feel the grip he has on your waist turn bruising, as he kisses you hard and deep, bordering on desperate.

“I love you.” He tells you, pulling away momentarily to bring one hand up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “I love you. You were the first person to see me in so long – I knew you were different, I knew you were for me, and then you did this-“

He smashes his lips back onto yours, and you wrap your hands around his neck. Normally, you’d be mindful of his burns, but you’re so engrossed in his feverish kisses that you squeeze him tightly, and feel him moan into your mouth in response. He pulls back slightly for air, and pants heavily against you.

“Let me have you.” He growls against your lips. “Right here, right now. Gods help me I can’t wait any longer. I need to have you. I need you.”

“Okay, I—okay—yes.” You hear yourself gasping, and suddenly you’re swept off your feet. You feel your back hit something soft. Turning your head slightly to the side, you realize that Touya has placed you down onto a small pile of pillows. The realization of what you’re about to do hits you full force, but you don’t feel scared. You want this, you want him. You’ve wanted him for a long time.

Touya looms over you, caging you in, and runs the back of a heavily scared hand over your cheek. You shiver from the sensation of his feverishly hot skin and the cooler tones of the staples in his hand running over your skin. He gives you a wicked smile, as he sits back on his haunches, and starts to push your skirts up, revealing your bare legs.

You lurch up and grab his hands, forcing him to pause. He chuckles low in his throat at your actions, and pries your hands off of his own, placing a kiss on the back of one as his azure blue eyes meets your flushed face. “Relax my love. Let me take care of you.”

“It’s just- I mean, I’ve never done this before. I’m-“

“I know.” Touya damn near purrs, and you feel heat pool in your belly. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.”

You nod shakily and lower yourself back down onto the pillows, as Touya hikes your skirts up, revealing your legs and bottoms. He groans deeply as he kneads the plush of your thighs. “Fuck Princess, you’re perfect. Just like I knew you would be.”

“You’ve thought about me?” For some reason, his words of endearment strike a chord with you.

“Of course.” Touya murmurs, coming up to kiss you briefly, before taking your hand in one of his own. “Whenever I’m away, or I’m in the middle of a mission – alone and lonely – I think of you.”

He brings your hand down to his crotch, and sure enough, you feel a bulge underneath his pants. “See what you do to me?” he growls as he releases your hand so that he can work on shimmying your panties down your legs. You go to move your hand away, but he fixes you with a stern look. “Keep it there. Don’t move until I tell you to.”

You nod as he hooks his fingers into the band of your panties and leans back slightly to pull them down your legs, almost ripping them off in his haste. As soon as the offending material is gone, Touya gently wraps his hands around you knees and pulls them up so your feet are planted on the ground, before nestling his way back in between them, not taking his eyes off of the junction in between your legs.

“Gods.” He whispers. “Fuck.”

You feel him throb in the thick canvases of his pants as he runs a finger through your folds, causing you to shudder and clench around nothing. “God love, you’re fucking soaked.” Touya hisses, as he pushes your hand away from his hardness and rips his cloak over his head, revealing his bare chest to you.

In all the years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him this exposed. His chest is a patchwork of scars and staples just like his arms and face. Most of the skin is dead and badly burnt, but you do see some spots where there are still glimpses of healthy skin amongst the mess of purpled burns. Just like you suspected, his body is lean but ripped with corded muscles that bunch and flex with his every move. He looks like he was built by a god – a god with a twisted sense of humor – but you could care less. You think he’s perfect.

“You’re beautiful.” You tell him honestly – not wanting him to think you were focusing only on his burns – and he looks almost bashful at your words, letting a small chuckle escape him as he gently picks up one of your hands to press a quick kiss on the back of your knuckles.

“Look who’s talking.” He fires back at you, as he uses his thumbs to spread your lower lips apart. It should be embarrassing how wet you are from a little teasing, but Touya looks absolutely enthralled. 

“Is all this for me?” he muses to himself softly. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he bends down and swipes his tongue through your folds, causing you to moan loudly and try to slam your legs closed on impulse, but Touya is faster – forcing them to stay open with a hand on each inner thigh as he continues to lap at your pussy.

You whimper involuntarily from the ministrations, and Touya squeezes your thighs as he comes back up. “I know, I know love. I can’t wait any longer either. Goddamn-“ he almost snarls; his hands immediately going to his belt, as he unfastens it and tosses it to the side somewhere.

“I can’t believe someone as beautiful as you is letting someone like me do this to them.” he mutters as he pushes his pants down to just past mid-thigh, allowing his dick to spring free – and through you’ve never seen a man’s cock until now – you’re certain that it’s the prettiest one that you’ll ever see.

It’s long and thick and curves slightly upwards. It’s as pale as the undamaged parts of his skin and you think it looks quite lovely. You’re a little nervous about the size of it, but Touya doesn’t allow you to look at it for long, before he’s lining himself up to your entrance.

You swallow thickly as you feel how big and hot the head is pressed up against your tight entrance, and Touya must sense your hesitation, because he drapes himself over you, supporting himself on his hands, as he takes both your hands in one of his own, and gently pins them above your head, stooping down to kiss you once more.

“Breathe.” He murmurs, his breath ghosting over your lips hotly. “I’ll make you feel so good. Just lie back and breathe for me, my love.”

And with that, he slowly pushes himself in.

The stretch is delicious and you know that he’s ruined you for any other potential man. But there’s never been anyone else, has there? From the moment you officially met, it’s always been him. It will only ever be him.

Touya is cursing above you, but you can’t hear him – too lost in your own pleasure. It isn’t long before he’s picking up a steady rhythm, his hips hitting against yours with a wet smack. You’re so wet from his earlier teasing that he glides in and out with little resistance, and you feel your legs starting to shake from the waves of pleasure he’s inflicting upon you.

“Gods, how are you so tight?” Touya groans as he leans down to capture your lips with his. You kiss him back eagerly, wishing that your hands were free so you could wrap them around his neck, but he only tightens his grip on them when he feels you start to resist against his hold. He pulls back after a moment to take in your pretty face and glassy eyes, his hips not slowing down, as they continue to rut into yours.

“You’re mine.” He snarls hotly, swooping down to suck a mark onto the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing you to cry out and clench around him.

“You’re mine- fuck it, you’re mine, no one else’s.” He sucks another mark onto the other side of your neck, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, as something in your lower stomach snaps – the wet sounds of your union becoming louder as you cum around his cock. Touya’s hips falter for a fraction of a second as he registers what happened, before he the last shred of restraint he had snaps, and starts pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring your sobs as he stimulates your already oversensitive insides.

“When you told me… that they had engaged you to that bastard-” He hisses lowly in your ear, as you continue to sob. “-I almost burnt your damn village to the ground. How dare they try to take what’s mine?”

A dark look enters his blue irises. “I wanted to fuck you right here in this temple afterwards – send a message to your parents and anyone else who thought they could have you, that you were spoken for.”

“Touya- I’m-“ you barely manage to choke out in between sobs. Your body feels like it’s on fire from his words. You feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm quickly approaching, and you didn’t think it was possible for you to feel so good with the way he’s now mercilessly drilling into your insides. You had talked with your married friends about sex before, that was a given, but even they didn’t describe it as feeling this good.

“Tell me who you belong to.” He pulls away, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me who you belong to, and I’ll give you everything.”

“You!” You manage to scream out, voice cracking as he hits a particularly sensitive spot in you. “It’s you! I’ve always belonged to you—you alone! I’ve only ever loved—Oh GODS!” you wail as you cum around his length again. The glint in Touya’s eyes become frantic and his hips stutter as you spasm violently around him. He finally let’s go of your wrists, in favour of grabbing your hips with both hands to pull you down onto him and meet his powerful thrusts.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He breathes. “Fuck love; I’m going to fill you full of me. Let the whole world – the gods – all of them, know you belong to me-“

You keen at his words, and he manages to grind out a breathy, “Shit-“ as he spills himself inside you, swooping down to capture your lips with his rough ones again, as he fucks his cum into you. You’re so blissed out, all you can do is wrap your arms tightly around his leathery neck, until his hips still; still buried deep inside of you.

Eventually you break the kiss, but Touya makes no move to get off of you. He moves his hands up from your hips, so he can take some of his weight off you, and rests his head on your collarbone, as he struggles to calm his palpating heart. You wriggle your hips and Touya grimaces, mouthing over one of the marks he sucked onto your neck.

“Wait.” He mumbles. “Give it a minute. It’s sensitive.” His comment pulls a laugh from you, and you feel him grin against your skin.

You stay joined like that until you feel his dick soften inside you, and Touya gently pulls out of you. You whimper at empty feeling, and close your legs as you feel a rush of fluid that you already know is a combination of both of your releases, leak out from in-between your legs. Touya smiles at your reaction, the staples in his face pulling slightly as he strokes the leg closest to him gently.

He rolls onto his back on the pillows beside you, and pulls you onto your side, so your head is on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart, and watch as his chest rises and falls with each breath he takes. It almost lulls you to sleep, but Touya suddenly speaks up after a moment, catching your attention.

“I am the only one allowed to see you like this.” He rumbles low in his throat, running a warm hand down your side, feeling the muscles jump underneath his touch. “No man, no one. You belong to me. I’ll take such good care of you.”

“But you’re going to leave me again.” You whisper, hating how you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “You said so yourself: you have unfished business in the East still. Who knows when you’re coming back…Besides… No one can see you aside from me. How can I possibly explain this to anyone?”

“It’ll be different this time, I swear it.” Touya shushes you, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I’m going to be in the East for a while yet, but when I come back, I’m going to stay here with you, for a long time. No more disappearing acts for a while.”

You lift your head off his chest to stare at him in shock, to gage if he’s saying it to make you feel better, but you see nothing but honesty in his eyes. He touches your cheek. “I promise little one. I’ll make it work. I will stay with you. For as long as I can.”

You don’t mean to, but you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes and spill past your cheeks at his promise, as you place your head down on his scared chest and cry. You don’t know how long you stay like that, but Touya makes no effort to get up – simply holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings into your hair as you weep.

It’s getting harder and harder to say goodbye to him every time he leaves. You feel like your heart is breaking inside of your ribcage, whenever he has to go. This time is no different, but it will certainly leave you feeling hollower than the other times that came before.

Eventually, once your tears have dried, you separate to get dressed and fix yourselves up. You’re straightening out your skirts as Touya tosses his dark traveling cloak back over his torso, obscuring his muscular chest from view. He must see you blushing, because he tosses you a grin over his shoulder at you, moving to grab your shoes and shawl for you from the front of the temple.

He kisses you as you wrap your shawl around yourself, and rests his forehead against yours. “Thank you.” He tells you, gesturing around the temple. “For doing this. It means more to me than you know.” You nod in response, and he intertwines your hands together as he leads you to the temple entrance and you exit together. 

