#everything revolves around him in my brain it's ridiculous

[ashes-of-ailell]

its gotten to the point where I've got a whole headcanon backstory for Ashe laid out in my head based on what he tells us in his supports but I haven't done the same for any of the other characters and I think that says a lot about me really

[da-janela-lateral]

MP100 S2E01 under a writer's perspective

The Emi Fukami episode in Mob Psycho 100 was a beautiful display of Mob's character development in relation to his individuality and a earnest vision of emotional vulnerability, but I want to call attention to a single detail: Emi being a writer.

Out of all the secret truths that the cast masks during the narrative, Emi's must be one of the most mundane. She is writing a book. She doesn't want people to know about it, much less read it, as Emi was led to believe this hobby of hers was embarassing.

I find it very interesting that Emi, character whose focus episode revolves around vulnerability, has writing has her main passion. In a way, writing is one of the most revealing art forms that there is. Literary choices are a reflection of the author's context, beliefs, likes and dislikes, fears and dreams, even though many of these choices cannot be perceived in a sensible level. Even if I suddenly decided to write a tale about a random theme - you say, a blue-footed booby who becomes an architect while wearing ballet shoes - it would say something about me. It could be a preferred text type, my sense of humor or even my idea of what is "random". Word choices, rhythm, figures of speech, themes, narrative structures, spins on a literary genre's expectations - all of these and more consist of conscious or unconscious decisions made by the writer. Writing as an art form serves as a mirror to the artist's very mind.

As a result, a piece of text can be a very delicate thing. Many people would only reveal their works to a exemplarily trusted someone, or to no one at all. That's the origin and end of uncountable masterpieces. It is also associated to passion. Few are the writers who characterize themselves as such and don't feel a duty to write. Yes, duty. Not all pieces are a labor of love, but it's almost universal that they're one of resolve, as little as it might be. One can unlock a fundamental will to write something in spite of it being weary work. At this point, for many writers, it's not a simple hobby. It's a need. It's a compulsory manner of expression hardwired onto our brains; thus, it's an inseparable part of who we are.

So what does any of this have to do with Emi's arc?

S2E01 is all about being vulnerable. Even though Emi had only asked out Mob because of a bet and hanged out with him for a week, she felt safe enough to show him her book. Her own friend group didn't have an idea that she was working on one, and once they discovered this, they ridiculed Emi's effort and teared it to shreds. Emi tried to alleviate this rejection by affirming she didn't care for her work, while everything shown previously on the episode proved this was wrong. In turn, Mob uses his psychic powers to put back her text together - his first public demonstration of them since he was a child. Mob was honest about himself by revealing he was an esper. Emi was honest by wanting his opinion on her book.

Emi is a fourteen year old girl going through a confusing and ever changing phase of her life. After doubting on Mob's emotions, she tells him that she too doesn't know well who she is, and her actions around her friends prove how she was prone to peer pressure. Her mind and identity were on an uncertain state, and this would also reflect on her writing. Emi uses complicated words, perhaps to make her writing sound more serious. Based on a translation of her work "Adventure", she uses more of a stream of consciousness prose and ambiguous descriptions. She immediately decides to write something different after her experiences with Mob. Emi has a personal style! She has techniques and topics she enjoys and active choices about how she will employ them! Emi has a bit of her on her story and this was why she hid it so much: a mockery of it would be synonym of a mockery of herself.

This is what makes the plotline with her book so important to express the episode's themes. Emi felt insecure to reveal such an integral part of herself to the world until someone came and not only took it seriously, but appreciated it enough to make an effort to understand it better. It tells a lot how Mob's demonstration of caring made her leave the people who destroyed her work.

As a writer, this detail gave a whole another layer of significance for the episode. I've felt Emi's struggle in a very intense level on the past. Storytelling is something so dear to me I can't see myself without the adjective of "writer", but the acknowledgement of my work would be the same as exposing myself to the world. It can be scary at times, to divulge something so sincere to others. However, such is the writer's role: divulging. For reasons long unknown a magical excess of words was born to me, and this coincidence can't be supressed and abandoned on the dark. There is something I can offer copiously hand in hand and its words. Words. Words. Words... And the reflection of me resonates on others.

[skzhocomments]

The Pearls On Your Neck (Hyunjin // Lee Know x OC)- Part One

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

Wattpad | AO3

Part Two

---

Part One

chapter word count: 7.2k words

Pearl's POV

It's the third period, and I’m still stuck next to Minho. The day couldn’t have dragged on more. I was so excited about the new term, however, it seems that the universe enjoys playing tricks on me. Minho has got to be the most stupidly good-looking person I know, but also one of the biggest asses I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Not only am I stuck next to him, but the lecture is also brain-numbingly boring; I swear my brain is going to turn into liquid and drip out my nose. The lecturer's monotone voice seems to go straight through me, or in one ear and out the other. I wonder if he has a wife or kids and if they hate his voice the same way I do. I’ve had him for 2 years now, and I hoped I wouldn’t have him for another but it seems like I’ve run out of luck or just have bad karma from something I’ve done in a past life.

Fuck this.

How am I going to learn anything when I’ve got the most annoying person on earth besides me and the lecturer can’t seem to do his job right? It’s ridiculous, and I can feel myself becoming more irritated by the second.

I’ve been staring out the window for hours on end. It's such a nice day outside and I can’t help but wish to be out there laying on the aromatic, lush green field enjoying the miraculous, vibrant blue sky and blazing sun. Maybe even have a picnic, either way, it doesn’t matter; anywhere besides here would be better. But I am here, absent-mindedly clicking my pen repetitively, and it seems to have had an effect on Minho as he turns to face me with the biggest frown I’ve ever seen.

“Shut the fuck up,” he scolds snatching the pen out of my hand and slamming it on the table in front of us, “are you going to be this annoying for the rest of the term? Or are you doing this on purpose to annoy me?”

This fucking twat.

I scoff at him. Does he seriously think everything is about him? I can feel my blood boiling at how unfortunate it was to be seated together. Out of everyone it had to be this stupid boy. Does he think the world revolves around him? I roll my eyes. How obnoxious can he get?

“Don’t you know it’s rude to snatch,” I say as I snatch back my pen from under his hand, “would have thought you were raised in a barn with manners like yours, and no. Not everything is about you as much as you’d like to think it is. Diabolical prick.” I say and turn back to face the window.

“Okay princess, get off your high horse, don’t act all high and mighty.” I snap my head back to face him and I can practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

And I can feel the heat radiating from me, “I’m not a princess, don’t call me that!” I start clicking the pen again to get a rise out of him, he did it first so why can’t I do it back?

“God, you're so infuriating!” Minho says as he drops his head back and slips further into his chair, and his leg grazes mine.

“Don’t touch me.” I say as I push his leg harshly away from mine, it hits the metal table leg and he hisses in pain, “and stop speaking. Oh my god, you're going to give me a headache!” I rub my temples because honestly, I can feel a headache coming on.

If he was going to say anything, he definitely couldn’t now, because the lunch bell has rung and I’m not going to stay near him a second longer, so I quickly grab my book and pen, shoving them into my bag. Not caring if my book gets creased, I need to find Cynthia. I promised her coffee.

~

“Oh my God, hi!” Cynthia almost threw me to the ground, jumping on me from excitement. “It’s so good to see you! I’ve missed you soooo much!”

“Didn’t I see you at my house, like, yesterday?” I roll my eyes. She has always been this dramatic, but that’s what I love the most about her, and it might just be the reason why I think she’s my best friend.

“That’s different! I wasn’t there to see you.”she chuckles nudging my elbow.

“Seeing you all laughs and smiles, that must mean that you got what you wanted?” I chuckle as well, watching as she excitedly squeaks like a kid.

“You know I did! Seungmin is so good in bed, he-”

“Ew. Please- just no.” I wave my hand around trying to stop her from talking further, to no avail. “No details.”

“made me cum 3 times! I swear to God, this boy-”

Cynthia has always had the biggest mouth, and once she’s started speaking, she just can’t stop herself. That’s what was good about her, on one hand, you knew she was honest at all times, but on the other… let’s just say she never thought before speaking and would always say things she shouldn't, which sometimes got us in awkward situations.

However, her heart is made of gold, and I love her a lot. Enough to get over her sometimes being a pain in the neck.

“Cynthia, girl, I love you, but hearing how my brother fucks was not on my list of `Things I care about and/or want to know`, so please, keep it to yourself!” I whine, covering my ears with my hands.

“Don’t be such a baby!” she pouts. “It’s obvious we’re gonna have sex since we’ve been dating for-”

“8 months. I know. The whole university knows. Hell, even the barista probably knows! You’re so loud!” I let out a small wail and watch her cheeks grow red.

“Shit, is it that bad?” she laughs, clearly embarrassed about being called out.

“It’s the worst.” I joke. “I told you off about that big mouth of yours before, didn’t I?”

“Well, your brother loves my big mouth, for reference.”

“Bleah, enough about Seungmin. I wanna know how my best friend is doing, not how my brother’s girlfriend is doing.” I hug her side, as we walk into the small cafe near our university.

This is a cosy place we both love and adore, with wooden tables randomly scattered throughout the small room. It's old and probably the same age as our university, but the chipped traffic purple paint just adds to the character of the place, along with the funky orange plastic chairs. No, it doesn’t really match, but it doesn’t matter. Behind the counter is a rack of ridiculous mugs with patterns that if I look at them too long I might go cross-eyed, and on the counter are delicious cakes and pastries. The wooden floor is smooth, as it was redone the first year I started university, and my favourite part of the cafe has to be the big brick fireplace with a ridiculous zebra print rug in front of it. You could always see stressed out students working their asses off on their laptops to finish whichever assignments they’ve received, drinks half finished in front of them.

Cynthia and I never came here to study, though. We simply enjoyed the coffee.

And the barista.

But that’s another story.

“Ahhh, if only he was older!” Cynthia nudges my elbow as we both watch the barista - Felix, I found out from the name tag on his plaided shirt - skilfully draw a heart in my cappuccino. “He’d be a perfect match for you!”

“Stop saying bullshit, girl! What would he think if he heard you?” I laugh a bit, thanking all Gods above that the barista is far enough to not be able to hear our shameless whispering.

“It’s true though! He’s so cute. Wouldn’t you go on a date with him, if he were, let’s say, Minho’s age?”

“Ugh. Please don’t say that name around me, I’m gonna get triggered. And no- for the record, I don’t care that much for relationships or dates at this moment.”

“Here are your drinks! Let me know if I can bring you anything else.” Felix interrupts our conversation and smiles sweetly, carrying a tray with our two coffees and two pieces of strawberry cheesecake to a table more secluded - mine and Cynthia’s usual spot, which even he memorized with how religiously we’ve been visiting this place.

As we both sit there I look at the cake, the one that Felix placed down, and quickly realise it’s not what I ordered. I let out a long exasperated huff. I didn’t need this after the day I’ve had, so I get up and walk over to the counter.

“Felix?” I ask sweetly, just because I’ve had a bad day doesn’t mean I should make his day miserable as well - and it also might be the fact that he’s so addictively sweet that he might give me a toothache; my heart would break if I ever upset him.

“Yeah?” he questions and looks up through his long and thick dark lashes, then his brown eyes trail down to the slice of cheesecake in my hand, “Is everything okay?” I could see the exact moment he realised what was going on as his eyes widened and his hand slapped over his mouth.

I try to hold back a laugh at his reaction, “I think you might have mixed up my order.” I say as I slide my cheesecake on the countertop.

“I’m so sorry, Pearl… I’ll fix it right away.”

I shrug light-heartedly and giggle at his stumbled words, “Felix, it’s fine these things happen.” I try to reassure him.

He nodded and scurried to the tiramisu. I watch as he cuts it while getting the chance to check him out, looking at his long blonde hair half tied up while two strands at the front dangle loosely basically covering his eyes, and the cute black apron adorned on his small waist covering his blue jeans, I think back to what Cynthia said, and I find myself agreeing.

He’s definitely my type, and yes, I would in fact definitely go on a date with him if he wasn’t in his last year of college; 18 is a bit too young for me, I’d feel like a cougar with her toyboy. I’d also look like one. Felix is a total sweetheart and wouldn’t hurt a fly. I’d definitely corrupt him.

Nope!

Never going to happen!

I shouldn’t think so deeply about this, as it’s not an option for me anyway. I’m happily single and listening to Cynthia’s relationship is enough for me to decide that I want to grow old gracefully without kids, and a husband. That way I’ll ensure I don’t go grey early due to the stress - or at least before my time. I won’t be lonely, no, I’ll have a couple of cats, maybe even a dog.

God I can’t wait to retire and I haven’t even started working a full-time job, but thinking about living in a cute cottage with a big garden, maybe even a river going through it, surrounded by cats is definitely the way I want to live and die.

He brings over the slice and a chunk of tiramisu that is way too big, but who am I to complain? I can definitely tackle this piece.

“Pearl, I’m sorry.” He said placing the plate gently into my hands looking very distressed.

I can’t help but feel bad for the poor boy, “Why’d you look so stressed? Had a bad customer earlier?”

He nods, and lets out a big breath, “Exactly that.”

“Don’t worry!” I said with a smile, “I'm not going to shout at ya just because you got it wrong.” I finish my sentence and turn to go back but decide at the last second to tease the boy a bit more. “Or am I?” I wink, before returning to my seat, leaving behind me a very flustered Felix.

When I arrive at the table, Cynthia's eyes are burning holes through me the whole time I’m trying to get comfy in my seat. Firstly, how fucking rude! Secondly, if she wants to say something, she can, “So why are you so triggered about Minho?” I regret thinking that, so deeply.

I throw my head back and sigh, “Oh for fuck sake, can we please not talk about him? I just want to eat my tiramisu in peace” I say, as I throw my hands up in the air.

Cynthia chuckles at me, “God he really got your knickers in a twist this time… common, share. Sharing is caring.” she sings.

I just stare at her for a while thinking if my brain can possibly handle talking about him without spontaneously combusting, “Fine!” I nearly shout and quickly look around embarrassed about how loud that came out, “I just thought I’d escape from his grabby little hands this term, but oh no that didn’t happen! I’ve been seated next to him! Cynthia, I’ve been seated next to him! I swear I must have killed a saint in my past life because the universe is persistent in sodomising me!”

“Or maybe Mercure is in Retrograde!”

“Exactly that!” I fold my arms across my chest and scoff loudly.

“I was obviously joking. You're so dramatic! Minho isn’t even that bad!”

“Yeah, and you're not me.” I bite back but there's no venom to my words.

Cynthia laughs at me as if my problem is the smallest thing in the world, like the universe hasn’t put it’s middle finger up at me, “You know… you and Minho would really-”

My phone rang, cutting Cynthia off and stopping the ridiculous statement from falling out of her mouth, and I can’t be happier.

Literally saved by the bell.

I answer it without looking, which I’m quick to regret. “Yes?”

“Oh, honey!”

Fuck, it's my mum.

“Hi Mum”

“Just quickly, I don’t have long to stay on the phone, we're all having dinner tonight.”

“I have plans.” I respond fast, hoping to get out of the surely uncomfortable situation that was to come. Family dinners are torture.

“8 P.M! Be there, and wear a dress!”

“But Mum-” I start, but get cut off by the sound of dead line on the other side of the phone.

“What’s with the long face?” Cynthia chuckles seeing my dejected figure.

“She always does this shit, I swear!” I complain loudly, grabbing the hot cappuccino from the table and taking a small sip.

“Who, your mum?” she chuckles again, taking a bite of the strawberry cheesecake - I never understood why she likes that sweet mess. Tiramisu is so much better.

“Yes, yes, she wants me to come to dinner. She didn’t even care that I have plans!”

“Do you?” Cynthia raises an eyebrow.

“No, but that’s not the point, Cynth!” I retort. “And you know that cute little date you were supposed to have with Seungmin?”

“Yes, what about it?” she asks in an almost offended tone.

“Boom! Cancelled! Family dinner!” I wave my hands around me dramatically and watch Cynthia’s face drop.

“No way!!! We were supposed to go to the Steak House tonight!” She whines, before noticing a call on her phone “Oop, it’s him!” she squeaks.

“See for yourself,” I respond unimpressed, watching how Cynthia’s usual smiling expression turns into a big frown, as Seungmin probably informs her of the change of plans tonight.

“Fuck, I hate your parents.” she angrily mutters while taking a big sip of her drink, getting a milk moustache which looks comically good on her.

“That makes two of us.” I roll my eyes and we both continue complaining for the rest of the afternoon.

~

8 PM finally rolls around as I’m stumbling, trying to walk in the ankle-length blue pencil dress I decided to wear tonight. It’s a nice dress, very modest but it also shows off my curves delightfully. A beautiful white pearl necklace adorns my throat and matching earrings dangle from my ears, they match the embellished pearls on the dress. The heels are rubbing the back of my feet and are making it even harder to walk down the stairs without the tight dress strangling my legs, the heels are white pointed-toe with a pearl strap dangling around my ankle and a pretty white silk bow at the back.

Going down the grand, bespoke stairs carpeted in a beautiful cream of our house, that face opposite the entrance of the house I walk into the large living room, where the table is nicely put together for 7 people.

Who…?

I wonder, but before I manage to even think about who might be coming for this dinner that’s so important, that mum asked both me and Seungmin to join, she rushes into the room.

“Pearl, the guests are here, come, let’s welcome them! Your Father is already outside!”

“And who might these guests be?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“You’ll see! Your Father and I have arranged something for you!” Mum smiles brightly while we both rush to the front door to see a fancy looking black Aston Martin roll around the artisanal fountain in our front garden.

The driver quickly gets out and hurries to the back of the car, helping a middle-aged lady that aged gracefully get out.

Oh hell no.

No way.

I hope for a brief second that I’m seeing wrong, that this woman isn’t who I think she is, but when the other car door opens and Minho gets out with a smug smirk on his dumb face, all hope is lost.

“Hye-Jin!” Mum almost shouts, embracing the woman—Minho’s mum—who shares the same excitement to see her.

No fucking way. These sneaky cunts.

I see Minho coming my way dressed in a navy blue tweed three-piece suit white shirt, matching blue tie and trench coat with a big bouquet of bright red roses in his hands, and as he stops in front of me, his smirk changes into a stupidly sweet smile, and I watch as he extends his hand, wrist adorned with a stupidly expensive watch and he hands me the roses.

We fucking match, great!

I want to strangle him with that stupid tie.

“You are very beautiful tonight, Pearl. Blue looks amazing on you, and all the pearls, as expected,” he says, his words and demeanour contradicting each other. It feels more like he is mocking me, rather than complimenting me.

“Oh, my, Minho, what a gentleman!” mum exclaims happily, as they exchange pleasantries.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” I whisper furiously and equally just as shocked as I am fuming, walking next to Minho, arms brushing because of the whispering distance, our parents walking towards the dinner table a safe distance away from us.

“I don’t fucking know. Something about a business deal, apparently?” he returns my attitude as we make our way to our seats - directly in front of each other.

Great.

~

“The food was exquisite!” Minho’s mother exclaims happily, her husband agreeing with her while plates are being carried away.

“It’s so nice to have dinner like this, isn’t it, dear?” my mum touches father’s arm gently, looking fondly around the table as me, Seungmin and Minho awkwardly smile at each other.

“Indeed it is. We will soon get used to having these dinners more often, so that’s a relief!” Father chuckles, making me raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes! It seems the kids are also getting along well.” Minho’s father replies, taking a sip of the red wine.

“It’s only natural, since they go to the same university. So… it’s about time we let them know of our plans, don’t you think?” my dad chuckles and raises his glass, as if preparing to give a toast.

“Plans?” Minho asks, curiosity in his tone, as he also drinks a bit of wine.

“You’re a fine gentleman, Minho,” my dad starts, before being briefly interrupted by the twat’s father.

I almost laugh. Fine gentleman my ass.

“And Pearl is such a beautiful young lady.” his dad smiles, and I smack Minho’s leg under the table, making him throw me a death glare.

I look into Minho's eyes, hoping to convey that I don’t like where this is going, but instead of seeming to understand, he just hits my leg back, hard. So hard, it’s difficult to keep a straight face and not wince in pain and curse him right then and there.

“We decided… a union between our families would be extremely beneficial. And what better way to do it than marriage? Since both you and Minho are single-”

“No!” I reply a bit too loud for my liking, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “I… I’ve got a boyfriend!”

It’s a poor excuse, I know it is, and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to keep the lie going, especially with Seungmin side-eyeing me to oblivion.

“Oh, is that so?” Minho’s father frowns.

“Y-Yes.” I stutter, feeling Minho’s glare on me.

“But you never told us, Pearl.” Mum frowns as well, disappointed in my answer.

“I think we should just relax and see where this is going.” My father waves his hands around like what I just said was nothing, the twat’s dad agreeing.

I’m speechless. What the fuck?

“After all, we haven’t even met the individual, nor did we approve of any relationship, so… I say the arrangement is still on.”

“But dad-”

“And you can come to dinner with your boyfriend on Saturday, and your mother and I will decide then and there if he even raises to half the potential Minho has.” he cuts me off, the asshole in front of me smirking again like the dumbass he is and poking my leg.

~

Fuck I’m screwed.

How am I going to magically find a boyfriend before Saturday?

I let myself fall dramatically on the bed after taking off the uncomfortable dress and grab my phone, dialling Cynthia’s number.

I look around my room while waiting for her to pick up and I see old photos of us and all my family together. When Seungmin and I were young, did they know they were going to force their daughter into an unwanted marriage then?

“Cynth!” I basically scream when I hear rustling in my ear.

“Pearl? How was the dinner?” She sounded extremely tired.

“Did you just… did I just wake you up? Anyway, that doesn’t matter, I’m getting forced to marry Minho!”

“WHAT? The Lee Minho?” She coughs, “Wait, let me drink some water.”

I roll over onto my stomach, “No, someone else called Minho… Don't be stupid! Obviously, it's Lee Minho!” I roll my eyes, as I scold the girl for her stupidity.

“How?”

“No, no, no, Cynthia, that's not even the biggest part of my problem! The problem is that I said I have a boyfriend and how the fuck am I going to find a boyfriend for Saturday?” I change my position on the bed and sit up leaning my body on the headboard.

Cynthia giggles, “Why did you say that?”

“I panicked!” I practically scream.

She hums and then speaks again, “Just use The Pearls On Your Neck.”

I laugh, “Ha-ha, very funny! To what, strangle him to get out of this arranged marriage?!”

Although I’ve got to say that’s a very good idea.

She nearly screams with laughter, “No silly girl, it’s like a rent a boyfriend app my other stupidly rich friend uses it all the time for her family dinners. It has the same name as you, so it’s easy to remember!”

I pull the phone away from my ear as I can hear aggressive typing and Cynthia’s nails smacking the screen, “There, I just sent it to you! Can I go back to sleep now?”

My phone pings, and I click on the app. 5 stars, looks reliable and the men in the app preview look good, maybe this will work for me.

I press download.

I wait for what seems like forever, you’d think living in such a big house I’d have amazing wifi, but seems not.

I try to set up an account, but the app is confusing as hell.

I stare at the screen for a bit, trying to find the “Sign up” button, and after a while, I finally reach the Personal Data info.

Nickname:

Hmm, what should I add here? Is ‘Pearl’ okay? Or should I maybe go with a fake name?

Nah, what point is there to it? I think, as I type in my first name and shrug.

I’m not going to add a profile pic anyway, so why does it matter?

I put in my location and pick the first person I see, not paying attention to his profile picture, and click on the small ‘Send a message’ bubble next to his name.

Hyunjin sounds pretty. I haven’t heard this name before.

I gather my courage and after a few minutes of writing, deleting, writing and deleting again and again, I finally manage to write him something.

Pearl:

Hello.

Wow, Pearl, could you be more interesting? I roll my eyes at the bland message that took me such a long time to write, and I take a mental note to start texting people more.

I am missing this skill, and it shows.

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥 :

Hello! How are you?

Pearl:

Good, thank you. So how do I go about this renting thing? God, I feel so cheap saying that.

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

Haha it’s fine :).

When are you looking to rent for?

Pearl:

This Saturday. I’ve got a family dinner and I told them I have a boyfriend… but that doesn’t matter, I’ll tell you more about it another day because we’ll have to meet up before so I can get you some clothes and tell you deets.

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

Yep, I’m free then :)

When would you like to meet up before?

Is there anything you’d like me to wear to our first meet?

I look at the screen, flustered with myself that I’m actually doing this.

How can he be so chill about it?

This is the most obscene thing I’ve ever done apart from interacting with Minho.

Pearl:

Um, no. Just wear whatever you're most comfortable in.

And what about Thursday? 12:30? At Harrods?

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

Sounds good to me!

Pearl:

Um, so… how do I pay you?

Sorry, this is so awkward, I’ve never done this before. Ha-ha.

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

You don’t have to worry, you’re doing great. :)

To confirm our date a £15 non-refundable deposit is required. Please put your full name as the reference. Please let me know once this has been transferred and it will confirm our date!

Once the payment is received please send me your full name and phone number and I will put our date in my diary!

My bank details are

Mr Hwang Hyunjin

Sort code: 25-03-18

Account number: 23242526

The £15 deposit will be deducted from your payment on the day of our date unless you would like to roll your deposit over to secure all future bookings!

If you would like to cancel our date, a 24hrs notice is required, if your appointment is cancelled under 24hrs your deposit will be lost and a new one will be required if you wish to re-book.

Thank you,

Hyunjin :)

I close the app quickly and smash his banking details into my banking app to quickly transfer. Gosh I’ve never been so desperate in my whole life, but what could go wrong? He seems so professional.

I’m almost surprised and I can't help but wonder how old he is, being this professional, and how many dates he's gone on. I check the bank details for the umpteenth time making sure it’s definitely right.

Pearl:

I’ve sent the deposit, um can I book you all day Saturday just to go over stuff?

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

Yes of course and our date has been confirmed!

I can’t wait!

What's your favourite type of flower?

Why does he want to know that?

Pearl:

I don’t know, why?

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

Don’t worry about it.

Do you want to spend some time getting to know each other before our first date?

Pearl:

Um no, it's alright, we can get to know each other better Thursday.

Hyunjin❤️‍🔥:

Okay, I can’t wait to see you then at 12:30.

Pearl:

Okay, see you then.

I sit up on my bed and feel like a massive weight has been lifted from my shoulders, and I can finally breathe.

God, this man is good at wording shit. I just hope he’s as good in real life as he is online.

I need to tell Cynthia about this at university tomorrow and try to avoid Minho, the biggest inconvenience in my life, like the plague but that's going to be hard sitting next to him.

I should probably look at Hyunjin’s profile more but that can wait till tomorrow when I see Cynthia, she’ll want to see what he looks like anyway. Yeah, it can wait.

~

“Look who’s here! Slept well, princess?” Minho smirks on his chair, his back balancing on his seat, while his legs are shamelessly stretched out on mine. The gesture bothers me to no end, not because he’s dirtying my chair, but because let’s be real: Lee Minho would never have dirty shoes. You could probably lick the soles of his feet and they’d be cleaner than the whole university, perhaps even than my room, even though I dislike admitting anything positive about this prick.

His presence alone bothers me.

“No, Minho, I slept like shit, if you care that much. Get your feet off my fucking chair, you prick.”

“My, my is that how a daddy's girl should talk?” he raises both his eyebrows at me, making however no attempt to move.

Seeing the audacity of this asshole, I take my small square Valentino bag from my shoulder and smack his feet with it, making him wince in pain.

“I’m not a daddy’s girl, and that’s payback for last night, you twat.” I say through clenched teeth and stare daggers at him, and oh, if only looks could kill.

“What did I do to you last night, huh? Did I give it to you that good? Make it hard for you to walk today? Aww does it hurt?” he asks in a way too loud voice and smirks, making everyone around us turn to watch in surprise at the implication of his words.

This fucking…

At least he took his feet off my seat.

“Stop spewing bullshit. Did you know what our parents were planning?” I question him harshly, implying that he did know.

But he’s quick to defend this misinformation, “Fuck, no, you think I’d ever want to get married to a girl like you?!” He said, giving me a look of disgust.

I gasp at his cringing face, quite offended. I don’t see anything wrong with me, “Uhm, excuse me?! What is that supposed to mean?”

His lips turn into a displeased frown, “What, is it not obvious what a spoiled princess you are? Or are you actually that ignorant?”

I sit down annoyed and scoff. He doesn’t know anything about me, but he seems to have assumed everything I do. I’m pretty sure breathing next to him would send him off on a tantrum.

“Look, Minho, I don’t give a shit what you think about me.” I say unbothered, “You don’t want to get married to me?! Neither do I, it goes both ways, knob-head.” I pull out a small, pink, sparkly compact mirror and my lip tint from the bag and start reapplying a thick layer of the nude shade.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.” he shrugs. “What’s that thing about you having a boyfriend, anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” I reply without even glancing at Minho. He’s annoyed me way too much for his own good with the ‘girl like you’ remark.

“It is, if we’re gonna get married.” he shrugs again, making me roll my eyes.

I almost paint lipstick over my face from laughing, is he really that delusional? “But we are not.” I finally look away from the mirror and stare right at him.

“Unless you give our parents a good enough reason, yes we are.”

“How are you so okay with it, anyway, mister ‘I don’t wanna get married to a spoiled princess’?” I wave my arms around, imitating him.

“It’s not that I’m okay with it. I just know better than to go against them or to put myself between them and their damn company. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” I sigh.

“It didn’t look like it yesterday night. You don’t say shit like that in front of your dad’s business partners. Shows exactly how selfish you are.”

“Selfish? Selfish? For not wanting to get married out of my parent’s convenience? For a damn business? Is that what selfish looks like to you?” The more I speak, the wider my eyes open.

“No, but it was dumb and selfish to say it right then and there, with us at the same table as you. You should’ve waited until we left at least. It put your parents in a really awkward light, not gonna lie.” He spat. “ inconsiderate arsehole” he tuts.

“No, Minho, what was dumb and selfish was for our parents to put us in that situation. You can be a goody two shoes all you want, but I refuse to be a pawn on my parent’s chess table.”

“Aren’t we all pawns on each other’s tables, anyway? Especially in our world. Why does it matter that you’re on your parents?” he shrugs, his lips turning into a straight line.

“Well, for starters, they didn’t expect Seungmin to marry a random rich girl for the well-being of the company.”

“I’m not a random rich guy, princess. You should know.” He inches his face closer to mine, making me unintentionally blush.

God, how I hate this guy.

I must just be startled, that’s all.

“How could you lie so adamantly at the dinner table, Pearl?” He ridicules me, whispering right in my ear, seemingly aware of the effect he is having on me. Do the goosebumps on my arm give it away?

“I wasn’t lying, Minho.” I turn my head and look straight at him.

“Oh yeah?” He mocks me.

“Yea! As I said, I have a boyfriend, so I won’t get married to you. Should I spell it out?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Then what’s his name?” he asks with a smirk, laying back down on his seat, watching me with amusement in his eyes.

“Hyunjin.” I blurt out in a low tone that comes out more like a whisper.

“You really aren’t lying?” he asks, still unconvinced.

“Of course, I’m not lying. Who lies about stuff like that?” I roll my eyes, avoiding looking at him more. The last thing I’d want is for him to notice that I’m insincere.

“Good luck on Saturday, then.” he shrugs and turns his attention to a game on his phone, as if to pretend I’m not there anymore.

Before I get a chance to reply, the professor walks into the room and another boring ass lecture starts.

~

“Why so sour?” Cynthia hands me an iced coffee she probably just got from the cafe.

“Thanks,” I reply, taking a big deserved sip. “It’s fucking Minho.”

“Fucking Minho? He looks like he fucks well-” she starts, before I playfully slap the back of her head, making her rub the spot I hit and pout.

“Hey! Are looks all there is to it for you? Is that why you’re dating my brother?” I ask annoyed.

“Of course not! Okay, okay, tell me what happened, I give up.” she nudges me.

“He’s such a dick! Ugh, it’s like he’s not bothered at all by this whole marriage thing!”

“Maybe he wants to get married to you? You’re rich, good-looking, hot…”

“Nah, he basically told me he sees me as a spoiled brat and hates the idea of marrying me. He just wants to respect his parents’ wishes.” I take another sip of the drink while Cynthia takes in all the information I just gave her.

“Pfft.” she chuckles. “Spoiled rotten brat? The Lee Minho says that? He must not notice how similar you two are.”

“Similar? Girl, in what world?” I look at her with disgust, but before hearing a dumb answer from her, I decide to change the topic and let her know of my sudden burst of confidence last night. “By the way, I downloaded that app you told me about. The pearl one.”

“No way! Pearls on Your Neck?! Is it for real?!” She squealed.

“You sent it to me before even checking if it’s legit?” I scoff. “Whatever, it is, and I’m having a date on Thursday.”

Cynthia basically jumped me, grabbing my clutch off my shoulder and nicking me with her sharp, white, stiletto nails in the process, “What the fuck are you doing! Ouch! You could of broken skin!” I say rubbing my shoulder, she could have drawn blood!

“Oh shut up, it didn’t hurt,” she brushed me off, completely ignoring my superficial wound and rummaging through my bag, “where’s your bloody phone?”

“It’s in my pocket, idiot.” I say reaching into my jean pocket and waving my phone in her face.

“Show me your rental boyfriend now!” She demands, trying to grab my phone like a child.

This girl is a health and safety issue.

I roll my eyes at her immature behaviour, “God sake Cynthia! Calm the fuck down! Let's sit down first,” I say motioning towards an old wooden bench near the university field.

I finally get to sit down from walking all the way from class, I finally get to enjoy this break. It’s peaceful here without Minho, who is my own personal thorn in my side.

I take a big sip of my iced coffee and sigh contently, it’s sugary and sweet. It tastes so good, it's like it's dancing on my taste buds. I feel like Ratatouille in that one scene when he eats cheese and strawberry at the same time.

“So?” It was peaceful until I got reminded about the other thorn in my side whom I actually like.

I side-eye the girl and I didn't even realise she was so close to me, “yes, Cynthia?”

She clicks her tongue, “Pearl, you're hopless! What were we talking about a second ago?!” she analyses my baffled face and huffs, “ Does your rental boyfriend ring any bells?” She says, sarcasm laced in her voice.

“Oh yeah!”

She tuts disapprovingly, “Sometimes I wonder how you’ve survived this long,”andsnatches my phone out of my hands. “Give me that” She looks at me a second longer and raises a threatening hand, “Useless girl.”

I can’t help but laugh at her, “His name is Hyunjin… I don’t really remember what he looks like, I kinda panicked and picked the first profile I saw” I shrug halfheartedly.

She opens my phone and locates the app, scrolling through until she finds him, or that's what I assume since she yawps so loudly, making me jump, “Pearl, are you serious? How could you not remember what he looks like?” She says shoving my phone in my face.

Shit, yeah how could I forget what he looks like?

He looks like a model. Four pictures are attached to his profile, his hair is long and blonde; it just tickles his shoulders and in one of the pictures it reaches his collarbones. His eyebrows are thick and well-maintained; any girl would kill for those eyebrows. Thick lips and a sharp jawline as well… is this man even real?

“Cynthia! I think I’ve been scammed!” I cry, putting my iced coffee on the gravel floor, “He can’t be real… like he can’t be on this app, right?”

I look again at the pictures, I look at his long neck and proportionate head on top of a broad pair of shoulders. He looks tall, really tall, not too skinny either but not too muscular.

Cynthia lets out a hearty laugh, “I don't think you’ve been scammed, look here,” she points to a tick beside his name, “It says all profiles are checked for legitimacy.”

I’m never one to be speechless and that is saying something. How…why is he on an app like that?

“Pearl, what's he like? Did you stay up all night messaging?” She is far too eager for my liking.

“You know he’s not actually my boyfriend, right?”

She’s still staring at my phone in her hand, “So… you're saying you don’t know anything about him?” She says tilting her head.

I nod, “Well he asked if I wanted to get to know each other better, but I just said that we can do that Thursday when we go to pick out his clothes for the dinner and stuff.”

“How many times do I have to repeat myself today? You. Are. Useless.” she spoke, poking me in the forehead.

“What was I supposed to do?” I bark trying to defend my corner.

“Um… try to get to know the guy, obviously.” she rolls her eyes at me, “You never know, maybe he’ll turn into your real boyfriend… omg you two would have such good-looking kids, not as good-looking as mine and Seungmin’s though.” She’s really ahead of herself.

“Fucking hell do you want to arrange my second marriage?” I snatch my phone from her hand, “Cynth, don’t get too ahead of yourself, it’s his job. Obviously, he can’t actually date clients. That would be illogical, there's probably some ‘how to be a rental boyfriend rule book’ they have to follow.”

“Pff, whatever you say… there’s no point not to try though?” She says smiling and nudging me in the ribs.

“It seems like you've completely forgotten who you're talking to, am I even your best friend?” I look at her seriously, “What’s my end-of-life goal?”

I watch her as she raises her hand to her temple and starts massaging it, “Oh yeah how could I forget that my best friend wants to be a lonely old hag surrounded by feral creatures and die alone.”

“Cats are not feral creatures” I defend bringing my hands up to quote her, “They are amazing companions, unlike children and husbands. I can already see a few grey hairs you’ve gained from being with Seungmin” I tease.

“Really?!”

“Obviously not.” I deadpan.

“But Pearl, I don't want my best friend to grow old without children, don't you want to take our kids on cute play dates?”

“I can bring my cat to play with your child, if it’s anything like you it will be feral enough to maybe… even communicate with it!” I laugh at my own joke.

“Whatever” she mumbles.

I look around and see couples sat on the field together and I can’t lie and say it doesn’t look nice. I can’t lie and say I don't want someone to have love me for me, but unconditional love is hard to find in this day and age, it’s not that it's impossible. It’s just something that’s so rare to find, you're probably going to get struck by lightning before you find it. I can understand that couples can have quarrels, but I can’t deal with that conflict. I mean, I can barely take it from Minho and I absolutely despise him. I don’t want to imagine fighting with someone I love. Love drives people crazy and I do not want to be one of them people.

Cats would never hurt me or make me wonder and I'm untroubled with the little life I envision for myself when I'm old. Hyunjin may be undeniably attractive but it would never work, hell, I've never even met him. I don't even know what he’s like, he could be another conceited, vain, narcissistic, prick like Minho. I shudder at the thought.

It’s definitely time to go home, I meet Hyunjin tomorrow and I need my beauty sleep.

“Cynth, I need to go home, will you please help me get ready tomorrow?” I say sweetly and batting my eyelashes at her.

She jumps up excitedly, “Of course I will! You know I love that stuff! You're going to be my own personal Barbie doll tomorrow!” She sings.

I internally sigh knowing what I have gotten myself into.

Once I get home I get changed into my pink stripey PJs and throw myself into my bed, and fall asleep thinking about tomorrow.

---

Part Two

[wingsdippedingold]

My statement on ACOTAR characters

(unedited; really just a brain dump)

I know I use a lot of pro and anti tags when it comes to ACOTAR, and while I do have characters I like more than others, I really just dislike them as a whole. I think the series is poorly written and SJM is the one I actually hate.

I honestly can't really criticize or defend any character properly, because the characters themselves are just deficiently made. They all come from the same dumbass author. The main thing keeping me in the fandom are the actual people in it, because they have actual thoughts that make sense, and I find discussing the topics presened entertaining. So I don't wanna hear any "Well if you hate the books so much stop talking about them" bs

I don't hate Rhysand, in fact I think he has a lot of cool moments. I like the idea of him not bowing to anyone but his own people, so he got a knee tat of Velaris (even if I think its dorky). I enjoy his outlook on what's right, and I did genuinely like him early on. But I think the way SJM writes his actions (especially political ones) and their justifications incredibly disjointed poorly thought out. I think he's wrongfully used and justified and digs people into a bad way of thinking ethically because SJM has made no move to do anything but portray him as a white knight. Had the narrative acknowledge some of the things he's done as actually bad, in fact that most of them have bad outcomes for some even if they benefit others, I'd have no issue with him. SHe just writes him doing heinous things for reason and then is like "Oh but he's traumatized so its okay!"