He kisses you deeply once more outside the temple. He has a pained expression on his face when he pulls away, and he looks like he wants to tell you something important, but something is holding him back. He’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand.

“I need you to promise me something while I’m gone.” He tells you seriously, and you nod, signaling for him to continue. He sucks in a sharp intake of breath.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of your health while I’m away. If someone comes to the apothecary with a strange sickness, or any signs of odd infections outside of a normal fever – I want you to go home and stay there.”

You furrow your brows, not understanding what he’s saying, but one look at his face tells you that he’s deadly serious and it’s not open for discussion.

You agree that you’ll be careful, and you’ll keep your eyes open for anything strange, and that seems to put him at ease. He kisses you once more before letting go of your hand, and slowly backs away from you. Once he’s a good distance away from you, he smiles sadly at you, before a raging torrent of blue flames engulf him once more, and he’s gone.

Life in the village goes on as normal for the next two months. The brightly coloured leaves that once decorated the trees surrounding your village have started to fall off the branches with large gusts of wind as winter draws closer.

You throw yourself into work at the apothecary, grateful for how busy it keeps you. You haven’t heard anything from Touya for a while now, and you can’t help but wonder what’s going on in the East that has him so tied up. You haven’t heard any news from the Eastern part of the county in a long time, so if something big is going on, your town will probably be one of the last places to know. You don’t see much sense in worrying about it though, so you divide your time between visiting Dabi’s temple, and Chiyo’s teachings.

You’ve almost forgotten about Touya’s cryptic warning – until the stranger shows up in town one day. (Or rather, stumbled in – since he didn’t even make it three feet from the town’s entrance before collapsing in the streets, leading to several concerned townspeople finding him and bringing him to the apothecary for treatment)

He’s malnourished and sicker than you’ve ever seen anyone in your life. You and Chiyo spend days caring for him, with no results.

He dies one week after arriving in town, and is buried just outside of the village borders. An unfortunate tragedy, but you can’t save everyone. A harsh lesson that your mentor has drilled into you. You never even figured out what was afflicting him, though Chiyo think���s it may have been an advanced case of pneumonia.

At first, it was just him.  

Then, another man got sick with symptoms eerily similar to what the stranger had.

Then it was two.

Then three.

Then twelve people in one day.

The number of infected only skyrocket from there.

Before you know it: there is an entire epidemic in your small town. Chiyo eventually figures out what it is, but by that point, eight people are dead and the number of people sick is quickly spiraling out of control.

Plague. The black plague of decay. Death.

Your parents beg you to come home, as they don’t want you around such a deadly sickness, and truthfully, you don’t want to be anywhere near it either – but you can’t leave Chiyo by herself. She’s the town’s only healer and she’s old. You know if something happens to her, the whole town is screwed, so you grit your teeth, mask up, and stay by her side.

For a while, things are going about as well as they can be. People are still dying at an alarming rate, but you and Chiyo somehow manage to stay healthy, and you keep trying to treat those who aren’t as sick the best you can with what you’ve got.

Then one day, you feel light-headed and nauseous out of the blue and you look down, only to notice an alarmingly dark black spot on your arm that you know wasn’t there the day before.

Everything goes downhill from there.

-----

Winter has arrived in your village full force, but you can’t see it. You haven’t seen anything outside of the four walls that make up your room for a while now.

You had caught the plague. The second you had shown Chiyo the black mark on your arm, she had immediately sent you away with some herbs crushed into a tablet for you to take to slow down the spread of the sickness.

Slow down being the key words. There was no cure for the decay plague. Once you had it, it was a death sentence. It was only a matter of time before it took your life.

Your parents had grabbed you and locked you in your room the moment they had seen you stumbling back from the apothecary. You hadn’t seen them face-to-face since. You only saw brief glimpses of them when they opened your door to slide food into your room on a tray, or when they came back to collect your dishes, though these days, you didn’t have much of an appetite.

They didn’t even have to let you back into the house once they saw the mark on your arm. But they still did without any hesitation. Despite knowing how ill you were going to become, they still insisted on taking care of you. You may not have agreed with their choices when it came to your personal life, but it was comforting to know that at the end of the day, your parents still loved you. Even if you went against everything they wanted for you.

A violent fit of coughing racks your frail body, and you automatically lift your arms to cover your mouth. When you pull your arm away, you cringe at the sight of red splattered across your forearm, before dropping it back down beside you on your bed with a muffled thud.

You can’t even look at your arms right now. Your skin, which used to be sun-kissed and clear, is now pale and speckled with ominous looking splotches of black, as the sickness makes its way through your body. You don’t even want to know what the rest of you looks like. You haven’t looked at yourself in a mirror since you were confined to your room. You’re not sure you’ll be able to handle what you see.

The room starts to spin around you and everything hurts. You close your eyes in a weak attempt to stop the jarring movement, but it does little to help you. Opening your eyes doesn’t make things better – your vison has become burry lately, and you can’t focus on anything anymore. Normally this would upset you, but you don’t have any strength left in you to care.

You know that you don’t have much time left. You don’t want to say it out loud, but you know your time is drawing closer. Based on the few times you’ve heard your mother – and on occasion, your normally stoic father – sob outside your door as they collect your untouched dishes, they know it too. You’ve held out longer than most people have, but you know that soon you’ll be making your way to the Underworld, it’s inevitable.

You only pray that all the visits you’ve made to Dabi’s temple over the last few months have paid off, and the Cremation God will be kind to you once he comes to collect you.

Dabi. His temple. Touya.

You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the thought of your white-haired lover, as a single tear falls from your eye, and crashes onto your pillow, humble and silent. 

You’re never going to see him again. You don’t want to acknowledge it, but it’s true. As far as you know, he’s still in the East while you’re here, dying in your room. As tempted as you’ve been to use his name to call him to you one last time, you won’t.

Powers or not, you don’t want him to potentially end up with the plague too. Not to mention, you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to remember you sick and frail as you are now. You’d rather have him remember you fondly: full of life and happy. There’s no need to put him through that kind of anguish.

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wishing you could see him one last time-

Suddenly, your room feels unnaturally warm. It’s been very cold lately, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re dying that it makes your room feel colder than it should, but now your room is borderline sweltering.

You swear that you see a faint blue glow out of your blurry peripherals, followed by the tell-tale smell of something burning, before the glow dissipates into nothing. The intense heat remains and even though you can’t see very well, you know that someone is in the corner of your room.

“Who is it?” you manage to rasp out and you hear the stranger’s breath falter, as if they weren’t expecting you to be awake. The stranger takes three slow, purposeful strides until they are at your bedside, hovering over you. You blink hard, trying to see who the intruder is, but your vision must be getting worse, because all you can make out is a tall, white being above you.

You have no idea who, or what you’re looking at and are about to panic, until the figure bends slightly, and two familiar, warm, rough hands cradle your cheeks like you’re the most delicate thing in the world.

Choked sobs rack your body despite how much the movement hurts you, because you know who’s by your side, even if you can’t make out his finer features. Your suspicions are confirmed the second you hear his low, gravelly voice.

“Beloved… what has happened to you?”

“Touya… is that you?” you whisper, and you feel his fingers tense under you. His thumbs swipe at your cheeks, even though you can’t seem to make any more tears to shed.

“I’m here beloved. I’m here now.” he rumbles quietly. He falls silent for a moment, then you hear him ask “ Why didn’t you call me to you?”

He sounds… sad… heartbroken even.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this…” you trail off, not knowing what else to say. Touya doesn’t seem to know either, but from the way he sighs, you think he’s holding back tears as well.

“Did I not tell you to be careful?” There is no anger behind his words. Just defeat. You don’t think it’s directed at you though.

“I know.” You tell him, wishing desperately that you could lift your arms up enough to touch his face like he is doing yours. “It just happened so suddenly. There was a strange man who got sick, and then the next thing we knew, almost the whole town was plague-ridden. I couldn’t leave Chiyo by herself.”

“I know.” Touya sighs. “Are you… are you comfortable?”

“I can’t see very well anymore… I think I’m dying very soon.” You admit softly. You manage to reach up to cover one of his hands with your cold one. “You shouldn’t be here… as much as I love seeing you one last time, you might catch the plague as well – I don’t want that for you.”

“The plague doesn’t affect me. Don’t worry yourself about it.” Touya murmurs gently, and you swear you faintly see something red and thick, roll down his face. He leans down to press a light kiss to your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but suddenly your vision clears, and you’re able to see the best you have in weeks. You look up at him in wonder, only for your breath to catch in your throat.

Instead of his normal dark clothes that you’re used to seeing him in; Touya is dressed in a flowing, white burial shroud that exposes his chest. It makes him look eirthral, like a ghost that had come back from the grave. What really concerns you though, is the right side of his face – the side closest to you. The burnt flesh on his lower jaw by his mouth is gone, and you swear that you see the bone underneath starting to appear.

“Touya—Touya what happened to you? What have you done to yourself?”

“Don’t worry about me. It looks worse than it is.” Touya grumbles, dismissing your concerns. “The person that you should be worrying about, is you.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, love.” You tell him softly. “I’ve been sick for a while now… I’ve held out longer than a lot of other people have, but I think my luck is running out fast.”

This time you know you’re not seeing things. You watch in shock as a large droplet of blood oozes out from underneath the burnt skin under his eye and slowly rolls down his face, leaving a shiny red trail behind it as it makes its way down his ruined skin. You try to bring a hand up to wipe it away, but Touya beats you to it, releasing your cheeks long enough to turn away from you and compose himself.

“That crusty bastard. He promised me that he would keep it away from here… guess it got past him too-“ you hear Touya mutter under his breath. “It doesn’t matter now, gods… fuck.” He turns to face you again, and you see a red streak running along the side of his face, where he tried to wipe the blood tear away. His hands return to yours, and he wraps them up tightly.

“I tried… I tried so fucking hard to keep it contained. I thought, if I could contain it to the East, then it wouldn’t spread and it wouldn’t come here, to you. Even though I’ve seen it happen, so many times over the years. I thought I could change it.”

“Touya what are you talking about, you’re not making any sense.” You beg him, but he doesn’t seem to hear you, too wrapped up in his own head, as he squeezes your hands in his own.

 “It’s not fair. You’re so full of life. I don’t want you to die like this.”

Something in his gaze shifts and the sadness from earlier is gone. Instead, a determined look has appeared in its place. He cradles the back of your head and neck with one of his hands as he gently lifts your head up to him, flinching at your pained whimpers.

“Do you trust me?” he asks you urgently.

“Of course.” You whisper, your vison is starting to darken again, but you try and keep your focus on Touya’s bright blue eyes.

“I can stop this.” He murmurs. “I can stop this and save you and what’s left of your town. But you need to make a deal with me. Do you accept?”