I don't dislike Feyre, but I think she's often shoved into a backseat role in her own series. I know this is a multi-pov story, but seriously? How the fuck did SJM make Feyre's pregnancy climax to nothing more than more Nesta hate??? Why was her experience and thoughts just completely missing in the plot that literally revolved around her?? I find her flaws charming, and yet they're often forgotten or used to justify things that shouldn't be justified. I don't have any issue with her beyond the SC disaster. But, I think the fact that there's Feyre antis in general speaks to how bad of a writer SJM is. You can't even make people agree on liking your main fucking character? In fact most Feyre antis are Pro Nestas... which is ridiculous. How poorly do you have to write for people to pit sisters against each other WHEN YOUR MAIN TROPE IS FOUND FAMILY. The way SJM uses Feyre pisses me off endlessly

I think Feysand has its moments, and I don't hate anything about them specifically - but rather how they're presented and treated by the narrative. I think they make sense together, and I prefer them to Feylin, but I hate how SJM and fans bend over backward to justify everything.

I'm not a Nesta stan, I just think the narrative (and especially SF) is an injustice to real world issues and the logic used against her makes no sense in reference to the other characters. SJM says she loves her so much, but shows her none. I find the way the fandom treats her lacking empathy, and SJM has done nothing to actually better her character. I think its ridiculous no one acknowledge that she grew up in the same fucking cottage as Feyre with the same parents. SJM constantly dredges up new shit to pit her and Feyre against each other instead of just letting them be happy. She treats Nesta like she's irredeemable, and when she does "redeem" herself its literally in service to the people who are forcing her to fix herself??? She's used as a point for juvenile drama and placed in a cycle of being antagonized with no outlet to place blame. See my full thoughts on her here

I don't actually despise the ic, I think they all are just wasted and thrown into whatever whirlwind situation gives SJM a boner. I think Morrigan had so much potential, but SJM decided it would be better to use her for petty drama and forwarding a ship. I don't hate her because she doesn't do anything for the woman in the CoN, because quite frankly I don't think SJM has thought that far. I don't think Cassian's the worst man alive, but I think SJM has a poor grasp on him and what a healthy relationship (even in the bounds of a fantasy novel) is. And I just find Azriel particularly useless, he's not a thoughtful sensitive soul, he's just yet to be focused on. And I do not look forwards to the day he is, based on his first and only current pov.

I'm not a Tamlin stan, in fact I really don't care for his character, but I think he suffers from lazy writing and some severe character assassination. I think the switch up on his character after the first book is absolutely ridiculous.

I dislike how SJM throws Elain around and treats her like a little precious baby and making her out to be an airhead whos absolved from the same crimes Nesta's hated for.

I'm not an SJM fan, I'm an avid SJM hater. I actually despise her, and while I won't write out my entire long list of grievances with her here, just know that literally all of my issues with the series would be gone if she was just a better person and writer. Seriously, I think she lacks so much mechanical and analytical skill (which is crazy, she's been publishing books for 12+ years and written like 15) and I see no change in the future. She constantly retcons, switches characters up for whatever her narrative calls for, and sacrifices good character writing for a fast track to mediocre faerie smut.

I hate the way she sexualized Feyre's experience under the mountain. I hate the way she immediately objectified Feyre when she got pregnant (the blurb describing Feyre walking around while pregnant is insanely kinky and I hate it). I hate the way she throws around trauma and mental illness like cute little stickers so that she can pick and choose the aspects she thinks are cool. I hate that she's fucked up people's perception of abuse and mental illness. I hate the way she uses poc and steals credit for representation she didn't care to make. This isn't even all of it, its just what I can remember within the 9 minutes I spent writing this brain dump. SJM does not deserve more of my time 😭

If I was a character in the series I genuinely think I'd avoid all of them, because I don't care, and if I somehow did have to be cornered with any of them, I'd hate all of them. But If I ever faced up with the mother (aka Sarah), it'd be on sight. My hatred for her knows no bounds. Hate is a strong word, and one I used so many times in this post (something SJM does a lot too though, so I'm not worried, seriously get a thesaurus and stop using the same phrases every 6 pages) because it's true.

[nerdieforpedro]

Patrolling on Christmas

Joel Miller x plus size female reader

Fanfiction rating: Teens and up

My blog overall is 18+

Word Count: approx 2.5k

Summary: Joel prefers patrol rather to be around others at Christmas, even after spending a few years in Jackson. He’s paired up with you on patrol and it’s not so bad. If asked, he may even say fair.

Warnings: Post outbreak, cursing, Joel is a grump, depression, survivors’ remorse/guilt, jokes about The Bard, damn knees and back, a fall, minor injury, ending fluff

Notes: I wanted to write Christmas Joel. I was going for sweet & happy. Post-outbreak Joel cropped up and my post shift mood determined that This is The Way. Merry Christmas 🎄 It’s got a sliver of sweet.

“Patrol can wait a day Joel. I don’t get why you’re still so damn weird about Christmas. It’s just all of us gathering at the Tipsy Bison and talking shit. No one’s going to ask you to do anything, not even me for fuck’s sake.” Elle threw her hands up in the air in frustration.

“...Language Elle.” Joel reminded her.

“I mean, I agree, language, but she’s right. There’s other people on rotation who can-” Tommy with his arms crossed explains, trying to put on a stern face. Doesn’t affect Joel at all.

“Shut it. I said I’m goin’. That’s it. See you tonight.” Heavy boots stepped out of the house and stopped on the porch looking back. “Have fun. Stay out of trouble.” With that, he adjusted the rifle that was over his shoulder and made his way to the perimeter to meet up with his patrol partner. He was expecting Sam or John but tried to control his eyebrows raising at the sight of you. He thought you’d join the others at the festivities.

Just like in the world before the outbreak, no one wanted to work holidays. The few holidays that were still celebrated anyway. Joel volunteered in part because the holidays always reminded him of the people he’d lost and it kept his brain from wandering to the dark recesses of his mind. If he kept busy, followed tasks and tired himself to the point of exhaustion, he’d briefly say goodnight to Elle and collapse in his bed. Then he may be blessed with the void of sleep, where his mistakes and failings may not play back through his head because he’s shut down.

The former smuggler wasn’t disappointed or annoyed that you’d be patrolling with him. In fact, it was likely best. You alternated between silence and run-on sentences about any and everything. That also removed his thoughts from being on himself. He even found himself chuckling on occasion at something you’d say that he found funny. He knew you didn’t mean it to come out that way, but hearing about horoscopes that you thought you remembered and comparing them with Maria and the other ladies based on some old papers they’d found was weird as it was ridiculous to Joel. It was good to have a bit of silliness in this hopeless world.

The both of you checked your weapons, you had a revolver in addition to your rifle. You said that you won it in a bet with Fred that Joel would ‘fire’ you as a patrol partner. Joel was curious as to why. You didn’t look directly at him when you told him why. Your gift of gab and keeping things light as well as your build which was short, stocky and thought to be poor for evading clickers, raiders and hunters. Fred wasn’t wrong in that respect outright, but you’d learned to either hide well or improve your aim to prevent them from getting to you.

Joel noted that Fred was a bigger asshole than he thought.

“Doesn't matter. What does is that I get the job done and come home. Let’s go.” Joel followed your lead, it seemed the bet you’d have with Fred had spurred action in you, not a bad thing, but it’s best to keep a cool head.

“Keep focused. Raiders and clickers don’t give two shits about Christmas.” Joel adjusted his rifle again as the two of you walked, it was a familiar path around the Jackson settlement. Shorter than normal patrol.

“I almost thought Elle was with me instead of you Miller with you talking like that.” A light laugh made Joel feel more at ease. ‘That’s more like normal. Am I sounding like Elle? Dammit.’ He wondered if he needed to worry about his own language use. The sun was high behind the clouds, peeking through every so soften as the crunch of grass and dirt was heard from both of your boots.

You still weren’t saying much and Joel had no clue what to say to get you talking. He suggested about halfway that you both sit on a rock. You offered it to him first on account of his knees. Joel’s face contorted into a scowl and refused to sit until you sat down first. When you saw that he was serious, you sat down and patted the space left on the rock and he took his seat next to you. The elder Miller brother turned away from you to keep an eye out as you did on your side. His knees stopped screaming at him that they ached, they only whispered now.

The crisp air reminded Joel that he was alive. His hair flopped with the wind, his eyes squinting slightly to get a better look at the trees and lake in the distance. He flexed and relaxed his fingers, feeling calm when he should be on high alert. Sometimes Joel found himself concerned that he wasn’t built for a calmer life. That he desired the chaos of the unknown instead of the predictability of the commune “Tommy refused to call a spade a spade. The damn place is nice, but it is a commune…” Joel muttered aloud grinning, he recalled discussing it with his brother and him being so adamant about it.

“I mean, a rose by any other name is, well not a rose. I feel like it's supposed to be more poetic than that.” Her answer made Joel turn his head slightly before keeping his face front, he still needs to be aware of any threats.

“I never had much use for The Bard. Especially now. The hell’s that pentameter shit gonna do with a clicker?”

“I’m surprised you remember that Joel. I just remember Romeo and Juliet. Hamlet. Tights and Plays, I think.”

“Full of surprises darlin’, even with these sore knees.” The broad man stood as you turned to look back at him. Hair bouncing on his head and a wry smile on his face. “We should get a move on, ya good?” He saw you nod and stand, though he couldn’t quite make out the look on your face. Maybe he did really surprise you, the thought alone made Joel put a half a pep in his step. His knees would be back to screeching soon enough. This time around you let him lead as you chatted about what the both of you knew about Shakesphere, neither of you remembered much so the two of you started making up things that he may put in a Christmas play.

“There’s gotta be some weird trickster spirit fairies that give good children presents and punish bad children. Plus ghosts, there’s usually a ghost.”

“Hamlet’s daddy came back as a ghost right? Might be a dead relative of whoever the play’s ‘bout. Also need a big feast. There’s also food.”

“Don’t talk about food Joel, I’m going to be even more hungry.”

“They always have turkey legs and grapes and wine at those things I think. I feel like that’s what was always in them plays as props.”

“You’ve seen a Sharkesphere play?”

There was a moment where Joel was quiet. “Now Darlin’ keep this to yourself. I maybe was one of those cousins of Romeo or Juliet. Don’t ‘member which one thou.” he heard you stop walking and looked to see what was wrong. Your face was beaming with this piece of information. Joel almost regretted it, but still wanted you to know. He needed not to think about why, he’d go back in the recesses of his mind again that connected to those emotions. They’re locked away to keep him functioning. “Told ya we gotta move. I’ll leave you right there.” He began walking again and heard your steps move to catch up with him.

It was when the gate to Jackson was within view. It was another period of silence after finishing the conversation about the bard and you asking several questions about Joel’s short stint in acting. He said it didn’t suit him and continued with football. You then asked if maybe he sang since they can sometimes go hand in hand. That wasn’t what did it, Joel heard you tell him that he had the voice for it. Sure it was a little raspy, but what he was able to communicate in verbal and non-verbal cues suited some songs.

Joel Miller is not an easy man to surprise. He’s seen too much, done too much and been through too much for that. At least he thought he had, and when he stopped walking, his foot got caught on some underbrush and he tried to break his fall. His left hand hitting a sharp rock and he went down. Would he be able to get up? How badly was he injured? He didn’t feel his knees right now…nope, never mind. He felt them, even more than before. He heard you yell and move by his side, he was slightly out of it and you weren’t able to lift him all the way.

“Sweetheart, don’t ruin your back. Gimmie a few.” He told you, sure he was embarrassed but he could sulk about that later. Joel really did need to get off the ground. It was cold, he was sore and anything could happen. He’s completely open. Slowly, he rolled on his side and sat up with a loud groan. The worried look on your face made him sigh, he’s supposed to be the experienced one here and he falls right in front of home basically. “Hands darlin’.” Joel stretched his large hands toward yours and you pulled him up, using your body weight to force him upright. He hopped up and took a minute to adjust, large hands holding your small ones. Joel knew he held them a few seconds more than was necessary, but he told himself it was to ensure he was steady so he wouldn’t fall again. But he knew it wasn’t, and it was no help when you decided to walk at side by side with one of your hands on his back. Normally he’d fight you on it as he did with the rock, but he doesn’t mind it being there and understands that you’re trying to help.

Your hand left Joel’s back when you two could see the guards at Jackson’s gate. Joel decided the least he could do was walk you back to your house after reporting in. Nothing unusual, no raiders or clickers. No news was good news. Your house is smaller than Joel’s, it is meant for one person. A small wreath is on your door with a red and gold bow.

“Maria said I had to put something on my door. I’ve never been much for decorating. You have to put it away later.” You explained and unlocked your door, letting him in. You had a couch, kitchen, cabinet with a few books and a dented wooden globe. Tommy had let you keep it and you weren the only person interested in it so he said it was fine you took the thing. All of them had pieces of garland on them. “Sit down Joel, I’m gonna wrap your hand.”

Joel instead walked over to the sink and rinsed his hand under some cold water. “Nah darlin’ you’ve done plenty.” Apparently, you’d had a small first-aid kit. Joel wondered what you may have traded to get one, or what you may have done to earn one.

“If you won’t sit, then I’ll wrap it while you stand. You might want to be nice to your knees though. I won’t have you falling in here.” You’re teasing him, he doesn’t hate it. Joel resigns himself to his fate and plops on your couch, noting some mistletoe on the wooden post next to the loveseat he just sat on. It looked like it was slapped up there. “Maria and Kelly decorated, hence all the garland, I never noticed that though.” Your eyes rolled and you sat next to Joel and took some supplies out of the kit, dabbing and cleaning his hand before adding some clean gauze and wrapping it. You taped it and Joel complemented your work, it was better that it was covered as to stave off an infection. He knew he didn’t need anything like that.

Not thinking about it, Joel patted your thigh before standing up, “Thanks darlin’. Didn’t mean to cause trouble. I’ll be on my way.” He realized he needed to go. It’s been too long any he can’t. He needs to wrap his head around this if he can. Maybe not his head. He just made room for Elle in his heart, would he have room for you too? Did you even want to be there? You’re friendly and talkative with everyone, it just seems special because Joel is aware of how prickly he is. But you’re not treating him differently, he’s reading into it. He may be heavily starved for companionship.

Those heavy boots of his start to carry him toward your door. He’s bid you goodbye, but you grab his arm. “Darlin’ I-”

“Joel, wait.” He closes his eyes for a moment, then stops. His boots step toward you, Joel looks down at you, trying to discover what’s on your face, but it’s something he recognizes - longing. “Could I just, just close your eyes Joel.” He shakes his head, but your grip on his arm doesn’t wane, he allows his body to relax with an exhale.

“S’alright. Don’t feel ya hafta do-”

“I don’t have to do anything. Yes, I know. Just close your eyes will you? This is the most I’ve heard you talk today Joel.” He ended up bending forward slightly, tipping his chin down and his face toward you. A pair of soft lips touched his cheek, right above his graying beard. “M-Marry Christmas Joel. That’s all I wanted to do.”

A smirk spread on Joel’s face, “Sure about that Sweetheart?” He was aware he was playing a dangerous game, but it was enjoyable. He was one for some risk. You huffed which he found adorable, your other hand found its way to his cheek and pinched him.

“I’m sure Joel Miller. Go on home and rest. Your back and knees will thank you. Dream of the bard while you’re at it.” Joel and you chuckled and you lowered your hand as he caught it, kissing the back of it and then your forehead.

“Not going to dream of some puffy bard darlin’, got someone a lot sweeter on my mind. Merry Christmas to you too. Sleep well.” Your grip on his arm loosened and he dropped your hand, heading to the door before opening and exiting your home. He stood on the porch to hear you lock it, then he started walking to he and Elle’s home.

Joel Miller might be ready to let someone in this Christmas.

Joel Miller’s Sweethearts: @morallyinept @fhatbhabie @goodwithcheese @trulybetty @for-a-longlongtime @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @musings-of-a-rose @rhoorl @laurfilijames @avastrasposts @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @megamindsecretlair @saturn-rings-writes @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @maggiemayhemnj @undercoverpena @alltheglitterandtheroar @pedrodascal @linzels-blog @lincolndjarin @pedritapascal @sp00kymulderr @movievillainess721 @perotovar @pamasaur @magpiepillsjunior @yorksgirl @guelyury @legendary-pink-dot

[sopejinsunflower]

a/n: Again, this one is inspired by a dream I had of Namjoon but I wrote this on two different days. I kind of lost the plot along the way lol but I hope you still enjoy this little dirty one shot. I kinda went off a tangent lmao xD

Title definition: something for something, an equal exchange.

Warning: 18+, minors DNI

Summary: Kim Namjoon and Park Jimin are both heirs to their families’ conglomerates. One has you under his thumb for awhile now while the other has only just noticed you, the only girl on campus he doesn’t really know much about. But your mysteriousness is both a curiosity and a business risk. Little do they know, they’re not the only ones with an agenda.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x you (main pair), Jimin x you

Tags: University AU! Chaebol, dom/sub undertones, dirty talk, oral sex, penetrative unprotected sex, submissive Joonie, triangle relationship implied.

Word count: 12k

Rich kid Kim Namjoon. Bad boy Kim Namjoon. Fuck your brains out Kim Namjoon. Will only date you for three months Kim Namjoon.

You’ve heard the rumours and the titles that stick to the back of this man’s broad shoulders, heard the stories from the broken-hearted girls of the way he’d swept them off their feet only to drop them crashing to the ground yet they sighed and wished they had been good enough for him to be kept. The other girls still hope that one day they’ll catch his eyes next and the guys worship him like some sort of sex deity that they pray to for luck on their first dates.

You wagered going to a private university for the elite would be crazy but this was absolutely bonkers. It was like living in Kim Namjoon’s world, everything and anything revolved around him. So you keep your head low and your nose clean and stay out of everybody’s way. It’s your freshman year and Kim Namjoon is a senior; you may share the same program but it’s a safe distance away. Safe.

Or so you thought until that night of Park Jimin’s birthday party, thrown in the lobby of the guys’ dormitory quarters. Everyone was invited. The little sprite of a man with his dangly earrings and his ripped jeans had thrown the paper invites down from the rooftop of the main campus building a week prior before shouting, “Come to my birthday party! Everyone’s invited!” Him and his two friends, Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook, managed to run away before the guards could catch them. The whole campus cheered as they got away, like some bold heroes who managed to pull off the biggest coupe.

So here you are, in a pair of jeans and a sheer white blouse, walking amongst the half-drunk crowd like an invisible person, a beer bottle in hand. No one knows who you are, no one cares to know. The girls are all dressed up like they’re in a club, sexy dresses and tiny skirts and tops that seem to be a second skin, skimpy clothes they pull off so well to look alluring instead of trashy. You guess that this is what money can buy. Wait, or was it the other way around? I don’t know.

Whispers through the crowd confirms that he will be here, Kim Namjoon. Of course he would. Kim Namjoon is everywhere, even at the birthday party of his rival. It’s almost like he runs the society here. President Kim Namjoon, overseer of the student body, unofficially. It’s like he wants to be at the centre of everything that goes on in and around campus, and you guess he kind of is. His father is the biggest benefactor to the university and everyone knows how much the father dotes on his only heir. Kim Namjoon is untouchable.

You stand back, blending into the crowd, sticking close to the shadows when he finally arrives, blond hair slicked back, sunglasses on top of his head, the denim jacket sleeves rolled up at the wrist. The crowd cheers and he raises his hands into the air, greeting them, his rings and bracelets glinting in the dim lighting.

It’s tacky. It’s ridiculous you almost roll your eyes but still, you can’t help but look. He is mesmerising, charming and, if you say so yourself, very handsome. Tall and handsome. You watch the girls around you swoon, calling out to him, subtly pushing their breasts together, adjusting their skirts to ride up a little bit more. You move away, slinking even further to the back, moving away towards the food table where the crowd is thinner.

The air smells of sweat and sickly sweet perfume of both males and females. You pick up a cupcake with vanilla frosting and take a bite, savouring the sweetness in your mouth as you chew slowly. Suddenly someone throws their arm around your neck and you drop the rest of the cupcake to the floor.

“You came!” Jimin shouts into your ear.

You try to wriggle free but his grip only tightens. “I came for the food,” you say blandly, “and you make me drop my cupcake.”