“A deal…? Stop this… I don’t…” you whisper, and Touya squeezes your hand, desperate to keep your attention on him.

“The full extent of my abilities come with a price. I can save you, but at a cost.”

“What’s the price?” you find yourself asking. You’re not sure how he intends to save anyone from something as severe as the plague with no cure; much less yourself, considering that you’re almost certainly on death’s doorstep, but you’re curious. Even if you’re beyond saving, maybe your town still has a chance.

“You.”

“Me.” You echo, still fighting to keep your gaze on him. “Why?”

“I told you already, you’re mine, you’ve always been mine. But this will bind us to each other indefinitely. Your life will become mine in exchange for me removing the sickness from you and your village. Do we have a deal?”

“Am I really worth that much?” you tease hoarsely, as you feel your eyes start to close against your will.

“You mean more to me than anything in this pathetic life.” You hear Touya grind out. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He squeezes your hand, and his next words sound almost desperate. “I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my lifetime and I’ve lived a long time. Please let me do this for you.”

You know that under different circumstances, you wouldn’t agree to anything like this. Touya’s words are carrying an underlying weight to them, and you know there’s something that he’s not telling you. Normally, before agreeing to anything, you’d make sure everything was out in the open and that there weren’t any catches to your deal… but really, how much time did you have to ask about the finer details?

You were out of time. You knew it, and he knew it too.

Really, how bad would it be being his? Wasn’t that what you always wanted anyways?

“I accept.” You whisper, as your world fades to black, not even sure if Touya heard you or not.

He did.

The next few moments are a whirlwind. You feel Touya stand up above you and his hands go to your left forearm – to the spot where you first noticed the sickness. It’s arguably the worst spot on your body. The darkness has spread underneath your skin and takes up almost your full forearm now.

You feel his warm hands press into the skin of your forearm, and for a moment, nothing happens. Then his hands start to heat up, hotter and hotter, and you can smell something burning. You don’t know whether it’s your flesh or his, but you don’t have the energy to scream out, even though the pain is excruciating.

There’s a bright blue flash and you feel something being seared into your arm – in the same spot where your original plague mark was. Heat spreads through your body like a wildfire, and you feel like you’re being burned from the inside out. Suddenly, as quickly as the pain started it’s gone.

You’re shaking, gasping for air as you try to control your rapidly palpating heart, but you can’t open your eyes. Exhaustion hits you full force, and you feel what little strength you had left in you bleed out. Touya is still there, and you feel him slowly ease you back down onto your pillow, placing your arm down at your side once more.

“Rest now beloved. I’ll see you soon.”

No sooner than he says those words, you feel yourself slip off into slumber, and you allow the darkness to take you.

You wake to the sun streaming across your face

It’s the first time you’ve seen any hint of the sun in months, and at first, you think that you’ve died, but the tell-tale signs of stiffness in your muscles tell you that you’re still very much alive, if not very dehydrated.

The thought draws you up short.

You’re alive. You’re alive when you probably shouldn’t be. That means… Touya… he’d done it.

A burning feeling races through your left forearm and draws you up short. You slowly bring your arm up to look at what’s causing the pain, only for your eyes to widen impossibly.

The dark stain under your skin caused by the plague is gone, as are all of the other signs of sickness that had marked your body. What is on your arm, is nothing short of confusing.

A strange symbol is on your arm, in the spot you remember Touya gripping the hardest. A long, straight line runs horizontally done your forearm with three smaller lines running through it. Another long, straight line along the top of the first line completes the marking, and you stare at it in shock.

It covers the spot where you had your original plague mark, almost as if you’d never had it at all.

You reach out and gingerly touch the mark, only for your door to open suddenly – causing you to yank your nightgown sleeve down in a hurry. You glance over to see both of your parents standing in your doorway. It seems to take them a moment to process that you’re awake, and seemingly plague free, before they rushed to your bedside and have pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re awake! Thank gods you’re awake! We thought that we lost you for sure!” your mother sobs, as she clutches you to herself. You’re shocked, and you ask her what she means, only for her to hold you tighter.

“You’ve been asleep for three days. You wouldn’t wake up! Nothing we did worked.” Your mother cries, and you feel your heart drop.

Three days? What did that mean for everyone else?

“We’ve heard from Chiyo that all of the patients at the apothecary have also recovered. She’s not sure how, but the plague seems to have disappeared.” Your father states gruffly, as he strokes your hair. “It’s some sort of miracle.”

Yes, and his name is Touya. You think to yourself. Just what was he, to be able to have the power to dispel a sickness as deadly as the decay plague from an entire town?

“We do have a visitor downstairs, if you feel up to meeting with him.” Your mother informs you as she passes you a cup of water. “Some of the priests are visiting homes on Chiyo’s orders, to check in on families and see if anyone is still sick. The head priest from the Endeavor temple is here. I’m sure he’d love to check in on you now that you’re awake.”

You don’t particularly want anyone to see you right now, knowing that you must look awful and you would much rather go find Touya, provided that he was still in town somewhere – but you nod anyways. Your mother tells you to take your time getting ready, as she and your father leave your room, saying that she would tell the priest to wait downstairs.

The process to get ready is painfully slow. Your muscles are weak from a lack of use, but you’re able to wash yourself if you move carefully. You slip on a clean dress, making sure that the mark on your forearm is fully covered, and run a brush through your wet locks before deciding that was enough, and gingerly make your way downstairs.

You slowly make your way into the living room where you see the priest from Endeavor’s temple sitting in one of the armchairs, waiting for you. He’s a large man, dressed in Endeavor’s traditional colours: dark blues and fiery oranges and reds. Your parents leave when you enter to give you some privacy and the priest points to the chair across from him.

“Have a seat girl.” He tells you, and you sit without a word. You fidget uncomfortably as he looks you over carefully, before finally speaking. “Chiyo specifically asked me to come check on you and see how you’re doing. She wanted to thank you for all your help at the beginning of this mess. She wanted to come herself, but she has a few things to take care of at the apothecary. She sends her regards.”

“Oh, it was my honor. I couldn’t leave her there all alone.” You tell him, lifting your arm to wave off his praise without thinking about it. You realize your mistake too late, as the sleeve covering your forearm slowly rolls down to your elbow, revealing the mark etched into your skin.

The priest stops dead the second he glances at your forearm, ad his eyes widen impossibly. He points shakily to the mark etched into your arm. “Where did you get that from girl? Who did that to your arm?”

You hesitate. How can you possibly explain Touya to him? No one aside from you could see him. They’d call you mad if you tried to be honest, and would cast you out from your home. What would you do then?

‘I… I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.” You mutter, clutching your arm close to you. “Why, what’s so special about this mark?”

“That is Dabi’s seal.” The priest hisses as he snaps his fingers at you, and you feel your heart drop into your stomach. “I haven’t seen a mark like that for decades now, but he is closely connected to my lord Endeavor and I’d recognize it anywhere. It has been rumored that he puts that mark onto people who enter into deals with him. I’m wondering how you ended up with it on your arm.”

Your world crumbles around you at his words, and the illusion that you had unknowingly walked into, shattered.

Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya, Dabi, Touya-

Touya is Dabi.

How could you not have seen it sooner? Looking back on it, the signs were obvious: how he knew so much about Dabi – or rather, himself. How he could seamlessly travel across large areas with very little effort. How he had powers that far surpassed any mage or race you’d heard of. How he never seemed to age… How his body had lasted so long despite the burns that were very clearly getting worse as time passed by-

The thought draws you up short. A hazy memory of Touya standing over your deathbed. A chunk of his flesh missing from the side of his mouth… looking more worn down than you could ever remember seeing him… Suddenly, you have to find him.

And you think you know exactly where he is.

“I-I have to go.” You mutter, shakily rising to your feet. The priest tries to get you to sit back down, but you shove him off. You barely have time to throw a light shawl around your shoulders and put your shoes on, before you’re running out the door in the direction of Dabi’s temple, ignoring the surprised shouts of your parents.

You are reminded how weak your body currently is, as you have to stop and catch your breath several times on the way to the temple, ignoring the looks that a few curious townspeople are giving you, as you eventually make your way to the temple.

This time, you don’t need to reach for the doors, since they seem to open on their own for you. You step through the entrance and they close behind you softly, shutting you away from the sunshine outside. You notice the temple is seemingly empty, but the prayer candles are lit at the base of Dabi’s statue, and the flames are blue.

He’s here, somewhere, you know it, you feel it, but for some reason, he hasn’t shown himself to you yet. It makes you worry and prompts you to call out his name softly.

“I’m here, beloved.”

The familiar rasp of his voice echoes from behind the larger-than-life sculpture. You smile in spite of yourself, and move closer to the sound of his voice, where you can just make out a shadowy figure partly concealed behind the base of the stature.

“Don’t come any closer.” The harsh growl makes you pause.

“Why?” you ask the shadow and you see two familiar blue eyes staring back at you from the gloom.

“You’re not going to like what you see.”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before you shake your head. “I don’t care. You know I don’t care about what you look like.” You swallow before adding on. “I think you and I need to talk about some things… about you.”

“So, you figured it out?” the figure rumbles, and you nod.

“There are some things I need to know. Things that I need to understand. But please, I just want to see you. Come out.” You extend your hand towards the shadow, and hear him sigh deeply, before shuffling closer to you.

A burnt hand takes hold of yours, dwarfing it, and the man—no, the deity, pulls himself into the light provided by the candles. He watches as your face changes from confusion, to shock realization, then to—

He doesn’t think he can do it; he can’t watch as you reject him. He knows that he doesn’t look pretty. He looks like a walking corpse and he knows this. He looks more dead than alive and honestly, he is. He knew he shouldn’t hang around the temple, knowing that you’d eventually come looking for him once you had recovered enough, but he’d wanted to see you one last time before he made the inevitable trip back home to the underworld – even if it meant you seeing him like this—

“Oh, Touya. Did… did you do this to yourself to cure me?” you whisper so softly; he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. He risks glancing back at you, only to see that your face hasn’t twisted in disgust upon his reveal. You’re holding his hand so tightly, like you’re afraid that he’ll crumble to ash if you don’t, and maybe he would, he’s not sure anymore.

Your eyes meet his, and he sees unshed tears in them. There is no repulsion or fear in your eyes like he thought there might be, there is only concern and worry for him, and he feels his once dead heart thunder in his burnt chest.

He wishes he could feel the texture of your soft hands on him again, but the burns are deep and have spread everywhere now. All he can feel is pressure on his hand where you’re holding it in your own. Suddenly, he feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time.

You stare back at him, trying your best not to shed the tears you feel forming – knowing that they won’t help anything. What remained of Touya’s once beautiful, pale skin is gone. His entire body is covered in deep russet scaring. The mess of staples that he hadn’t bothered to remove or replace, were scattered across his body where they had once held the damaged and healthy skin together. Parts of his body – where you assume the skin had been thinnest on him – are burned almost completely down to the bone. The skin by one side of his mouth is almost gone, and the flesh near his wrist on his other hand – the one that he didn’t give you – has been burnt down to where you can see the tendons flexing when he moves.

He's still wearing the white robes from before. He looks like a wraith, a sight that would terrify even the bravest of people, but it stirs no such feelings in you.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, not knowing what else to say. He shakes his head.

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”

“Oh.” You croak, not sure if his answer made you feel any better. It doesn’t, but you try not to let it show on your face.

The deity gently removes his hand from yours and moves several paces back from you, as if he’s trying not to upset you. You feel a lump rise in your throat, but push it down. “Did you do that to yourself to cure me from the plague?” you ask him again and he only nods once.

“You and what’s left of your town. I told you; I make good on my promises. It’s the blowback that gets me. Shigaraki won’t like what I’ve done, but he can’t do anything about it.”

You frown at the mention of the other name. You swear that you’ve heard it before somewhere, but you can’t place where from. Maybe if you remember, you’ll ask him about it later, but right now, you have other things you need him to clarify.

“Can I ask you something, my lord?” Dabi snorts at your formalities, and waves you off.

“Please. None of that from you, Princess.  If I wanted you to call me by my titles, I would’ve made you do it when we first met.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. You’d been slightly worried that knowing his identity would change the dynamic of your relationship with him. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case.  

“How come I could see you when no one else could?” you question him. Dabi pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to explain himself.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He responds after a moment. “We walk amongst mortals all the time; we’re just hidden in plain sight. Some humans are different than others, and are able to see us for what we really are, but most mortals can’t see through our disguises. I choose to be invisible, it’s much easier to do my job that way. Normally, the only time humans can see me is when I come to collect their soul, or when I let them see me purposefully. But you,” he fixes you with his intense stare that you’ve grown used to.

“you were an abnormity. I’ve only ever met one or two other mortals in my time alive that were able to see me, even when I was invisible to everyone else.”

“What did you do to them?” you don’t know what prompts you to ask. Dabi looks away from you.

“I killed them.”

“Why though?” You’re not sure if you want to know his reasoning, but this may be the only time you get to ask him.

“Because no one is supposed to see me – it’s taboo. The only time I’m supposed to be visible to mortals is when I come to take you to the Underworld with me. I can’t let people wander around telling others that Death himself is coming. Do you know how much chaos that would cause on the surface?” Dabi snickers to himself.

“But I could see you, and you didn’t kill me.” You press. Dabi lets a small smile pull at what remains of the muscles in his cheeks.

“No, I didn’t.” he agrees quietly.

“Were you going to?” you ask, remembering how tense he was the first time you met face to face.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?” You’re not mad about the revelation. You’re just curious. What made you so different from the others that came before you?

“I was going to… But something told me not to.” Dabi trails off, seemingly not having the words to describe why he did what he did. “I couldn’t tell you why I hesitated back then… but I’m glad I did.” The hint of a smile ghosts across his face. “You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t predict everything else that came afterwards. But I’m certainly not complaining.”

Your face flushes a brilliant shade of crimson when you realize he’s talking about when you fucked in this temple… his temple.

You can’t bear to bring yourself to meet the smug look in his eyes, so you try to compose yourself best you can, but it’s hard when you feel his oceanic eyes boring into your being.

“I… I just have one final question to ask you.” You stammer out, trying to fight down the colour in your cheeks that you know he can see. The burnt deity nods, signaling for you to continue. You suck in a breath, suddenly nervous for some reason.

“What… what exactly does this mark that you’ve given me mean? To you, that is.” You ask, touching the mark on your arm with your other hand, and you swear that you hear Touya- no, Dabi, bite back a moan.

“It marks you as mine. To humans and other gods alike, it means you are mine and under my protection.” He growls, a possessive edge in his raspy voice.

“Is that all?” you probe softly. Dabi bites back a laugh, and fixes you with a warm expression, blue eyes glowing like a cat in the dimly lit temple.

“What do you think?”

He answers your question with another question, but it’s weighted. The mark definitely has another meaning to it, you’re sure of it, but you want to hear it from him.

“I think it means something more… but I want to be sure. I don’t remember the finer details of our conversation, since I was… well… dying.” You shrug, trying and failing to look nonchalant. You don’t particularly want to be reminded of that time.

Dabi must see it in your expression, because he immediately drops the teasing act and takes a hesitant step towards you, slowly, as if he’s trying not to scare you.

He points at your arm and you lift it up so he can see the symbol burned into your skin. “That is my personal mark. It means that you’re not only under my protection… but it also marks you as my consort.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and you can tell that he’s not joking. He’s deadly serious.

“Your consort? You mean, like… like a bride?” you breathe, hardly daring to believe it. Dabi cracks a smile.

“So that’s what you humans are calling it these days. Yes, you are. Unlike some of my kin, I don’t take multiple wives. It’s just you.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, you have to fight yourself to stay upright.

“Oh gods. I’m the bride of a god.” You mutter, swaying slightly in place. “You’re a god. You’re an actual god.”

The burned deity only chuckles. “I can’t believe that you never figured it out. It’s not like I was trying to hide it from you at the end there.”

“I mean… It’s obvious you weren’t human, but I didn’t think you were a God.” You mutter. “You just… you acted so… casual. Not like what I’d expect a God to act-- not that I’m complaining of course!” you add on as you hear Dabi let out an amused snort.

You point up at the statue of Dabi- or rather, him. “Besides, it’s not like I knew what you looked like. You’re always depicted with a hood over your face.” You frowned. “Why is that exactly? You’re not wearing a hood. You’ve never worn one when you’re with me. The only time I ever saw you with one was when you were traveling. Not as you are now. You never let any of your disciples see you?”

“They depict me like that because it’s easier that way.” Dabi explains smoothly. “My face changes depending on what part of my… cycle I’m in. Sometimes I look like how I did when we first met – other times I look like… well, this.” He gestures to himself after a brief pause. It makes your heart ache.

“My kind are supposed to be divine beings. Perfect. I am not. I don’t need to be depicted looking like a walking corpse to the few people who still worship me and visit my temples.”

His gaze flicks back up to you. “You were never supposed to see me like this.”

You know that you shouldn’t psychoanalyze him, but you can’t help but find him endlessly fascinating. He may be a god – a divine, primordial being – but his emotions were so very human.

He may go by many different names, but Dabi was Touya. Your Touya, the man you fell in love with over the years you spent getting to know him. The man who would willingly burn down your village to keep you by his side, only to save it in its time of need, for you.

What he looked like was irrelevant.

“What you look like doesn’t bother me.” You tell him softly, taking a hesitant step closer to him. “It never has. You know that.” Touya’s muscles flinch, like he’s fighting against moving away from you, but he stays rooted to the spot as you slowly advance, until you’re close enough to place a hand on the exposed part of his chest – right above his heart.

“I will love you no matter what form you take, because no matter what: you’re still Touya. You’re still the man I love. God or not, you always will be.”

You lean forward and press your lips to what is left of the flesh around his mouth, and you feel him release a shuddering breath, as his arms come up to wrap themselves tightly around you. You pull away slightly to tuck your head against his chest, returning his embrace, ignoring the burnt smell that always clings to him; and you feel him rest his chin on your head.

You don’t know how long you stay like that for, but eventually Touya reluctantly removes his chin from his spot on your head, and lowers it so he can speak directly into your ear.

“I have to go.”

You try and pull away so you can look him in the eyes, but his arms keep you tightly pressed up against him, like he’s afraid that if he lets you go, you’ll turn to smoke and disappear.

“But… you said that we’re bound to each other now? You promised me that you wouldn’t leave again-“

“I know, but this will be the last time I leave without you, I promise.” He rasps in your ear. “This cycle is at the end. I’m dying.”

You feel your heart clench painfully at his words, and suddenly, you’re taken back to the spring, where he took you to his temple for the first time, and where he unknowingly to you, explained his history. Where he also revealed that gods themselves could die, however difficult it was.

“You’re… you’re dying? How, why? I thought you said it was almost impossible for you to die?”

You feel Touya shake his head and squeeze you again. “It’s different in my case. I die a lot. But the difference is: I come back. It just takes a while.”

“I don’t understand, please Touya, what do you mean?” you feel frantic, and cling to his robes like small child. “I-I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t.” Touya promises you firmly, pulling back to fix you with an unwavering look. “It’s difficult to explain, but I’m more like a force of nature then a ‘traditional’ god. My power is great, but it destroys my body and I ‘die’. However,” his eyes narrow dangerously as he thumbs over the mark on your arm, “I’m a god of the Underworld, and we play by different rules than those that reside upstairs.” He points a finger mockingly up to the roof of the temple.

“I have what you humans call a ‘cycle’. Whenever I ‘die’ I return home, so that I can rest and regenerate my body. Eventually I come back to how I was before I got all of my scaring, and start again. The cycle repeats itself over and over again on an endless loop.” He sends you a crooked grin.

“That’s the other half of my secret: Cremation and Reincarnation tend to go hand in hand. But nobody needs to know that except for you.”

“How many times have you done this?” you breathe, but Touya only shakes his head, shooting you a forced smile.

“More times than I can count. I’m not the oldest God in the pantheon Sweetheart, not by a long shot, but compared to you, I’m ancient.”

“Oh.” You murmur. trying to fight down the blush at the stark differences in your ages, and Touya’s smile becomes more relaxed. You fist your hands at the front of his robe and try your best to return his smile. “So, you’re going to come back… for me?”

“Yes. I’ll eventually return to my original form. But it’s going to take me a while to regenerate.”

“Oh gods, you mean I’m going to be an old woman by the time you come back to get me.” You joke, trying your best to lighten the somber mood, and Touya barks out a laugh.

“No, no. It won’t take that long, I promise… but, that being said, it won’t be anytime soon either. I’m sorry.”

You nod, and try to relax your grip on his robes. You smooth your hands over the soft fabric, and inwardly you hum in delight, as you feel Touya’s abnormally warm hands run down your waist. He brings one hand up to your chin and gently tilts your face up to meet his.

“I will be back for you. Make no mistake about that.”

You feel his other hand glide up to your left forearm, the one that now bares his mark, and press on it possessively. “This binds us together. I’ll make good on my promise, and when I come back for you: I’m going to take you around the world with me, just like I promised you I would. I’ll give you everything.”

You feel your eyes water with his declaration. The sincerity in his eyes tells you that he’s not bluffing. He will be back for you the next time he comes to your humble village, and he will show you the world if you so choose it.

“…How will I know?” You finally manage to ask him quietly.

“How will you know what?”

“How will I know that you’re coming back to get me?”