Jimin laughs, his famously cheeky grin plastered on his face. He’s half intoxicated, you could tell from the carefree way he speaks with you. He takes two new cupcakes and places them in your hand. “There’s always more where that came from. You’re not going to wish me my birthday?” He leans close to you, lightly tugging on the hem of your blouse.

“Happy birthday,” you say, taking the cupcakes from him, peeling back the paper before biting into one. “Namjoon’s here,” you add nonchalantly.

Jimin’s face immediately turns frosty, rolling his eyes away to look at the crowd around the newcomer. “Of course he is.” He lets go of you and for a second you thought that your cousin was going to go and kick Kim Namjoon out of the party but he only picks up another beer, uncaps it easily with the edge of the table and takes a swig. He turns back to you, pointing with a finger of the hand holding the bottle. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye to your oppa,” he says with a wink as he jogs away into the crowd, whooping as he goes.

The music starts up again, louder this time, the base thumping against your chest. It’s almost like a recharge for the crowd as they jump up and down, yelling and shouting in excitement. You lean against the food table, calmly munching on your third cupcake. Well, second and a half, actually, if you count the half on the floor. You turn to pick out a different flavoured cupcake when you feel a presence behind you, dark and looming.

A warm hand slides around your waist, the grip strong. You freeze, your heart hammering in your chest because you know, you know who it is. You can smell him, not his cologne but just him, the musk of a man who knows he’s in charge.

You don’t dare to move, suddenly feeling cold. He leans closer, his front sticking to your back that you can feel every curve of his muscle, including the soft bulk resting against the bottom of your spine.

“For someone who doesn’t want any attention, you sure stick out,” he breathes into your ear, his voice soft but deep, his breaths tickling the nape of your neck.

You tilt your head a little to the side to try and catch Kim Namjoon’s eyes. “What makes you think I don’t want any attention?”

He pauses, thinking. Then he chuckles as he steps back, his hand sliding away. “You’re wearing jeans to a party but since no one else is wearing it, it’s more obvious, isn’t it?” You fully turn to face him. He’s taller up close and even more good-looking. It feels like a magnet, drawing you in, wanting to put your hand up against the white shirt underneath the denim jacket and feel his warmth again.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” he speaks, making you tear your eyes away from his chest to look up at him, a little taken aback.

But you shrug instead. “Why would you?” You pick up a red velvet cupcake this time, slowly peeling back the paper holder before pinching a piece off and plopping it into your mouth.

“Is that, what, your fourth one?”

You look at him, frowning. “I didn’t take you as a stalker.”

He smiles, his perfect teeth showing. “I can’t help it when I’m attracted to things that are…” He looks at you from head to toe before finishing, “a little peculiar.”

You stare at him, unsure if you should feel complimented or offended. You stuff the rest of the cupcake into your mouth, brush your hands together and make to leave. He steps in your way, stopping you. “Leaving already?”

“Yes,” you answer softly, looking down to the floor. Something in his voice warns you not to look into his eyes lest you change your mind to walk away. “Enjoy the party.”

He catches your arm and pulls you back, hard enough for it to sting. He leans closer. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

“I-”

“Y/n.”

You turn to see Jimin storming towards you, Taehyung and Jungkook by his side. From the crowd, you see Namjoon’s posse, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi, emerge, hands shove deep into the pockets of their jackets. They glance at Jimin and his friends once before taking their place next to their leader. You’re standing in between the six of them, caught in what looks like a probable fight.

Jimin pushes his hair back as he licks his lips. He nods, gesturing to the grip Namjoon has over your upper arm. “You might want to let go of her,” he suggests, his voice even.

Namjoon looks from Jimin to you then back at Jimin. “Oh, sorry. Is she yours, Park?”

You roll your eyes but Jimin’s lips curl up on one side. “Something like that.”

It takes a full ten seconds before Namjoon finally lets go, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, brother. Didn’t know she was spoken for. Not your usual type, is she?”

Jimin looks disgusted. He gestures for you to leave but as you pass by him, he touches your arm for you to stop. “I’ll see you around, kitten,” he mutters.

You fight the urge to pull your arm away, knowing too well the dramatics he’s going for. But he did save you so you put on a smile. “See you,” you say, pausing, making sure all six can hear you. “Oppa.”

You walk away, hurrying your footsteps to leave, pushing through the throngs of sweaty people to get to the exit. Whatever that is going on between the two groups, you want no part of. You hope it doesn’t turn into a brawl but these are rich supposedly classy people; they don’t dirty their well-manicured hands that way, though you are sure your cousin can hold his own.

As much as Park Jimin annoys the hell out of you, he’s been a sort of protector to you, an older brother position that he assigned himself back when you were kids. You never agreed to any of his antics, acting like some kind of knight in shining armour but you don’t hate it either. You appreciate his presence, it kept all the bullies away throughout school, with a price of course. However, as much as Jimin loves the spotlight on himself, loves the money, loves being a part of the elites, you are the total opposite and it was your one and only condition; to be kept out of his circle.

You get back to your dorm, the room dark and empty. Anya, your roommate, is still at the party. You undress and get ready for bed, slipping under the covers. You fall asleep pretty easily, the wind through the opened window nice and cool, lulling you into dreamland. But just as you’re about to dream, you wake up with a start, your eyes opening and scanning the room.

Something feels off. Your eyes fall on the other bed across the room but Anya is still not back. Something catches your attention in your peripheral vision and you see a figure standing by the door. Tall and definitely not Anya. Not even a female. You sit up but the figure is already by your bed in three full strides. A hand covers your mouth as another pushes you back onto your pillow by the shoulder, the rings digging into your skin.

“Shh, don’t make any noise.”

Your eyes widen, recognising the voice. You shake his hand off of your face before whisper-shouting, “What the hell are you doing here, Namjoon?!”

He smiles, a little too menacingly. “I don’t like being told no.”

You scoff. “I don’t doubt that.”

“What do you mean by that?” He looks a little offended which is funny if the situation isn’t a little suspicious. He just broke into your room and is now sitting on your bed, leaning over you, telling you to be quiet because he doesn’t like being told no. It sounds like the intro of a crime documentary.

“Well, aren’t you daddy’s little prince?” you say, playing on his hurt feelings. “Always getting your way, no consequences because daddy will bail you out of every little mess you made.” It felt good saying it but now, looking at his face, you’re not sure if it was smart. You’re still just another female underneath a large man who could have his way with you and, like you said, will get away with it.

He grits his teeth, his jaws ticking. “And what about you? Hiding behind Park Jimin’s money and influence. What are you? His little private whore?”

You hold back the acidic words in your mouth, letting them burn on your tongue before swallowing them. “What do you want?”

Namjoon smiles again, almost leering. His eyes glint in the shadows as his hand, the one resting on your shoulder, moves slowly down your arm, tracing your skin with the tip of his finger. “I want what Jimin has.”

You let out a chuckle. “You have more than that. What are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head. “No, I want the one thing he loves most.”

You swallow your saliva. “Well it’s not here.”

“You sure?”

His tracing finger moves back up to your shoulder then your neck, stopping under your chin to tip your face up. He leans forward, his nose touching yours. He doesn’t answer you but your lips connect with his, his fingers holding your chin, making sure you’re not able to turn away from his kiss. It’s deep and hungry, his tongue snaking out to lick your bottom lip before tugging on it between his teeth hard enough for you to gasp. In that moment, you feel his tongue against yours, prodding, tasting, licking, entangling.

Your hands push up against his chest but he barely even budge. A moan escapes your lips and instead of the disgust that you should feel, instead of fear and anger, want and lust bubbles in the pit of your stomach, boiling and boiling. Your pushing hands are suddenly pulling him close by his jacket, arching your back so you are pressed up against him, wanting him even closer. A warning goes off somewhere in the back of your head but with your tongues at war, your lips locked together, you give it no mind, not even comprehending why it’s sounding off. You’ll think about it later.

Namjoon climbs into your bed, shucking off his jacket to the floor the same time you kick your blanket down to your feet. His knees rest on either side of your hips as he leans into you, sucking on your tongue, shoving his own as far down as he can into your sighing mouth. His other hand travels down your side and sneaks up your thin tank top to cup your breast, thumb flicking against your already hardened nipple.

You writhe under him as he trails wet kisses down your neck, sucking on your sensitive spots until you gasp and moan. He peppers the top of your chest with more kisses, humming as he goes. He pulls your top up to reveal your breasts, using both hands to knead on them a little more forcefully that it hurts. He looks at your face, your eyes scrunching up tight, your mouth agape, breathing hard. “Look at you,” he says softly with a hint of a smile. “Shall I keep going, princess?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. He doesn’t need to be pushed, latching onto your nipple and suckling on it like a babe. He twirls it in between his teeth, tongue drawing circles in ways that you can’t help but moan out his name. “Namjoon,” you whine. “Feels so good, Namjoon. Mmhh.”

He does the same with your other nipple, rolling his tongue over the perkiness. When he has had enough, he moves further down, delighted to see that your underwear already has a wet patch. “Already so wet for me?” He chuckles to himself, pushing his nose against the wet patch and taking a deep breath. Something about it makes you let out another soft moan, opening your legs for him.

He pushes your soaked panties aside to reveal your glistening cunt, dripping wet with slick. He lets out this dark guttural sound, almost feral and for a short second, you wish he would devour you like the animal he is. You let out a loud mewl the moment the flat of his tongue touches your drooling hole, collecting the juice and bringing it up to swirl it around your swollen clit. He clasps his mouth over your little nub, moaning as he does, savouring the taste.

“Taste so good, princess,” he moans. “So fucking good. Fucking hell.” He pushes your legs further open, holding your thighs in place as he eats you out, your voice echoing off the walls, not even caring if your next door neighbour could hear you. All you can think about is that Kim Namjoon has his face in between your legs, buried deep in your pussy, licking and slurping as if you’re a meal and he’s been famished.

“Namjoon, Namjoon,” you call out, getting close to your high. “Fuck, Namjoon. I’m close. Please, please. I’m so close.”

“Come for me,” he urges. “Come on my tongue.”

You do, pushing his head in as the waves come crashing down. You arch your back as your eyes roll into your head, gasping so hard no sound comes out of your parted lips. Your thighs shake as your orgasm travels through you and when you’ve come down, panting and limp on the bed, Namjoon sits up, licking his lips in satisfaction. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, eyes raking your body.

He stands up and picks up his jacket, holding it over his shoulder.

“Leaving already?” you ask, ironically repeating his own words from earlier tonight back at him. You push up on your elbows, looking up at him through your lashes.

He lets out a small snicker. “For now,” he says, eyeing you from the door. “Something tells me you’re a whole lot of danger, princess.”

A small smile creeps up your lips, feigning innocence. “But not dangerous enough for you to bury your head in between my legs?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Can’t help it. I needed a taste.”

“And?”

He opens the door and steps outside. “And I think you’re trouble. So I’ll need to figure out if you’re worth it or not.” He gives you one last cheeky smile and closes the door and you can hear his footsteps walking down the hallway.

You lay back onto your pillow, staring at the ceiling. Before long, you start laughing to yourself, softly. You can still smell him on you. On the nightstand, your phone vibrates for an incoming call. Park Jimin’s name flashes across the screen.

“Yeah,” you answer breathlessly, putting it on loudspeaker, too lazy to hold it to your ear. You still feel a little weak from your orgasm. You can hear the party in the background.

“Did he pay you a visit?”

You giggle. “Yes.”

Jimin laughs from the other side, a sarcastic one. “I can’t believe that bastard.”

“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” you say, thinking back at the way he laps on your cunt. “He’s a good eater.”

Jimin lets out an angry scoff. “And I haven’t even gotten my birthday present yet. Get your ass here. Now.”

You let out a groan. “Seriously? Right now? But I’m tired. I wanna go to-”

“Now.” The call cuts and the screen goes black. You sigh. You get out of bed and ruffle through your wardrobe for your trench coat, feeling like one of those noir film actresses. You don’t bother putting your panties back on as you put the coat on and leave your room in a pair of sneakers. Park Jimin is going to be hard to appease tonight but judging from the slight slur in his voice, he won’t be too hard to manage.

Park Jimin has always been the jealous type, it’s why you’ve never actually been with anyone else. It’s too much trouble because Jimin has a sadistic streak. So in order to remain in his good graces, you know what you have to do tonight or else Jimin will sulk throughout the year and that will be bad for you. It wouldn’t take much, you think. Jimin has a soft spot for you and you both know it but his possessiveness can be problematic. It gets in the way of everything despite the non-agreement agreement you two have.

As you cross the green courtyard towards Park Jimin’s building (yes, most of the richer ones have their own private quarters), you don’t realise the shadows following you.

“Keep me posted,” Namjoon’s voice comes through Yoongi’s phone. “I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

When the call ends, Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Out of all the people, why her? There’s nothing interesting about her. Not even from any known family. She’s even here on scholarship.” He spat the word as if it disgusts him.

Yoongi shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. C’mon.”

***

In the morning, after untangling yourself from Jimin, you leave his place in one of his T-shirts before the sun fully rises.

You manage to creep back into bed without waking Anya and without being seen, balling the borrowed T-shirt and throwing it into the back of your closet, to be forgotten. When Anya wakes up, the first thing she sees is your made up bed and you ready to leave out the door.

Unlike everyone here, you have a part-time job to get to. Your phone rings in your pocket as you walk to the bus stop and you answer it. “What is it now, Jimin?”

“I don’t like your tone,” he says, his voice heavy from just waking up. “And it’s oppa to you. Where are you?”

“I’m sorry, Minie, but I’m going to work,” you answer impatiently. “And I have to go. I’m almost arriving.”

“Wait,” he calls out.

You sigh. “What?”

He’s quiet for a long while that you pull the phone away to check if the line is still connected. It is so you put it back to your ear. “Jimin?” You shake your head, correcting yourself. “Oppa?”

“Nothing,” he answers, his voice sounding more awake now. “Have a good day at work.” The call ends and you pocket your phone, jogging over to the bus that just pulled up.

Somewhere in the distance behind you, in a sleek black car parked on the side of the street, Hoseok sits in the passenger seat. He points in your direction. “Who the hell takes buses these days?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer him but starts the engine and pulls out from the illegal parking spot, sticking close to the bus you just got on. He’s a little grouchy right now for having to wake up this early. He’s also not sure why Namjoon wants them to tail you, it’s not like you’re somebody worth tailing. Got into their university on a scholarship and has a part time job. Hoseok is right. Who the hell rides the public bus when they go to Ivy University?

But when Namjoon wants something, Namjoon must get it. Yoongi sighs, anticipating a long day.

---

You step into the office just as the clock strikes 9.01AM and immediately, your boss is already standing in the doorway of his office, looking at you unimpressed. “You’re late.”

You glance at the clock on the wall but don’t say what you wanted to say. You offer him an apologetic smile, instead. “Sorry, sir.”

He doesn’t respond, disappearing back into his office. You roll your eyes and make your way to your desk. The boss’ assistant peeks his head out and raises his eyebrows at you. You raise a hand to shush him. “Not a word, Seokjin.”

He smiles, his cheeks puffing up like two round breads. “Time is money is power,” he says, quipping our boss’ usual quote before going back to his place.

You work only until two o’clock and ten minutes before your shift ends, the bell above the front door rings. “Welcome to-” you stop short when you realise it’s Kim Namjoon, standing there with his shades on and a black fitting tee with jeans that seem to hug the form of his long legs. “What are you doing here?”

At the sound of your panicked voice, Seokjin comes out to check. Upon seeing Namjoon, his face lights up into a smile. “Namjoon-ah, long time no see.”

They exchange a quick hug and a few words before Namjoon turns to look at you. You wonder how they know each other but then again, Seokjin is the university’s alumni. Everybody knows Namjoon. He points at you, “Taking this one out to lunch. Thought I picked her up from work.”

Seokjin looks at you, worry flitting through his eyes. “Really? Since when are you two a thing?”

“We’re not,” you retort, packing your things. “And I’ve got class after this.”

“Your class starts at 3.30PM,” Namjoon says easily. “You have time.”

You stare at him. “You check my schedule?”

He shrugs.

“Do you know how creepy that is?” you ask, mildly annoyed as you continue to stuff things into your bag.

Your boss comes out, forehead furrowing, eyes aiming at you. “What’s all the ruckus out here?” He looks around and sees Namjoon and immediately his expression changes to delight, the crease between his eyebrows immediately erased like magic. “Namjoon, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you here in my little office?”

Namjoon is all smiles, shaking your boss’ hand confidently. “I’m just here to take my girl out, sir.”

Your boss turns to look at you, an incredulous look on his face. “Her?”

You let out a sigh. “I’m not his girl and,” you swing your bag over your shoulder. “I’m done for the day. Goodbye, Mr Oh. See ya, Seokjin.”

You power-walked down the street heading for the bus stop, aware of the man following you in just a slight quick pace of his strides. He catches up next to you, not a hair out of place, lightly touching your arm. “I got my car with me and-”

You swivel around on your heels to jab him in his chest, hurting your finger a little at how hard it actually is. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” You continue towards the bus stop and he remains on your heels.

“Is it Jimin? Are you scared if he finds out?” He stands in front of you as you take a seat on the bench, checking your watch impatiently when you already know it’s not another twenty minutes for the next bus to arrive.

“I don’t know why you’re bringing him up,” you say, shrugging. “It has nothing to do with him and just about my principles.”

Namjoon laughs, running his fingers through his hair. Fuck, he didn’t have to look so good. “What principles? Not accepting when someone is just being nice to you?”

You look at him then, eyebrows furrowing. “No. Just not to accept anything from you.”

His face falls, confused. “Me?”

“Specifically.”

“Can you at least share why?” He takes off his sunglasses, waving them around in his hand.

You give him an incredulous look. “Really? You can’t guess?”

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “I mean, it couldn’t be those rumours, right?”

You let out an exasperated noise but ignore him. Namjoon takes a seat next to you, scooting so close that your legs are almost touching. “I didn’t take you for someone who believes in rumours.”

“What did you take me for then?” you give him a pointed look, feigning interest.

He regards you, tilting his head to the side, one leg of the sunglasses resting on the corner of his lips. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out.”

You don’t have a comeback for that, staring at him for a few seconds longer. For the first time, you’re not sure what to make of him. His eyes have a sort of gleam to them that you can’t tell if it’s innocence or just plain mischief. For a moment, you wonder if the labels stuck to his back are even justified, if they even had any truth to them because the man sitting next to you, a soft smile playing on his lips, doesn’t scream red flags to you. Or maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

Namjoon sees it too, the way your eyes soften as you look at him, the way your forehead creases just slightly as you contemplate on what to do with him. For a split second, your guard is down and he sees that, clear as day reflecting on your face. He reaches out, brushing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You flinch but don’t move away.

He’s about to say something when a convertible slides into the bus parking and stops right in front of you. You know it’s Jimin before you even look.

“Kitten,” he calls out. “Get in.”

Before Namjoon can stop you, you pull away from his touch, pick up your things and get into Jimin’s car. You don’t spare another backward glance but Jimin does. He stares long and hard at Namjoon from behind the wheel, the man’s tall reflection against his own sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He sneers and Namjoon stands up, putting his shades back on, unfazed.

“I’ll see you around,” Namjoon says, looking in your direction. “Kitten.”

Jimin’s car peels out of the bus stop, merging with traffic and speeding off. He drives with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the gearhead in the middle console. He doesn’t speak, jaws ticking silently. You know he’s waiting for you to speak first but you don’t know what to say. He came to the office by himself? He stalked me? He wants what’s yours? Neither of those sounds good enough, if not enraging.

“So?”

You sneak a glance at Jimin from the corner of your eyes. “Hm?”

“What did he want?” he snarls, impatient to deal with your nonchalance.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. He wanted to take me out to lunch but I told him-”

“That little bitch,” Jimin curses through gritted teeth. “I give him an inch and now he thinks he can take a mile.”

In an attempt to calm him down, you slide your hand to rest on his thigh, subtly rubbing the inside of his leg over the tight black jeans he’s wearing as you press up against his side. It’s not surprising when he leans into you, seemingly calming. You place your lips against his shoulder. “I don’t want to talk about him. Please, Jimin?”