Touya lets a deep laugh rumble out of his throat, and pushes his face close to your ear so he can whisper directly into it:

“Oh, don’t worry… you’ll just know.”

-----

Three years have passed since that day.

Spring has come again, symbolizing rebirth and renewal, and yet seemingly nothing has changed in your little village. You still work at the apothecary with Chiyo, but now you spend most of your time at Dabi’s temple, keeping it clean, and trying to educate those who visit it, more about the reclusive Cremation God.

More people have started to visit the temple in the three years since you last saw Touya, and you’d like to think that he’d be pleased if he could see it. You’re headed to the temple now to do your daily cleaning, and make sure that everything is orderly, before you head back home for the night.

You smile as you watch a group of small children run past you, as you think back to the day that Touya had left you one final time.

Word had spread like wildfire after you had returned from the temple that day – about how you had made a deal with the elusive Cremation God himself to cure the town of its plague, and how you now bore his mark on your own skin, binding you to him.

You thought that you’d be ostracized, a pariah in your town – but surprisingly, the majority of people seemed to accept it with very little backlash. You suppose that’s the closest to thanks that you’ll get for playing a part in saving your town from destruction, but you’ll take it.

More people do tend to keep their distance from you now, largely in part due to your lover’s fearsome reputation, but you don’t hold it against them.

They’ve started calling you Shaoha – Death Woman. Normally, it’s a derogatory name for a demon or witch, but you know they don’t mean it in that way, and you can’t help but find it fitting given the circumstances and your ties to the Death God himself.

You smile sadly in spite of yourself as you make your way through the forest trail towards Dabi’s temple, leaving the village behind you.

You dress mostly in black or deep blues these days, mourning the fact that you haven’t seen your god in years now. He promised you that he would eventually be back for you once he had healed, before you were old and gray, but you wished that he would have given you a rough estimation of how long that would take, because with each day that passes, you miss him more and more.

Your friends have started families of their own, and while you never had the urge to have children of your own, seeing them happy with their husbands makes you wish that Touya was here with you. Your friends give you sympathetic smiles, and try and comfort you best they can. While you’re grateful that they try, it’s not the same.

It’s strange: you’re surrounded by people who care for you, and yet; you feel more alone now then you ever did before.

You reach Dabi’s temple and push the doors open, finding a few people milling about, paying their respects inside, and the sight pleases you greatly. Ever since it was revealed that he had been behind the disappearance of the plague, the townspeople had started coming to the temple more frequently to pay homage to him. You’re glad that you had cleaned up the temple beforehand, even if it was just for you and him initially.

Several of the people take notice of you, and they quickly file out to allow you to do your daily inspection. After deeming everything to be orderly, you make your way back to your home, just as the sun is starting to disappear behind the tree-line.

You reach your house just as dusk has fallen, and you talk with your parents over dinner for a while before heading to bed. As grateful as you are for their company and their efforts to keep you occupied, the constant ache in your chest never fully dissipates, even when you aren’t alone. 

As you lay in bed, waiting for sleep to take you, you send out a silent goodnight to Touya, hoping that he can hear you, wherever he may be. Just as you have done every night for the last three years.

You hope that wherever he is, he knows how much you miss him.

You don’t remember falling asleep. You open your eyes again and your room is pitch black, letting you know that it’s the dead of night. For a moment, you lay there confused, wondering why you’ve woken up at a seemingly random time, only to realize that you feel different.

You don’t feel physically sick, and the sensation that is coursing through your body like liquid fire in your veins doesn’t feel ominous or wrong, but you suddenly have the intense urge to get up and leave. Like you have to go somewhere urgently.

Your forearm – the one that bears Touya’s mark – feels hot. You trace it absentmindedly, quietly musing that the last time it burned like that was when he gave it to you--

Something clicks in your sleep addled mind, and you slowly sit up and push the covers off of you as you stand. You get dressed in long, dark skirts, and throw a traveling cloak around your shoulders for good measure – knowing deep down that you won’t be coming back.

As you walk through the hallways of your dark home like a ghost, you crack open the door to your parents room to gaze fondly at their sleeping figures. You send them a silent I love you, before closing their door, thanking them for everything. You pad silently through your house until you reach the front door, and pull it open soundlessly, stepping out of it for the final time, before shutting it firmly behind you.

You don’t look back.

You feel like a wraith as you walk through the deserted streets of your town, taking in each and every shop as you pass. The bright, pale moonlight is your only source of light as you walk, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of Dabi’s temple.

The burning in your forearm has lessened considerably and you know this is exactly where you’re supposed to be. You step inside, and slowly make your way to the foot of the hooded god’s statue. You smile slightly and take a seat facing the entrance doors that you didn’t bother closing, allowing moonlight to spill into the dark temple. You sit and you wait. You vow that you’ll wait all night if you have to.

You don’t have to wait for long.

There’s a tell-tale flash of blue outside the temple and a blast of searing heat follows, before everything stills again. The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps approaching the temple makes your heartbeat quicken, and the tall silhouette of a man spills across the floor to where you’re sitting at the altar.

A familiar man dressed in white funeral shrouds enters the temple, and makes his way towards you. You can’t help but smile lovingly as you take him in. Even though he looks incredibly different from the last time you saw him, you’d recognize Touya anywhere.

Gone are the dark scars and staples that wreaked havoc on his skin. The man, the god, that stands before you, has skin as pale as snow, almost blending into the white of his shroud. He looks like he’s bathed in moonlight, with eyes as bright and blue and beautiful as the flames he wields. Upon closer inspection. you still see faint seams in his skin where his burns were previously. A remanent of his past life, and one that you find incredibly endearing.

He is not perfect, but neither are you. You selfishly think that maybe you were made for each other.

He stands before you, seemingly at a loss for words, but his deep turquoise eyes tell you everything you need to know. You, however, have quite a few things you want to say to him. So, you start with the obvious.

“I’ve missed you.” You tell him quietly, and he smiles, cerulean eyes looking sad.

“I know. But I’m here now, so that’s got to count for something right?”

“It means everything.” You confirm breathlessly as he cups your cheek, running his thumb across your soft skin. You shamelessly lean into his touch and watch as he smiles at you.

“Ready to go?”

You nod. “I’ve been ready for a long time. You kept me waiting long enough.”

He laughs, the sound deep and rich in your ears.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you. There are so many things I want to show you.” His free hand sneaks down and intertwines with yours. “I make good on my promises, you know.”

You give his hand a squeeze. “I do.”

His heart – the organ in his chest, that he was sure had stopped working after his fall from grace – thunders into irregularity in his chest. Now he’s sure that it beats for you, and you alone.

You, the first person in a long, long time, who’s made him feel something aside from hatred and scorn. The first person to see past the scars, the first one to see him at his worst and still show him unconditional love where others couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

He loves you, and he always will.

He lifts the hand that’s still laced with his, to his mouth and presses a kiss to the back of your knuckles, sending you a smile that makes you melt.

“Let’s go home.”

FIN

[burning-academia-if]

I decided on doing monthly updates for BA, so I'll be doing a brief overview of November's progress! I'll also add an 'around the blog' section because some notable things happened/were posted! I doubt this part will be monthly, but if I have a busy month here, I'll add it since I know it's easy to miss some things!

Progress Report:

Updated the demo back in the start of November with general fixes.

Finished the (very rough) first draft of Chapter 1! Current word count is just over 23k, but I'm going back to edit and add scenes/flavor text.

Added scenes/notes to the general outline.

Finished Chapter 2's detailed outline.

Decided to officially add in the poly routes! (remind me to update the main post with them at some point lmfaO). These routes include: Beck/Rook for Dawn and Day paths, Rook/??? for Night path, and Rhea and Zoe for Dawn and Dusk paths! Beck/Rook and Rook/??? are triads ie all 3 of you have romantic feelings for each other. Rhea and Zoe is a V ie they both have romantic feelings for you but not each other (although they'll have a close friendship).

Around the blog:

Painted and posted all the RO portraits!

1k follower bonus stories: Rook's and ???'s

Favorite ask/answer: Some facts about MC's family and Orpheus/Eurydice

General:

With all that out of the way, progress may slow a bit and I might be a little more scarce because I finally got a job! I can't say when Chapter 1 is going to be out, but it should be no later then January (I also made a chaotic decision to do two game jams in December because why not?). This is mostly because I want to finish setting up all the stat pages and have them ready for the next update as well! I'm guessing after edits Chapter 1 will total anywhere between 25k to 30k words. With all that being said, have a very wip preview of chapter 1:

[Text version]

'...You...are..."

You grimace, eyes blinking once. Then twice. You've never slept walked before in your life, but now you find yourself with one hand bracing against the sink counter in the bathroom. Your other hand hovers, palm out, gaze latched onto it by an unknown force.

"What…?" You stumble back, eyebrows furrowing as you take a look around you. Something is wrong. Something is wrong.

[amakumos]

twizzle into my heart — nishimura riki (teaser)

twizzle into my heart is out now! read here ^_^

synopsis. Falling in love when your sport is your top priority is hard, and nobody knows this better than you and Nishimura Riki. You two tried to make it work, but things didn't end up like you both wanted it to. But, when you and Riki cross paths again 4 years later at 4 Continents, old feelings resurface, and you find that Nishimura Riki comes twizzling straight into your heart once again.

genre. angst, fluff, exes to friends to lovers, slowburn (?), figure skating au

pairing. figure skater! riki x pairs figure skater fem! reader

warnings. swearing, mentions of injury, riki is 21, reader is 21, and both compete for japan. set during the 2026/2027 figure skating season.

word count. 20-30k (est.) teaser is 1.6k words

author’s note. yun comes back again with another! figure skating fic. r we surprised… no because i already teased this😭😭 anyways this was the one that was voted the most on the poll so here it is!! i hope u guys enjoy this little teaser and if you’re interested the taglist is open so just shoot me an ask ^_^

Riki puts his skate guards on, sitting down on the bench next to Taki. “Oh, and before I forget to ask you, do you wanna go to lunch with the rest of us? The whole 4CC team is going, with the exception of Sakura and Fuma, ‘cause they’re practising.”

Riki shrugs, taking off his skates to change into his regular sports shoes. “Sure. Where are we going?”

“Kazuha found this nice restaurant nearby the arena,” Yuma chimes in. He puts his skates into his bag, standing up to wait for the two other boys to finish putting their skates away. “Let’s leave our bags in the locker room and go. I think Kazuha, Mina and Yuta are already there.”

“I’m going to get changed.” Riki says, getting up from the bench and heading towards the changing room. He’s sweating after practice, and he’d much rather go out in fresh clothes than wear what he’s got on now. Taki and Yuma follow him not long after, and Riki changes into a black hoodie and a pair of jeans, spraying some cologne on as well.