He reciprocates by moving the hand he has on the gearhead to your thigh, giving it a squeeze a little further up than just a casual touch, running his pinky up and down your crotch. The car slows down at a red light and, out of the blue, Jimin asks, “Do you like him?” His voice is soft and he’s staring ahead, almost as if he’s scared of the answer. His Adam's apple bobs but he looks at everything except you. His pinky ceased movements as his hand rests somewhere a little more appropriate, just above your knee.

You don’t answer him immediately, contemplating. You know nothing of the man named Kim Namjoon other than the words flying around about him. But the magnetic force that pulls you to him is quite compelling though you’re not sure if you want to admit that. He’s not the kind of guy you want to be involved in. Too much spotlight, too much drama dating someone everyone wants.

“I don’t know,” you say carefully. “I don’t know if I like him.”

Jimin senses there’s more to that answer. He glances at you briefly before the light turns green again. “But?”

“But I’m intrigued,” you confess. “There’s something about him.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “There’s always something about him,” he mutters. After a few minutes, he continues, “So? Are you going to go with him next time he asks?”

You lean back to look at Jimin’s side profile; the chiselled jawline, the cute little nose, the multiple studded ears. Your eyes follow down his neck, your lips recognise the shape of it, how it then curves down to his shoulders, small but strong, sexy, captivating. Only two other people know that you’ve been each other’s firsts; first kiss, first times, during an experimental phase that lasted long into their adulthood out of a mutually hormone-driven consensus. You love him, you do, but never like a lover and you know Jimin feels the same way.

Whatever it is, you want to put Jimin first. He’s done a lot for you, someone who isn’t even acknowledged by the rest of the family. He has fought in your corner and you know if you call, he’d come running. You sidle up to him once again, resting your head against his shoulder, hugging his arm close to you. You link your fingers through his and grips him tight. “Would that be okay with you?” you ask hesitantly.

You feel him sigh but there’s no animosity this time, no anger. Just acceptance. He doesn’t answer, though, not wanting to give you that satisfaction. He squeezes your hand and you take that as him giving you his blessing. “But,” he says, a hint of warning in his tone, “if he does anything I don’t like, I’m ending him.”

You giggle quietly, pressing another kiss to his shoulder at the same time that he leans over to place a lingering kiss on the top of your head.

---

Namjoon disrobes himself with one hand, the other busy scrolling through the hundreds of unread text messages in his inbox, not one he’s interested to read.

His forehead creases the further down he goes, walking towards the bathroom where the tub is already filled with warm water, waiting for him. He almost tripped on the bathtub’s leg if he hadn’t looked up in time, saving himself from plunging in head first. Carefully, he steps into the water and the stress of the day immediately melts away. He sits in the tub, eyes still glued to his phone screen.

No, you haven’t texted him at all. Not once, ever. Namjoon has the phone numbers of almost everyone on campus, given to him freely or from them searching him out first. But not yours. How is that even possible?

There’s a knock on the door and Hoseok’s head appears through the small gap. Namjoon doesn’t even look up, searching through social media to find traces of you. “Yo, Joon-ah,” Hoseok calls. “You’ve got a visitor.”

Namjoon waves him away. “Not now. I don’t want to see anyone today.”

Hoseok snickers quietly. “Okay, whatever then.”

Hoseok disappears back out the door, leaving the bathroom door just as he found it, ajar. Namjoon comes across your Instagram account but it’s locked with only twenty-two followers. He founds your Twitter account, too, in the same circumstance; private with less than thirty followers. Considering that everyone who goes to this university has connections to the upper class society, having less than ten thousand followers on social media is…lame.

He knows that you got in because of Park Jimin, connected by marriage and not by blood. He knows that when you were three, your mother remarried into the Park family, long owners of one of the biggest conglomerates in the country and, by default, the Kim family’s biggest rival. Other than that, there’s nothing on you. Or so everybody thinks, but Namjoon has a feeling something is going on between you and your step cousin, what, he doesn’t know. Jimin is too protective over you, too possessive.

Namjoon clicks his phone shut and places it on the bathroom floor next to the tub. He slides down lower and leans his head back, closing his eyes. He tries to relax but his brain can’t help but think about you, the enigma plaguing him. There’s no one on campus that he doesn’t know about; every little dirty secret, every little incriminating details, every little sore points, he has them compiled in alphabetical files in the office room downstairs, ammos he uses every once in a while, little business deals to ensure everything runs smoothly the way Kim Namjoon wants it. Everyone has something to lose or to gain, it’s a matter of knowing who’s got dirt on who and what he gets in return.

What he doesn’t know is a threat to himself, especially when something draws him to you. He can’t get involved without knowing what he’s about to gain or lose; it’s too risky. His father taught him well enough about it. Keep things strictly business, your brain must always lead the way, not your heart, every relationship is a transaction. And that’s what’s troubling him. His brain is telling him to just move along, there’s nothing you can offer him, you’re technically a nobody with no actual connection. But his heart. His heart just won’t listen this time.

Namjoon is so lost in his thoughts, his forehead wrinkling, that he doesn’t even notice the shadow that falls over him. He doesn’t even notice it when you lather one pump of soap into one hand and slowly, slowly, quietly dip into the water. His eyes finally shoot open in complete shock when he feels your hand wrapping around his flaccid cock. He gasps aloud, jerking forward and splashing water against the walls and floors.

“Shh,” you say, placing your other finger against your lips, blinking against droplets of water on your lashes. “Don’t want the others to know that I sneaked in after Hoseok told me to leave.”

Namjoon, bless his big beautiful brains, is lost for words. He splutters, mouth opening and closing but nothing comes out, staring at you as if he’s seeing a ghost. His heart is still hammering in his chest and is only subconsciously aware that you are softly tugging his penis under the water, massaging it and rolling the pad of your thumb against the tip.

“What are you doing?” he asks in a hushed voice.

You grin up at him. “Returning the favour.”

He tries to push the question but your soapy hand is starting to have its effect on him, assisting in your underwater heavy petting. He licks his lips, trying to collect his composure. You feel him throb in your hand, warm and growing harder. Bigger, so big that your palm only covers not even half of his shaft. You had underestimated him, you realised nervously.

Namjoon breathes shakily, letting your hand wander down to his balls without saying a word or even moving a muscle. In this situation, both his brain and his heart are taking the backseat. You gesture, jutting your chin. “Why don’t you sit back and relax, little prince?” you say, teasing.

He sits back but his face is disgruntled. “I’m not a little prince,” he mumbles before his words are cut off by a muffled groan as you refocus back to his cock.

You smile, taunting. “Not little,” you say pointedly, “but definitely still a prince. What would daddy say if he finds out you let your guard down like this?” You pick up your pace, pumping on his cock in between your thumb, forefinger and middle finger, feeling the ridges of his hardness against your touch, curious of how it would feel to have him stretch you out taut. Jimin is so much smaller but made up in girth, filling you up so full. But this sheer monstrosity? You can't even imagine it but damn if you don’t try.

“Tell me, Namjoon.” You draw circles with your thumb around his cockhead and watch him press his lips together to avoid making any sounds. “How do the other girls touch you? I want to know.”

He doesn’t answer, breathing heavily, chest heaving, knuckles turning white from gripping the edges of the tub. His rock hard cock putty in your hands, jerking and leaking precum that you gather to rub on the underside of the tip. Seeing that he is ignoring your question you let go and he quickly looks up at you in surprise and confusion.

“Answer me and I’ll keep going,” you promise sweetly, resting your head against your other hand on the lip of the tub.

Namjoon growls. “There’s nothing special about the other girls.”

“You mean, they’ve never given you a handjob before?” you widen your eyes, faking surprise.

“They have,” Namjoon snaps but then he shakes his head. “Just…” he pauses, glaring at you.

“Oh,” you pout. “You don’t like handjobs? I should stop then.” You move away from the tub but Namjoon is desperate now. “No, wait!”

You kneel back down on the floor, looking at him expectantly. “Yes?”

“I didn’t say you could stop,” he says through a grimace. He’s struggling to remain in control. You laugh softly, amused, and once again he looks confused.

“You’re not in charge right now, Joonie,” you explain. “I am.”

Anger flashes in his eyes but he doesn’t react. In the water, his cock looks just as angry as he is, veins bulging and twitching in the water, starving to be touched again. He wants your hand back on him, needs it.

You see him unravelling but your patience is high right now. You know you have him where you want him, looking up at you with defeated eyes. Angry but defeated. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even tell you to leave. You take your chance, daring to push him further, curious to see the real Kim Namjoon. You lean close to his face and his eyes flutter but just as he thought that you might kiss him, you pull back with a smile. “You want me to touch you?”

He swallows hard before he gives a small, strained nod. You smirk. “Beg for it.”

His brooding eyes lock on yours, his jaws grinding together. His hands are in fists and you expect for him to turn you away, to gather up what’s left of his bruised ego and stand up, maybe, so he can really flex how easily he can turn this situation around. You almost hope he would, the masochist in you watching gleefully at how this could all turn out. Kim Namjoon doesn’t beg. He wouldn’t.

But instead, Namjoon lowers his head and whispers out, “Please.”

This time your surprise isn’t faked, kneeling there with your mouth slightly open. Kim Namjoon is begging you to touch him. The Kim Namjoon. The proud man on campus that exudes so much alpha pheromones in any room he walks into; the man that every female and male on campus thirsts for, desperate to bed or be bedded by; the Kim Namjoon that runs the campus like it’s his little playground, a little prince flexing his power and influence over his subjects. That Kim Namjoon is pleading with you, head hung low, naked in the bathtub, cock sticking straight out in between his legs, quivering for more of what was given to it just seconds ago.

“Please what?” you ask, confidence surging. Your hand is already back in the water, tracing your fingers against the inside of his thigh close enough to brush against his cock but not quite there.

“Please,” Namjoon mumbles, his hair falling over his face that you wish you could see his expression right now. What does he look like when he’s begging? You tip his chin up with your finger, making him look at you. Again, you’re taken by surprise as his eyes are a little glassy, lips a little wobbly.

Your heart jumps out at him but this power play is giving you a feeling you’ve never had before. Jimin had only loved to dominate and you loved being taken care of, but this is new. This is something you’ve never experienced before and seeing the six-foot alpha male in front of you submit to you is exciting, intoxicating.

The defiance in his eyes only adds fuels to your newly-born fire. “Please,” he says again, voice cracking at the end, “touch me. Please touch me more.”

“But I am touching you,” you answer in mock ignorance, fingers dancing through his pubic hair now, tugging on it. “See. I’m touching you.”

“Please,” Namjoon whines, biting on his lower lip. He uses one hand to grab yours under the water and places it on his member. “Touch me here.”

Your lips curl upwards, satisfied. Without another word, you restart your movements, making a circle with three fingers and using them to pump his shaft, squeezing it in all the right spots, feeling him harden beneath your touch. You continue to jerk him off, watching him close his eyes and tilt his head up, lips parted. You quicken your pace, the water sloshing around noisily. You add more soap into your hand, smoothening the glide enough for him to breathe in quick shallow breaths, soft little moans in the back of his throat.

The water is somewhat restricting and you want more. “Move,” you order, standing up and stepping into the tub in between his legs. He looks a little perplexed but is quick to oblige, sitting up on one end of the tub, butt situated just inches on the cool surface, using his hands to support the rest of his weight. Not caring that your denim shorts are now wet, you kneel in front of him, coming face to face with his crotch, his darkened cock bouncing in between your eyes. You give him a few more pumps with your hands before you hold it up, look him in the eye and snake your tongue out to lick the tip.

Namjoon hisses but he doesn’t look away. You lick the underside of his cockhead, tasting the precum leaking profusely. You pop the head into your mouth, using your tongue to roll around it, hollowing your cheeks to suck. Namjoon lets out a full moan, bottom lip in between his teeth. “Fuck,” he curses. “Just like that, please.”

Alas, being dominant isn’t exactly your thing because once lust envelopes you, your switch flips and you’re hungrily sucking on his cock, taking him into your mouth as much and as far back as you can go without gagging, using your hand to pump the base to make up for what you cannot fit. He’s huge. While you can wrap your pretty little mouth over Jimin’s length comfortably, you’re struggling to breathe around Namjoon’s.

Saliva drips messily down your chin but you pay it no mind, wanting nothing but to please him. You bob your head down his length, careful to use your tongue for the underside, to retract your teeth except when you’re nibbling his tip, to use your spit as much as you can for lube. What dribbles down your mouth, you collect with your hand, pumping the base of his cock with it in time to your head-bobbing. Jimin taught you well because Namjoon is softly begging again.

“Oh, please, oh, please.” He has a loose touch of the back of your head, more guiding than pushing. “Please, harder. Your mouth. Please.”

You understand what he wants, clamping down a little more firmly, doing your best to not let your teeth graze him. You press your tongue up, feeling the bulky veins as you move up and down his shaft. Feeling a little tired, you focus on the tip, sucking lightly with every upward move of your head.

You’re not sure what happened or why it happened but something snaps in Namjoon. He holds your head in between his hands firmly in place and instead of you blowing him, he fucks your mouth. You let him, adjusting yourself to his sloppy movements. He’s careful enough not to shove his whole length in, watching your reaction with hooded eyes, hip bucking wildly.

“Yes, yes,” he mutters, watching his cock slide in and out in between your lips. “Your mouth feels so warm, so good.” His mind wonders about watching the same scene unfold in between your legs. How would you feel wrapped around him, spread open for him?

Before long, he pulls out, steps out of the tub and lifts you up bridal style. You squeak at the sudden movement, clinging onto him as he transfers you over to the sink countertop. He buries your head into your neck, breathing hard, arms around your waist. “Please, I want to-” he hesitates, gulping in more breaths. “Please,” he finishes silently, pressing wet kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin.

“You want to what?” you coax, pushing against his shoulders so he would look up at you. He does, looking at you with wide eyes, pupils blown out, blond hair sticking to his forehead. You push his hair back and kiss his forehead. “Tell me. What do you want, my little prince?”

He seems to contemplate it before muttering, “Sex,” like some kind of virgin school boy that’s only just learning the word. That’s when you know that this is a whole different side of him that you’ve never seen before, confident that no one has ever seen before. It contradicts his whole being that you could never have imagined it if you’re not actually seeing it now. He towers over you as you sit on the edge of the countertop, looking down at you like a kid who is asking for extra dessert. Is this what he hides behind the mask of alpha Kim Namjoon? A little needy boy in the bedroom who can’t even vocalise what he wants?

You can’t help the smile on your lips but all Namjoon is seeing is the way you leer at him, your mouth turning upwards on one side. It makes him feel small, powerless, at your mercy. It makes his cock throbs painfully. He lets out a small whine, burying his face back into your neck, nibbling on your skin that smells like your wash soap, nothing too fancy nor too strong.

“You want to fuck me?” you inquire, tilting your neck to give him access to more skin. “Is that it? You want to know what my pussy feels like around your fat cock?”

He nods against you but you’re not having it. Without thinking, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull, roughly enough to jerk him backward. He lets out a surprise, “Ah,” but relaxes, his skin tingling from where the pressure emits from his scalp down to his leaking tip, so much so that it drips down to the tile floor.

“Answer me in words, Namjoon,” you hiss, glaring at him. Something in him withers even more, seeing the reflection in the mirror of how he, at six foot tall with swollen biceps and chest and rock hard abs, is being manhandled by this girl who is not even over five foot, the girl who, just a few days ago, he doesn’t even know existed. What a plot twist.

“Yes,” he breathes out, the excitement growing.

“Yes what?”

His brain scrambles to remember what were the words you said but he can’t. His attention had been somewhere else. From his view point, he can see straight down your loose T-shirt and realises that you’re not wearing a bra. You’re not generous in the chest area but the swell of your breasts is prominent from this vantage point and he gulps. Your nipples are already perky.

You pull on his hair again as you bring his face closer to yours so that he has to bend forward slightly. “I ask you a question,” you reiterate, growing impatient.

Namjoon’s lips quiver. He honestly can’t remember what he was supposed to repeat. Words. You wanted words. “Please,” he says pathetically blubbering, “Please, want your pussy. Want to…want my cock in you…in your pussy. Please, my cock in your pussy.” At the same time, his member between his legs does a little jerk upward.

You let go of his hair, bracing yourself against the edge of the counter. “Take my shorts off,” you command and he hurries to unbutton the denim with careless fingers. He tugs it off of you and you lift your ass to assist. Once it passes your knees, he lets it drop to the floor. He looks at your soaked panties from when you joined him in the tub, a little disappointed that he can’t tell between the tub water and the leak from your cunt, the cunt that he had his face buried in just last night.

His fingers linger on the band of the panties, eyes stuck on the spot between your legs. You giggle softly to yourself, cupping his cheek and pulling him to look at you. “Kiss me,” you say, tilting your head up.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, crashing his lips against yours that your teeth clashed together. You taste blood and wonder which one of you is bleeding, not really caring. The kiss is sloppy, wet, open-mouthed. Tongue moves against tongue aimlessly and he leans in, pressing his hot cock against your pulsating clothed pussy. Moans tumble out of both your mouths into each other, dribbling saliva down chins. He rubs his cock against you some more and you wish he had removed the panties, too.

“Panties,” you moan out, hoping he understood.

He does but his brain is still not working properly so instead of pulling it off of you, he rips it off with one powerful wrench of his wrist, leaving you to gasp against the burn on your skin from where the material dug into you before it broke apart. He doesn’t miss a second, pressing up against you once more, running the length of his hardness against your sopping crotch, gliding it deliciously up and down your clit.

You let out a moan into the kiss, pulling him closer by the waist, wrapping your legs around him. “You’re so wet,” Namjoon whines, “so, so wet. I’m so hard. Please. Want…”

He breaks away from the kiss to nibble down your neck, his hands travelling up your shirt to rest on your sides, squeezing softly. You’re small in his grasp, his fingers easily circling you on both sides that his thumbs are almost touching together with every little squeeze. So tiny, so small, so fragile.

“Hands on the mirror,” you tell him, prying his hands off of you and guiding it to the mirror behind you. He leans heavily on it, spit lining the corners of his lips, tongue lolling, searching for something, anything to suck on. You suck on his tongue hungrily, slobbering over each other, lips missing lips, messy kisses that leaves saliva trailing down his front. “No touching,” you breathe out. “Do you hear me?”

Namjoon nods his head weakly, the pain in his cock is getting unbearable. He needs release so bad that he's starting to sound needy even in his own ears. “Yes, yes, please. No touch. Won’t touch. Please…fuck me.”

“Good boy,” you purr. “Such a good little prince. Is this how you obey your daddy? When he tells you to do things? Little Namjoonie can’t help but be a good little boy, huh?”

Something stirs in the pit of Namjoon’s stomach at your words. At the back of his mind, a voice screams No! That’s not how I am, you little bitch! And don’t call me that! I don’t like it! But his mouth can only let out little soft noises, his cock wet from his own precum, knees weak, brain all fuddled from any thoughts, only want. Want, want, want. Please. He only nods, a little stronger, this time.

“Are you being a good little Namjoonie for me?” you prod some more, this time giving him a little incentive by touching his reddening cock. You rub the little hole, silently gauging if he can even fit inside you. It’s going to be painful for sure.

“Yes,” Namjoon moans cutely. “Yes, I am.”

“You want this,” you say, tugging on his member, “inside me?” You guide his cock to your entrance, rubbing on your own hole to gather the slick. “I wonder if your cock will even fit me, Joonie.”

He pushes slightly and you lean back. “Uh uh,” you warn. “I don’t think it’ll fit, baby boy. I think it’s too big. I think your fat cock is going to destroy me, baby.”

Namjoon whines, exasperated. His hands are fists against the mirror. Any more pressure and it’ll definitely crack. He can see it, can picture it, how he’s going to stretch you out so wide and so good. He can imagine just how warm you would be, how wet, your pussy tight around his cock. So tight he might come just from the first thrust. Fuck.

“Nooo~,” he mewls out. “Want. Please…Let me. Please.”

You relent, guiding his tip to your entrance and this time you don’t stop him as he pushes in, slowly, carefully. The sting sears through you and you grit your teeth against it, holding your pussy open with two fingers, watching as he slides in painfully slowly. It burns so much your eyes water. “Fuck, Namjoon,” you exhale through shallow breaths. “Fuck, it hurts. It’s so big.”