He brushes his bangs out of his eyes as he takes his wallet and phone out of his bag, shoving them into his pockets. “You ready?” he asks Yuma and Taki, who have also changed. The two boys nod, and they all head out of the changing room.

“Where’s the restaurant again?” Taki asks Yuma, who’s got the location entered into the GPS on his phone. “A five minute walk from here.” Taki replies, and he walks in the direction of where the GPS tells him to go, and the two boys follow him.

Soon enough, the three boys arrive at the restaurant, telling the front of house staff Kazuha’s name, since she was the one who booked. The staff member takes them to their table, and Riki greets everyone before sitting down next to Taki.

But, when he turns his head, he sees Keiji sitting just one seat away from him, with the one next to Riki being empty.

“Hey, who joined us?”

Riki knows exactly who that voice belongs to, and he turns his head slowly to meet eyes with you.

Everyone at the table immediately goes silent as you and Riki stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you moving. Riki lets out a shaky breath as he looks at you — he hasn’t really seen you at all since the breakup.

“Hey.” You’re the first to speak.

Riki gulps. “Hey.”

You awkwardly slide into your seat next to Riki, and he sees Yuta wiggling his eyebrows at him, and Riki makes a mental note to send him a text message with many middle finger emojis later.

You haven’t seen Riki in a long time. He’s grown taller, way taller than you last saw him, and he’s now got dyed blonde streaks in his dark hair. It looks good on him — he looks good. As Riki talks to the others, you can’t help but stare at him. There’s a couple silver necklaces he’s wearing around his neck, and you’re sitting close enough to him to realise that he’s still wearing the cologne that you had recommended to him years ago.

“So…” Kazuha starts. “How’s Bisco?”

Riki’s eyes light up at the mention of his dog, and Hitomi notices that there’s a fond smile on your lips when you hear him talk about Bisco. After all, you did frequent Riki’s house when you two were together, and had formed a close bond with Bisco.

Riki never told you (and doesn’t plan on telling you) but after your breakup, Bisco would often sit by the door, waiting to see if you’d show up.

And you never did.

“Good,” Riki says. “I’ll go back home to see him after the competition. I try to go back as much as I can since it’s only a 4 hour train ride from Nagoya to Okayama, but — training kinda steals most of the time I have.”

“Oh, so you found out Bisco’s gender now?” you ask, absentmindedly — you don’t realise the words slip past your lips until Riki replies. “Uh, yeah. Konon told me, actually.” he chuckles awkwardly.

The tension between you and Riki is so thick that you could cut it with a knife. You didn’t think that seeing him would be this awkward, since you two had ended things amicably — but now that you’re seeing him for the first time after the breakup, you really don’t know what to say to him.

“Awks.” Taki whispers into Riki’s ear, and Riki rolls his eyes, nudging him on the arm. “Ow,” Taki says dramatically, clutching the spot where Riki had elbowed him. “That really hurt.”

“Sure it did.”

The lunch goes well for the most part, with Mina catching you and Riki sneaking glances at each other when one of you isn’t looking. There’s a sneaky grin on her lips as she watches the scene play out before her. You’re awkwardly taking a sip of your tea, whilst Riki is trying to do everything in his power to stop himself from trying to steal another glance at you. “They should talk.” Mina whispers into Kazuha’s ear.

“Keiji, practice is in an hour.” you tell your partner, and he checks the time. “Shit, right. Um, guys, we’ll have to leave soon for the official practice.” Keiji announces to the group, and Yuma nods.

“Let’s just all leave, then. We’re all done with eating.” Yuma says, and Riki nods. Riki stands up, looking at the time on his phone as you catch a glimpse of his lockscreen, and it’s of Bisco having Riki’s Worlds gold medal hung around his neck.

A smile spreads across your lips as you catch sight of the photo. “That’s cute.”

Once again, the words slip out before you realise you say them. “Sorry. Caught sight of your lockscreen.” you say, and Riki shrugs.

“It’s alright.” he says, and you two just stand there awkwardly, looking at each other — you both don’t even realise that everyone’s gone to the cashier to pay (even if they all did it purposely just to get you two to talk in private.)

“So… how have you been?” you ask, attempting to start a conversation. “I’m good. Just training a lot… you know how I am,” Riki says, and you nod. “How about you? How’s Canada?”

“Oh, it’s nice there. Really cold in the winter.” you say. “Colder than Japan?” he asks, and you nod. “Sometimes. Oh, and I forgot to say — congrats on gold at Worlds last year. You did really great.”

Riki smiles at you. It’s a smile that you didn’t know you missed until you saw it again. “Thanks. I saw you there, I think — just didn’t get a chance to say hi. I’ve seen you at many competitions, briefly, actually. Just… the opportunity never came up.”

“Yeah. I saw you too. I was in the bleachers, actually. Umm… yeah, you did really great. You’ve come so far. Super proud of you.” you say, offering him a smile. “We haven’t talked in so long. How long has it been?”

“4 years, I think.” Riki replies.

“Right. 4 years… 4 Continents.” you quip, and Riki tilts his head, looking at you with an amused smile.

“Good one.”

You know it wasn’t really a good one. More of a lame joke, compared to the ones that you had told him before when you two were dating.

“Thanks.” you say, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “We should probably… go. They’re all gone.” you say, and Riki nods.

“Right. Yeah. Don't leave anything behind.” he says, not forgetting about your terrible habit of losing things often. He’ll never forget the day when you nearly forgot your skate bag in the bus that you two were riding on to get to the rink — thank god he was there to remind you to pick it up.

“Yeah. I won’t.” you say, checking the table once more. Riki remembering that about you makes you feel a little bit happy, somehow. To you, it shows that he didn’t really forget about you, despite not having seen or talked to you for 4 years.

You follow Riki as you two both make your way towards the cashier, Taki looking at Riki expectantly. “So… did you guys kiss?”

“What the fuck?” Riki asks his friend. “You think I’m going to see my ex girlfriend after 4 years and after maybe a… 5 minute conversation, we’re going to kiss?”

“You’re unpredictable. And you two also broke up in less than 5 minutes, so… yeah. Maybe.”

“You’re insane, Taki.”

“Are you guys going to go back to the hotel?” Sakura asks Riki, Yuma and Taki. The men’s single skating practices were officially done for the day — meaning Riki could just go back to his hotel room, flop onto the bed and sleep.

“Uh… yeah. Probably.” Yuma says. “Do you guys have any plans?”

“I’m going to watch the pairs practice.” Kazuha pipes up. “You guys are more than welcome to tag along so we can watch (Name), Keiji, Mina and Yuta if you’d like.”

“Might go take a shower before I come join you.” Taki says, and Yuma nods in agreement. “Yeah. And I’m sure Riki would love to tag along as well.” he says, and Riki knows that Yuma’s just enunciating the word ‘love’ to piss him off.

“Yeah, I’ll come.” he says.

“Nice,” Keiji says. “See you later.”

The group splits up, with Riki, Taki and Yuma walking back to the hotel, and Kazuha, Mina, Yuta, Keiji and you heading to the arena. But before Riki gets far away enough, you call out his name.

“Hey, Riki?”

The boy turns his head to look at you.

“It was nice seeing you again.”

You leave before he can respond.

[jakeysfallingsky]

Among the Wildflowers - Chapter 1 - Jake Kiszka X Reader

Hi there, this was sitting in my phone notes for weeks and I finally turned it into a living document and realized it was 30k+ words in total - so please enjoy the first chapter of this story that was inspired by Jake's (not so new, now) haircut! There is much more to come for this story and much left to be written, but would love any feedback :)

Minors, please do not interact - 18+ content in upcoming chapters.

Summary: You're a hairstylist in Nashville, and the boys in Greta Van Fleet become your clients when they relocate to the city. They quickly all take a liking to you, one sweet guitarist especially. Jake is patient in his pursuit of you, but will your self-created set of rules hold you back from ever being anything more with him?

Word Count: 5600+

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol.

January 2020

It was a sunny winter day in Nashville, the cooler temperatures causing you to shiver as you walked from your car to the door of the salon you worked at. You had lived in Nashville since you were a teenager, relocating to the city with your family from the Midwest. Quickly falling in love with the vibrancy of the city, you knew this would continue to be your home for years to come.

You worked at a trendy salon, a lot of your coworkers also being younger. Most of your clientele were people around your age, and you enjoyed getting to know your diverse client base. Many artists of different varieties, people who worked for all of the surrounding record labels and studios, and of course - plenty of musicians.

Despite this, you tried to keep your personal life and work life separate. You didn’t accept the many invitations you received to come to art shows, local concerts, and simple hangouts. As much as you loved your loyal clients, you also wanted to remain a tried and true professional while you continued to establish your brand in the hair and styling industry. More than a few of your friends had their hearts broken by Nashville folks in the music or touring industries as well, and you had sworn off of dating anyone with a career that would take them away from the city frequently.

Sighing as you checked your schedule for the day, you saw that you had four new clients all back to back. You loved meeting new people and considered yourself a social butterfly, but you always tried to schedule a little extra time for first time appointments as you got to know your new client and their goals for their hair. Upon further inspection, you saw that three of the four individuals had the same last name and realized they had to be related.

“Hmm, some sort of family outing maybe.” You mumble to yourself as you get your area set up for the day. The first few appointments fly by quickly, and before you know it, there are four young men waiting at the front of the salon.

“Hi there!” You say cheerfully as you approach them. You introduce yourself and they go around and share each of their names as well. Sammy, Danny, Josh, and…Jake.

Jake is full on staring at you as you and his brothers speak. He’s left speechless as he takes you in - white Vans high tops, ripped black jeans cuffed at the ankles, black tank top that’s cropped just enough to show a sliver of your stomach and reveal your curves, and an oversized corduroy black button up over the tank. Your golden skin is accentuated by a dusting of freckles and your cheeks are tinted pink with a rosy hue. Your hair is gorgeous, long loose waves flowing down your back with curtain bangs swept along the sides of your striking eyes. There are words coming out of your full lips, but Jake isn’t listening. He’s realizing that you’re the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on, and his nerves start to run wild.

“Jake…Jacob! You there?” Josh asks with a pointed elbow to Jake’s side.

“Oh-oh god, sorry, what was the question?” Jake stammers, cheeks turning red with embarrassment as he comes back down to earth.

You giggle at Jake, knowing that he was checking you out and thinking he is just too cute. “I asked if you are triplets. I get that Danny is a chosen brother, but the three of you just look so similar.”

“Josh and I are identical twins, Samuel is three years younger.” Jake explains and Josh immediately follows with “But I’m the oldest! By 5 minutes!”

“Okay, if you’re the oldest, then you can go first. Let’s go, boys.” You tell them and they follow behind you. 