Namjoon looks down and sees that the first quarter is in. It’s tighter than he thought it would be. So tight he can’t move. He leans his forehead on your shoulder. “Relax, baby,” he soothes. “Just relax. Breathe.”

The switch has flipped. The moment he penetrates you, you let go of control, trying to relax your lower half to ease the pain. You circle your arms around his neck for support and he pushes in a bit more. You can feel the stretch, can feel how hard he is, how much he fills you up, and yet he still has more to give. You can feel the slide in, the pain stinging before it subsides as you adjust to his size. You have only known Jimin, feeling only slightly guilty and sad that his shape will be erased for Namjoon’s.

When Namjoon is finally all the way in, you both remain unmoving for a couple of minutes. He lets you get used to him while he struggles not to come just yet, breathing in deep breaths and trying to distract himself. He looks up to check on you, finding your face all scrunched up in pain. You slowly open your eyes and tears pool in them. He kisses your cheek, whispering in your ear, “Relax, baby. Breathe, just breathe. That’s it. That’s a good girl.”

Namjoon repositions himself in between your legs, slowly pulling out again. You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders, feeling the weight of him move inside. He doesn’t pull out the whole way but stops at the tip before he plunges back in. You cry out in both pain and pleasure. “Ahh, Namjoon…Namjoon. It feels good. Feels good, Joonie.”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?” he asks softly, wanting reassurance. You shake your head, bottom lip white in between your teeth. “You sure?” You nod your head vigorously.

He pulls forward a little bit so you are sitting on the edge of the counter, your butt lifted up a little to give him more access. This way, his thrusts are at an angle that gives you the most pleasure, hitting that right spot, moaning his name drunkenly, eyes barely open. You’re so wet, you can feel it. Can hear it, the squelching sound loud in your ears.

“Oh, baby, can you hear that?” he says from over you, hips rolling against you expertly. “So wet for me. You’re so wet for my cock.”

You nod, humming. “Yes. I can hear it. Your cock feels so good, Joonie. Please. More. Faster, please. Your cock is stretching me out so well. I want more.”

Namjoon sucks on your earlobe, nibbling on the shell of your ear. “Pull your legs up. Let me see how you stretch out for me.”

You comply, pulling your legs towards you by the knees, giving him a clear view of where you two are connected. His cock glistens with your wetness and he hastens his strokes. In, out, in, out, in, out, building up speed as he goes, watching your hole parts with every push in and watching his cock reemerge as he pulls out. “See, baby,” he murmurs. “Fits just right in your little pussy.”

“Haa, Namjoon. Oh, god,” you mewl out, tears slipping out from the corner of your eyes. “Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god. Fuck, Joonie. You’re fucking me so good. So good. Aahh, Namjoon, Namjoon.”

The more you repeat his name, the more aware you are of who has his dick buried balls-deep in you. It’s a little bizarre, a little exciting. The man who runs around campus with a gaggle of onlookers, the man who Jimin isn’t very keen of, the man who you told yourself to stay away from because Jimin doesn’t like him (plus the whole drama between the families) is now standing in between your legs, fucking yo so deep your eyes roll back in their sockets. And just mere moments ago, he had begged to be touched. By you.

Fuck, just a few minutes ago he had sobbed for you to pay attention to his leaking cock, veins popping, chest heaving and now look how the table has turned. Not that you mind it. But you love the fact that Namjoon has given you something he has never given anyone else and with that in mind, your eyes open and push him off, wanting to switch positions.

You hop off the sink countertop and twirl around, sticking your ass out to signal to him how you want him to do you next. You lean against the mirror, looking back over your shoulder at him, waiting. Namjoon realigns himself but because you’re too short, the angle isn’t quite right. He can’t quite sink in correctly. He parts your ass cheeks, fumbling with his fingers to find your cunt hole and you sigh with his touch. He digs two fingers in and you moan, sticking your lower half out more.

You crave his touch, lifting one knee up to rest on the counter, giving him more ease to shove his fingers deeper. He scoots down and buries his face in your dripping pussy, tongue out so he can taste you. You wail, face pressed against the mirror, breath fogging it up. You forget about the two other men in the house, not caring if they can hear you. “Yesss! Yesss! Fuck.”

Namjoon stops and stands back up, chin wet, massaging his cock before plunging it back into you, so deep you arch onto your tiptoes, hissing as you do, unable to make any other sound as it feels like your breath is knocked out of you. He continues to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping skin resounding with every thrust. By this point, the two other men in the house, who have been pretending they couldn’t hear your voice, are visible trying to hide the tent between their legs.

Supporting your waist with his big hands, he whispers continued praises from behind you, his voice a little shaky from his vigorous thrusting. “Look at you, taking my cock so well. Being so wet for me.” He moans, feeling you tighten around him. “You like that, kitten?”

In between your little gasps, you manage to tell him, “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? Kitten?” He rams into you hard enough for you to cry out again, pussy clenching and unclenching, dribbling more slick than he thought possible. “You don’t like me calling you kitten? Is it because Jimin calls you that?”

His voice sounds a little mean as he grows a little annoyed, images of you under the other man flashing across his mind. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to know that another had claimed you first. He shoves into you so deep his tip rests against your cervix. You mewl, trying to move away but having nowhere else to move to. Your toes are cramping up. “Namjoon, please,” you sob. “I’m so close.”

Namjoon continues to deep fuck you in fast hard strokes, grunting each time, his nails digging into the skin of your waist. “You’re getting close thinking of being with Jimin? Huh? If I call you kitten, you’ll think I’m Jimin, fucking your wet pussy until you’re a mess like this, huh?”

You try to shake your head but you can’t do that without losing your balance. Namjoon pauses, cock deep inside your weeping cunt. You feel him throb, feel every curve of him, feel how hot he is.

He seems to read your mind, leaning to speak into your ears. “You feel that in between your folds? Can you feel how hard I am for you right now? Can you feel it, how much I want you to come all over my cock? My cock. Mine. Not Jimin’s.” He pulls out slowly and shoves back inch by inch, making sure you feel every stretch of your walls as he claims you. “From now on, I’m going to make sure your little pussy only remembers my shape. I’m going to make sure that neither Jimin nor anyone else will ever make you feel enough. You hear me?”

You nod desperately. “Just stop talking already,” you whine, pouting your lips at him. “You can’t even make me come yet.”

Namjoon pushes you against the countertop, making sure you bend forward for him to envelope you from behind, his front to your back. He places a hand above your head, a safety cushion to stop you from banging your head against the mirror. Then, he gets to work. You’ve never been fucked this roughly before, never been fucked this good and wild that you’re screaming his name through heavy lips. You’ve never been fucked in a way that makes you want to open up more for him, expose all part of you so he can get at every little inch.

“That’s it, baby girl. Just like that, fuck! Your pussy is clenching so tight, baby,” he moans out. “So tight- I- fuck, feels so good, baby girl. Your pussy- so good, baby. You’re so wet for me. Come for me, baby girl. Come all over my cock.”

Your breathing quickens as you feel the familiar knot tightening in your belly. You let out another cry when Namjoon reaches over to rub on your clit and that’s what you need to send you reeling over the edge. “Yesss, yesss, yesss! Oh my god, yesss. Pleasepleasepleaseplease don’t stop. I’m so close, Joonie. So close. Namjoon, you’re fucking me so good. Fuckfuckfuck, aaahhh!”

Namjoon feels you tighten around him before the spasm rocks through your whole frame. You arch your back, stilling for a moment as your legs shake. Your cunt clenches around his cock hard enough to make him moan out your name, calling out to you over and over again, praising you with words barely incomprehensible. You feel him keel over on you, kissing your back as his cock throbs, spilling his seed, painting the walls of your cunt in hot white stickiness that overflows and drips down your thighs.

Namjoon lets out a few grunts before he slips out and his legs buckle beneath him. He plops to the floor by your feet as you hang on for dear life on the countertop, legs too weak to hold your weight. From his place, Namjoon looks up to see how much of a mess he’s made of you, his semen mixing with your juice still dribbling out.

You lean over your shoulder to look at him, panting, your eyes barely open. You can feel the stickiness in between your legs, feel something hot and wet trailing down your thighs. Fuck, that was intense.

“So pretty,” Namjoon blabbers, eyes in between your legs. “Such a pretty pussy.”

Feeling cheeky, you spread your legs wider. “The little prince should learn to clean up his own mess,” you pant, half teasing, half pouting. “Or didn’t your daddy teach you that?”

Still feeling spent, Namjoon crawls over to kneel in between your legs. He uses his palm to spread your butt cheeks apart, exposing you even further. Something about the way that he’s looking at you in such a private place relits the fire in the pit of your stomach.

“I know how to clean my mess,” Namjoon mutters, kissing the insides of your thighs. “I can clean very well.” His words are muffled as he speaks with his tongue on your sloppy entrance, pressing his whole mouth to it and sliding the flat of his tongue against your pussy. He slurps and licks and nibbles and sucks on your swollen clit. He alternates between that and shoving his tongue as deep as he can in your hole, tasting both himself and you.

“Oh, Joonie,” you mewl softly. “Yes, just keep doing that. Keep sucking on my clit. Yes, just like that. Fuck, my little prince is such a good cleaner. My pussy’s gonna come again.”

Namjoon does as he’s told, easily obeying you, tongue furiously flicking against your little nub. Once again, your orgasm washes over you, building into a crescendo until it crashes down, your pussy pulsating, your legs finally giving out from underneath you. Namjoon catches you in a heap in his lap, holding you close against his chest. He tips your head up to him, covering your mouth with his, making sure you can taste yourself, too.

Once you both calm down, you pull away, disconnecting your lips, a string of saliva still connecting your tongues before it breaks off. You’re still breathing heavily, eyes too heavy to keep open, resting against him. You’re not sure how you got to the bed or how you got cleaned up but when you open your eyes again, you’re sleeping on your side, Namjoon spooning you from behind, fast asleep.

His deep breathing tells you that he won’t be easy to wake but his arm wraps around your middle so tight you can barely move. The room is dark and the curtains drawn. Somewhere in front of you, a phone vibrates on the side table and you fumble to look for it. You pick it up, squinting from the light and realise it’s not yours. It’s Namjoon’s.

It’s a text from Jimin. Curious, you focus to read the words, your vision still blurry with sleep. I know you’ll be bored of her soon but she’s my toy so don’t break it. Or I’ll break you.

You place his phone back down on the table and feel around for yours. You find it tucked under your pillow. You check for messages and there it is, a text from Jimin, too. He won’t entertain you for long. I’ll be waiting, my little kitten.

You smile to yourself before putting the phone away. You’ll placate Jimin in the next few days, giving him little tidbits to soften him up and sweeten him just right, enough to assure him that of course, he’s still your favourite. Neither him nor Namjoon will realise the hook you’ve sinked into the both of them, little puppets that would react with every little jerk of your fingers.

You snuggle closer against Namjoon and he stirs, tucking you in against him even more. Soon, his warmth will lull you back to sleep but for now, you lie there in the darkness, unable to wipe the smirk on your face. The two most powerful pawns in the business world are now both in your pocket, ready to be played when the time comes, a typical chaebols rivalry to be used for your own gain.

After all, it’s just business.

a/n2: lmk what you think of this one in the comment or ask!

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

[demonzoro]

For character questions: zoro 2 3 7 and 8. And then doflamingo 25 🥺

HIIIII STEPH <3 TACKLES YOU TO THE GROUND

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

you know i have lots and lots of 'It Is That Deep' meta for zoro, but my favorite canon thing? he looks like moss and has three swords. simultaneously the goofiest and COOLEST guy around.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

once again oda's misogynistic projections i.e. not fighting women (kuina beat his ass) and that one panel in skypiea when he says 'she's a woman' after enel fries robin (kuina beat his ass). there's truly another ridiculous level of 'WHY would you do that' when zoro's backstory and entire ambition revolves around keeping his promise to his best friend to be the best swordsmasters in the world, regardless of gender. anyways i know him personally and he would NOT fucking say that

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

there's a very specific beat where people portray zoro's sense of protectiveness/devotion/care where it comes across that he's not the best equipped to articulate it, but it's a state in which he lives and breathes it. i think that's EXACTLY where he's at his best. it's just such an interesting thread to articulate for him as the author/artist, and one of the rare occasions where i don't mind that feeling of "i see the maker's hand in this. i see what you did there".

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

conflating his battlelust for bloodlust. everyone STOP getting it twisted 📣📣📣 he likes the blood and pain BECAUSE he likes the challenge and risk of putting his skills and life on the line. he gets his rocks off on the idea he'll be a better swordsman by the end of every battle. i'm not a huge fan of people portraying zoro with serial killer tendencies just because they want him to be edgier. i don't think the act of killing is fun for him; he wants a good fight, and only with people that pick it/are in the business for it. 'make him edgier' he has three swords hasn't his pussy popped enough.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

AND FROM OUTTA NOWHERE- DOFLAMINGOOOO!!! my first impression was that he was the perfect villain to hate. it was a relentless campaign in my head of "i hope he crashes and burns". i really enjoyed the dimension in that we really saw... everything from his backstory to ascent, golden era, and then catastrophic fall. REALLY ENJOYABLE TO HATE.

now, you have absolutely ruined it because BEFORE he was comfortably opaque to me and your fics have made him so utterly transparent. seeing the convoluted knots he ties himself in while knowing how he started and how he ends... really hooks something in my brain. it's not sympathy so much as... finally seeing the gears of some awful contraption and realising it's all melted in there. whatever. your writing once again changing my brain chemistry

*

send me a character + a number from 1-26!

[stargazer-sims]

A Confrontation

Taiji: Hey, I need to talk to you for a minute.

Senjirō: About what?

Taiji: About Haru.

Senjirō: I’ve got nothing to say about Haru.

Taiji: That’s funny, because you usually have lots to say about him.

Senjirō: Is this about the fire in the laundry room?

Taiji: Yeah, but it's about a lot more than that. Call it a conversation about ethics.

Senjirō: A conversation about ethics? Seriously, what do you want, Taiji?

Taiji: I just want you to listen, for a start.

Senjirō: Fine. I'm listening. What's this really about?

Taiji: It's really about Haru. He doesn't like the way you and Keigo treat him, and neither do I.

Senjirō: If Haru doesn't like it, why isn't Haru talking to me about it?

Taiji: Because he doesn't like confrontation. It upsets him, even if the point of doing it is for his own benefit. But, I don't have that problem. I can handle confrontation, especially if it's to protect my friends or something else that's important to me. Or both.

Senjirō: What?

Taiji: Look, here's the thing. You and Keigo have to start being nicer to him. You don’t have to like him, but you gotta stop bullying him, ‘cause things are starting to get out of control around here.

Senjirō: You think I’m bullying him?

Taiji: I don’t know what else to call it when you’re constantly being mean to somebody. Haru can’t help being the way he is, you know. It’s not right for you to call him stupid and lazy, and to always make fun of him for everything.

Senjirō: I don’t do that.

Taiji: Actually, yeah, you do. And you’re hurting him, whether or not you care about that.

Senjirō: He doesn’t seem particularly hurt to me. He’s never said anything.

Taiji: No, because he’s trying to hide it because he’s scared.

Senjirō: Of what?

Taiji: You.

Senjirō: That’s ridiculous.

Taiji: Is It? You already take advantage of his weaknesses. What do you think he imagines you’d do if you found out about a few more?

Senjirō: I don’t—

Taiji: You’ve probably never been bullied in your life, have you? People like you are usually the ones doing all the bullying.

Senjirō: What do you mean, people like me?

Taiji: Rich people. Privileged people. Smart, popular, self-entitled people who think the world revolves around them, who freak out when even one tiny thing doesn’t go their way, or when they have to be near somebody they think is beneath them.

Senjirō: Excuse me?

Taiji: Shut up and listen, and I’ll break it down for you.

Senjirō: You—

Taiji: You want to know something about people like me and Haru? We’re not like you. We don’t come from ideal families.

Senjirō: My family isn't perfect either. There's no such thing as an ideal family.

Taiji: Ideal and perfect don't mean the same thing, you know.

Senjirō: My family isn't ideal, just so we're clear.

Taiji: Fair enough, but I'm guessing it's not nearly as bad as mine or Haru's.

Senjirō: I thought Haru's family was good. We've all met his grandparents, and they obviously love him and want the best for him.

Taiji: Yeah, but they're not his whole family, are they? His father abandoned his mother when she was pregnant, and she was so messed up on booze and drugs that she broke Haru's brain before he was even born, and then she died when he was a baby. And mine...? My father beat the crap out of me and my mother for the slightest thing he didn’t like, while he treated my sister like a princess.

Senjirō: Since when do you have a sister?

Taiji: Since forever. I just don’t like to acknowledge having one, but you’re missing the point. I was so scared of my father when I was little that I wished somebody would literally kidnap me and take me away from him. But, the point I’m making is, me and Haru both got dealt a shifty hand, and we both wished for a different life.

Senjirō: I'm sorry. That's awful, but what does any of it have to do with me and Keigo?

Taiji: It has to do with you because me and Haru both got our wish, but you’re ruining his. He’s awesome and talented, and he’s here because the people from Peak thought he had what it takes, but he’s constantly worried that he’s not really good enough.

Senjirō: Of course he's good enough. He writes half our songs, and nobody raps like he does.

Taiji: Maybe you should tell him that instead of putting him down all the time, then. He's constantly struggling with his self-esteem, mostly 'cause everyone said he'd never be able to do anything with his life. Like, he told me they said he'd never be able to go to regular school and learn to read and write, or learn to ride a bike or play an instrument, or even live independently. And yet, here he is, doing his best every day to be a functional adult, and here you guys are, mocking him whenever he doesn't do something the way you think a normal person should.

Senjirō: I didn't realize...

Taiji: Now you do.

Senjirō: I'm sorry.

Taiji: Tell that to Haru. Maybe grow up and take responsibility for something for a change.

Senjirō: Okay.

Taiji: Is that it?

Senjirō: What do you mean, is that it? What else do you expect me to say?

Taiji: Okay, then.

Senjirō: Are we done?

Taiji: No.

Senjirō: Why not?

Taiji: Because I don't know if you really get how important this is. I'm glad you said you'd talk to Haru, but it can't just be a casual 'sorry' or whatever. That's not going to be enough.

Senjirō: What are you talking about? Why isn't it?

Taiji: 'Cause if you just say sorry for the sake of saying sorry and don't actually change, we might lose everything.

Senjirō: That’s stretching it a bit, don’t you think?

Taiji: You need to understand what Sugar Valentine means to Haru, and to me. It's not just our job. I don't know what we'd do if Sugar Valentine wasn't a thing.

Senjirō: You'd find another job in the industry. We all would. It wouldn’t be that bad.

Taiji: Maybe not for you, but what about me and Haru? Yeah, I probably could get another gig, but I wouldn’t want to. Without Sugar Valentine, I wouldn't have Ryu or Haru or the rest of you in my life. For better or worse, you guys are my family, and I wouldn't want to give that up.

Senjirō: Interesting, for someone who complains about the fans, the fame, and the schedule and everything.

Taiji: I might complain about it, but I'd rather be here with you guys than anywhere else.

Senjirō: Right.

Taiji: Anyway, this is supposed to be more about Haru than it is about me. If things don't change with you, he might just quit and go home, and he might not have the confidence to try again. Then what would he do? You gotta see what you'd be sending him home to. Do you think he could register for university? Or how long do you think he'd last working at some shit job like a convenience store clerk or office cleaner?

Senjirō: Not very long, I guess.

Taiji: Exactly. Peak Entertainment gave Haru the opportunity to do something meaningful with his life, that he’s good at and really loves to do. You could say it saved him, in a way, and I feel like I can say it saved me too. If the talent scout hadn't picked me out at the youth music festival, I don't know where I'd be right now. The way my father is, who knows if I'd even be around? The truth is, this company and this group were my lifeline.

Senjirō: That sounds like exaggeration to me.

Taiji: It absolutely isn’t. If you don't believe me about my father, ask my cousin Violet next time you see him. He'll tell you. Same with Haru. Ask his grandmother next time she’s here.

Senjirō: I’d rather not talk to your cousin.

Taiji: Whatever. Talk to him or not. Believe me or don’t. That doesn’t change the truth.

Senjirō: Now are we done?

Taiji: I guess, but just so we're on the same page, I meant everything I just said. This is serious to me, you know, and I hope it's serious to you.

Senjirō: I got that you were serious.

Taiji: Good. Oh, and one more thing... If I catch you being mean to Haru any more, to prove how serious I am, I'll take you out behind the onsen and teach you something I learned from my father.

Senjirō: You wouldn't dare.

Taiji: You don't know what I'd do. I probably wouldn't, but I figure the uncertainty should motivate you to do better from now on.

Senjirō: Now who's being a bully?

Taiji: That's not bullying. I'm just telling you this isn't a game. Trust me, I don't want it to go any further than this, and if you can manage to act like a decent human for once, I promise it won't.

Senjirō: I'm going to tell Sarah—

Taiji: No. You're not. Neither one of us is going to tell anybody about this. We're going to deal with it on our own, like responsible adults.

Senjirō: Responsible adults don't threaten to beat each other up.

Taiji: I don't recall saying I'd beat you up. I didn't say specifically what I was going to do, or even if I was definitely going to do anything at all.

Senjirō: Whatever. Can I at least talk about it with Keigo? You said this has to do with him too, after all.

Taiji: Okay. Talk to Keigo. Make sure he knows what's at stake here, and both of you should think long and hard about it.

Senjirō: All right. I'll think about it.

Taiji: I'm going to be keeping an eye on you.

Senjirō: You can tone down the tough guy act. I’m not afraid of you.

Taiji: Maybe you should be.

Senjirō: You’re such an idiot.

Taiji: Yeah… I can see you’re off to a brilliant start with that attitude adjustment. Keep up the excellent work.

Senjirō: Go away, Taiji.

Taiji: I’m gonna leave the room, but I’m not going away. Like I said, I’ll be watching you.

Senjirō: …

[getmemymicroscope]

So, this movie has some pretty awesome songs - something I've felt since the music first dropped back in 2006 or whenever. 'Ankahee' and 'Ek Pal Ke Liye' take the cake. This is why I've wanted to watch the movie, ever since then. Why I haven't seen it yet, on the other hand, has to do with everything else (acting talent, the presumed pace of the movie, Bollywood's tendency to overdramatize everything).

To that end, this is a 'romantic thriller' (not my words) that is definitely lacking of thrills. Instead, we have a clearly psychiatric patient played by Esha Deol - who Aftab's friend almost immediately diagnoses as borderline and/or histrionic or something (I don't fully remember - it's been a bit since that happened) and warns him "stay away from her." Aftab, of course, doesn't, and ... well, we have to deal with the fallout of that. ... Between this and Koi Mere Dil Se Poochhe 4 years before, clearly the movies with these 2 stick us with mentally deranged third wheels (in that case, Sanjay Kapoor; in this case, Esha Deol). This one also gives us Ameesha Patel - whose character's actions are maybe understandable, but the scene where she's like "I can feel something is wrong" at like 3am (and, immediately after he's like "nothing is wrong, go to bed" she turns to "let's have a kid") is absolutely painful.

He had a moment to get away from her (Esha) and, somehow, in that moment, he instead decided to give in to the clearly borderline personality traits she was displaying and decided he was in love with her. In love with girl who literally stalked him, got depressed whenever his attention was anywhere else (his wife, kid, work, anything), and whose borderline traits came to the forefront every 20 seconds - just minutes after he literally yelled at his wife "why does your life revolve around me." Literally yells at her for this, then falls for the girl who does that even worse than her.

Also - silence your fucking phone. It's funny that they had a voice-over for Aftab because his voice "wasn't mature enough" for this movie/role. His friend is great and smart; too bad he can't recognize that. (On the other hand, and I get maybe she's coming from a place of anger, but his wife's suggestions to Ameesha are horrific.)

Clearly romantic dramas are not my cup of tea, because I'm more just annoyed by how stupid all of them are acting - mostly Aftab, entirely Aftab, but also how we're having to watch Esha's character be absolutely ridiculous. And that she becomes more and more of a nutcase as the movie progresses, up until she is no more, is just impossible to bear because OMG the drama (from the "it's in the newspaper" all the way to the end of the movie); and that this story somehow convinces his daughter that he was a good dad worthy of forgiveness (and a husband worthy of the same) is fucking ridiculous (is it just because he didn't take anything the divorce, does that make him good?; because Ameesha did nothing wrong by rejecting him when he came back simply because Esha killed herself).

I mean, clearly this is Vikram Bhatt trying to tell everyone "hey, I did nothing wrong," but like, yikes, how does this movie justify anything short of "I'm a fucktard" (if this is in fact based in reality). The scene where Aftab is fighting with Ameesha and is like justifying his actions with stupid comments like "I'm not the first guy to do this" or "you're suffering and clearly I'm out here having fun" (sarcastically, but also, like, yes, that's exactly what is going on) and "you're trying to fix our relationship but I'm trying to end it" ... like, what? And clearly Esha will never be happy or satisfied and will literally monopolize his time; that he can't see this is ridiculous. And that he keeps with it the more psychotic she gets is ... fucking drama movies.

This is probably why I can't watch these sorts of movies very often - it is going to take quite a while to remove this rot from my brain.

I'll just have to binge the song tomorrow and hope it does the job.

"Yaadon mein saji kuch baatein ankahee, In baaton mein kahi khoyi hai zindagi."

[20232026diary]

25th June 2023

Overall, I have to admit things with Kieran since I communicated how I felt have been good. I still have the odd day where I don’t feel loved. He definitely is very self thinking. He will always put himself first. He doesn’t quite understand the complexity of my emotions. I have things annoying internal battle where my logical brain looks at everything and I think he does love and care about me but my emotional brain takes every little detail so personally. I bought him a gift and he wasn’t very grateful for it and it kinda broke my heart a little bit because I thought he’d love it but he gave a genuine apology but then the next day he didn’t even message me to see if I was okay. I am on my period so I don’t know if that is contributing to it but it feels like I’m going to be like this forever. I do want to talk to him about it but I don’t want to rain on his happiness. I don’t know, I feel like a nice gesture to show he cares would be nice but I don’t want to say that because then it loses it value. I don’t know whether this is me and my issues or whether he is doing something wrong. This is why I feel like it’s me because when I start to question it my brain starts thinking about all the good things he does.

Yes he might upset me but I’m easy to upset, when he does upset he listens and makes an effort to change, always. He spends every weekend with me, he comes over during the week. He took me to the cutest little farm the other week and it was such a perfect day. When we were at download it was so nice. He said he was to go out for food this week. Overall he doesn’t let me down. I’ve been to his house now after he promised we would but the longer we’re together the more he is going to let me down because that’s just life and his life can’t revolve around me. We are comfortable with each other so we don’t need to spend every waking moment with each other and we don’t need to be constantly talking when we’re apart. The only thing that upsets me is that I want to but he doesn’t so it makes me feel like he doesn’t really like me. But he has no attachment issues well not no attachment but it’s not like me. I have to realise that because I’m so scared of losing him I’m hyper vigilant about the things. Whenever we’re together I feel loved, it’s only when he’s on his phone, which isn’t all the time that I start sulking but allowed to be on his phone for a hour or so when we’re together for over 24hours. My logical brain is actually very happy with him but my emotional brain sometimes, more often than not recently takes charge. Things get so difficult for me when that happens and I know I’m very difficult to be around. I need to start taking control of my life and only get upset when there actually something to get upset about. Like today him going to see his friend and saying we’ll talk later isn’t a reason to get upset. It’s actually very good. Instead of just ignoring me and giving him half attention he’s letting me know he’s spending time with his friend who he hasn’t spend a weekend with in a long time.

It still hurts though, seeing his still active in Facebook but can’t text me but even as I’m typing it I know that ridiculous but my heart still hearts and my head is still telling me he doesn’t care and he doesn’t want me. It’s so exhausting. I need to focus on myself instead of obsessing over him. Be an adult and focus on my life

[besidesitstoowarm]

"Daleks in Manhatten" thoughts

helen raynor also wrote "the sontaren strategem"/"the poison sky" some of my least favorite episodes in the history of new who. however she was also script editor for "midnight" and "silence in the library"/"forest of the dead" which are phenomenal stories, some of the best in the show's history, and i'll be kind and give her some editing credit despite the fact that those writers are geniuses and her own episodes suck chode. but i can't talk about those eps yet, so this chode it is

the accents this episode are ridiculous, but they're not WRONG per se so i can't get that mad. and i think the era is an interesting one, the glitz and glamor of old new york contrasted against the monstrous poverty of the time period. i mean the love story here is between a woman named TALLULAH and a man named LASZLO i don't even know what to do with that. i'm kind of doubting there was racial equality in the hoovervilles tbh. i know there were bigger fish to fry but never underestimate the american ability to blame every social ill on the nearest black person. and of course his name is solomon

"that there's gonna be the tallest building in the world. how come they can do that, but people starving in the streets of manhatten" now that's actual social commentary. why CAN they do that but not feed their people. the episode revolves around the exploitation of laborers, knowing you can get anything out of desperate people. literally sorting them into slaves and useful. and the slaves are pigs (recycled from "aliens of london" i wonder). "labor is cheap and that man can be replaced"

doctor does ask "martha? medical opinion?" when he finds the nasty brain in the sewer. he does respect her intellect, i do like that. andrew garfield is here, i did not recognize him but my bf did. i think it's funny how he's english but his two most recognizable roles are american (peter parker and that guy from "the social network") and then they put him in THE english show of all time and he's playing. an american. very on-brand. accent pretty good

so ofc there's daleks and they're acting up. "our purity has brought us to extinction! we must adapt to survive" which is a reasonable ideal in the melting pot of nyc. dalek sec. christ. doctor gets very upset about the daleks enduring "they survive, they always survive while i lose everything" not wrong!

i have to say, they're in the sewers and he reunites w martha and says "you can kiss me later. you too, frank, if you want" no one asked for that. gay bitch. and then we see dalek sec w his nasty penis tentacles. i hate this design so much it makes me nauseous, i don't know if i have actual beef w it from a story perspective or if i just hate to see it, visually. can't wait to watch an entire other episode looking at him directly

[lemonjoonah]

The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).  

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...  

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?”  You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.”  The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry.  “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”  

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.  

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”  

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head.  “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose?  “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside.  Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”      

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a  sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a  warm and earthy scent envelopes you.  His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.  

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel.  Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it  you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid.  “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin.  “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod.  A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.  

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.  

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth.  He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts.  And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.  

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”  

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.  

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”  

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom.  A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.  

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

You (Y/N) get stood up from a date and Kaminari decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Kaminari/F!Reader

Contains: Fluff, Flirty Denki, Established BakuSquad Friendship

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Electro-Stim, Overstimulation, use of pet names (cuddle bug & cutie), oral (F receiving), consensual recording

A/N: Well, here we are with the third in my Stood Up series. There is also Bakugo & Kirishima if you're interested. This one took me way too long and it's also my first time writing Kaminari at length. I hope you all like it :)

Word Count Starting Below: 2,461

You slipped your foot into the silver heels you had picked out. Something a little fancier since this was a first date after all and you wanted to make a lasting impression. Not only that but this was your first first date in a while. Being a Pro Hero made life busy and dating difficult.

Practically the entire day leading up to this very moment revolved around you either getting ready or babbling with excitement to your closest friends.

An alert chimed on your phone with a text from your date, a smile sliding onto your face expecting to read some message about how they were on their way and that they'd see you soon, but that wasn't what you were met with.

Instead, it was a screenshot of your Instagram page, multiple of them actually, all of you and the ridiculous photos you took with your friends but mostly with one Denki Kaminari. The most recent of which was from a tea shop he met you at just earlier that day so you could show him the shoes for your date.

The message below was simple and more than enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth, this isn't what I want to see when I'm supposed to be taking you out tonight. What, one date a day isn't enough? Why are you even dating? Does your blonde boyfriend know?

You giggled at what they were implying, quick to explain how these were all your friends, they had been since high school! They are people you spent what little free time you had with. Especially Denki, your best friend since you were 15!

That joy you felt started dissipating within the next few messages. You hadn't even had a first date and they were already jealous, and that was something you didn't have room for in your life. So, you slipped the heels off your feet and put them directly back in the box to return when you had the time. Tight black jeans and fitted top were exchanged with a hoodie and sweats although your makeup and hair stayed done, you didn't have the energy to undo your hard work.

Instead, you slid back into your computer chair, your headset snuggly back on your ears and before you notified everyone you were back online, you took a moment listening to the chatter of your friends.

"Shitty Hair! Fuckin' pay attention!"

"Yeah, man! We're getting slaughtered over here!"

"Less yelling at Kiri! More shooty shooty!"

"All of you are hopeless..."

Eijiro chuckled out an apology that was accompanied by a lighter giggle also coming from his mic. "Think this is gonna be my last round for a bit, guys."

"You're so fuckin' whipped." Bakugo scoffed, before screaming profanities.

"Is it whipped if I'm the one who's wanting to get her into bed though?"

You clicked your mic back on then. "Hey, remember last week when Kats forgot his push to talk so we all heard him getting head and we party whipped because someone couldn't focus?"

"You better shut the hell up right fucking now!"

Everyone else roared with laughter. "Yeah! At least I have the decency to mute myself!"

"Hey, wait a sec, why are you online, Y/N!" Denki noted, "You should have already left!"

You screenshot your messages to the group chat because it was far easier than just explaining the ordeal.

"Cute shoes." Eijiro and Kyoka commented at the same time.

There was a lull as their game ended and the messages were read.

"Ya don't need 'em if they're gonna have their head so far up their ass like this."

"I agree." Hanta chimed in. "They're not worth your time."

"Still, sorry they turned out to be a shit." You could hear the frown on Kyoka's face, "I know how excited you were."

"Right, you doin' okay, Y/N? I can stick around and we can all shoot some things!"

"Thanks, Kiri but I'll be just fine! Go spend time with your girl!"

One by one, everyone signed off. You pulled up Spotify and Stardew Valley, something of a comfort for you to get lost in for the rest of the night.

Less than an hour later, you noticed your phone lighting up with your best friend's familiar smiling face. "What's up, Denki?"

"Open your door! I have my hands full and don't wanna put everything down to get my key!"

You sprang from your desk and rushed to your door. Sure enough, on the other side was Denki with bags in both hands and his phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. You grabbed it and a bag before he had a chance to drop anything like the klutz he was. "What's with all this?"

"I feel bad."

"Why? You didn't stand me up?"

He fiddled with the edge of a paper bag. "Yeah, but, we both read those messages and no one said anything but they didn't just call our group out, they called us out.

"Denks, it doesn't matter to me-"

"But, it does to me! You were so excited about this and I got in the way, unknowingly but, still! So, I gotta make it up to you now!"

He pulled out take-out boxes from your favorite restaurant. Two bottles of your favorite wine. Your top three favorite movies and video games, and a board game you both had been meaning to try. "I mean, if they think I'm your boyfriend I kinda gotta live up to the hype, right?"

You really wanted to insist that none of this was necessary. That just because some person that neither of you really knew that well, assumed something about your relationship that didn't mean he had to blame himself for it.

But, you had to admit, this was really sweet. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to you that he knew everything you liked but it was nice. Instead of sitting across from a stranger, making awkward small talk, and trying to learn about one another, you were barefoot in your kitchen, laughing with your best friend while he plated dinner and you poured the wine.

Formalities were out the window. Both you and Denki were eating dinner in your living room, laughing and drinking just as you'd done a million times before. You snapped a photo of the delicious food on paper plates, toasting good times with your cheap wine, ready to post them to your Instagram.

"Gonna make them more jealous..."

"I think they made it pretty clear they don't want to see me so why should I care?"

He shrugged. "I just thought they might, you know, come to their senses that they obviously lost."

"I don't really care either way." You wandered back into your kitchen, putting away the leftovers, "They can forget I exist or they can stalk my page like a creep. If someones' gonna try and tell me I can't be friends with my friends or just not listen to me, then I don't want them in my life. No matter how good-looking they are."

Denki watched you from the sofa, a bit of a lopsided grin on his face that had butterflies taking flight in your stomach. "What?" Laughing to hide the bit of a crush you always had on the man. It was unavoidable you told yourself. His personality was infectious and had 15 year old you head over heels.

He pushed back bright blonde hair back off his forehead and just shook his head. "Nothin'. Uh, what's next? Video game, board game, or movie?"

You peaked on the counter at the options. "Well, we probably should have checked this but the board game needs at least four people to play... guess we'll have to save that for our next game night. Is a movie okay?"

Of course, it was.

You brought over the DVD with a refill of wine and he pulled a blanket down off the back of your sofa.

It really didn't take long, just fifteen minutes or so, and you were curled up into Denki's side. You'd make grabby hands for your wine glass and he'd pass it over with that damn grin again.

And not long after that, he'd pulled out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the two of you. "What are you doing?" You could see him on his own Instagram, tagging you, with the caption, Check out my cute cuddle bug.

"I thought you didn't want to make them more jealous."

"I decided I don't care either. You're mine tonight, their loss. And since you're mine tonight, I get bragging rights." He snapped another quick picture of you rolling your eyes at him, and then he kept snapping them.

"Denki! Why!"

"Because you're cute, cuddle bug! I like having all the pictures of you that I can!"

Even as you tackled him back down on the sofa, pinning him below you, he still managed a photo. "Bet if I post this one, they'll really get the wrong idea."

You could have moved. You were the one on top of him and you had his arms above his head. You had the power here and yet you just lingered above him.

"Y/N? Not that I'm one to complain about having a beautiful person such as yourself pinning me down, like, it's kinda hot, but..." Looking down into half-lidded golden eyes, you wondered why you had to become best friends with such a damn flirt! "Are you gonna take advantage of this situation we're in or are we just gonna keep dancing around this for another decade or so?"

You couldn't have heard him right? No... no this was your brain playing tricks on you because he certainly hadn't had that much wine tonight. You sat upright on his lap. "Another decade then, Y/N?"

"You- ha- you should stop that, Denki."

He leaned up, moving his arms around you, "Gimme a good reason to and I will."

You didn't have one. And not just because you've been in love with him for ten years but also because he was your best friend. The only reason to not go through with it was the possibility of losing your friendship if something bad were to happen but, you really didn't think anything would.

Denki might have been a serial flirt but he was surprisingly loyal in all the relationships he'd been in, not that there had been all that many serious ones.

"I'm not hearing anything." He teased, his face getting closer to yours. You could count each and every one of the faint freckles that littered the balls of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. "But, I promise, if you tell me no, I'll stop, won't push this any further."

This whole thing seemed like a frickin' whirlwind, happening faster than your brain could really process the situation but you didn't want it to stop either. You wanted to take it further, didn't want to say no.

Which was why you coiled your arms around his neck and kissed him deeply. There was that small little buzz of electricity that tickled your lips when he'd kiss your nose or cheeks that was now playing on his lips, on his tongue when you welcomed him in.

He leaned back again, pulling you with him until you were both a pile of needy hands and breathy pleas. Everywhere his hands roamed you felt that faint trail of shock against your skin, making the little hairs on your body stand on end.

Clothes were shed, tossed haphazardly around your living room, both of you pausing to laugh when Denki managed to land your hoodie over a lamp. His attention was drawn back to you quickly though, still perched on top of him but now he had your chest on full display since you'd forgone a bra when your date canceled.

Electrifying tongue twirled around your nipples, sensitive normally, now it felt like you knew what it was like when he fried his damn brain. He was eager, relentless even, pulling and sucking, another hand giving your other breast a similar treatment. He had you so focused that you let out a broken moan when slender fingers found their way into your panties.

"Fuckin' hell, Denki."

The bastard winked up at you, nipple still between his lips and before you could retort, he sent another small jolt through you.

You were blatantly grinding down on his hand, reaching behind you, you found him completely solid, barely being contained in the tight black boxers he wore. You had enough sense to tug them down and wrap your hand around him making his teeth sink into your soft flesh, whining when you stroked him.

"Y/N..." He whimpered, his hand momentarily distracted from his ministrations gave you enough time to shift in his lap to scoot forward putting his cock in front of you. In one swift motion, you had his length between your slick. "Oh fuck, cutie!" Golden eyes were squeezed shut while you moved along him, feeling that pleasant curve he had, you could only imagine what it was gonna be like to have him inside you.