Josh plops in your chair first, and after you discuss his trim and wash his hair, you start cutting and ask the group more questions to get to know them better. You learn that they’ve all just moved here from Michigan and they’re in a band together. Each of them is incredibly friendly, and you tell them about yourself as they share stories of their own. They almost feel like old friends, despite you just meeting them. They’re all quite chatty, except for Jake, who sits quietly and watches you interact with your brothers, chiming in with a brief answer to a question every now and then. Once Josh is all set, you trim Sam and Danny’s hair too, and then Jake is finally up.

“Your turn!” You say in an upbeat tone and Jake quietly takes a seat in your chair. His chestnut-colored waves flow past his shoulders down his back. “What are you thinking of doing with your hair today, Jake?” You ask as you start to inspect his hair, running your fingers through the ends.

“I uh, I don’t really like getting my hair cut,” he mumbles, “can you just take off the ends and even it out, please?”

“Yeah of course I can, I promise I don’t bite by the way.” You say cheekily and a small smile crosses his face and you take that as a win. He seems shy, but you can’t tell if that’s because he’s nervous about getting a haircut or he’s normally like this around new people. Jake’s uncharacteristic timidness is not lost on his brothers, who all picked up on that Jake is definitely nervous not only because he’s getting his hair trimmed, but because he thinks you are cute as well.

You push all of Jake’s long hair to the front of his shoulders and place a finger against where you think you should cut, about a quarter of an inch from the ends. “How does this sound?” You ask him.

“Sounds good.” He answers quietly and you nod and put a cape on him. The goosebumps rising on his neck where your fingers barely brush him is not lost on you, and you smirk to yourself as you take him over to wash his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you begin to work shampoo through his hair, and you look down at his beautiful features. He has a kind face with a strong jaw and cheekbones and full pink lips, with long lashes hiding the honey-brown eyes that you were careful to not get lost in earlier. He’s utterly stunning.

You finish washing his hair then take him back to your chair. You try to get him to chat a little bit more as you trim his hair, and you learn that he’s been playing the guitar nearly since he could walk, he loves to travel and cook, and he’s secretly a big fan of Imagine Dragons. The other three boys share a few looks, seeing the two of you really hit it off once Jake opens up a bit.

You finish his hair and ask him what he thinks. “Looks great!” He says with the corners of his lips curling up, and he means it. 

You turn to the group and sigh. “Well boys, it was a pleasure spending some time with you today. I do hope you’ll come back to see me next time.”

Josh immediately spoke up. “Oh yeah, we all look great. You’re our person for sure. Don’t worry, you won’t be getting rid of us anytime soon.”

You laugh. “Good! I had fun meeting you all today.”

Sammy then piped in. “Do you want to go get a drink with us later? We don’t have a lot of friends here yet since we just moved a few weeks ago. And you’re really cool.” Jake’s heart started beating faster at the thought of spending more time with you. 

You blush at Sammy’s  invitation and compliment. “Oh, thank you so much for the invite. I already have plans though. I can recommend some good spots for you to check out.”

Jake’s heart sank a little, but he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you yet. “Yeah, can you give us a few spots?” He asked. You quickly wrote down a few of your favorite go-to spots and even your drinks of choice at each establishment and handed the paper to Jake. 

“You guys have fun, and keep in touch!” You waved goodbye and each boy waved back, Jake shooting you a shy grin as he turned to leave.

You walked back to your chair and flopped into it, trying to slow the quick beat of your heart. Jake was certainly going to be trouble for you, if you weren’t careful. 

The boys ended up going to one of the places you had recommended, and everyone got a beer, except for Jake. He ordered the drink you had written on the little piece of paper and smiled when he saw the bartender reach for bourbon. A girl after my own heart, he thinks to himself.

“Jake, my brother,” Sam starts once they’re at a table, “you fucked up by not getting her number.”

Josh and Danny nodded in agreement. “You were looking like a lovestruck fool back there, but so was she.” Josh said.

Jake shook his head. “Don’t say shit like that to me guys. She was so beautiful but way out of my league.” He took the first sip of his drink - your drink - and noted that it was delicious, because of course it was.

“Come on man, we wouldn’t lie to you. But, there’s always next time.” Danny said.

There were a lot of next times, as fate would have it. Each boy routinely came in alone, or together, to see you. They quickly became your favorite clients. You really hit it off with each of them in a friendly way, and it pained you a little to turn down their frequent invitations to get a drink, dinner, come to a BBQ, go to a show, or even just hangout. But, the Kiszka’s and Danny were relentless, partly because each boy thought you were just the coolest and so fun, and partly because each of them wanted to set you up with Jake desperately.

The boy was down bad for you. The confident and collected rockstar found himself a nervous mess every time he saw you. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed every time you rejected his or his brother’s invitations to do something together. Jake could feel that there was chemistry between you two, but something was holding you back.

Eventually, because the boys were big fans of yours, you were hired by Greta Van Fleet’s team to style the boys for photoshoots and promo that they needed to shoot, so you ended up seeing them more frequently than every couple months. There were even a few select occasions where you were flown out to their sets across the country, when they were shooting something on tour away from home. Your feelings for Jake and platonic, friendly love for the rest of the boys grew and grew, and your resolve to continue your professional-only relationship with them was wearing thin after several years of them being only your clients.

•

•

Present Day, 2023

It was a sunny spring evening and the band came over to Jake’s to hang out. After a bit of practicing and playing some video games, everyone was hanging out on his back porch.

“What are you guys up to for the rest of the week?” Danny asked.

“Jacob and I are getting our hair cut tomorrow, I forced him to make an appointment with me,” Josh replied as he grabbed another drink, “he needs one.”

“I do not.” Jake grumbled from his seat.

Sam looked closely at his brother’s hair. “You definitely do, probably a few inches, Jake,” Sam started, “you have split ends out the wazoo. Go for below the collarbone or something.” 

Josh hummed in agreement. “See! Told you. That would look good.” Jake just shook his head in response.

Danny chimed in as well. “Don’t be nervous Jake, aren’t you excited to see your favorite girl tomorrow?”

Jake sighed and nodded with a wistful smile. The rest of the boys of course knew how Jake felt about you, but no one knew just how deep Jake’s feelings and adoration ran for you. 

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see her.” Jake said as he stared into his drink. 

“You should see if she wants to hang out with us Jake, it’s been awhile since anyone has tried to invite her somewhere.” Sam added. 

Jake nervously chuckled and the conversation shifted. Eventually, everyone headed out for the night and Josh clapped his twin on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ll pick you up.” Jake muttered a quiet thanks and said goodnight to his brother. He trudged upstairs to start getting ready for bed.

Jake sighed as he looked in the bathroom mirror. His brothers were right, he really did need a good amount of hair cut off. The thought of that scared him, but he knew if he asked you for something different with his hair, you’d make it look good no matter what. 

He brushed through his long tangles and took a frizzy lock of hair in his hand. He folded it back at different lengths to see how it looked in the mirror. It was then that he decided for sure that he would ask you for something shorter. His stomach filled with nerves at the thought of how much of his long hair would be chopped tomorrow, but he knew he needed it with how damaged and dry his hair was.

Jake crawled into bed and pulled up your Instagram to see if you had done anything fun lately to try to calm his nerves about what he was going to ask you to do to his hair. 

He remembers the day you followed him back, over a year ago, he felt like he had won the lottery. Every now and then, you two would DM back and forth, sending each other silly or interesting posts. Jake didn’t post often, but his stomach always filled with butterflies when he would see you like his posts or leave a comment.

He saw your recent post from a couple days prior that he had missed and smiled as he scrolled through your photo dump. He loved your bright smile and rosy cheeks that shone in each photo of you with your friends and family. Once he swiped to the last photo, his heart dropped. It was you and a man he didn’t recognize from your other posts, wrapped up in each other's arms at the top of a hike somewhere. Jake frantically tapped the tagged username, scrolling through the profile that unbeknownst to him, was for your high school best friend who had moved out west and was in a committed relationship with his partner. Once Jake saw the series of recent photos of your friend with his partner, relief washed over him. 

He sighed as he flopped back onto his bed, realizing that he was in way too deep for someone that won’t even hang out with him in a group setting. Jake decided that he would invite you to do something, one last time tomorrow, and if you declined his invitation, he would try to move on, even though the thought of that broke his heart. 

•

•

The next day was sunny and warm, putting a smile on your face as you walked to work in the morning. The weather was great, you were in one of your favorite comfy work outfits, and you knew you’d get to see a couple of your favorite clients today. 

The morning went by quickly and before you knew it, the twins arrived and were up front. 

“Hey guys!” You greeted them cheerfully. Josh popped out of his seat and smothered you in a big hug. “My sweet girl! How are you?”

You giggled and let go of Josh, missing the frustrated look on Jake’s face behind you.

Did he seriously just call her that?

“I’m great! It’s so good to see you both. How are you guys doing?” You spun towards Jake and he gave you a nervous smile. You didn’t initiate a hug and his smile fell a little. 

“I’m good, except for the fact that my brother got a hug and I didn’t.” God, that made me sound so pathetic.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you tugged Jake’s arm into you and lightly wrapped your arms around his waist as his came around your upper back. “Let it be known that the first hug was forced upon me but this one I’m choosing to partake in.” You teased, looking up at Jake, and his cheeks turn pink as Josh scoffs. You let go of Jake and wave both boys back to your area. It’s a quiet afternoon, so your chair and the one next to you are both open.

It’s no surprise to you when Josh flops into your chair, signaling that he’ll go first. Despite being completely head over heels for you, Jake still hates getting his hair cut and always lets his brothers go first if they’re there with him. Jake slides into the other chair and turns to face you and Josh.

You run your fingers through Josh’s curls. “I kind of like how loose your curls are,” you say, “I don’t really want to perm it today.”

Josh nodded. “If you could just clean up the sides and trim the rest, I think I’ll be good.”

You know Josh well enough to know exactly what he wants and you hum in agreement as you throw the cape around him. “We’ll be right back, Jake.” You say as Josh gets up. Jake silently nods and goes back to twiddling his fingers in the chair. 

You wash Josh’s hair and give him a scalp massage and he sighs. “I swear your fingers are magic.” He says loud enough for his brother to hear, trying to get a rise out of him. Jake rubs his face out of annoyance, but your response quells his anxiety.

“Stop being weird.” You snort as you turn the water off and wring his hair out. You take Josh back to your chair and comb his curls and pin them up. You grab your clippers and run them up the sides of his head, then trim up the rest of his longer hair as you two chat, Jake staying quiet next to you both. Running curl product through it, you diffuse his curls and he’s done within a matter of minutes. 

“What do you think?” You ask him. “Perfect, as always. You’re the best.” He responds and your cheeks darken at his compliment. 

Josh gets out of the chair and smacks his twin on the side of his head. “Your turn!” He says loudly.

Jake stands and sits in your chair without a word. You begin to run your fingers through the ends of his long unkempt waves. “You’re being awfully quiet today.” You tell him and he shrugs nervously. “Mind if we take these off?” You point to his sunglasses and before Jake has the chance to open his mouth, you’ve come around to his front and gently grasp both sides of his sunglasses and slide them off of his face. You turn to put his glasses on the counter and miss the way Jake’s lips part slightly out of shock and the deep blush that runs across his cheeks. Josh silently snickers, watching his brother. 

You come back around to be behind Jake and grab your brush, knowing your fingers will not be successful in detangling his hair. His hair is the longest it’s ever been and flows down his back and chest, but it’s unfortunately riddled with split ends and damage. He only lets you trim the very ends off every time he comes in because he hates getting his hair cut that badly. 

You brush his frizzy waves out and look at him in the mirror. “Just the usual? Quarter inch off your ends?” 

Jake clears his throat, his nerves rising. “Actually um, I wanted to try something different today.” He says quietly. 

It’s your turn to be shocked now. “No way! Like what?” 

“Well, we’re doing this whole ‘back to our roots’ thing, and that’s kind of what Josh did with his hair when he changed it all those months ago, and my hair used to be a lot shorter, like before I knew you, so um, maybe like that?” Jake stammers.

You don’t want to allude to how excited you are to actually give him a real haircut that he desperately needs, so you calmly ask him if he has any photos while you run your fingers through his hair.

Jake is distracted by the feeling of your fingers running through his waves. He fumbles, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and his hands are shaking a little from nerves as he pulls up his Instagram. Your heart aches for him as you notice how nervous he is. “See this from like 6 or 7 years ago? Maybe like that?” He says as he holds his phone up.

You peer at his screen to see his hair hitting a little below his shoulders in a poofy one length style. It was very cute on him for sure, but with your skill, you knew you could give him a style that would be more interesting and fit his personality well. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you run your fingers through his hair again, noticing that it seemed to soothe Jake a little, “that would definitely be good for the health of your hair, you’ve got a lot of damage going on. But maybe we could take this idea and give you the grown up rockstar version with some layers? Maybe take it shorter than these photos but still around your shoulders? That would be super fun. Does that sound okay to you?” 

He gives you a soft smile despite his nerves. He’s unsure what’s making him more nervous right now, the idea of cutting his hair short or being around you. “Whatever you think would look best.” He softly tells you. 

You can tell he’s a little unsure of such a big change. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind the chair and look at him in the mirror. He’s blushing again as you make eye contact. “This is going to be so cute on you, Jake! I’m so excited.” You say with a big smile and he gives you another small one in return as he nods. 

You stand up straight and push his long hair to one side as you grab the cape and fasten it around his neck. You notice goosebumps rising where your fingers brush his skin and you smirk a little. “Let’s get you washed up,” you tell him as you turn to walk over to the shampoo bowls. He stands up and Josh gives him an encouraging pat on the back as he walks by.

Jake sits down and is rigid as a board. You place your fingers on his shoulders and try to get him to lean back. “Relax Jake, this is going to turn out so good.” You tell him. He sighs as he tries to settle in. “I know, I trust you, I just hate getting my haircut and this is a pretty big change.” 

You start to wash his hair and notice his eyes close as you work your fingers into his scalp. “I’m proud of you, though. It can be scary changing something about yourself. You’re being brave.” You encourage him and he smiles with his eyes closed. “Thank you.” He says softly and you look down at him fondly as you finish washing his hair. 

Walking back over to your station, he sits down gingerly as if the chair is going to swallow him up and eat him whole.

You grab his shoulders carefully and lean him back so he’s sitting against the back of the chair. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.” You tell him quietly, so only he can hear, and he runs a hand over his face. “I know, you’re the only one I’d ever trust to do something like this for me.” He admits shyly.

It’s your turn to blush and you break eye contact as you focus on detangling his wet hair. Jake notices the color flushing your cheeks and he smiles. 

Josh is observing both of you silently and sends his brother a text when you walk to the back to grab different products for Jake’s hair.

Josh: Are you seeing the way she’s looking at you? And talking to you? And touching you? If you don’t ask her out today, you’re an idiot.

Jake: Really? Are you sure?

Josh: YES. This is painful. Make a move once we are ready to leave. 

You come back and Jake hastily closes his messages as you continue combing his hair. You section the sides out and pin them up and section and pin up most of the back of his hair, too. A small section is left hanging down his back. 

Jake is beginning to squirm as you get closer and closer to starting his haircut. “Are you ready?” You ask him, seeing his nervous movements in the chair. You want to make sure he really wants this as it’s such a big change, especially for him. “We can do something less drastic, or just a little trim if you want.” 

“No, I’m ready, I’m good.” He tells you. 

You nod and tilt his head down a little. Your comb is brought to where his neck and shoulders meet and you bring the scissors up. You glance down and see a good 6-7 inches of hair about to be cut off. “Okay,” you say, “I’m going to get started.” Jake doesn’t dare move his head, but moves his hand out from under the cape to give you a thumbs up silently. It’s such a Jake gesture that you almost laugh a little.

You close the scissors around his hair and watch the long locks fall to the ground. You continue snipping the rest of the section short, more and more of Jake’s hair falling.

You let down the next section and comb it out. “It’s looking good so far, Jake.” You say and Josh agrees. Jake gives you a nervous, close-lipped smile in the mirror that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“So, what can you tell me about the new album?” You ask Jake, trying to get him to talk about something that you know he’s excited about. You continue combing and snipping and the gentle tugs and sounds of your shears cutting what feels like most of his hair off is distracting to Jake.

“Well, um, we finished it a few weeks ago.” He starts. You give an interested hum and he continues. “It’s, it’s interesting really because we recorded the entire album live together instead of each of us recording parts separately like a lot of musicians do.”

You stop cutting and look at him. “That’s so cool!” You say genuinely and he blushes again and rubs his chin. “Yeah, we are a live band at our core for sure so it made sense.” He mumbles.

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it.” You say as you finish cutting the back to just barely hit his shoulders and unclip the sides. His long hair tumbles down his chest for the last time. You pull the last of his long hair to the back and begin to cut it to just skim his shoulders as well. His hair is now definitely a few inches shorter than the photos he showed you, but you had a vision for how you wanted his hair to turn out and you knew he would love it when it was all done. 

You finish cutting and ask him if he wants to see what’s been done so far. “Still needs layers, but it’s looking so great Jake, I think you’re really going to like it.” You tell him and Josh stands up to see how Jake’s hair ended up behind his shoulders.

“Looking good, brother.” He says encouragingly.

“Yeah, go ahead and show me the damage.” Jake chuckles nervously.

You grip the ends of his hair and with little effort, push it in front of his shoulders. He gasps as he sees how short his hair is. “Oh wow, this is different,” he says as he takes in the change in his appearance, “it looks a lot healthier.” You rub his shoulder reassuringly and notice the blunt ends of his hair tickling the back of your hand.

“It was pretty damaged Jake, but this is already looking amazing on you.” You tell him truthfully and he nods. He runs his hands through his hair and smiles as he feels how soft and healthy the ends feel. “I like this a lot,” he muses, “feels a lot like ‘me.’”

“I’m glad you think so, I agree.” you say as you begin combing his hair out again. You begin cutting a face frame and lots of layers, trimming more and more of his hair. After several more minutes of cutting and hair filling up Jake’s lap, you’re satisfied with his shaggy bob. You run wave product through his hair with your fingers and his eyes flutter shut involuntarily. 

“This takes two seconds to put in your hair, but it will help your waves pop and not be frizzy.” You tell him and his eyes open and he nods. You diffuse his hair and mess it up a little with your fingers once it’s dry. You’re in love with how his hair turned out, seeing how it accentuates his gorgeous face.

“What do you think?” You ask and he grins as you take the cape off and he messes with his hair himself. He pushes his wavy hair behind his ears and the face framing pieces fall forward and your heart does a flip, seeing how cute he looks. “I love it,” he tells you with a big smile on his face, “I never would have asked for this myself but you did amazing, as always.” 

“Aww, thanks Jakey.” You tease as he stands up and turns to his brother. “What do you think, Josh?”

“I think you may surpass me as the most handsome member of the band, maybe.” Josh answers with a toothy grin. “Looks great.”

Jake grabs his sunglasses and puts them on his shirt as you walk them to the front and they pay.

“Great seeing you both, as always. Don’t be strangers!” You say as you go to hug them both goodbye. Jake hangs on for a second longer than he should for a friendly hug and he clears his throat as he realizes this and steps back. Jake and Josh make eye contact and Josh swiftly says his goodbyes and steps out with the excuse that he has to make a phone call. 

Jake turns to you, his nerves seemingly returning as he looks into your eyes and runs a hand through his hair, noticing there’s a lot less for his fingers to pull through. 

“So, I was thinking, um, I know we’ve invited you out before to hang out and stuff and you’ve always said no but, I-I was wondering if maybe you’d want to come by our office and I could show you some of our new music?” He asks timidly and you feel butterflies erupt in your chest. 

“You want to show me your new music?!” You ask him, shocked.

He nods and smiles. “I would love to. You’ve always been one of our biggest supporters since we moved out here.”

You take a deep breath, knowing you’re about to break your own rules, but something in the back of your brain is telling you that it’ll be so worth it for the sweet man standing before you. “That’s so cool of you to offer Jake, I would love to.”

The biggest smile breaks out across his face, his dimple popping and everything. He can’t believe you’ve agreed to spend some time with him, especially alone. “Are you free Saturday? Or Sunday? Or any day really, I could make anything work. Even today, later, anything-.”

You chuckle as you cut off his rambling. “I don’t work on the weekends, is Saturday okay?” 

He nods enthusiastically and you hand him your phone with the contacts page pulled up. “Give me your number and I’ll text you.” You say with a soft smile and he looks at you sweetly as he takes your phone.

“Wow, I finally get your number after over three years? I don’t have to DM you on Instagram to talk anymore?” He says with a joking tone and you giggle. He hands you your phone back and you slide it into your pocket without looking.

“Let’s plan on Saturday morning, 10:00?” He asks. There’s something behind his eyes that looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. 

“Perfect,” you say, “I can’t wait.”

“Me too.” he grins. “Thanks again for making me look good today.”

Feeling brave, you reach up to ruffle his hair and tuck some behind his ear before pulling him into another hug. He’s so flustered by that and it takes him a second before he wraps his arms around you. 

“No problem, rockstar.” You say as you unwrap your arms from around him. His cheeks are bright red as you pull back. 

“S-see you Saturday,” he manages to get out and you wave as he turns to leave. 

Once he’s gone, you pull your phone out and see he added an emoji next to his name in your contacts. You smile, seeing he picked the red guitar emoji to follow his name.

Maybe, some rules are meant to be broken.