"You're being a little tease, ma-makes me wanna do all sorts of things to y-you."

He was kissing your neck, your chest, shoulders, and arms, anywhere on you that he could reach. His hips bucking up into you, just trying to hit that perfect angle.

Strength and agility were something most overlooked when it came to Denki Kaminari but when the man wanted something bad enough, he found a way to get it.

He had your ass rising up in the air with a harsh thrust of his hips and a small squeak from you, giving him exactly enough time to scoot down on the sofa so you were sat atop his face. If you complained, he didn't hear you. Denki already had your thighs around his head and his tongue devouring you completely.

Little shockwaves rocked you while you cried out his name, hands fisting blonde locks just trying to stay upright.

One orgasm from you apparently wasn't enough, neither was two but on the third, Denki finally relented, allowing your heartrate to come back down and your gasping breaths to come in more steadily.

You slid back down his body, his erection now smack against your ass. His hair was recked, face completely flush but he had the biggest grin on his face that you'd ever seen.

Denki kissed both your cheeks, "You are so amazing, cutie!" Kissed your lips, "You taste better than anything I've ever had!" And one more on the tip of your nose. "Doin' okay?"

You nodded, starting to really gather yourself again, and by this point, you really just wanted one thing.

"I wanna... Denks... can I take care of you now?"

"Sure, cutie! How do you want me?" The wiggling eyebrows had you rolling your eyes and pushing him on his back again.

It took little effort for you to position yourself above his cock, and with how slick you were, his bright pink head slipped right inside. He held your hands while you scrunched up your face, sliding all the way down him until he was completely sheathed within.

The curve was immaculate. Hitting in just the right way that had you moaning with just a couple thrusts from him. Before long, you were eagerly bouncing on his cock. Riding him hard so he filled you up each and every time.

You barely registered him reaching for the coffee table, his phone now in his hands. "What're you doin'?" You practically slurred, slowing only slightly. He tapped the camera lens with a wicked grin. "Seriously?"

"We could make 'em really jealous now..."

Somewhere in your brain, you knew your date wouldn't give two shits, in fact, this probably would have only validated their thoughts about your's and Denki's relationship but with his cock stuffed so deeply into you, kissing your cervix in the most beautiful way, you really didn't give a damn.

You and Denki put on the best possible show you could think of. You were overstimulated, sore, and completely elated! He balanced the phone against the wine bottle so neither of you had to try to hold it.

This way he could play with your breasts or squeeze your thighs while you dug half-moons into his chest. Shocked with the playful zaps he sent right to your core.

Your makeup you'd didn't feel like taking off now ran down your cheeks with tears. Your hair was a mess thanks to him pulling at it.

Denki had you howling through another two orgasms, telling you how perfect you were, how nice you felt squeezing him so tightly, your nails felt so good against his skin.

It was only when you collapsed against his chest did he hoist your hips up so he could ram into you, pulling out just at the last second with a strangled cry of your name.

He wiggled himself free, grabbing a towel from your bathroom and cleaning you both up before stopping the recording.

"You're, hey you're gonna send that to me right?" You asked when he handed back your hoodie off the lamp.

He dropped a kiss on your lips, plopping down beside you on the sofa again and you noticed your email already up and the video uploading. "Obviously, we share all our videos and photos. Why would this be different?"

[yesterdayiwrote]

Can we please talk about how cold Toto and the team have been cold towards George's results all season? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

So it’s really hard to balance my rational adult brain and my fangirl biased brain on this one.

I’ve said before but I think Toto is really bad at managing two drivers, and I think this permeates through the team.

Toto is ridiculously close to Lewis and as such the team has always (at least post Nico) revolved entirely around Lewis’ preferences and way of working. He’s their star draw and so their press/promo/social media focus is all on Lewis as you could fairly expect.

But this is the first time in 6 years that Lewis has not been their lead driver on points and I think they’ve found themselves completely caught short on how to handle it. I think they’re conscious of the negativity Lewis has received, and often in their haste to appear consolatory to him, they’ve concurrently been indifferent towards George’s good results and that’s not fair to him.

A podium is a podium and it feels like they only want to celebrate the ones they deem “worthy” and so far that’s been all of Lewis’ bar Bahrain and none of George’s. They’re playing into this narrative that Lewis’ have been earned and George’s have been inherited and I don’t like that at all. If we’re honest, ALL the Merc podiums have come when 2 of the RB/Ferrari drivers have been caught out with issues. Even Silverstone where the pace was better would have been a P4 if Ferrari didn’t fuck up Leclerc’s strategy. So where do you draw the line? Just celebrate all the podiums, I wish Merc didn’t act like P3 is beneath them. In last years car maybe but in this year’s it’s a great result.

I think as soon as Lewis goes, Toto will go, I’ve felt that for a while, but Toto barely seems to acknowledge George at all which is just odd. He’s driving really well, and he’s been there to capitalise on mistakes. Considering the car he’s been given he’s pretty much got his head down and got on with it, and seeing it go by with vague indifference from his team is heartbreaking. I think we saw more Toto/George stuff when George was driving for Williams?!

I don’t know, we’ll never fully see everything going on so we can only speculate, maybe we’re all putting two and two together and getting 10. I guess we all had unrealistic expectations that Merc would be a bit more…nurturing giving George’s history with them?

[ramenoff]

• 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩 •

Synopsis: Bucky would literally die for you but his ego is bigger than his dick and you wanna shove him out a window. 

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x AFAB!reader (college au)

Warnings: uH enemies to lovers, no explicit smut (brief, inexplicit mentions), PINING OH MY GOD, unrequited love (on Bucky’s part), language, some specific traits for reader mentioned (nothing like skin, hair or eye colour, more just clothing style and no makeup), Bucky is an idiot lmao.

(1.3k words)

You’re staring at your board like you’ve got a bone to pick with it, determination evident in your brow and a scraped knee to match it. 

Should’ve bought those knee pads. 

You huff out a sigh and push off on your board once more before dipping back down into the bowl and rounding the circumference to get yourself comfortable. Your foot meets the ground to spur on your momentum- it’s a simple trick, and you’ve only been skating for around two weeks at this point but you’ve spent all afternoon trying to nail this move and you refuse to return to your dorm with defeat written all over you. 

You direct yourself to round another lap before allowing the board to take its course up the side of the bowl. You meet the edge and you use the momentum in your hips to let yourself rise up in the air and- holy shit, you’re almost doing it! 

As you meet the edge your body swivels, right hand gripping the board to your feet as your left-

Well, your left hand was supposed to catch you. 

Before you can calculate that the distance was misjudged, you're tumbling down the side of the bowl and biting the pavement. 

“Take it easy there, champ.” 

You’re so ready to castrate him. 

“Eat glass,” you snap, dusting off your cargo shorts and examining your twin wounds on your knees. 

You’ve never understood just what makes James Buchanan Barnes so great. It's clear that he’s a class A douchebag with his stupid blue eyes and ridiculous hair that falls perfectly in place no matter how hungover and disgusting he was. He swears he’s got a big dick but he’s proven that his ego has the advantage, even girls on campus swap stories about one night stands and seven minutes of god knows what when stuffed into a closet together on a dare. Maybe you’re jealous that it isn’t you, or maybe you’re just tired of the pick-me-girl shit that goes on simply for a college fuckboy with precisely two and a half brain cells who has somehow Pavolov’d a swath of young girls to be at his beck and call when he wants a blowjob. Either way, the rest of campus thinks that Bucky is just peachy while you can beg to differ. 

The best part? He wants you bad. 

Your bruised skin and scruffy attitude is refreshing, he’s decided. Not once has he been so threatened by a look but he’d be damned if he didn’t imagine those harsh features softening at his touch. He doesn’t care if it’s behind closed doors, where your back arches and your eyes roll, pleads and prayers dripping off your lips like honey as he plays your body like a finely tuned instrument. Nor if it’s out where everyone can see, a brush at the small of your back, just so you know he’s there. If he could just tuck away that flyaway strand of hair that always hangs in front of your eyes he’d die happy. If he’s lucky he might cup your cheeks and trace your lips with his thumb, trying to memorize the touch in case his body forgets. 

He thinks, if he could have you, that his body would never truly forget it. You’re too extraordinary. You’re extraterrestrial. He swears your beauty is so alien but also earthly and real, unlike anything else he’s ever seen. If God exists, he made the cosmos revolve around you. Bucky sometimes scrunches his nose and grimaces at how cheesy it sounds but he solidly believes that God took inspiration from your eyes and created stars. Your hair is the waterfalls of the world, the clouds in the sky and the leaves on the trees all at once. Your skin is the earth, lush and rich, but blemished from your pursuits. When your eyes narrow and your brow sets, so does the sun. When you breathe the wind wraps him in chilled kisses. He’d like to create a hurricane with you. 

He’s bad at showing it, but he’d give you everything. He’s made fun of you and taunted you out of his own insecurity, but only because he just knows he’d love you better than anyone else. When he teases you about your baggy, ripped clothes it’s because he wishes he could worship the prize that lies beneath them. When he points out your circled eyes and offers to take you makeup shopping it’s because he wants to kiss those dark crescent moons and adore them like the rest of you. He finds any opportunity to poke at your scars and scabs because he yearns to place a band-aid on them and kiss them. 

Champ? He calls you that for two reasons. 

1. He can’t get enough of that face you make when he does. Never has he wanted to drop to his knees to beg and throw you over his shoulder and feel you squirm at the same time. You look like you could commit all sorts of creative crimes when you look at him like that and it makes his heart swell morbidly. 

2. You are a champion- his champion. He wants so desperately to be proud of you, to watch you with adoring eyes and his face in his palms as you put everything surrounding you to shame. Roses? They pale in comparison to your skin’s natural glow. The jaws of death? They snap shut and whimper when you walk- no, skate- by. 

Bucky wants you more than he has ever wanted anything in his life- come to think of it, he hasn’t ever really wanted much in life. He just grazed the median to get into college by a longshot, never exactly cared for a job or any of the girls he dated in the past. Steve and Sam, while being his best friends, Bucky knows they won’t put up with his absolute dogshit behavior forever. But you? He’d change for you. He’d cut his hair or wear a clown suit if you really wanted him to, he would do anything if it meant making that tight line of concentration and grit that is your mouth curve up into a smile. 

What does he do instead? 

“You’re pretty shit at this,” he readjusts his ball cap as he peers down the bowl at you. 

You glare up at him. Your eyes are a myriad of labyrinths. He’s sure he’ll never find his way out of them but you break the gaze and kick up your board. 

“Not as shit as you in bed,” You quip, taking a run up the side of the bowl and making it up this time without trouble. 

Please, just let him hold you.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out.”

Even just for a minute.

“I’d like to keep my pink palace untainted, thank you.” 

You can count if you really can’t stand it. 

“Pink palace? You mean crackhouse.”

Just let him be selfish. He doesn’t deserve it, but hell does he want you. 

“And your junk is close to godliness?” you snort. 

You’re now nearly nose-to-nose. He can smell you- warm vanilla and sandalwood rolling off your body like waves of rugged sweetness and the sharp bite of spearmint gum on your breath. He could kiss you. He could just take you by the back of the neck and finally get that clash of lips, teeth and tongue that have haunted his dreams at night. Or he could guide your chin to his lips with the tips of his fingers, letting anticipation build with the riot of butterflies in his stomach. 

But no. 

“Maybe you’ll get that trick next time, champ,” Bucky claps a hand on your shoulder and is on his way with his heart sinking in his chest.

[triptuckers]

Sunshine - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: yea! “Can you make a Nikolai Lantsov x Reader where the reader has been with the Crows for a year, so when she sees him again, he recognizes her immediately and vice versa.” Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary:  Someone looks very familiar, and you can’t wrap your head around it Warnings: crooked kingdom spoilers!! Word count:  1.6K A/N: hi! there’s (slight) crooked kingdom spoilers in this one, so don’t read it if you don’t want any spoilers for the book! thanks for requesting this, enjoy reading!

‘The Ravkan king is sending a pirate to go to the auction.’ says Kaz, making you look up in confusion as you’re walking through the halls of the fancy hotel. You are on your way to meet with the Ravkans, but you didn’t know the king would send a pirate to go to the auction. 

‘He’s sending a pirate?’ you question. ‘To represent his country?’ ‘He prefers the term ‘privateer’.’ says Kaz, slightly clenching his jaw. ‘Probably because it helps him sleep better at night.’ chuckles Jesper beside you. 

You roll your eyes, but chuckle as well. ‘Would it make you feel better if I called you a distance expert, instead of a good shot?’ you say.

‘Oh no, I’m good with flattering, you don’t have to use fancy words for that.’ says Jesper, making you laugh again. 

‘Keep it professional, you two.’ says Kaz as you’re approaching the double doors at the end of the hallway.

‘Why?’ you say. ‘You’re intimidating enough for the three of us. Jesper and I can just be your bright side, you know, bring a little sunshine.’

‘We don’t need sunshine.’ says Kaz. ‘We need to bring Van Eck and Rollins down.’

You sigh as you follow Kaz through the doors. ‘Never a bright side with you, is there?’ you say. 

Once you enter the room, you immediately look at the three people waiting for you. As you walk up to them, you take all of them in. 

On the left is a stunningly gorgeous girl. It’s hard to keep your eyes off of her. She has her arms crossed and looks very sternly at Kaz, Jesper and you as you approach them. You can tell she’d much rather be in Ravka if it was up to her. You weren’t familiar with most grisha’s, but you’re sure Nina would know her. 

On the right is a grisha you do recognise. But only because of the eye patch and scars. Genya Safin. Despite her scars, you can see her beauty. She looks a lot nicer than the other girl. 

Between them in the middle is a boy, not much older than you are, who you assume must be the pirate. Despite being flanked by two powerful Grisha, he’s the one that catches your attention. 

He doesn’t look like a pirate. At least, not like the one’s you’ve met. He’s holding his chin up high and standing up straight, not exactly like a criminal would. He smiles as you approach him and there’s something familiar about him you can’t place.

‘We’re glad you’re here.’ says Kaz, as the three of you stop in front of them.

‘We’re here on business.’ says the grisha on the left. ‘Zoya.’ says the pirate. ‘Be nice.’ But she only scoffs and rolls her eyes at him. Clearly, she didn’t want to be in a city like Ketterdam. 

‘Well, this is Zoya.’ says the pirate, motioning to the girl. ‘And this is Genya.’ he says, gesturing to the other girl. ‘And I’m Sturmhond.’ 

‘I’ve heard that name before.’ says Jesper. ‘Only the good things, I hope.’ says Sturmhond.

‘This is Jesper.’ says Kaz. ‘That’s Y/N.’ 

Jesper nods at the Ravkans, but you narrow your eyes at Sturmhond. Sturmhond looks at you, waiting for you to say something, but you merely continue to look at him, slightly narrowing your eyes.

‘Why is she looking at me like that?’ he asks. 

You don’t say anything, but notice Jesper moving closer to you.

‘Scheming face.’ he says, studying your features. ‘Her brain’s running at top speed right now. Best not to ask anything ‘til she speaks up herself.’

Kaz and Sturmhond start talking business, and you take Sturmhond in once more. There’s something so familiar about him, and you’re going through all the memories you made in Ravka, trying to determine where you could have met him before. 

Some time later, Sturmhond turns to you again.

‘I know I’m nice to look at, but you’re over selling it a bit, sunshine.’ he says.

Sunshine.

Suddenly, memories of a summer night flood back to you. It was before you came to Ketterdam, when you were in Ravka. You did all sorts of jobs, because you had certain skills not a lot of Ravkans had. On one night, you had a run in with a few soldiers. 

You thought you were done for, but they’d won an important battle that had lasted days, and weren’t in the mood for more fighting. They shared their food and kvas with you, and told you stories. You didn’t want to tell them your name, so one of the soldiers had decided to call you sunshine instead.

He had told you his name was Nikolai, and when you asked him about his family name and he said it was Lantsov, you didn’t believe him. What were the odds you ran into one of the Ravkan princes in the middle of nowhere? 

Maybe he had spoken the truth after all. 

You smile at Sturmhond and finally speak up. ‘You don’t look like a pirate.’ you say. ‘Privateer.’ he corrects you. ‘Pirate, privateer, all the same. You don’t look like one. You don’t talk like one either. Or act or stand like one.’ you say.  ‘Then what do I look like?’ he asks you. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you look at him. ‘A royal.’ you say. ‘Why would the Ravkan king send a pirate to such an important auction? If I was king, I’d want to know what was going on. I’d go myself. And have one of the best Tailors in the country help me with my disguise. Turn myself into a pirate named Sturmhond.’ 

‘That’s an interesting theory.’ he says. ‘Are you implying I’m king Nikolai? It’s a good one, but not the right one, I'm afraid.’

You nod at him but aren’t convinced. Next to you, Kaz pulls his watch out of his pocket, and tells you you need to go. The six of you walk toward the door, you and Sturmhond trailing at the end of the group. Just as you’re about to walk through the doors, he stops you and closes them, leaving the two of you alone. 

‘You’re smart.’ he says and you smile at him. ‘I never thought I’d see you again.’ ‘So I’m right?’ you say, very pleased with yourself. ‘Maybe.’ he says. ‘Maybe?’ you say, laughing softly. ‘It’s good to see you, Nikolai.’

‘It’s good to see you too.’ he says. ‘You know, when we met and you told me your family name was Lantsov, I didn’t believe you.’ you say. ‘I wouldn't have believed me either.’ he says. ‘Some soldier claiming they’re a Lantsov? I’d think it was a bad move to try and impress a pretty girl.’

‘Ah.’ you say. ‘So you think I'm pretty now?’ ‘I thought you looked absolutely gorgeous when I first met you. Even in that ridiculous coat that you wore to hide your revolvers.’ says Nikolai.

‘Why come to Ketterdam as Sturmhond?’ you ask. ‘I’ve always been Sturmhond.’ he says. ‘Everything you’ve heard about him, that’s me. I sailed the seas when my parents thought I was at a university.’

You’re silent as you look at him. Genya had done a good job tailoring him. If you hadn’t spend an entire night talking to him, you wouldn’t be able to tell it was actually the Ravkan king, and not some pirate. But you had studied his face that night, and it had been imprinted in your memory ever since.

‘What’s on your mind?’ asks Nikolai.

‘Genya did a good job.’ you say, moving closer to him and taking in the details of his face. ‘I like your own eye color and nose better though.’ you say, making him smile.

‘Do you like it here?’ he asks. ‘In Ketterdam?’ you say and he nods. ‘I do.’ you say. ‘It’s messy, and you need to have some kind of weapon on you every time you’re out on the streets, but believe it or not, it feels like home. I can be myself and use my skills without a civil war or soldiers bothering me.’

‘Don’t they have Stadwatch here?’ questions Nikolai, and you laugh. ‘They’re here, yes. But they don’t do much. All it takes is a little kruge and they look the other way. Plus, in the Barrel the gangs have territories, the Stadwatch doesn’t decide how we handle things down here.’ you say.

‘If you ever get tired of this life, Os Alta is very nice.’ he says.  ‘Is the king of Ravka asking me to come to the palace with him?’ you ask teasingly. ‘No.’ he says. ‘Nikolai is asking if you want to come to the palace with him.’

You smile at him. ‘I have to admit, it does sound nice. But I’ve found my place here with the Dregs. Kaz, Jesper, they may not look like much to you, but I trust them with my life, they’re my family.’ you say. 

Nikolai nods, taking a step back and away from you. ‘I understand.’ he says. ‘Forget I asked anything.’

‘I wasn’t finished yet.’ you say. You step closer to him and look up at him. ‘Ketterdam is now my home, but I wouldn’t say no to the occasional visit to Os Alta.’

Nikolai’s face lights up upon hearing your words and he starts grinning like an idiot. ‘I’ll make sure there’s a bottle of kvas waiting for you on your first visit. Along with a gorgeous hazel-eyed, blonde king.’ he says. 

You raise a hand and run it through his hair, which Genya had tailored to be a shade of red instead of the golden blonde you remember. ‘I prefer you as a blonde.’ you murmur softly. 

‘Next time you’ll see me, I’ll be blonde.’ he says.  ‘Next time I see you?’ you say. ‘Promise.’ says Nikolai.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit