#gonna toss this into the ether in like an hour or two give or take

[anto-pops]

Anyone order love confessions and first time smut ?? No ????

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ Hongjoong: Tame (Part 3)

Genre: Fluff, angst, smut, mafia au.

Pairing: Mafia!Hongjoong x OC (written in 2nd person)

Word Count: 17k in total, 5k in this part. (Part 1, Part 2, Final Part)

Warnings for all parts combined: Mafia themes such as torture, abuse, violence, human auctions, murder, drugs, guns. Mentions of rape, human trafficking, sex slavery, organ trafficking, unprotected sex, pulling out, facesitting.

Three weeks later, you could pretty much call yourself a member of a mafia gang. Well, that's what you were now even if you were in slight denial.

You spent a lot of time with Ateez. Hongjoong taught you how to shoot like a pro, Jongho taught you how to defend yourself if you don't have a weapon, and Yeosang and Seonghwa taught you medical related stuff such as removing a bullet from a body and treating a gunshot wound. Yeosang also taught you the basics of hacking, but you sucked at it. San, Wooyoung, and Aeji taught you how to seduce a target, and you nearly died of embarrassment when you had to practice with Wooyoung as the target. Jiwoo pretty much gave you some of her bubbliness while she and Yeoreum taught you a bit about illegal international business deals. The three girls also told you a hell lot about their sex lives when you all had a girls' night a few days ago. On the other hand, Yunho and Mingi were just playing 'tossing Kiah' (as they call it), which was literally just them throwing and catching you like as if you were a ball. The giants found it extremely fascinating that you were an entire foot shorter than them. Sometimes, they would use the top of your head as an armrest.

Hongjoong bought you a phone, but unfortunately, you couldn't log into any of your social media accounts, or even your email as your cousin and uncle were searching for you and the culprits who made your cousin unconscious the night he was going to sell you.

"Kiah, do want some orange juice?" Mingi asked you from the kitchen while he poured himself a glass. You nod your head and he poured some for you too. Yeosang was there as well, busy eating fried chicken.

"Hey, Kiah?" Mingi called out, making you look up at him. "You never really told us about your parents." He handed you your juice.

"My mother died when I was a newborn," you replied, sipping on your juice. "My father... well, I rarely saw him after he made me live with my uncle. Now no one has seen him in months." Both the boys noticed how sad you were when you spoke about your father. You really wanted to see him; you didn't even know whether he was dead or alive.

"What's your father's name and age?" Yeosang questioned. "I could track him or at least find out if he's all right."

"Moon Dongwoo and he's 49 years old," you answered with a small smile. "Thank you, Yeosang." 

~

After about three hours, Yeosang approached you while you were talking to Aeji and some of the boys. He sat on the couch adjacent to you after briefly greeting everyone.

"So I tried to track your father, Kiah," Yeosang stated nonchalantly. "And I found absolutely nothing."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"There are zero records of him," Yeosang explained, "Like no bank or property details… To put it in simple words, it's like as if he doesn't exist."

You frowned. "So he's… d-dead?"

"Don't know," Yeosang shrugged. "There are no death records either. There were a couple of men with the same name as him, but no one was 49 years old."

You pondered about it for a while. Why would your dad erase all traces of his existence? Even if he didn't, someone else did. But why?

"Wait," you blurted out. "Did you check with the police station? My dad is a cop."

San, who was listening to the conversation, nearly chokes on the sprite that he was drinking. "Your dad is a cop and you're here, living in a mafia gang's house?!"

"I know right?!" Yunho said from beside him and you only shrug in response.

"I checked the police station as well," Yeosang remarked. "Still no records."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "That's just strange. He's a cop, there has to be at least something about him at the police station."

"Hey, don't worry about it, Kiah," Yeosang said in a soft tone, giving you a reassuring smile. "We'll find him."

-

The next day after you woke up, you found everyone seated in the living room, lost in deep thought. You quietly sat beside Jiwoo, wondering whether you should ask why everyone is so quiet.

"That's not a bad idea, actually," Wooyoung said after glancing at you while you stared at him in confusion. What idea was he talking about?

"Yeah, it's a terrible idea," Hongjoong retorted, glancing at you as well.

"Kiah," Mingi starts, grabbing your attention. "What do you think about attending a masquerade party?"

"You mean a mafia masquerade party?" you emphasized.  

"Of course," he replied.

"Ah, it's cool, I guess?" you said nonchalantly; you were getting used to the mafia life, and you'd be lying if you said that you didn't like it.

"It's settled then," San stated, getting up from the couch and stretching his arms. "Kiah is Hongjoong's date for the party."

"Knew it," Jongho murmured.

"No," Hongjoong protested. "A lot of people saw her face at the auction. It's a terrible idea."

"Well, it's a masquerade party hosted by our ally," Seonghwa remarked. "No one will try shit even if they recognize her."

"Plus, we're all going to be there. We can't leave Kiah alone here," Yeoreum added and Jiwoo nodded her head in agreement.

Hongjoong sighed. "Fine."

~

"You look gorgeous, Kiah!" Aeji squealed after doing your makeup. Yeoreum just finished doing Jiwoo's hair and started doing your hair.

"Hongjoong won't be able to keep his hands to himself," Yeoreum remarked with a smirk, making you blush.

"I'm surprised he hasn't made a move yet," Aeji said.

"We all know he wants to," Jiwoo mumbled while taking a mirror selfie.

You chuckled. "Nothing has happened yet."

"Yet?" Yeoreum teased you, curling a strand of your hair with the curling iron. "So you want something to happen, huh?"

“I—”

"You obviously do."

You playfully rolled your eyes at her. "Don't accidentally burn my hair, Yeoreum!" The girls laughed at the sight of you getting flustered 

"Kiah, what are you planning on wearing?" Aeji asked.

"The black cocktail dress."

"No, you're not wearing that," she protests. "Wear the red dress Jiwoo got you last week."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You'll see," she smirked.

~

After all of you got ready and slipped into your respective outfits, you went downstairs where the boys were waiting.

As soon as Hongjoong saw you, his lips parted slightly as he scanned you from head to toe. You were wearing a short, strapless red dress that fit your body perfectly, hugging your curves and exposing your highlighted collarbones. You wore silver wedges that matched the silver necklace around your neck. Your long hair was curled and your makeup was simple yet elegant.

"Hongjoong's favorite color is red, by the way. Thank me later," Aeji whispered to you, giving you a wink before she ran into Seonghwa's arms. So that's why she forced you to wear a red dress. You snorted at Aeji's words before your eyes landed on Hongjoong. He looked absolutely ethereal in his black ripped jeans and white t-shirt underneath the leather jacket he was wearing. You expected to see the guys in suits, considering it was a masquerade event, but it looked like you all were going to a club instead. Oh well, maybe this is how the mafia rolls.

You heard someone clear their throat. "Um, if you're both done eye-fucking each other, can we leave? We're getting late," San commented and Jiwoo laughed loudly at her boyfriend's words. The other eight already left and you wondered how you didn't even notice.

Hongjoong doesn't utter a word; he only approaches you and takes your hand in his, leading you to the garage. You, Hongjoong, Jiwoo, and San were riding in the same car.

San begun driving and the car was filled with Jiwoo gushing about how she loved going for Stray Kids' parties. San told you about how Wooyoung introduced Ateez to his friend, Changbin, and that's how Ateez met the rest of Stray Kids.

After a while, you reached Stray Kids' mansion. The exterior was lit up with blue and yellow lights.

Jiwoo handed you a pretty silver eye-mask and you put it on; Hongjoong wore a red mask, Jiwoo wore black, and San wore gold.

"Alright, let's party!" Jiwoo squealed, pulling San along with her, practically running inside.

Hongjoong wrapped an arm around your waist as he led you inside Stray Kids' mansion, scanning the crowd to see if he could find any of his allies.

"Ah, Hongjoong!" you heard someone say, catching your attention. Hongjoong's arm leaves your waist to hug that person.

"Chan! It's been so long, yeah?"

"Very," he agreed before glancing at you. "I see you've got yourself a girl."

Hongjoong chuckled. "This is Moon Kiah. Kiah, this is Bang Chan, the leader of Stray Kids." Chan stretched his hand out and you shake it.

While Hongjoong spoke to Chan, Jiwoo dragged you away to get a drink. You wondered how hyper she would be when drunk, considering the fact that she was already pretty hyper when sober.

Jiwoo got a couple of tequila shots and you only downed three.  "Only three?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you answered with a small giggle. "I have very bad alcohol tolerance."

Jiwoo took her own shots before Wooyoung dragged the two of you to introduce you to the other members of Stray Kids. You were seriously shocked by how young and polite these men were, despite being in the mafia.

"So whose girl is she gonna be now?" Changbin asked.  

"She's Hongjoong's girl," Wooyoung answered, and you giggle at that, already a little drunk.

"Mhmm, yeah, I'm Hongjoong's girl, hi!" you squealed before realizing that Jiwoo suddenly wasn't there anymore. "Where's Jiwoo?" you pouted  

"Probably would've found someone to talk to or she's in some room with San," Wooyoung replied. "Anyway, let's get you to Hongjoong, little one."

"I'm here," you heard a familiar voice say behind you, making you jump a little before you turned around. "Kim Hongjoong, you…” you trailed off, admiring his face even though half of it was covered with the mask. "You're so fucking hot, like what the actual fuck?!"  Wooyoung and Changbin laughed loudly before they walked away, leaving you alone with a slightly stunned Hongjoong.

"How much did you drink, hmm?" Hongjoong asked, looking down at you with soft eyes. You gave him a loving smile while your arms moved to wrap around his neck.

"Three tequila," you mumbled before you suddenly squealed. The DJ started playing one of your favorite songs. "Dance with me," you whispered in Hongjoong's ear, pulling his body closer to yours.

Hongjoong danced with you for a little while, holding you close to his body so that you wouldn't trip and fall in your 5-inch heels. After the song ended, he pulled you to a less crowded area to sit on the sofas. Your heartbeat sped up when Hongjoong made you sit on his lap instead of the free space beside him. You wrapped an arm around his neck while your other hand ran through his soft hair.

"What's wrong with that guy?" you whispered in Hongjoong's ear, glancing at a green-masked guy who was sitting near you, all alone on the floor, staring at the ceiling with a huge smile.

"Probably took LSD," Hongjoong remarked after taking a quick glance at the man.

"Oh," you murmured. "He's a really bad boy. You shouldn't take drugs. Okay, pretty boy?" Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused by the tipsy side of you. He chuckled prettily in your ear, pulling you even closer to him.

"I don't do drugs, love." He places his cold hand on the skin right above your knee. "I'm a good boy," he whispered in a low tone. Hongjoong could clearly see how much he affected you.

"Liar," you whispered in his ear. You place a kiss right below his ear before trailing kisses along his jawline. You stopped at his chin and pulled away. When his eyes met yours, you leaned in, finally pressing your lips against his. He responded immediately, kissing you back like as if there was no tomorrow. You've never been kissed with such intensity before.  Hongjoong's hand that was just above your knee, began to move upwards. You weren't drunk, just tipsy, so you knew what was happening; you were starting to feel really excited as his hand went higher and higher.

You heard someone clear their throat. "Kim Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong halted his actions and pulled away from you to look up at the woman who interrupted him. She had orange colored hair and was wearing a dark blue eye mask.

"Oh? Royeon?" he got up from his seat, making you stand up along with him. He sounded a little excited, and that made you feel a little jealous. Who was she?

Royeon smirked. "New girl, huh?"

Hongjoong ignored her comment. "Kiah, this is my friend, Royeon."

She snorted. "Friend? I'm quite offended by that title, Joongie." she pouts a little before turning to you. "I'm his first love."

You kept a pokerface on. "That's nice. It’s a pleasure to meet you," you said nonchalantly, trying not to sound bothered about the fact that Hongjoong's first love was standing right in front of your face. She was giving you a bad vibe and you absolutely hated how she was undressing Hongjoong with her eyes. You couldn't deny that you had strong feelings for Kim Hongjoong and you were planning on telling him pretty soon.

You turned to Hongjoong with a small smile on your face. "I'm gonna go get a drink," you said, purposely giving him a kiss that lasted a little longer than it should before you left him alone with his previous lover.

You didn't get a drink. Instead, you went outside, exploring the lit up garden in Stray Kids' mansion. The mansion was a little smaller than Ateez's mansion, but was extremely beautiful nonetheless.

You walked to one of the trees that was lit up with blue lights, taking out your phone to take a few pictures of yourself.

"So Yang Daeyoung hasn't been spotted anywhere?" you heard someone say.

"No," another person replied. "He probably escaped to another country or died.”

"What about his child?" the first person asked.

"No one knows what he or she looks like. Anyway, we have to find Yang Daeyoung and his child before another gang does. I heard many gangs are still searching for him… especially Ateez and CIX. We need to get all that information before them."

You were suddenly really interested in whatever the two people were talking about. You mentally reminded yourself to ask one of the Ateez members about this Yang Daeyoung guy later.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone here?" you heard someone say behind you, words slurred.

You turned to face the man who was in a green eye-mask. "Taking pictures as you can clearly see," you answered the clearly drunk man.

He smirked. "I'm Jinseop," he introduced. "And your attitude is really fucking turning me on, babygirl."

"I didn't ask," you stated, rolling your eyes.

He took a step towards you and you didn't move an inch. "You know," he starts, placing a hand on your shoulder while he towered over you. "I heard Stray Kids have a few spare rooms here. How about we go upstairs and—"

"Get your fucking hands off her."

Jinseop rolled his eyes, not even glancing at the person.

"Now," the person growled. He froze when he finally realized who was talking to him.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized and quickly walked away, leaving you quite stunned.

"Wow, Kim Hongjoong," you remark in amusement after a few seconds. "You scared someone."

Hongjoong doesn't say anything. He only walked towards you, and you involuntarily took a step back, making your back press against the cold surface of a wall. Hongjoong towered over your short height and you could tell he loved how small you looked next to him.

He cupped your cheek with one hand and places his lips against yours, gently kissing you before trailing kisses down to your neck. Your hands immediately went up to grab his hair while he started to suck and kiss the skin of your neck, making you moan softly. He smirked against your skin, absolutely loving how he was the one who was making you feel good. He brought his lips back to yours, kissing you a little harder than before while his hands moved down to your ass, grabbing it through the fabric of your dress. You gasped at his actions and he takes that opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth. He pulled away after a few seconds.

"You're all mine, Moon Kiah."

-

Hongjoong led you back inside and you immediately spot his ex-girlfriend who was trying to hit on an unbothered Yunho.

"Yunho," Hongjoong called out and the man looked at him. Royeon's attention was also now on the two of you. "Where are the rest? We have to leave soon."

"I have no clue," Yunho answered.  "Yeoreum just took Mingi to the bathroom. The man drank way too much."

You noticed Royeon glaring at you, her eyes flickering between your neck and Hongjoong's messed up hair; you realized that he probably left a nice mark on your neck. You smirked, loving her annoyed reaction. You wrapped your arms around Hongjoong's waist and he smiled at you, draping an arm around your shoulders. Yunho controlled the urge to laugh once he realized what you just did.

Royeon cleared her throat. "So Hongjoong, did you get any news on Yang Daeyoung?" You felt Hongjoong stiffen a little.

"No," Hongjoong simply replied.

She chuckled. "Oh well. That must really suck for you since all... that happened, huh?" You could tell Hongjoong was going to lose his temper. You were extremely curious about this person, considering the fact that you've heard about him twice in less than an hour. "I bet you're dying to capture him. You would've planned so much to—"

"That's none of your business, Royeon," Yunho stated in a cold tone, cutting her off.

She raised her hands up defensively. "What I'm trying to say is I'd like to help."

"We don't need your help," Hongjoong spat through gritted teeth and Royeon was taken aback. You wondered why she looked shocked; was Hongjoong a complete sweetheart to her or something when they were together?

She cleared her throat, clearly offended. "Alright… come over to my place whenever you want me, Hongjoong," she said with a smirk before she walked away. You scoffed at her words and tightened your hold around Hongjoong who was quite amused by your reaction.

He put a finger under your chin to make you look up at him. "Maybe I should take up her offer, hmm?"

You scowled. "Don't even think about it, Kim Hongjoong. You're mine."

"Say that again, baby."

"You're mine."

Hongjoong crashed his lips onto yours and you kiss him back immediately, loving the feeling of his soft lips moving with yours.

"Oh, they're finally doing something," you heard Jongho say.

"Yeah, I was so tired of hearing Hongjoong whine everyday about how badly he wanted to kiss her," Seonghwa remarked, and you smile against Hongjoong's lips. You pulled away from the kiss, smiling widely at a blushing Hongjoong.

You turned your head to look at Seonghwa. "He was whining about that?" you asked in amusement.

"Oh, yeah, all the time," he answered with a chuckle.

A drunk Wooyoung laughed loudly. "That's not all! Hyung was also complaining about how Hongjoong junior was aching for—" Hongjoong smacked his palm over Wooyoung's mouth, stopping him from exposing him.

"Hey, let him complete," you stated, amused by the whole situation. Hongjoong shook his head in disagreement.

"We have to leave," Hongjoong changed the topic. "Yunho, go get Mingi and Yeoreum. Seonghwa, call San and Yeosang."

"Yeosang's getting some upstairs after so long," Yunho revealed. "He'll be shit pissed if you guys interrupt him."

Wooyoung chuckled. "After so long? He got pussy last week! And he's with the same blonde chick upstairs."

"No wonder he was the most excited to come here," Jongho mumbled.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "Well, I want to leave now. Anyone else wants to come?"

"Hyung, you and Aeji can go," Yunho said to Seonghwa. "Aeji's really tired. I'll come with the rest."

Seonghwa nodded and the four of you leave first, walking to one of three cars. Seonghwa had to drive after losing a game of rock-paper-scissors to Hongjoong.

After he began driving, you wanted to ask who this Yang Daeyoung guy was, but you thought now didn't seem like an appropriate time; you didn't want to interrupt the peaceful silence in the car.

You were feeling quite drained out, so you rested your head on Hongjoong's shoulder, trying your best to not fall asleep.

“Sleep, Kiah,” he mumbled, bringing your body closer to his. “I’ll wake you up when we reach,” he said, although he had no plans of doing that.

“Okay…” you closed your eyes, sleep taking over your body within a few minutes.

Hongjoong placed a soft kiss on your head. “I love you…”

5 months later.

As soon as Hongjoong came back home from his mission and stepped into your bedroom, you ran into his arms. “I missed you so much!” you mumbled against your boyfriend’s chest while he embraced you.

You started dating Hongjoong around three months ago when he finally got the courage to confess that he fell in love with you. To his relief, you were just as head over heels in love with him. The boys sometimes refer to you as ‘the one who tamed his temper’ as Hongjoong didn’t get annoyed very often anymore. You had also grown used to the mafia life, and you often found yourself enjoying it more than you should. You knew almost everything about the boys and the world you were now a part of. They even let you go on missions, sometimes letting you go solo. Hongjoong was always a little hesitant as he was scared something would happen to you, but he was getting used to it.

“I was only gone for a week, love,” Hongjoong chuckled and you sighed.

“It felt like years.” You pulled away from his chest to look at him. You pecked his lips before moving to sit on your bed, your boyfriend mirroring your actions.

“I got you a lot of chocolates,” he said, reaching out to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. “I’ve kept them in the fridge.”

You smiled, lying down while you played with Hongjoong’s hand. “It’ll get over in two days,” you stated, knowing the boys would finish it before you could even grab a piece.

“Then I’ll go back and get you more.”

“I’d rather you stay here with me,” you mumbled, arms reaching out to hug your boyfriend. Hongjoong settled in your embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Your hand moved to his hair, playing with his strands. Hongjoong couldn’t help but place a kiss on your sensitive neck, causing a chill to run down your spine. He began placing more kisses on your neck, smirking when he felt you grab a fistful of his hair. He trailed kisses from your neck to your jaw and finally to your lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, moving to hover above you. Cupping your cheek, Hongjoong gazed at you with nothing but love and adoration, making your heart race.

You grinned at his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you too.” You pulled him into a kiss which he eagerly responded to. Lips moving with yours, Hongjoong took your bottom lip between his teeth, gently sucking on it before licking your lip as a way of asking for permission. You parted your lips wider, letting him slide his tongue inside your mouth. Your tongues danced in a slow rhythm while Hongjoong rolled his hips against yours, making you moan. You gently pushed him away, making him look at you with a worried gaze, thinking he went too far. But you pushed him further, making him lie down on his back before you straddled his hips. Your hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor. Hongjoong’s eyes moved to your bra clad chest. You reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

“Can I touch you?” he asked. You took his hands, placing them on your chest in response. Hongjoong gently squeezed your boobs, thumbs running over your hardened nipples. He sat up a little so that his face could reach your chest. He placed kisses on your sternum before taking one of your nipples in his mouth, gently sucking on it, licking the small bud. He mirrored his actions for your other nipple, and your back arched in pleasure. When he pulled away, you immediately crashed your lips onto his in a hungry kiss. You involuntarily grinded down on his hard-on, a groan leaving his throat. Hongjoong’s hands moved to your hips, helping you move faster on his bulge.

“I want you, Joong,” you moaned out, making him get harder.

“Are you sure, baby?” he asked.

“Yeah. I want you to fuck me. Please,” you begged. You weren’t a virgin, but this was going to be your first time with Hongjoong.

He only smiled, halting your movements on his bulge. “Let me prep you, baby. Sit on my face.” You got off his lap to take your jeans off along with your panties. Hongjoong also stripped out his clothes, leaving himself bare in front of you for the first time. You involuntarily bit your lip, taking in the sight of his thick, hard cock. He looked absolutely irresistible.

Hongjoong climbed back onto the bed, lying down while he waited for you to straddle his face.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked, a little hesitant to put your weight on his face.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he chuckled. “Sit comfortably.”

You lowered yourself onto his face, making sure you didn’t put all of your weight on him. Hongjoong's hands gripped your ass, pulling you closer to his mouth. He wasted no time in lapping at your slit, collecting your wetness on his tongue. He moaned at your sweet taste, tongue dipping into your hole, his nose pressing onto your clit. He moved his mouth to latch onto your clit, giving your nub a few sucks before moving back to your hole. “Fuck!” you moaned, hands reaching down to grasp his hair while he fucked you with his tongue. You felt the familiar knot forming and you warned Hongjoong that you were close. He licked up and down your slit, lapping at your clit, pushing you to your high. You moaned out his name while you came on his face and he wasted no time in licking up your juices, a drop rolling down from his lips. When you moved your pussy away from his face, you got wetter at the sight of his lips glistening with your juices.

You moved down his body to return the favor, but he stopped you. “I’ll let you do that another time, babe. But now I really need to be inside of you.” Hongjoong sat up, piling pillows behind him before leaning back on it. “Are you on the pill?” he asked while pumping his cock.

“No…”

He groaned. “I don’t have condoms on me right now. They’re in my room.”

“It’s okay, you can just pull out,” you stated.  

“Are you sure, my love?”

“Mhmm.” You moved to straddle his lap, aligning his cock with your entrance. You sank down on his length, the stretch making you whimper. Once Hongjoong was fully inside of you, you placed your hands on his abs, slowly moving yourself up and down on his cock, coating it with your arousal. Hongjoong bucked his hips up to meet yours half-way. You leaned down to kiss him while you rolled your hips against his. You pulled away and smiled at him before you increased the pace. Your hands reached back to grab his thighs while you rode him. Hongjoong watched your boobs bounce along with you, the sight making him groan. When Hongjoong felt himself getting close, he switched positions, slipping out of you, making you whine. He only giggled, leaning down to peck your lips before he gripped your waist. Without any warning, he slammed his cock into you, making you gasp, your walls clenching violently around him while he fucked you hard and raw.

You gripped the bedsheets beneath you, feeling the knot forming in your lower area. “J-Joong… I—”

“I know, baby, I’m close too,” he groaned out, his thrusts getting sloppy. “You’re taking me so well, fuck.”

Hongjoong moved one hand down to your clit, his fingers rubbing your nub in circular motions. You screamed his name when your second orgasm washed over you. Hongjoong pulled out immediately, spilling onto your stomach. You reached out to pump his cock, milking him dry. Hongjoong collapsed beside you, body coated in a thin layer of sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. He pulled you into a sweet kiss a few seconds later.

“That was amazing,” he murmured against your lips. You smiled, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “Let’s clean up, hmm? Shower with me?” You nodded, letting him carry you to the bathroom.

[fireflyinsummer]

An Amalgamation Waltz 1839. |01|

> pairing: min yoongi x reader

> genre: FallenAngel!AU

> words: 23k

> warnings: hints of smut (heavy make out), a scene of harassment (nothing explicit), violence. possible heresy. forgive me. a third party’s unrequited feelings for OC. don’t know if i did this right, it’s 3 am right now.

> summary: When it comes to the both of you, a lifetime is not enough. And when it comes to you, there’s really no lines he wouldn’t be willing to cross. Even on the brink of a war that could destroy the world as we know it, you’re everything.

  “ (...) ‘Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?’ he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

   ‘I’ve never had to,’ you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you.”

a/n: my love for Paradise Lost gave birth to this. i really like this one :) gonna be posting the second (and last) part soon! no need to say that PL was just an inspiration, this isn’t exactly based on the poem. 

                                               “(…) Here at least

We shall be free, the almighty hath not built

Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:

Here we may reign secure, and in my choice

To reign is worth ambition though in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.”

     The sudden thud on the wooden surface of the table made you jolt and close the book, heart rate increasing considerably.

  “Y/N.” His voice was deep, dragging your name through his teeth to evince his annoyance. The bustling café was already at its peak hours and you didn’t even notice the time as it passed you by.

  “Yes, Taehyung?” You ogled your grumpy friend, his noisy arrival being due to the study material he tossed in front of you.

  “You said you’d help me with English lit. I was waiting for you at the library for about an hour and your phone is off.” As you remembered why you were even in the café in the first place, you threw him a guilty look. He pouted. “Hey, what does that Milton guy have that I don’t? And the fancy words don’t count.” You giggled.

  “John Milton has nothing on you, Tae. He’d probably need my help to get through this semester as well.” The joke seemed to almost let you in his good graces again, but you knew he still needed the bribery. “I’ll buy you your favorite if you forgive me.” You could tell he was fighting back a smile upon hearing your offer, his mood suddenly uplifted.

  “Okay. But don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. Wait here.” You went to the balcony to pay the check and get his frappuccino to go. Taehyung was a sweet guy who liked sweet things, and that also applied to his coffee. His sweet tooth earned him a nickname from you – Marzipan. Waiting for the bartender to finish your order, you looked over where your best friend was digging through your copy of Paradise Lost without much enthusiasm.

   You had moved in next door to his house about fifteen years ago, and you two instantly initiated a solid friendship. As much as you could say about three-year-olds. Despite him being one of your favorite people in the whole world, the both of you were into totally different things. He went to parties, you enjoyed some lone quality time. He played all sorts of sports, you preferred to stick to your writing and, sometimes, the piano. You were still working on the latter. But even though you seemed to be totally opposites, he still got you like no one else could. He was the person you told all your secrets to, not that you had that many anyway, and you liked to think – no, you were sure of it – he felt the same way about you.

  “Here’s your overly-sweet drink, Marzipan. I don’t even know if you can still call it coffee,” you scowled.

  “Don’t diss my frappuccino, it’s the sole reason of my forgiveness.”

  “Yeah, right. So, you wanna get going? I’m sure you have a lot of thoughts on that book already.”

  “It was very average so far, if I do say so myself. I don’t know why you like it so much,” he teased you.

  “Well, that’s what the private lessons are for. So I can teach you good taste.” You pushed the door open and immediately shivered as you felt a cold gush of air. It was snowing.

  “Here, take my coat. Why don’t you ever wear decent clothes in the winter? I swear to God, I don’t know how you never caught something serious, like pneumonia or whatever,” he scolded.

  “You don’t have to. We’re near home anyway,” you tried to reassure him, but he was, as usual, outwardly ignoring it. “Really, Tae, it’s no big deal. Let’s go.” He was ready to fight you on this one, but you were already walking away. He took a few hurried steps to catch up.

  After a ten-minute walk, daylight was almost completely gone, lit lampposts following its wake. You both hit the front door rug with your feet several times before getting inside, your mom was a bit freaky when it came to cleaning.

  “Mom, Tae’s here!” You shouted from the living room, guessing she was in the kitchen. “We’re going upstairs for a bit! School work!”

  “Okay, honey! Tell him that dinner will be ready soon!” She responded.

  “I love you, Ms. D’Angelis!” He shot back. Yes, you had an italian background. When she heard his voice, she made sure to come out and greet him.

  “Love you, too, honey”, she pecked his forehead and he beamed. They liked each other way too much for their own good. “And you,” she pointed in your direction, “give mamma a kiss.”

  You sighed before attending to her request. It was in your best interest not to fight it. “Okay, enough of this. We’ll be upstairs if you need us.”

  “Have fun, kids.” You sure would. Taehyung might beg to differ.

  The rest of the night was somewhat peaceful. You had helped Taehyung as much as you could before your mother called you out to eat, claiming that you shouldn’t starve the boy and then make him eat a cold meal. He couldn’t agree fast enough. For the most part, that was your life. Uncomplicated and comfortable, which was plenty for an eighteen year old. When you went to bed after practicing the piano for a little while, you were completely unaware of the pair of pitch black eyes that observed you through the window. But he was fully aware of you.

  ||\\

                                                                    [Fear of the Water, by SYML]

  You knew it was a dream. From the moment your brain processed the heavenly sight that unrevealed before your eyes, you knew. It was breaking dawn, the soft orange light kissing the ocean like a long lost lover. You were at the end of a cliff, but couldn’t find it in yourself to be afraid. You looked down at the waves that broke into the rocks almost violently, the salty breeze somewhat comforting. You loved the sea.

  Taking a few deep breaths, you barely noticed the crack. The sound came from somewhere behind you, but you didn’t want to look away from the view, neither did you want to wake up. When you heard it again, you recognized footsteps. You turned around lazily, curious as to whom it would be the visitor of your reverie. When you fixed your eyes on him, though, you stopped breathing for a moment and your heart surely skipped a beat. He was a stranger in a number of ways, for he was seemed truly unworldly. Maybe ethereal was the word you were looking for. His violet eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe. Beautiful. His hair was dark as it fell like a silky curtain on his forehead. Not a single flaw on his skin or his body, but none of that was as breathtaking as what lied on his back. Great, large white wings, so beautifully outstretched that you felt unworthy of looking at them.

  You opened your mouth a few times, but nothing would come out. Probably for the best, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of what was probably your mind’s greatest creation. How you could come up with him was beyond you. You wanted to ask his name before it all ended and you had to go back to real life, back to average. You wanted to touch his face, his wings, see for yourself if they felt as they looked. You wished you never woke up. As he took a step closer, you took your own back, startled at the sudden movement. Before you realized your mistake, it was too late. You had lost your balance. You knew it would be over soon. Taking one last look at the stranger, you saw as he stretched one arm to reach you, but to no avail. Too soon, the wind was ricocheting your skin and you were falling.

  You woke up with a loud gasp as you searched for air, finding it oddly rarefied. When you registered the annoyingly high pitch of your alarm, you whined. Real life was the last thing you wanted to face right now, but if you told your mother that you’d stay in bed daydreaming about a figment of your imagination, she would personally retrieve you from the bed and toss you into the shower. Made sense.

  Getting ready as quickly as you could manage, you felt excited for no obvious reason. Maybe it was the afterglow of the dream, but now you were eager to get out of the house, as if you wanted to find him. Which was insane, because you knew he did not exist. Come to think about him now, it was getting harder by the minute to remember his face. You panicked.

  Running towards your desk and grabbing a pencil and your notebook, you tried to recreate him on paper, which was a lost battle from the start. Even if you were some doodling genius – you were definitely not – you would never be able to do him justice. You doubted anyone who had ever stepped on this planet, past or present, ever would. It was not the kind of beauty that could be explained or demonstrated, but rather felt. He wasn’t just inhumanely pretty, wings and all. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It may sound cheesy and totally deranged, but you felt whole in those few shared moments, like you knew him your entire life. Your mind didn’t recognize him, but your body did.

  Groaning at the piece of paper and throwing the pencil at your baby-blue wall in annoyance, you gave up. It was pointless, his features were already escaping your mind. You didn’t know why you were so hung up on a dream, honestly. Seeing that you were a little riled up, you decided to let it go and just finish getting ready for class. You could see through the window that Taehyung was already waiting for you.  

    ||\\

 “So, how did it go?”

  He pouted before answering. “It went alright.” Lies, he was a big fat liar.

  “C’mon, Marzipan, be honest with me for a second.”

  The nickname finally broke him down. “Fine, I hated it. I remember you telling me about every important detail of the subject yesterday, but I couldn’t put it on paper. Plus, why the fuck does he have to elaborate the questions so much? Most of the time I didn’t even understand what was being asked. Literature sucks,” he whined indignantly. You could tell it was taking a toll on him.

  “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? I will help you. We’ll both graduate this year, yeah?” you reached his hand on a reassuring squeeze.

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Then sure. But you have to take me seriously, Y/N,” he warned you. “No more losing track of time in coffee shops.”

  “Hey, I bought you a frappuccino, that incident should be six feet under by now,” you accused and he mumbled a grumpy response.

  The both of you spent half of the morning taking the lit test. You thought you did fine, though the questions really were a little bit tricky. Walking side by side with Taehyung, you didn’t notice him at first. But once you realized there were no seats available right next to each other, your eyes eventually landed on his.

  “We can’t sit together through this class, we’re too late,” Tae grumbled, trying to get your attention back to himself, but to no avail. “Y/N? Hey!” He flicked your forehead and you yelped.

  “Did you just… flick me?” you seethed.

  “I wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t lusting over the new guy. Who is he, by the way?” If you acknowledged the hint of jealously in his tone, you didn’t show it.

  “I was not lusting over anybody,” you huffed.

  “If you say so.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Grumpy. Is it because I caught you?” You just snarled and took a seat at the front row, while he chuckled and chose the one in the back.

  To be honest, you were lusting a little. Those eyes seemed oddly familiar, though you couldn’t quite put a finger on why. The rest of the day passed by smoothly; you were able to sit with Taehyung for the remaining classes you had together and even helped him a bit with some homework. After a while, your new classmate was nowhere near your mind, despite that funny feeling you got every time you looked at him. Maybe it was because he was stunningly handsome. Who knows? You never cared much about those things, but you were only human.

  On your way home with Taehyung, you felt eyes burning on your back. You turned around and found him staring, expression unfathomable. He wore a black lather jacket, jeans and a black shirt, his dark hair beautifully disheveled. He gave you a wanton grin and you scoffed. Well, you knew his type, and it unnerved you to death.

  Preppy playboy. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He cut off the eye contact abruptly, heading towards a grey motorcycle. No shit, huh? You almost laughed at the predictability. You weren’t exactly into bikes, but that looked expensive. And it suited him perfectly.

  “Holy-… do you see that? That’s a Triumph fucking Rocket,” Taehyung gasped, shaking your elbow lightly. “A 2500cc engine capacity Triumph Rocket. Man, his parents must be loaded. That’s not a high schooler’s bike,” he said, almost dreamy. Yeah, you saw that coming from a mile away.

  “You talking about the new guy?” You asked nonchalantly, turning your head as you resumed walking.  

  “Don’t even try to pretend you weren’t ogling just now,” he accused.

  “You’re obsessed with our new-found bad boy. Maybe you should date him, Tae,” a snicker left your lips at his appalled expression.

  “Shut up,” he pushed your shoulder. “I’m just curious.”

  “As in bi-curious?”

  “Okay, that’s it, I’m leaving you behind,” he grumbled as he fastened his pace. You chuckled, trying to catch up with his long legs.

  When you arrived home, you noticed an attempt of a drawing on top of your bed. It looked like a poorly doodled angel. First things first: though it definitely looked like something made by your hands, you didn’t have any recollection of it, let alone of leaving it on display like that. You looked around, searching for something, but nothing else seemed out of place. Trying to shrug the uneasiness off, you picked some clothes off the wardrobe and went for a warm bath.

    ||\\

  It was a Saturday afternoon, so you planned to do the usual: hit the library and grab some coffee on your way home. Taehyung had promised to watch a movie with you this weekend, but a surprise party to one of his friends came up. He’d invited you to tag along, more out of habit than anything else. Your answer was always the same when he asked you to spend time with his peers; you weren’t even remotely fond of them. They had maybe one functioning braincell and a whole lot of conceit. Not your crowd at all.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. Do you need me to get you anything?” You said, already on your way to the front door.

  She was sprawled on the couch, gazing attentively at the TV.  “No, honey, thank you. Are you going out with Tae?”

  “Nope, something came up, we rescheduled. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay, then. Be careful!”

  “Will do!”, you shouted from the outside.

  It was closing time when the sweet old lady had to gently kick you out. You weren’t surprised when you found out your phone was dead; you probably had a billion calls from your mother and, if she was desperate enough, maybe even Taehyung. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed your stuff quickly and waved goodbye to the librarian as you made your way out the door, grumbling to yourself about not being able to pick up some coffee now.

  The air was hazy and cold, you couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, and the streets were oddly empty. You tightened your coat around your body and quickened your pace, not willing to spend more time outside than you needed to. Seeing that all the stores were closed, you realized that Martha (the librarian) probably let you outstay your welcome a little bit. You cursed at the freezing night and your cheap coat. Taehyung was right, you should buy warmer clothes.

  Lost in thoughts, you were stupid enough to miss the drunken noises coming from the end of the street. There was a group of three men coming your way and they all seemed to have ingested an unhealthy amount of booze, laughing loudly and pushing each other playfully. You felt cold sweat fall down your spine but just tried to ignore it, hoping that you’d be able to pass them by without being noticed.

  “Y/N?” His voice was dragged, and he was tumbling around the words. It was only then you realized they were from your school, the boy in the middle being Jimmy, Taehyung’s drink buddy.

  “Hi”, you tried to stay as far away as possible, but the one with the fashionably boring rectangular glasses didn’t let you, hooking his arm around your neck. He reeked of cigarettes and whiskey.

  “C’monnn-“ he hiccupped, “don’t you wanna par-tay with-“ another one, “-us?”

  You repressed the urge to gag as your pulse quickened.

  “Not really. I have to go,” you almost managed to untangle his disgusting arm from you, but he kept it in place, holding you tighter. “Let go of me.”

  You were annoyed. And scared to death, to be honest. These boys didn’t exactly live by a moral code, and the four of you were alone in the middle of nowhere. You didn’t trust them.

  “Aww, don’t be shy, princess. You’re always so… boring. Makes me curious about what you’ve got going on under all… that.” The last one, Ian, made his way towards you, snickering menacingly. He wasn’t as drunk as the other two, and if you could give a hunch, you’d say he knew exactly was he was doing. That scared you even more. Feeling the brick-wall hit your back, you realized you were cornered, a curse escaping your dry lips.

  “Look, I really have to g-“ he cut you off by pressing his body into yours, making you lose your breath for all the wrong reasons. “What the fuck, man?! Let go of me!” You were visibly growing desperate as you tried to punch his face and his chest, but that only earned you a chuckle from him as he held both your wrists with one hand.

  “Feisty. I like it.” You almost puked right then and there, the bile stuck in your throat making you scowl. He let his filthy fingers slide down your sides, until he could grope your ass.

  Your stomach sank, heart drumming against your ribcage as you held back a whimper.

Okay, think.

  Taehyung had taught you the basics about self defense a thousand moons ago. And yet, you realize that it was nothing like the real thing. You balled your clammy fingers tightly, knuckles white as you scanned every corner of your brain to try and find a way out.

  “Tae will kill you if you touch me,” your voice trembled. You couldn’t help it.

  He laughed whole-heartedly. As if the mere thought was actually funny to him.

  “He wouldn’t dare, sweetheart. Besides, I think he actually wouldn’t mind sharing his bitch with us for the night,” he stated. “He’s not using it anyways,” he punctuated with a roll of his hips and, this time, as you felt the pathetic bulge inside his pants, you couldn’t hold back a tiny sob. Because fuck, this was it. There was no way you could take down three grown men on your own.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The voice was low and steady. It made your skin crawl. You snapped your head and looked at the dark haired man standing behind the boys. Ian lazily turned around, still keeping your wrists wrapped tight in his hand.

  “None of your business, newbie. Now get out of my sight before I lose my patience.”

  When he chuckled, it was different from Ian’s. It was darker, rougher, and concealed a vicious ferocity that you knew was there. You knew because, as he disregarded your aggressor and looked you in the eyes, you almost feared for them.

  “Ian, dude, let it go.” Jimmy instantly sobered up and tried to avoid any confrontation. To think he spent time with your best friend but would let Ian harass you without saying a word was disgusting. “Come on, your old man will kill you if you get in trouble again.” So that was his main concern. Still looking out for his shitty, abusive friend. Men’s sorority really is misogyny.

  “You should listen to your friend. Believe me, you won’t survive me when I get my hands on you,” he stated matter-of-factly. You felt the sincerity in your bones. And so did Ian and his stupid cavalry. “Leave.”

  Ian sighed, but relented. You felt a hot wave of relief as he disconnected his body from yours, leaning on the wall for balance as your legs wabbled.

  “You better watch out,” he spits.

  “Y/N, I... I’m really sorry,” Jimmy said as he scooped his friends and dragged them away from you. “You too, Min. He’s just drunk. We would’ve stopped him if it got too far.”

  He’s lying. You can tell.

  “Get the fuck out of my sight,” he growls, his composure faltering for a minute. As they stray out of view, he turns his gaze to you.

  “Care to tell me what the hell are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night?”

  He’s angry.

  You scoffed, adjusting your coat around your shoulders and straightening your back.

  “Thank you for the help, but I’m too old for a babysitter,” you say. “Besides, I don’t even know you.”

  He looks at you and, as if trying to regain some sense and control a fit of rage, he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling a long puff of air.

  “Alright. My name is Yoongi,” he takes you by surprise as he snatches your wrist in an iron grip, “And I'm fucking walking you home.”

  As he drags you across the street, you want to yell at him. You want to tell him to fuck off, you preppy bastard. But you don’t.

  Because the truth is, you’re so fucking grateful. God knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for him. As he calms down, he drops your hand and slows his pace, allowing you to catch up without having to make an effort. You want to talk, but you choose to stay quiet.

   Now that you weren’t so skittish anymore, it finally dawned you how the snow was beautifully spread throughout the streets, the trees, the buildings. Everything that was cool, cold, blue, held some fascination to you. Summer was never really your season – it had always been winter. To be able to curl up on your couch with a warm blanket and a hot cup of coffee, it was heavenly. You always thought that, if you could see the world through a color palette, it would be in different shades of blue.

  The snow was not the only thing that you were entranced by, though. Yoongi was, from what you saw so far, much like winter to you. Harsh when needed, cool, but also peaceful and comforting. He didn’t urge you to talk about the incident; he didn’t urge you to talk at all. His mannerisms caught your attention from time to time – how he constantly ran his long fingers through his hair, how his eyes seemed to flutter shut lazily a few times in a row, or how he carried himself so elegantly that it almost made you jealous. He looked terribly familiar, too.

  “Why are you staring?” His bluntness caught you off guard, but still couldn’t disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

  “Just curious.” It was true. “Apart from the motorcycle and the superhero complex, I don’t know much about you.”

  “Well, there’s not much to know.”

  You hummed in response. “What are you doing here, then?” You ask, and his feet come to a halt.    

  “What is this, an interrogation?”

  You scoff, and you both start walking again. “Just trying to make conversation. Besides, I’m actually curious,” you ponder. “People don’t move into this town very often,” you kick the snow under your feet. He sighs.

  “I’m here with my… brother,” he hesitated before continuing, “he’s my guardian, sort of. We used to move a lot. Work thing.” He couldn’t hold back a grimace, but it disappeared in a second. You wanted to ask about his parents, but felt like you’d be crossing a line, so you kept your curiosity to yourself. “Now you tell me,” he said.

  “Tell you what?”

  “About yourself. Your family. Whatever you want to.”

  “Um, let me see. I live with my mom. We moved from Italy when I was about three years old. My dad… my dad stayed.” You didn’t want to get into it, and he immediately noticed, just nodding for you to continue. “She’s been taking care of me by herself since then.”

  He hummed in understanding, sparing you a few glances that you couldn’t quite decipher.

  Before you knew, your house was already in sight. You wished you lived farther, just so you could keep that strange interaction on for a little longer.

  “Well, this is me,” you announced. Lying about your address had crossed your mind somewhere along the way.

  “Sorry if I was a jerk,” he surprised you by saying. You mouth opens and closes a few times before you say anything.

  “It’s okay, I guess. I was pretty riled up, too.”

  He nodded. “See you Monday, then?” His voice was deep and silky.

  “Yeah. Hey, I… I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

  “I am, too,” there was a dark undertone in his voice. “Good night, Y/N,” he surprised you by leading his right hand to the top of your head and lightly messing your hair before walking away. You stood still for a minute, until your mother opened the door.

  “Y/N?! Darling, why did you take so long? I was so worried!”

  “Um… Sorry, mom. I ran into a friend and my phone was off.”

  “Well, you should’ve at least borrowed your friend’s phone to let me know, things aren’t like they used to be around these parts anymore, it’s getting pretty danger-“

   She kept talking as she let you in, but you couldn’t concentrate. That night, you dreamt of him.

   ||\\                            

 “(…) Farewell happy fields

Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail

Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell

Receive thy new possessor: one who brings

A mind not to be changed by place or time.

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

     You didn’t think of yourself as an early riser, but when Monday morning came, you woke up before the alarm – and seemed almost delighted to do so. To be honest, you really tried to ignore the eagerness to see him again, but to no avail. The day before was thoroughly torturous, flashes of the short period of time you spent together coming back to haunt you now and then. At some point, you were so annoyed that you just lied on the bed and attempted to blast your eardrums off by listening to some crappy rock band at full volume. It didn’t work, obviously, and now you probably had hearing damage. The cons and cons of obsession.

  At this exact moment, for the first time in your entire friendship, you were banging on Taehyung’s door first. Because you just couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  “Damn it, woman, was is it with you today?” The sound of his voice was muffled. That, or you were going deaf, there was no way to tell for sure.

  “You’re going to make us late, Marzipan!” At that, he opened his bedroom door slightly, just enough so you could peek at his disheveled hair and sleepy face.

  “It’s dick o’clock in the morning, we have at least forty minutes until we leave,” his voice was rugged and he had an aggrieved look plastered on his pouty face.

  “I brought you coffee,” you smiled at him while raising the thermal cup.

  “Stop the madness and go wait for me downstairs, Gilmore girl,” he grunted. “Dad probably misses you, the poor old man. Keep him company, will ya?”

  “Don’t be silly, Mrs. Kim need his sleep in the morning.”

  “Then shut up and don’t wake him,” he grunted, closing the door shut, but it took him just a second to reopen it. “Wait, if dad’s asleep, how did you get in?”

  “I, uh… Might or might not know that you keep a spare key inside the porcelain elf’s hat,” your lips tugged upwards sheepishly.

  “Of course you do, you little imp. I’ll be down in a sec,” he grumbled and shut the door again.

  Taehyung had asked you a couple of times why you were so anxious to get to school that morning, but you just brushed it off with an excuse that you knew he wouldn’t buy. There were several reasons as to why you wanted to keep things to yourself for now. Mainly, it was because you were afraid that he’d be furious enough to break Ian’s face in front of everybody once you told him the whole story. Not that you felt any sympathy, but rather that you didn’t want Tae to get in trouble. You’d tell him as soon as you could, though. You didn’t care for the idea of him being friends – or whatever they were – with Jimmy.

  As soon as you stepped into school ground, you discreetly searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. It wasn’t there. You tried not to let the disappointment show on your face, but you couldn’t help it. He didn’t come today. Who cares? As much as you wanted to force some sense into your stubborn brain, you were still hoping he’d show up, even if you didn’t talk to each other. You just wanted to see him, is all. Great time to start acting like a stupid teenager, Y/N. Kudos.

  You were in the middle of a pretty heated argument with yourself as you entered the classroom. Taehyung picked a desk in the middle, as he usually did when the both of you were able to sit next to each other. You were almost putting your stuff down at his side when something caught your attention. There. You felt a girlish jolt of excitement when you saw Yoongi sitting at the last row. His silky black hair was damped, probably from the shower, and he was wearing a black, long sleeved shirt, v cut. You were about to divert your eyes, but then he stared right at your face and calmy removed his bag from the chair next to his. He smirked, as if defying you to take a seat. Annoying little piece of-

  “Tae, do you mind if I sit somewhere else today?”

  “What?” He looked at you, confused. “Where do you want us to…” Your eyes flashed to the end of the room and he followed your gaze. “What? Why would you-”

  “Do you mind?”

  “Uh… No?”

  “Okay, great. See you soon.” You knew Taehyung was confused, so you should probably be thinking of what to tell him when this class was over. But for now, you just carried yourself to the empty spot in the back. Yoongi was looking at you with an amused expression, hiding his little smile behind his intertwined hands. You wanted to wash that smug off his face so bad. You took a seat and his scent assaulted you, warm and musky. Almost irresistible. You saw Taehyung from across the room gazing at the both of you with an inscrutable countenance.

  “Is your boyfriend mad that you sat with me today?” He audaciously asked.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “I see. Must be hard, then,” he looked almost sympathetic.

  “What?” Your face contorted into confusion.

  “Nevermind. Tell me how was your Sunday,” he said while opening his notebook and doodling something you couldn’t decipher yet.

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Shouldn’t you ask me first?” You lifted your brow.

  “You’re bossy today.”

  You were about to give him a proper answer when the teacher barged in, almost breathless. As the class began, focusing on Hess’s Law was your main priority, it really was. But you couldn’t help the tingle crawling up your skin every time he unintentionally bumped his arm into yours, because he was still drawing, keeping his head down since Mrs. Edwards started talking. Still, you couldn’t move. No. Focus. You held onto the edge of your desk with one hand, knuckles white, as you kept the other taking notes on the subject.

  “Relax,” he softly whispered, not taking his eyes away from his notebook. You immediately loosened the tight grip of your left hand.

  “I’m relaxed,” you lied, imitating his tone. He chuckled, lifting his head to show you the most beautiful gummy smile. God, why was he so distractingly handsome? His soft, pale skin, his cat-like eyes. His hands, Lord, you wouldn’t even dwell on his hands. Everything about him was appealing, alluring. His voice, his smell, his gaze. He was devilish.  

  All of a sudden, he ripped off the page he was working on. You tried not to get even more distracted, keeping your eyes on the board, until he touched your arm with his hand. You tensed. “Here, keep this if you want to,” he said, passing the folded paper to you. Curiosity washed over your face and you were about to unfold it, but he stopped you. “I don’t think you should open it now.”

  “Why? Is it, like, an erotic sketch?” You could tell you broke his demeanor a little, he seemed both shocked and amused.

  “I wonder if that kind of thought crosses your brain very often. You’re filthy, Y/N,” he smirked. You almost choked at his tone and his words. He was teasing you, and you refused to go down without a fight.

  “Well, I don’t exactly know you, do I? You could be a perv.” He bit back a chuckle.

  “I’m an honorable man. You’ll see.”

  “Will I, now?”

  “Yes. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t convinced me yet.”

  “Challenge accepted.” The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, then the bell rang. He grabbed his stuff and got up, then tilted his head and asked, “Do you want a ride… friend?”

  “I thought you didn’t ride here today.” Confusion stained his expression before he realized the meaning behind your words. You could see the enlightenment in his face and suddenly banging your head on a wall wasn’t all too bad. He was too cocky for his own good, and now you’ve just made it worse. Way to go.

  “I parked on a different spot,” he responded.

  “Yeah, sure. Uh, anyways… Thanks for the offer, but I’m going home with Tae.”

  “Suit yourself.” Before walking away, he turned around and said, “I’ll save you a seat tomorrow, Y/N.” Before you could elaborate an answer, he was already out the door, and Taehyung was in front of you with that ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ face he made every time he was caught off guard.

  “I’ll explain on the way home,” you sighed.

        ||\\

  You were both in the safety of your bedroom when you told Taehyung everything. From how Ian tried to do God knows what with you, to why he wasn’t able to. Pure luck. It was pure luck that Yoongi happened to be passing by, and it was pure luck that he’d bothered to check what was going on. You told him Jimmy was there. You saw the guilt and rage clawing their way to his chest, and there it was; the reason you were wary to tell him in the first place. Taehyung was explosive, a force of nature when he let himself indulge.

  “I’ll kill him. Why did you hide that from me?” Even though he was trying his best to hold back, you could still tell how furious he truly was. “Answer me, Y/N, I’m not fucking around here,” he didn’t mean for it to sound like a scold, but it still did.

  “I knew you’d be mad,” you retorted.

  “Of course I’d be fucking mad. I don’t think you understand just how mad I am.”

  “I know. Tae, really, nothing serious happened. It’s not worthy getting yourself in trouble for it.”

  “How can you even say that?” he barked.

  “Promise me you’ll let it go,” you asked softly.

  He looked like he’d just heard the worst profanity fall from your lips. “I don-“

  “Promise, Tae,” you were using your serious voice now, the one you used to tell him that no, it was not okay for him to mess with your books back when you were kids. You took it to the heart too often. He stared at you for a moment or two before sighing.

  “Okay,” he grudgingly said. “If that’s what you want.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he said after a moment.

  “It’s not your fault. Really, it’s not.”

  “I know. I’m just… sorry,” he let his head rest on your lap. You hummed and stroke his hair for a while. These little moments of utter understanding and peace was one of the reasons he was your best friend. The person you could rely on, always. And he could always rely on you, too.

||\\

   A few weeks passed you by in the blink of an eye. After the infamous events of that night, you and Yoongi grew closer each day. Not that it was always easy, he was infuriating at times; you had to be sharp to keep up with the incessant bickering. But, for what it’s worth, you were able to gather that he was much more than just a little shit, even though he tried to deny it. 

   And you suppose that’s one of the reasons to why your stomach flutters and your heart skips a couple of beats when he gets too close. 

   Probably a month too late, you come across that piece of paper Yoongi had mysteriously given you the first morning you sat together.  You took it in your hands with a gasp and carefully unfolded it, taking a sharp intake of breath at the drawing. It was a pair of eyes – your eyes, perfectly detailed by strong, yet delicate, traces. It was beautiful and left no room for doubts as to whose they were. The cocky bastard was actually pretty talented, you had to give him that. Before you had much time to think about it, your phone rang. You hesitated a moment before picking up, the number was unknown.

  “Hello?”

  “Did you like it?” The voice on the other line was coarse and drawn, and you recognized it immediately.

  “How did you get my number?” You asked while laying yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

   He had become a constant whenever you were at school or at the library. Nothing beyond that. The call was a pleasent surprise.

  “I have my ways. Will you answer at least one of my questions anytime soon?” There was a hint of a boyish amusement in his tone, and that instantly made you lighter. You liked him better in a good mood.

  “You don’t answer any of mine, so why should I bother?” You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see you.

  “That’s hardly fair. What do you want to know, George?”

  You scoffed at the nickname. “First things first. I want to know how you got my number.”

  “It’s not so hard to get privileged information on the students’ personal data if you’re charming enough. Ms. Parker has a soft spot for me.” Of course. You should’ve seen it coming.

  “You’re shameless,” you scolded half-heartedly, taking a plushie in your hands and squeezing it.

  “It’s one of my many qualities. So, can you answer me now?”

  “Hmm… I might’ve liked it,” you stated, referring to the book he’d recommended. “But you’re already a pretty conceited man, so I should probably spare you the details.”

  He was silent for a while, and you almost mention the drawing you found in your backpack. But then, he’s talking again. “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

 “Are you… Have you-“ you stammered in astonishment and he chuckled. “Do you actually select the words you want to hear?” you asked and he hummed.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home,” you answered without much thought.

  “I’ll pick you up in ten. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?” You jolted out of the bed, dropping the plushie on the floor. “You can’t just… decide that. What if I’m busy?”

  “You’re not.”

  “What if I don’t want to?”

  “But you do,” He sounded almost confused. And he was right, you did want to. Somewhere deep inside your brain there was a voice saying that you should’ve objected at least a little bit more. But, against your better judgement, you kept quiet, and soon enough your silence gave you away. “I’m hanging up now. See you soon, George.” You meant to talk back to him, but he’d already ended the call. That, arrogant, insolent, contemptuous jer-

  Before finishing that thought, you remembered you didn’t have much time. So you took a five minute shower, put on a little mascara and went out of the bathroom to find something to wear. There wasn’t enough time to go wild, so you just went for your favorite pair of mom jeans and tucked a burgundy sweater in. After brushing your hair and your teeth, you were ready.

  As soon as you were done, you heard a horn and rushed to the window. There he was, in all his glory, hips resting against his stupidly cool Triumph Rocket. Black boots, black jeans, black long-neck shirt and his usual leather jacket. Wonder what his favorite color might be, you scoffed. He shot you a smirk that made you hold your breath for a moment. It now occurred to you that you had no idea as to where he was taking you. Also, was it a date? A friend thing? Shit. You should’ve said no. You sighed. It was too late now.

  Before running downstairs, you sprayed a little bit of perfume on the nape of your neck and your wrists. Chloé, your signature scent.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  She was sitting by the window with a hot beverage on her hands and a book on her lap. Like mother, like daughter.

  “Last time you said that…”

  “I know,” you cut her off gently. “But I have class tomorrow. I promise I won’t be long.”

  “Is your phone charged, young lady?”

  “Yep, it is.”

  “Then call me if anything happens, alright?”

  “Sure thing. Bye, mom,” you gave her a brief peck on the forehead and rushed out the door.

  He was waiting for you at the porch, even more breathtaking now that you could see him up close. His musky scent was stronger and his pale skin was glowing. He was drinking you in with mysteriously piercing eyes.

  “Come,” he said, taking you by the hand.

  “Where are we going anyway?” you asked. As the both of you approached his motorcycle, you were trying your best not to trip.

  “You’ll see.” He took a helmet off a compartment that you didn’t know to exist and cupped your face to hold you still before he put it on you.

  “Is this like a Hitchcock movie? Will you take me just far enough so I can meet my fate by the end of the night?” A hint of dread crossed his features, but he composed himself soon enough.

  “Do you believe in fate, Y/N?” He asked, fixing the straps under your chin, his fingers setting your skin aflame.

  “I don’t know,” you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but his countenance urged you to provide a proper answer. “Faith is just not my strong suit, I guess,” you mumbled.

  Yoongi pondered about what you said for a moment. “Hold that thought, yeah?” Then he climbed the vehicle. “Hop on,” he started the engine. You were now too aware of the fact that you had never ‘hopped on’ one of those. “Don’t worry, I’m a really good driver,” he tugged his lips upwards.

  “I just… I’ve never done this.”

  “What, ride a motorcycle?” He asked and you nodded. “Trust me. I wouldn’t let anything happen,” he reassured you.

  I know. So you climbed the damn thing and held tight onto his waist, almost comforted by his warmth. He felt the sensitive skin on his back crawl at the contact. Especially between his shoulder blades.

||\\

     You spent the entire ride with your eyes closed. If you had any doubt that Yoongi was a mad man, those god-knows-how-many minutes on the back of his motorcycle had erased them completely. He was going fast. You could feel the wind ricocheting your face relentlessly, and every time he had to make a turn, your stomach fluttered. Sometimes, he turned his head just a little bit, as if checking if you were at least breathing, but you would grit your teeth and snap at him to look ahead, tightening your grip. You could feel him chuckle, his whole upper body being assaulted by small tremors.

  But when you finally arrived at your destination, it was all worth it.

  “Do you like it?” Expectation washed all over his ethereal features.

  “Do I… like it? It’s amazing,” your eyes sparkled with wonder and astonishment at the sight of the ocean. You were at a relatively high spot, like a small cliff, and you could smell the delicious salty breeze that you adored so much. But what truly amazed you, what really took your breath away, was the electric blue lights sparkling all over the wave crests. “Bioluminescence! How did you find this place? Can we go down?” You asked with the biggest smile, a childish excitement seeping through your tone. He giggled, the most magnificent, angelic sound you had ever heard.

  “I’d rather if we didn’t. I don’t want you to meet your fate at those slippery rocks, it wouldn’t be very Hitchcock-y,” he joked. You felt a bit disappointed but chose to let it go. The night, the sea, the sky; it was all too beautiful for you to allow yourself to be petty.

  He took a few steps ahead and sat closer to the edge, wind whisking his hair and making his catlike eyes narrow. You followed suit, sitting in lotus by his side. You both took a minute to appreciate the sight, falling into a comfortable silence, that was soon broken by his husky voice.

  “I come here a lot when I need to remind myself of who I am. Of where I’m from,” he said, still looking at the waters below, eyebrows furrowed. “I never thought of bringing anyone else here before.”

  “So why did you?” Your voice was small, whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess…” he stopped for a moment. “I possibly just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I don’t know any place else that feels more like home to me. Perhaps I also wanted to share it with you.” Then he turned his gaze to you, eyes reflecting the moonlight. He was divine, bewitching. Especially now, when he seemed to be opening up to you for the first time. You felt your heartbeat speed up at his confession.

  “Thank you,” you said softly, diverting your gaze to the waves. “I can understand why you’re so fond of this place. It’s blissful, feels like heaven.”

   He humms, fixing his gaze on the crashing waves above you.

  “Y/N.” He was surveying your face now, as if trying to read you. Expectant. 

  “Yes?”

  “Do you believe in heaven?” His voice is a whisper and, for a moment, you wonder if you’d heard him correctly. 

  That was probably the last question you’d expected from him, it took you completely by surprise. You inhaled deeply, searching for the right words, but ended up blurting what first came to mind.

  “For all I know, heaven is here. Hell, too. I want to be better, yes, for the people I love. I want to be better for whoever needs me to be, because I know how tough this can get. If there’s an afterlife… at least I’ll know that I tried to be good for the right reasons. So yeah, let’s say I don’t dwell on it. Whatever happens, happens.”

   By the time you finished talking, there was something sparkling deep inside his onyx eyes that you couldn’t recognize.

  “That’s sort of refreshing,” and there it was again. The sheepish gummy smile you adored so much, so utterly genuine and divine you thought you’d die.

  “What about you?”

  “Yes. Heaven, Hell, the whole ordeal. Except for God.”

  “But… How would it be possible for all those things to exist without God?”

  “That is not what I said,” he let out a humorless little chuckle. “Let it suffice that God is… I believe, much too real. Just not how humankind paint him to be. I believe God exists; I just don’t believe in him. Not anymore.” His tone was raw and melancholic. You ached with the need to console him, because he seemed adrift; and that bothered you more than it should.

  Without realizing, your face had gotten closer to his, and suddenly he was all over the place. All you could see, smell, hear, it was all him. He must have known, because then he traced your features lightly with his long, graceful fingers. You thought that was it. That was heaven.  

  You closed your eyes so you could savor every second of it, heartbeat going wild and butterflies assaulting your stomach. He lifted his other hand, and now he was cupping your face gingerly, like you were made of glass. Every touch ignited something foreign and glorious inside of you.

  He shifted, moving closer, and his scent hit you, unyielding, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes. When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was enough to set something off, and your hands made their way to his neck on their own as you let out a shaky breath. You pressed yourself harder and sucked on his bottom lip, before caressing it with the tip of your tongue, earning a groan from him.

   Well, shit.

  He took the hair in the nape your neck in a dainty – yet firm – fistful, asking permission with his tongue to deepen the kiss. There was no denying him, you could never. His taste, God, you could spend eternity tasting every single bit of him. When he licked past your teeth, you moaned, and it was so utterly pleasing, sinful, that he felt compelled to go harder, mercilessly swirling his tongue inside your mouth. There was no room to breathe, the neediness for one another unbending.

  You don’t know how much time you spent in that haze of mind-numbing desire, but neither of you dared to stop. Until your phone rang.

  You jerked away, pupils blown wide from the intensity of the moment, skin flushed. You were both panting, eyes trained on each other, searching, scrutinizing, waiting for a reaction. His reddened, glistening lips were parted slightly and he seemed displeased to cut the moment short. Even so, he managed to talk.

  “You should probably get that,” he gusted, trying to catch his breath.  You couldn’t find it in yourself to do anything but nod.

  You took the device out of your back pocket and checked the ID caller, brows furrowing. He mirrored your expression.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s a girl from school. We have history class together. That’s… odd,” you said. You and Sarah have never had a real conversation, one that didn’t involve Napoleon or Julien Sorel. You just had her number saved because of a paper you had to do together a while ago. “Hello?”

  “Y/N? Thank God,” she sounded truly relieved. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but… We’re at the school’s gym and-“ she let out a loud gasp, and only then you noticed the noise in the background, an uproar of voices and… Did you did hear a punch?

  “Sarah? What is it?”

  “Tae’s here. Y/N, you should come…”

  Your blood ran cold.

  “What? Is he okay? Sarah, tell me what’s going on. Now,” you blurted, already standing, missing the way Yoongi’s face contorted in confusion and concern.

  “We tried to stop them, we really did, I-“

  “Sarah,” you grunted.

  “Okay, yeah. Him and Ian are at each other’s throats right now, it’s pretty bad. Y/N, I don’t think it’ll be long before someone calls the cops. I just thought I’d let you know, ‘cause-“

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” you cut her off, and then hang up.

  You were a lot of things at that moment, but mostly worried and angry. You had told him not to, you had told him to let it go, and he went behind your back. You heart rate was through the roof, adrenaline rushing through your veins. But this time, it wasn’t out of passion.

  “Y/N,” Yoongi had a wary look on his face. “Tell me.”

  “Can you take me back? Tae’s in trouble.”

  ||\\

  He hadn’t meant to. He really hadn’t meant to break his promise, but he knew it was bound to be broken the minute he made it. The idea of someone else touching you was torturous enough, but to think of them doing it without your consent actually drove him crazy with rage. Those unbidden images of you scared, asking that piece of shit to stop, only for him to hold you tighter, closer, wrapping his filthy hands around you… it wouldn’t stop coming to him, even though he’d tried his hardest to restrain them. It had haunted him ever since you told him. He felt sick. He hated himself for not being there for you, with you. Like the disgraceful best friend he was, he’d canceled movie night to get wasted. Ugly feelings, even the ones he didn’t care to admit, pierced their sharp claws at his chest. Guilt, exasperation, jealously.

  He’d tried to suppress the bitterness from watching you with the new guy, he tried to be just glad that he was there and hold out against it, because if he wasn’t… The point is: he really tried. But the way you looked at him made Taehyung’s stomach sink. He’d never seen it before, and he craved it like a man in the desert did a single drop of water. He wanted to be on the receiving end of that gaze more than anything.

  He’d go mad if he stayed inside, so he went out for a jog. Your mother had told him you weren’t home, and he figured you’d be at the coffee shop near school. What a big surprise it was when he found Ian next to a blue SUV that was parked near the gymnasium. He choked out a chuckle; it was just too tempting. Rage boiled trough his veins, and at that moment he knew he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t not break that scumbag in half, even if that meant he’d be going against your wishes.

  So he did. Every punch, given or taken, satisfied him little by little. Because he also deserved to be punished, he thought.

 ||\\

    “What was that shit that you pulled? After I explicitly told you to stay out of it! Why now?”

  Taehyung had a bloody nose, a deep cut just above his eyebrow and some pretty ugly purple spots all over his upper body, staining his previously pristine skin. When you and Yoongi had arrived at school, you discovered he’d been taken. By a police officer, nonetheless.

  You’d been so mad. But now that he was in front of you, all screwed up in torn clothes, the speech you had prepared escaped your mind. You just couldn’t understand his impulsiveness, and the fact that he was in a tiny, smelly cell because of you was infuriating.

  “We both knew it was bound to happen eventually, so I figured rather sooner than later,” he answered nonchalantly.

  “Taehyung,” you said through gritted teeth

  “What, Y/N?!” He snapped. “You wanted me to let him get away with it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I literally told you that that’s what I wanted!”

  “Well, too bad,” he darkly said. He knew he was in the wrong here. But he was just too riled up to think straight.

  “Okay,” you said, taking a sharp intake of breath while running your fingers through your hair, “Okay, let’s be practical about this. Your dad is coming, right? We can talk about it at home.”

  “Fine,” he said, avoiding your eyes.

  “Fine,” you, too, knew how to be petty. “I’ve got to go outside for a minute. Behave,” your gaze flashed to an officer for a second, but quickly made its way back to Taehyung. When you realized he wouldn’t give you an answer, you just sighed and carried yourself out the door.

  As soon as you stepped out of the threshold, you saw Yoongi leaning on his motorcycle, arms crossed and head hanging from his shoulders. You didn’t know what tonight had meant. You wanted to at least try to figure out if he felt the same as you did, but you had bigger problems. And to be honest, you’d rather sleep on it. It was all too intense and hazy.

  “Hey,” you said, walking slowly towards him. He lifted his head and offered a tiny smile.

  “Your boyfriend really hates my guts, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not-“ you cut yourself off when you realized he was just messing with you again. Of course he is, he stuck his tongue down your throat just an hour ago. “Anyways. I guess Tae will be out in a couple of hours, but I have to stay here and wait for Mr. Kim. Thank you for… tonight.”

  He nodded. “No problem, George. I’ll call y-“

  Suddenly, his eyebrows knitted together and his whole body tensed as he straightened himself. If you ever told anyone about this, you’d probably be admitted in a mental facility. But you swore that, for an instant, his eyes changed colors, going from pitch black to a deep violet. It happened in a heartbeat, and then he wasn’t looking at you anymore, but at something past your shoulder. You felt a chill run down your spine as you turned around to see what caught his attention.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking towards you. As his lean figure got closer, the tension grew almost palpable, and you could see from afar he had a small smile plastered on his plump lips. But it wasn’t comforting at all. Instead, it was vile, almost sadistic. Your head snapped to Yoongi again, and you saw how he didn’t move a muscle, fists closed tight and jaw clenched. That made you panic a little.

  “Yoongi, what-“

  “Y/N, go inside,” his voice was hoarse and restrained, like he hadn’t talked in weeks.

  No, you wanted to say. That man, whoever he was, screamed bad news. He walked like a predator, and you felt like his prey. Though your self-preservation instincts were going wild with every step he took, something stronger made you want to stay. You knew he wasn’t here for you, but for him. And that sparked a need to protect him that you didn’t know to exist, nor where it came from. However, you just kept quiet and waited for the man to catch up, not missing the murderous aura emitted from Yoongi.

  At last, he stood in front of you, reddish hair and twisted smirk still on his face. You could see him clearly now, and he was beautiful. The kind of beauty you’ve only seen once.

  “Has anyone actually pressed charges this time, little brother?” His voice was deceivingly soft.

   Brother?

  “How did you find me?” Yoongi asked with an icy voice that almost made you shudder.

  “Is that how you greet your elders? Father would not be pleased.”

  “Well, you’re one to talk, aren’t you?”

  “People are still hung up on that, I see,” the man chuckled. “Yoongi-ah,” he said, his feet taking him closer at a slower pace. Yoongi kept his ground, knuckles white from his balled-up fists, while you instinctively took a step back. That’s when they both seemed to acknowledge your presence. Yoongi’s eyes bulged slightly, his pale skin becoming ever paler, while the other wore an unreadable expression on his face.

  “I told you to go inside,” he almost growled, taking your wrist in an iron grip and pulling you to stand behind his back. You didn’t understand. You didn’t understand any of it. Why did he seem so threatened by his own blood? The man was scary, sure, but was he actually dangerous? Your head was spinning, so you held onto his jacket to keep yourself vertical.

  “Were you not planning on introducing me to your friend, baby brother? That’s just rude, you know how much I love meeting new people.”

  “I’d advise you to be careful now, Jin.” The threat in Yoongi’s low voice was noticeable even to you, but Jin didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he relished on it. His little brother didn’t get all protective over just anyone, and the fact that he didn’t want the eldest to know about you pointed straight to a weak spot. One which he intended to take full advantage of.

  “Easy, Prince, no need to get riled up,” Jin chuckled again, lifting both hands in a sign of peace. “What do you take me for?”

  “Neither of us can deny your nature, can we, brother? It’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

  “It’s true. Have you told her your name yet? Since you appear very comfortable sharing such details in front of her.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought I had made myself clear the last time we saw each other,” Yoongi changed the subject, hoping you wouldn’t pay much attention to his question.

  Jin’s face turned serious for the first time before he spoke. “They approached me, Yoongi-ah. It would seem that they need their Flam-“

  “Quit it!” Yonngi growled. “Hold your tongue, I don’t want to hear any of it. You need to go.”

  “Not until I have delivered my message.” The well-proportioned man stood his ground.

  Yoongi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He could not have this kind of conversation in front of you – in front of anyone, for that matter. Jin was breaking the rules; an old habit of his. “Then I need you to wait for me at home. I suppose you already know where I live, don’t you? I’ll meet you there soon.”

  “Alright then. Y/N, it was splendid meeting you. I do hope I get to see you again soon.”

  Yoongi scowled as he watched Jin turn on his heels and disappear in the night. For all he knew, Jin would never get this close to you ever again. He was caught off guard today. He then turned around, black orbs scrutinizing you for a reaction.    

  There were many things going through your mind at that exact moment. Too many questions, he could tell. You looked at him in a grimace of confusion and horror.

  “How did he know my name?” That was the first thing that popped into your mind. You hadn’t said your name, neither did Yoongi. “And who’s ‘they’? And did he really just call you prince? Is that a pet name or something?” You blurted out, sensing you wouldn’t have too much time to elaborate the questions the way you wanted to.

  He looked into your eyes, face contorted in what you could only describe as a desperate hesitation, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a fine line. He was pondering his options. You knew that because, when he made up his mind, you could clearly see the taint of resolution.

  “I can’t answer your questions,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m really sorry, Y/N. Please, just forget about this. All of it.”

  “What are you talking about?” you were on the brink of losing it at this point. First Taehyung, and now this. He wasn’t making any sense. But his eyes spoke to you in ways he couldn’t. Only then, you understood. “No,” you said with a resolution of your own. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me right away, whatever it is, just don-“

  “Y/N.”

  “Yes?!”

  “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Listen to me just this once,” he groaned, stepping into your personal space. He twisted your hair in one hand, holding your face securely to his. When he rested his forehead on yours, your eyes gave into his wishes, closing on their own. “I’ll be gone for a little while, George,” your breath hitched, but you didn’t interrupt him. He gave you a light peck on the mouth, lips soft and moist, breath hot on your face. “I have to settle some things straight. Be good for me while I’m gone, yeah? Don’t do anything stupid,” he frowned.

  “Will you come back?” your voice almost cracked, ‘cause you weren’t so sure of his answer. You felt foolish. You’ve only known him for a short period of time, after all. But the intensity of your feelings, though you couldn’t discern them clearly yet, scared you.

  This felt horribly like goodbye – it was, at least for now – and you hated it.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” you answered straight away.

  “Alright,” he nodded. “Then I will.”

  You didn’t dare open your eyes when he stepped away from you after one last chaste peck on your lips, nor when you heard him start the engine of his Triumph. But when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, you jolted slightly and your eyes fluttered open.  

  “Let’s get you inside, kid” Mr. Kim said softly, brushing away a lonesome tear from your cheek. “Then you can help me scold my boy for making us come all the way to the police station on a school day, how does that sound?” he tried to uplift your spirit, and you offered him a half-hearted smile.

   ||\\

                                                       “Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell;

And in the lowest deep a lower deep

Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.

Oh then at last relent: is there no place

Left for repentance, none for pardon left?”

     It’d been four weeks since the last time you saw him. A whole month since he’d disappeared completely. At first, you waited anxiously for him to reappear out of nowhere. For him to just slide into the classroom, like he’d done the first time. But as time passed by and the third week came, you grew worried. He didn’t get specific about how much time it would take for him to do whatever it was, but you imagined it would be one, maybe two weeks. But now, a month later, you were beginning to wonder if he’d even come back at all. If something had happened, if he was okay…

  No. He promised.

  You’d rather not dwell on the possibility of something going wrong – hell, you didn’t even know what he was doing or what was that strange conversation he had with his deviant brother in front of the police station. You had a few theories, though. Not that you’d ever utter them out loud.

  Number one: mafia. Maybe not The Godfather sort of thing, since that seemed pretty outdated, but rather… Scarface, perhaps? So you had come up with the idea of Jin being a druglord; nothing more, nothing less. It made sense, to be honest.

  Number two: well, number two wasn’t exactly clear on your mind, but had something to do with super rich parents and an insane heritage. He could be the prince of an empire, right? You didn’t know anything about his family, except that his brother was blood-curdling.

  You just wished to keep your head in the right place until he explained the situation to you. If he explained, that is. Sighing, you tried to contain your derailed thoughts and get back to the real world, where Taehyung needed you to pay attention to Mamma Mia! for the nth time.

  “Alright, that’s it. You didn’t even sing along during S.O.S and that��s where I draw the line,” he said, taking the remote from your hand and pausing the movie. It was a cozy night and you were both plopped on the couch wearing socks and sweatpants.

  “When have I ever sang along during S.O.S, Tae?”

  “I remember it vividly, we were eleven. But that’s not the point,” he retorted. You bit your lip and kept your eyes trained on the frozen screen of the TV, already sensing where this was going. “You’ve been like this for a while now.”

  “Like what?” you pushed, trying to feign innocence. You were not in the mood for this right now. You just wanted to stare unseeingly at the TV and have some private time with your own thoughts until the movie was over.

  He sighed. “Look, I can only guess what’s going on,” he scowled, but tried to compose his features into a serene mask before speaking again. “But I need you to not be in your own head for a minute.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. I want to help,” he said, taking your hand in his. The touch was warm and familiar.

  “I know, Marzipan,” another sigh. You took your hand from his carefully and got up. “I’m going to the store, you want something?”

  “What, now? Y/N-“

  “I just-, I need coffee and snacks if we’re pulling this off. If you want me to keep my eyes opened during Moulin Rouge, that is,” you pointed out matter-of-factly

  Taehyung shifted in his seat, face contorted in confusion, wariness and a hint of hurt. “Do you want me to go with you? It’s late.”

  “No, it’s fine. You can stay and plan ahead, I’m sure we’re not stopping at the next one.”

  He watched you silently while you fumbled for your keys. When you found them, he muttered: “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  As soon as you crossed the threshold, the cold air of the night hit your skin, making you shiver slightly. You closed the door and hid your hands in the pockets of your sweater, bringing it closer to your body in a poor attempt to keep the warmth from escaping.

  Walking towards the convenience store located a couple of blocks from your house, you let yourself get lost in headspace again. You knew you weren’t being fair to Taehyung. As much as you wanted to talk about this situation with him, you couldn’t. It felt like betraying someone who hadn’t even put their trust in you to begin with. Yes, it was unfair, and maybe you were being a shitty friend every time he tried to have a serious conversation about the subject and you brushed him off with an excuse, like getting coffee in the middle of the night.

  You sighed, not really willing to wallow in guilt tonight, and just tried to focus on your immediate task. One step after the other, then one more, and you could already see the lights of a tiny single shop, the only one opened this late at night. It belonged to Mr. Newton, a sweet old baker who treated you kindly every time he was filling up for his cashier.

  You entered the store and heard the little bell announce your arrival. Much to your surprise, Mr. Newton was working there that night. As he saw your expression of detachment, he frowned. So you tried to arrange your features in a polite smile before speaking.

  “Hello, Mr. Newton.”

  “Y/N, child, why are you wandering alone when it’s already this late?” he asked softly, though clearly concerned for your safety.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” you answered, walking towards the cooler where they kept the iced coffee and taking two in one hand, as you went for the chips next. “Tae and I needed a little snack. Movie night.”

  He nodded and you placed the items on the counter for him to scan.

  “Well, then. Tell that kid to come by whenever he can. My wife wants to send some essential oils for Mr. Kim’s aromatherapy sessions,” just as he’d said it, he got a bit closer to you, as if the next words to come out of his mouth were a secret. “Truth is, she misses him. The boy is the only one who can stand her cooking.”

  Despite being moody, you chuckled wholeheartedly. No one could be indifferent to Taehyung’s charms, it seemed.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll tell him.”

  As you went through your wallet to pay the old man, you heard the little bell once again. Mr. Newton greeted the new client, but you were too engrossed in finding the right bills to snap your head in the newcomer’s direction. However, the inquisitive sound that left the old man caused you to steal a glimpse, catching auburn hair and broad shoulders in their wake. You stood still for a moment, trying to recall why those locks seemed so familiar. Until it hit you.

  “Jin?” you breathed, not loud enough for anyone in the store to actually hear you. Just as you muttered his name, he closed the door and turned left, disappearing from your sight. You gasped. “Keep the change, Mr. Newton!” you said – audibly, this time – leaving a ten dollar bill on the counter and grabbing your stuff as gracefully as you could muster, rushing to the door like your life depended on it.

  “No running in the store, kid!” he tried to scold you, but could already feel the cool breeze as you opened the door and looked around, expecting to find his brother. Only this time around you weren’t scared, no. You wanted answers, heart beating fast at the possibility of hearing from Yoongi, maybe even seeing him… Okay, no, not the time for this, first things first.

  When you realized he was nowhere to be found, you ran. Left. He went left. You passed by a few houses and almost tripped on a stray cat, turning your head to the side to check on it and apologizing profusely as you picked up your pace again. A few blocks later, you were already out of breath. You came to a halt and put both hands on your knees, gasping and feeling your lungs burn.

  Trying to ease your labored breathing, you realized that you were probably going crazy. A halfhearted chuckle escaped your parted lips. You were disappointed, even if actually meeting the redhead meant trouble. Trying not to let frustration and melancholy get the best of you, you decided to just let it go and head back home. Even if it was Jin, he probably wouldn’t tell you anything anyway.

 ||\\

    The snow under your feet was slippery as you got out of the library, leather backpack and navy-blue beanie on. You held a large cappuccino on one hand, careful not to spill it as you dodged passers-by and umbrellas every now and then. The streets were a little crowded that afternoon, and you were dying to get home and relish on Mrs. D’Angelis’ famous chicken noodle soup. Maybe she’d even grant you a warm glass of wine if you asked properly. You tried to occupy your mind with ordinary, day-to-day thoughts, trying to ignore the flutter on the pit pf your stomach.

  During that entire week, you were constantly under the impression that something was off. When you were going to school with Taehyung, or grocery shopping for your mother, there was always that tingling feeling on the nape of your neck that told you that someone was watching. Then you’d turn around and nothing. No one was ever there. The uneasiness was uncomfortable, but you didn’t feel endangered, just really jittery. And your motto was: no better medicine for anxiety than tons of caffeine.

  “Mom, I’m home!” you crooned, taking your coat off and discarding the empty thermal cup.

  “In the kitchen, honey!”

  The smell was splendid. You took a deep breath, already yearning for the hot meal, and kissed your mother on the cheek while she stirred… something.

  “Uh, smells nice,” you praised, making your way to the fridge for a glass of water. “I’m shocked Tae hasn’t come knocking on our door yet. Maybe his flair is broken because of the flu.”

  “Is Taehyungie sick, honey? Why didn’t you tell me?” she almost whined.

  “It’s nothing, just a bit of phlegm. But I’ll take some of these,” you pointed to the pots, “for him and his dad later.”

  “You really should. Now go upstairs and change before dinner.”

  You mumbled a response and climbed the stairs to put on some good old band t-shirt and sweatpants. You didn’t notice the broad-shouldered frame behind the door, and as soon as you closed it behind you, you felt a cold hand covering your mouth, while the other held you in place by the waist. Your whole body tensed, eyes bulged and breath hitched. Fuck. You were prepared to let out a loud scream, but his whispered voice stopped you.

  “It’s me, it’s me,” he shushed you. As a reflex, your muscles relaxed. “Gonna take my hand off your mouth now, George,” he informed, slowly moving his hand from your face.

  Of course it was him. His smell was all over the place, his touch still left little electric jolts on your skin. You snapped your head and turned around to face him. You realized your memories could never do him justice. He was so heartbreakingly handsome, you could cry. Pale skin, shiny disheveled raven hair. You noticed the circles under his eyes were darker and he seemed exhausted. Regardless, when your eyes fell on his lips, your body reacted before your mind could.

  Your hands made their way to the nape of his neck, caressing and gently pulling his hair. At the same time, you clasped your lips together on a desperate kiss. His surprise didn’t stop him from matching your frenzy, grunting as he sucked your upper lip and asked permission with his tongue, one that you promptly granted. Henceforth, your tongues performed an erotic, lewd dance as they fought for dominance, swirling and exploring each other’s mouths.

  Only when the back of your knees touched the bed did you realize he was moving you towards it. He broke the kiss for a moment to mercilessly throw you on the soft duvet, and you let out a surprised moan when he immediately covered your body with his, mouth returning to yours. A primal need surged from within you when you felt one of his hands roaming at your side lustfully, gabbing tight on your ribcage, your waist, your hip. He hoisted your leg and you hooked it around him, holding back a loud moan when he pressed his erection to your groin. You could feel your panties drenching from the sudden contact, a new wave of desire making your core ache.

  “Y/N-“ he tried to speak through heavy breathing, his lips never leaving yours long enough for him to finish a sentence. “Baby,” he groaned, obviously trying to say something, but you weren’t ready yet. You rocked your hips against him, earning another lecherous noise from his rosy lips as he closed his eyes shut.

  You used that moment of weakness to knock him to his side, climbing on top of him as you clamped your thighs harder on his hips. His eyes went dark at the sight, a devilish smirk tainting his beautiful features. You didn’t give him time to say anything, taking his lips on another bruising kiss. His hands on your ass, squeezing and groping, and you felt him throb inside his pants. You moaned, a gush of wetness coming out as you clenched around nothing. You couldn’t form coherent thoughts anymore, pressing yourself harder against his bulge as you rolled your hips, searching blindly and desperately for a sweet release that was already so close…

  “Hold it, baby.” His voice was stern, and he pinned both your wrists on your back, his hands seeming incredibly big when closed around them. He was sitting now, hot, labored breath hitting your lips, heightening your senses and sending shivers down your spine. You crumbled under his dominant demeanor, feeling an inconceivable need to obey, and instantly stood still. It surprised him as much as it did you, and you saw a smug grin plaster itself on his face. “That’s it. Be good for me so I don’t lose my mind.”

  You let out a breath you didn’t know to be holding and weakly nodded, mind still clouded with want. He let go of your wrists and gently pecked your lips, sitting you down on the bed instead of his lap. Father knows he would be physically uncapable of having a proper train of thought if he didn’t.

  “So… I guess we have a lot to discuss first, don’t we?” his smile was sheepish now, hands going through his hair in a nervous tick.

  “Yes,” you breathed out. “What happened? I was so worried, Yoongi, you have no idea. I didn’t even know where you were or what the hell you were up to, I-“ you took a moment in order to stabilize your voice. You knew you were affected by his sudden absence, you just didn’t know how much until now that he was actually in front of you. “I don’t even know what the worst case scenario could be, but I bet my thoughts came pretty close,” you chuckled humorlessly.

  “I’m sorry, I never meant to worry you. If I knew I’d be gone for that long, I would’ve told you before I left. I missed you so much,” he confessed, voice lower than before, and rested his forehead on your own.

  “Tell me. Please, I need to know,” your brows furrowed.

  “I met my brothers,” he paused, waiting for a reaction that never came. It’s not that you were not surprised by the information that he had other siblings, you just wanted him to finish it before you spoke. “Jin aside, I spent… years apart from my family. You could say that we didn’t leave things on the best of terms when I left father’s, so it was a surprise for me when I learned that they wanted to talk. Notwithstanding that it’s out of need, not love.” His heavenly features contorted in hurt and resentment, and you felt you own heart clench. You gave him an eskimo kiss as a sign of reassurance and he smiled timidly. “They offered to take me back. It’s… certainly a grand gesture for the likes of us,” he shook his head slightly and knitted his brows.

  “Isn’t that a good thing? Don’t you miss them?” you didn’t know why your voice was so small.

  “Not anymore, no.” His gaze was intense and made your heart beat impossibly faster. “I do miss them. They used to be my whole existence, the reason for every breath of mine. But now… now everything’s changed.”

  “What’s changed?”

  “You.”

  Your breath hitched. If it was anyone else, if it was any other situation, you’d laugh at the cheesy line. But this was him, and that, too, changed everything. That one word was enough to unleash butterflies in your stomach, enough of them to knock you breathless. The truth behind his statement carried a heavy meaning, one that you yearned for and that made you giddy. His onyx orbs were wary, and you wondered if he was blind to the utter relief plastered on your face. It was selfish, but you couldn’t help it. Not when it came to him.

  “H-How come?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t get bashful on me now, George, I’m pretty sure you understand.”

  You tried to scowl, but the grin was insistent on your lips. “Alright, let’s put a pin on that. You still haven’t told me everything. What did your brothers want?”

  “Y/N, there are certain things about me and my family that I cannot tell you. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “You don’t trust me?” you were mainly curious, but a hint of hurt could be heard, too.

  “That’s not it. It just wouldn’t be safe for you.”

  “Is your family involved in something… illegal? Is that why?”

  “Not illegal, no,” he chuckled.

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But please, George, don’t be stubborn about this one. All I’m asking for is a leap of faith,” his eyes were pleading as they bore into yours. Was he aware that he could probably convince you that the sky was neon green if he looked at you like that?

  “It’s a big leap,” you mumbled.

  “I know. Just trust that I have good reasons,” he smiled softly.

  You sighed. “Fine, Romeo, keep your secrets. Just tell me if you get too deep into whatever it is that the Min’s are hiding. I care about your safety just as much as you care about mine.” You forced the heat back, secretly hoping that it did not reach your face in time for you to actually blush.

  “Doubt it,” he grinned. “Dinner is ready, Mrs. D’Angelis will be coming for you soon. I should get going.”

  Your face paled as you rushed to the wardrobe, retrieving some clean clothes from your drawer. “Wait,” you stopped on your tracks in the middle of the room, glaring at Yoongi through narrowed eyes. “How do you know that?”

  “I have my ways,” he shrugged, then tugged his lips upwards on a daring smirk. “It’s a secret.”

  “If you keep giving me clues I might just figure it out. Go on.”

  He chuckled and stood up from the bed, walking languidly in your direction. He touched your nose with the tip of his index finger, tracing it’s way all up to your forehead, then coming down to your jaw, where he grabbed firmly. His lips were smooth and slightly damped as they softly touched yours in a chaste kiss. A ragged sigh of pure bliss escaped you, and you tried to fight the haziness.

  “Bye, George,” he was still lingering when he spoke. As he broke the contact and turned to the window, you woke up from the trance.

  “Stay,” you breathed out. He looked at you with a hint of confusion. “I-I mean, you can stay if you want. I can bring you some of mom’s soup and we can eat it here. But you don’t have to, if you’re bus-“

  “Okay,” he deadpanned.

  “Okay. Yeah, uhm… I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can make yourself comfortable.”

  “Already am,” he said as he threw himself on the bed, bouncing a little. His countenance was amused and he eyed you intently, toying with the elephant plushie.

  “Of course you are,” you snorted, carrying yourself to the bathroom.

  That night, you both relished on your mother’s cooking while watching some old movie about Cole Porter on your laptop. You were sure that it wasn’t his cup of tea, but he payed attention to it nonetheless. After you were done, you offered to take the dishes downstairs, since your mother would probably have a stroke if she knew there was a boy in your room. You stopped by Taehyung’s to check on him and offer his favorite hot meal, but it didn’t take more than five minutes. You were on a hurry, and he knew better than to question it.

  Back upstairs, you and Yoongi curled up under the covers and tried to find something interesting enough to watch for what seemed to be ages, your head resting on his chest and his hands holding you securely by the waist. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep, and only then did he leave, pecking your forehead gently before jumping out the window.

  ||\\

  “Get in.”

  “No,” you tried to end the discussion then and there. As expected, you failed.

  “Y/N, you can’t go back on pinky promise. You should’ve thought this through.” His goal was to sound stern, but in reality you could see the hint of a pout on his lips. “It’s my birthday.” Okay, there it was. That was definitely a pout.

  “No,” you closed your eyes shut and facepalmed – for good measure. “Don’t give me those eyes, I’m not looking,” the sound was muffled by your hands.

  He wrapped his incredibly large fingers around your wrists and whined: “Come on, we’re already here. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Why on earth would you say that?” you instantly took your hands from your face and shot him a glare. He had the nerve to chuckle.

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this alone.”

  “You can’t possibly expect me to do this at all,” you retorted, kicking the snow piled up near the curb, shunning away from his puppy dog eyes.

  “You promised you would! I’ll do it, Marzipan. If you win this round, I’ll get a tattoo with you as a birthday present,” his voice was high pitched.

  You snorted. “I was out of it, mental faculties completely fried. Drunk on power and merlot. Plus, I’m pretty sure you cheated, you could never beat me at Mario Kart,” you grumbled.

  “I did not cheat,” he was outraged. “I’m a lawful man, I abide by the rules, and they are clear: a bet is a bet.”

  You honestly have no idea why you let him talk you into this. Perhaps because you’ve been feeling guilty lately, and therefore didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he broke into your room to collect his victory this morning. It’s a good present, right? To get tattoos with your best friend? He had been trying to convince you since three birthdays ago. You hoped it would be enough to ease a bit of the weight on your chest.

  Truth is, you had been spending too much time with Yoongi these past few weeks. After what happened when he showed his face again, it became routine that he came by almost every night when your mom fell asleep. You’d talk, watch movies, kiss… But what you enjoyed the most were those moments where you curled up in his embrace, face buried in the crook of his neck, and neither of you would say a word. You’ve always appreciated peaceful silence, but those moments were so much more. You felt truly connected to him, in a way you’d never felt with anyone else. Like you were both pieces of the same puzzle, cheesy lines aside.

  Or when he would be the one to rest his head on your chest, blinking lazily as you twisted his silky, raven locks in your fingers. Perhaps those were truly your favorites, as you felt the incontrollable urge – need – to be protective of him, to never let anything disturb his serene, almost childlike countenance, so bare before you in the night’s veil. Before the sun came up and brought back the little wrinkle between his eyebrows.

  During the day, you often returned to his safe haven – one that ultimately became yours, too. The waves breaking against the rocks, the salty breeze, the deep blue of the ocean, you had gotten acquainted to it all in a heartbeat. On occasion, you’d bring warm, fuzzy blankets, hot cocoa and books, spending an entire afternoon on your own personal eden.

  You never meant for any of it to get in the way of your friendship with Taehyung, but counterbalancing proved to be harder than you first thought. Although you may have gotten too caught up, inevitably distancing yourself a bit, you were now eager to make it up to him. He was like family, after all. So here you were.

  “Fine, have it your way. But I’m telling mom that you put me up to this,” you threatened. The snow under your boots making a crunchy noise while you crossed the street to get to the tattoo parlor.

  “She won’t believe you. I’m a saint. I’m her Taehyungie.” He was beaming.

  As soon as you got in, you saw a man sitting behind the counter. He was buff, and you’d bet that pretty much his whole body was covered in piercings and tattoos – mostly about dragons and snakes. Looks aside, his voice was warm and welcoming when he greeted you.

  “Welcome, kids. My name is Eli, how may I help you today?”

  All the drawings and pictures on the walls seemed to have detained Taehyung’s attention, so you plastered a polite smile on your face before answering.

  “Hi. My friend over here came to get a tattoo,” you pointed at the boy beside you and he scowled.

  “We both did,” he smiled at the receptionist.

  “Alright. You have to sign a couple of forms before we get into details. You’re both legal, right?” the receptionist asked and you nodded. “Peach. Just a second,” he turned his attention to the computer in front of him, taking a couple of papers from the printer soon after. He handled you each a consent form. Before you signed yours, you exchanged a look with Taehyung, almost having a whole conversation – bickering – with him through knowing looks.

  “Here you go,” Taehyung handed the papers to Eli.

  “Cool. Do you guys have something in mind? We have a few drafts you can check out. But if you already know what you want, Hyunjin can draw it when you get inside. Don’t worry, he’s good.”

  “I have something in mind,” Taehyung offered a bright boxy smile. “I guess I’ll just explain it to him, then.”

  “Great,” Eli turned his eyes to you, realizing that you definitely had not made up your mind just yet. “If that’s the case, I’ll let him know that you’re going in,” he said to Taehyung, who nodded in response. When the buffy man went to the back, he glared at you through narrowed eyes.

  “I’ll come back with permanent ink on my skin. You better not chicken out by the time I’m done,” he threatened.

  “Hope you don’t regret it within the year,” you taunted.

  “I won’t,” he snorted.

  Eli returned a second later, excusing himself to lead Taehyung to the tattoo artist. In the meantime, you picked a binder that was resting on top of the counter to take a look at the drawings he’d mentioned, hoping to find something you’d actually like – or at least an inspiration. Most of them were very intricate, and although they were beautiful, you wanted something simple. Less is more when you’re tainting your skin for life because of a bet.

  You were turning the pages with such disinterest that you almost missed it. It seemed unfinished, just a sketch, and you couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason as to why it caught your attention in the first place. It was a dragon intertwined in a circle, it’s countenance exuding fierceness and strength. Inside the circle, however, was just an unembellished arrangement of lines, one that was strangely familiar and alluring. 9-7-1-12-6, if you think about a clock.

  “Oh, I see you’ve found Lee’s work. What do you think?” Eli pulled you out of your headspace.

  “Uhm… Yeah, he’s great. His drawings are pretty authentic.”

  “Uh huh, he’s been working on those for a while now. So, do you have any idea what you’re gonna get yet?”

  “Not really. I mean, I liked this one,” you pointed to the page you were previously analyzing. “Do you know if it means anything in particular?”

  “Yes! Actually, it does, but I can’t really remember what. I think it’s a sigil, though. You know, one of those thingies people believe to be magical.”

  “Mhm.” You really didn’t know why you felt the need to purge those next words, but you were saying them before you could stop yourself. “This is it.”

  “What? You’re gonna tattoo that?” Without even knowing what it means?

  “Yes. I liked the dragon.”

  ||\\

  His lips were soft against your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps on their wake when he moved them lazily to your jawline, wet little kisses making you squirm and sigh. His index finger was tracing patterns on your bare thigh, caressing and examining as if he’d never done it before, as if you were a made of glass. The sun had graced you with its appearance for the first time in weeks, and you wanted to enjoy the good weather as much as possible, so you had convinced Yoongi to lay on the grass by your side.

  “Tired of Miss Brontë already, love?” his velvety voice evinced his amusement.

  “Can’t read. You’re distracting me.”

  He chuckled lightly, delivering small puffs of air on the crook of your neck, and raised his head just enough to look at you, blocking the sunlight and making it possible for you open your eyes. Before he’d made his mission to disturb your concentration, you were reading for him, like people do with kids before they go to bed. It became a thing after the first time you did it, and now he picked a different book every week or so. When you’d asked about it, he just shrugged and declared that ‘It’s just nice. I like hearing you.’ This week, it was Wuthering Heights.

  “Continue, please,” he adjured, laying his head on your chest as a demonstration of good will. You grabbed the book you’d previously set aside and opened it, leaving one hand free to play with his locks.

  “That, however, which you may suppose the most potent to arrest my imagination, is actually the least, for what is not connected with her to me? and what does not recall her? I cannot look down to this floor, but her features are shaped on the flags. In every cloud, in every tree—filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object by day, I am surrounded with her image. The most ordinary faces of men and women—my own features—mock me with a resemblance. The entire world is a dreadful collection of memoranda that she did exist, and that I have lost her.”

  His eyes were no longer closed, he was gazing at you.

  “Do you pity him?” he suddenly asked.

  “Heathcliff? I don’t.”

  He nodded slowly. “So, you think there’s no redemption, then?”

  “Not for him. He lived and died as an antagonist. Some might think his cruelty is just an expression of his frustrated love for Catherine, or that he conceals at least some virtue, a romantic heart. They expect him to be anything but what he constantly proves to be, they expect misunderstood heroes. But he himself acknowledges his sadistic nature.”

  He stood still, seeming to be lost in thoughts while tracing invisible patterns on your shoulder and refusing to meet your eyes.

  “Would you be able to love someone as tainted as him?” he asked wistfully.

  You lifted your upper body, compelling him to a sitting position as well.

  “I’ve never had to,” you pecked his lips chastely, even though he still kept his eyes trained on the grass underneath you. “Hey,” you dig your nails gently on the nape of his neck, asking for his attention. When he raised his head, the wrinkle between his eyebrows was there again. It worried you that, since he’s been back, it’s been a constant feature of his. Every now and then, his face twisted into an inscrutable grimace. “You understand, don’t you?”

  A half-hearted nod was your response, and he built up the mask to conceal his discomfort once again.

  “Enough vitamin D for you? I can’t stand the heat,” he grumbled.

  “Yeah,” you chuckled, pressing your lips to his forehead and standing up, stretching a helping hand. “Where do you want to go?”

  “My place.”

  Which was code for: Your mom is home and I want to pass out on my bed nuzzling you.

  “Whatever you want, grandpa.”

  “Be a brat and I’ll hit the throttle,” he threatened, positioning himself on top of his Triumph. Sometimes he took full advantage of just how dreadful you found his two-wheeled vehicle. And it always worked. You snorted, climbing on the back seat and wrapping your arms around him. “Hold tight, George.” His warning was delivered with amusement, but you knew better than to take it lightly.

  The fifteen-minute trip went as smoothly as it could, and even though you’d made sure to keep your eyes closed, you still felt dizzy and light-headed when he parked into the old building’s garage. He sensed your distress and got off the motorcycle slowly, careful when untangling you’re your arms from his waist and never completely breaking physical contact.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back and the other placed on your hip. You took a deep breath and your eyelids tentatively fluttered. His lips brushed your right cheek as he effortlessly lifted you and put you down on the floor, covering the entirety of your hand with his and making a beeline for the elevator.  

  Yoongi’s apartment was on the fourth floor, which happened to be the last one – the building was a small, fading-yellow rectangle in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. In a way, it suited him. Secluded and discreet. Perfect for a misanthrope such as himself, given that you’d never even bumped into one of his neighbors – and you’d been visiting quite regularly. On another note, however, it was uncannily unpretentious for someone like him.

  He stopped for a moment on the front door, fumbling for the keys in his pocket. As soon as he opened it, you made your way to the couch, crashing with a sigh, face buried in the cushion. A minute had passed before he plopped on top of you, compelling a puff of air out of your lungs. You grumbled something about manslaughter, but the sound was muffled. He ignored you, making himself comfortable by nuzzling your neck and taking off his shoes using only his feet. You chuckled, making an effort to turn on your back so you could catch a breath.

  “Sleepy?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair. He hummed a response, content with your ministrations. “I, uh… have something to show you.”

  He raised his head from your throat, eyeing you curiously. “What is it?”

  “Bedroom,” you commanded.

  “Oh, I see,” he taunted, but stood up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes.

  You guided him to his room and closed the door behind you. He leisurely sat on the bed, waiting cautiously for you to proceed. You sucked in a deep breath, growing doubtful under his gaze. Pushing all insecurities aside, you unzipped your shorts.

  “Y/N, what are you doing?” he warned in a low-pitched, deep voice, orbs darkening considerably. You dismissed it, tiptoeing closer to him. He straightened his back and raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for any indication of what you intended to do. You pushed the waistband down, letting the piece of clothing pool on the floor, but he didn’t flinch, attention still focused on your features. When you hooked one finger on the hem of your white panties, he quickly snatched your wrist on a tight grip, brows knitting together. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, baby. You know that, right?”

  Your chest swelled with warmth and affection. After the night he came back, things heated up a couple of times. Once he’d realized how tense and anxious you got at first, he began to hold back, withstanding your advances. You never verbalized anything, but he had a hunch, and pressuring you was definitely not on his to-do list. He was being respectful and caring, and although you shouldn’t accept nothing less, it made you feel safe. He made you feel safe, always.

  “Let me show you,” you murmured, a soft smile blooming on your face. He seemed puzzled, but ended up nodding warily. When you moved your finger, slightly pushing the fabric down to expose your hip, he finally had the guts to jeopardize his restraint and look down. You didn’t know what you expected his reaction to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

  His breath hitched and he paled, eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. He didn’t move a single muscle, whole body tensing up. It was as if he couldn’t fully comprehend the sight before him, like he couldn’t believe. He composed himself soon enough, but you could still see the glint of shock in his eyes. It didn’t make any sense.

  “When did you get that?” his voice came out flat and a few octaves lower than usual.

  “A couple of weeks ago,” you frowned. The tattoo that marked your hip was now almost fully healed. You were doubtful in the beginning, but now you kind of grew fond of it. “What’s wrong?”

  “Do you know…” he cleared his throat, fingers twitching. “Do you know what it means?”

  “Not exactly,” you confessed sheepishly. “The tattoo artist said it was a religious symbol and… Truth be told, I’m not even sure why I did this. Just felt right,” you mumbled, realizing then that you probably sounded a tad out of it. You held your lip between your teeth, unsettled.

  “Yes. It’s the sigil of one of the seven archangels, love. It’s… Michael’s… sigil,” his jaw clenched, but his tone was now softer. “It’s used to invoke strength and protection. The ancients believed that, if you will it enough, he will be able to hear your prayers and, perhaps, be of assistance,” he laid his hand flat on your skin, stroking the symbol with his thumb, oblivious to the little jolts of electricity the simple gesture sent through your body. An unfamiliar mixture of dejection, despair and awe flashed through his onyx eyes, and you wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you that could’ve possibly elicited such reaction.  

  “How do you know all that?” you wanted him to focus on something other than whatever it was that poisoned his thoughts.

  “Father taught me,” he shrugged.

  It’d been a while since he last mentioned his family. But you knew he was thinking about them whenever you saw the accentuated wrinkle every time he furrowed his brows, or when his muscles felt so tense to the touch that he was akin to marble against your skin. He was worried, he had been for a while now. And it scared you. You needed to know.

  “Yoongi…” the uncertainty that laced your tone made him squeeze your flesh encouragingly. “Where is he? Your dad.”

  “Home,” he stated tersely.

  “I know, but… Where is home? And what about your brothers? I know you said you don’t speak to them anymore, you just never explained why.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. They’re home, too. Y/N, just forget it,” he shook his head, avoiding your gaze.

  “Why do you build this wall between us every time? It’s frustrating. I can help-“

  “You can’t,” he deadpanned, breaking off any contact when he got up, making his way to the door. His demeanor screamed for you to back off, that he had no interest in continuing the conversation. But you were done being left in the dark.

  “Why is it so hard for you to trust me, huh?”

  “I already told you that it’s not a trust issue,” he raised his voice. “Why can’t you accept that I don’t want you to get caught up in the middle of my mess?”

  “Well, I am caught up in the middle of your mess!” you roared. “You were gone for an entire month and have been on edge ever since you got back. Something’s going on, I’m not stupid.”

  “Jesus Christ, Y/N,” a deep growl escaped his throat. “It’s none of your business, if we’re being honest here. They’re my problems, I’m the only one who can fix them – hell, not even that.”

  “If you could stop being such a jerk for a second, you’d realize that they became my problems, too, as soon as I fell in love with you. But you’re so far up your own ass that we can’t even discuss things without yelling at each other,” you spit the words. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch you struggle like you’ve got the whole world on your shoulders? Especially when my hands are tied,” you stepped closer to his figure, heart hammering on your chest after your little speech. It was nothing but a whisper when you said, “You’re not alone, you idiot.”

  His whole expression softened, and you could recognize a faint smile on his velvety lips. Taking a deep breath, he closed the distance between the both of you and let his hand rest on the column of your neck.

  “I am an idiot,” he nodded, visibly calmer. “And you’re stubborn, you know that?”

  “Might have heard something about it,” you grumbled.

  He hummed. “Forgive me. Could you?”

  “Maybe. Will you… I mean, I just wish you’d open up a little. I’m scared, Yoongi,” you confessed.

  “Me, too.”

  “I know. That’s why.”

  He shook his head and lowered it until his skin touched yours. “I’m scared of your reaction, baby. I don’t know if you’ll want me once you discover the truth,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

  “I’d say you’re safe. Unless your family is trying to coerce you into becoming a real life Michael Corleone. You didn’t shoot anyone in the head, did you?”

  He chuckled wholeheartedly and took a step back to maintain eye contact and mock you properly. “That’s your theory? That I’m a mobster?”

  You looked down sheepishly, before answering nonchalantly in a small voice, “One of them.” He couldn’t help himself, even though his hand was pressed tight against his mouth and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears of amusement. He tittered.

  “May I know the others?”

  “No,” you glared.

  “Oh, George, what if I ask nicely? What if I say please?”

  “Not even then.”

  “How about pretty please?” You shook your head, trying to pass through him to get to the kitchen, but he encircled his arms around you from behind before you could grasp the knob. “And what if I tell you that I am, too?” he breathed in the shell of your ear and you held your breath for a second. You didn’t need him to vocalize what you already knew, but you felt butterflies fluttering anyways. Still, you kept your ground, suddenly very conscious of the fact that your shorts were still pooled on the floor near the bed.

  “Closer, goodfella. But not enou-“

  The loud bangs on the front door cut you midsentence. You felt Yoongi’s body stiffen before something that sounded terribly similar to a low growl broke out of his throat.

  “Get dressed and stay here,” he ordered, authoritative. He didn’t spare you a glance before exiting the bedroom, and you felt a dreadful feeling claw up your insides, piercing your gut and making you nauseous. Pulse thrumming viciously under your skin, you fetched your shorts and wiggled it up, fastening the belt with shaky hands. Stop overreacting, you told yourself over and over, growing more anxious by the second. You couldn’t understand why, to be honest.

  Taking deep breaths, you forced your fidgety fingers to stay still as you fell limp on the soft mattress, eyes closed. Your mind wandered to the safe haven: cotton clouds and baby blue sky, the smell of the grass, the books scattered around you and him. For a minute, you could truly take the edge off. Until you heard the noise of glass shattering on the wall.

  Getting off the bed as fast as you could, your head spun. You opened the door quietly, careful not to expose the presence of another person in the house, and made a beeline to the kitchen. While you looked franticly for something that could be useful as a weapon, you tried to stay attentive to the sounds. They were muffled, but you could discern at least two voices, apart from Yoongi’s.

  Alright. Great.

  As any sane person who’s watched more than a few movies would do, you went for the most obvious choice. Knives. Better safe than sorry.

  Almost counting your steps, you tiptoed your way to the living room. The voices were not very loud, but you could easily understand what was being said now that you were closer.

  “It’s imperative that you return with us now,” a dulcet, almost high-pitched voice uttered softly. “I am sure you are aware of your responsibilities. It’s time.”

  You stayed hidden behind the icy-white wall that separated the two rooms, gripping the hilt of the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Maybe you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, that was clearly a family matter. Maybe you should lock yourself in Yoongi’s bedroom and do as he said. But the truth was that you were far too curious – and now far too enchanted by the childlike voice – to stop yourself from prying.

  “I believe you have already forgotten about the current state of affairs, then? Father exempted me from my duties as soon as he banished me from the Gates and sent me to exile,” Yoongi spit. You could see it clearly in your head as he ran his fingers through his hair in annoyance. He sounded… different. You didn’t have the courage to tilt your head and steal a glance, afraid they’d catch the motion.

  “Father warned you about the consequences of your stubbornness, Michael, but you were very much unyielding in your misconceptions,” the second person said, gruffy and curt.

  “It is not a misconception to care for our own flesh and blood.”

  Wait. Michael? Had he been listening to your conversation earlier? If the man wasn’t so deadly serious and the air so dense, you would’ve laughed – although you felt that it was probably not the right time to let out a full-throated  guffaw to mask an anxiety attack.

  “Our own flesh and blood abused his role as a persecutor and bent the rules for his own selfish purposes. Azrael is fortunate if Father ever forgives him, albeit we both know he will. Brother, I know you hold the highest regards for truth and justice, but it was not your place to question an order.”

  You could hear the crude man pacing around the room as he spoke. Hoping to stay unnoticed, you sneaked a peek. The first person you landed eyes on was not at all taller than you, and you supposed that was the first man you’d heard. His hair was silvery, almost platinum blonde, styled in a way that evinced his beautiful forehead. The way he carried himself was elegant and graceful, like a ballerina, and his appearance suited his youthful voice perfectly. The second figure to catch your eye, though, was the complete opposite. Tall, lustrous olive skin and brown hair, he was intimidating at first glance. His steps were heavy on the floor, nearly clumsy.

  “Perhaps there lies the problem. We are never to question, even whilst we deem fit. Azrael is the embodiment of corruption and amorality; it’s consensual, we are well aware. No matter how devious, he is needed. Casting one of the Seven out ought to never be an option. Be that as it may… There are only five of us within the Gates now. Was I supposed to receive graciously the task of exiling our own brother?”

  You were growing considerably annoyed by their choice of words. Why the hell would they be talking like your great-grandparents? All cells in your body were telling you that it was supposed to be cringey, but in reality it was nothing but alluring. Charming. And that’s where all the annoyance came from.

  “It is unwise to go against His instructions. Are you a rebel at heart, Prince?” The man stopped his pacing to let the words tumble out of his mouth, venomous. You could tell by Yoongi’s countenance that he was about to lose his composure, and in a way you were yet to see. His body were trembling slightly in fury, and his lips were compressed together in a well-defined line. You were astounded, however, by his eyes. In that moment, you couldn’t move even if you intended to. They were tinted in a deep violet, just like you had seen before at Jin’s encounter, except that, this time, they hadn’t gone back to black.

  “This has nothing to do with the Rebellion, Raph-“

  “Then why disobey? Do you plan to defy Father as well? It would be entertaining to watch you fight your antithesis for the throne of the underworld,” he chuckled.

  It all happened in an instant, but for you it felt like slow motion. Yoongi was convulsing within himself, as if attempting to refrain a great deal of energy from breaking free. Once you saw blood oozing from his closed fists, you knew it was a lost battle. But never, ever, could you have foreseen what came next, what kind of energy – power – exactly he was trying to repress. For a very brief moment, everything stood still. If you had been able to avert your eyes from him, you’d see the silvery-hair figure shudder. You’d see the faint smirk on the lips of the man who caused Yoongi’s outburst, even though he was, deep down, a tad terrified. But you did not have time, nor will-power, to pay attention to anyone but him, ablaze amethysts shooting daggers at the man before them.

  Then everything came crashing down. Your beliefs, the world as you knew it, it was all taken away ruthless and abruptly once you saw white feathers rip through black shirt. You gasped audibly, falling to the floor with a dull thud as the knife clinked at your feet. None of them noticed, too entranced by the interaction that unrevealed itself. Yoongi got to his prey at an unhuman speed, grabbing him by the throat and caging him against the door. The horrid sound was enough to make you wince through your stupor, and, if it were anybody else, their skull would have cracked. The man, however, only clenched his jaw to suppress a whimper.

  “How dare you speak ill of your Leader like this?” as his voice went down a few octaves, Yoongi’s hold tightened visibly. The man-child seemed as ready to meddle as he would ever be, though still too frightened to actually move. “How dare you, brother, mention the Chief of the Heavenlies in the same breath as his nemesis? Mere one hundred and fifty years, Raphael, and you already built the temerity of being impertinent towards me? Or have you simply forgotten who I am?” his wings were whooshing, as if he was preparing to – quite literally – take flight at any given moment. They were stupendous, bigger than he himself, and so snowy-white, so untainted. Truly immaculate, contrasting with his raven hair.

  His angelic features, albeit glorious, could never outstand the magisterial way to which he spoke, imposing authority. Like he was born for it. Everything about him in that moment urged you to bow before his feet, and you weren’t even the one holding his darkened glare. It was entirely alien to you, a facet of him you could barely conceive, let alone process. Raphael undoubtedly recoiled at his words, but tried to conceal it.

  “Then show me. Do your title justice and lead us to victory, as I know there is no wrath nor passion greater than yours. Not for a moment have I forgotten who you are, Flaming Warrior, but you certainly have.” Raphael spoke, and it fell to the ears like a prayer.

  As Yoongi’s wings retracted once again, you breathed what seemed to be the first intake of air in hours. He slackened his grip on Raphael’s throat, who then bent over in a fit of coughing. The boyish man’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and he let out a sigh. Of course, the little truce was bound to be broken the minute one of them laid eyes on you. It happened to be the blonde.

  “Michael, there is a human on your floor,” he whispered, resembling a kid more than ever with his eyes wide open. “Why is there a human on your floor?” he snapped his head, shooting the question directly to Yoongi’s face, and you saw his body stiffen. “Oh, Father! She’s heard our names! Brother…”

  “Silent,” his voice was gruff, and he turned to scrutinize your figure. You weren’t sure of how you looked from the view of an outsider, but you felt… Shock, maybe? Fright? You didn’t know who and what was in front of you, and all you could think was how come his eyes are pitch black now?

  “Yoongi, we violated the law,” the man you now identified as Raphael said.

  “Namjoon,” his eyes never left you as he spoke, “take our brother home and certify yourself that he does not mention today’s events within the Gates.”

  “B-But the protocol-“

  “Does not apply to her, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi cut him off, “If you still need me to fight by your side, that is.”

   He seemed appalled by the perspective of that being an option. “Needless to say, brother, of course we do!”

  “That means I am in charge, then. So, at your superior’s orders, will you be able to keep this to yourself?” Yoongi craned his neck to glance at them through his peripheral vision.

  “If it is what you want, brother,” he mumbled, averting his gaze to the floor in respect.

  “Well, that being the case, I fear we might have to end this dreadful visit already. Notify our soldiers that I am to be expected soon.”

  “Yes, sir,” Raphael responded with a worried frown tainting his beautiful face. He touched the cherubic-like man on the shoulder and they both left the apartment.

  Yoongi’s feet were glued to the floor, the same spot he’d been standing since landing eyes on you. Your breathing was labored and hitched; your throat so dry that it felt like sandpaper. He took a little step forward, slowly stretching one hand in your direction. You let out a low whimper, recoiling until you were almost balled up, knees pressed tight against your chest. He immediately withdrew his arm and flinched.

  “I told you to stay in the bedroom.” His voice was flat, it wasn’t a scold.

  “W-What- What the hell just-“ a sob broke through your throat, and only then did you notice hot tears striking your cheeks. “Y-Yoongi,” you weren’t sure of what to say, let alone if you were actually able to choke a whole sentence out.

  “Are you afraid?”

  Yes.

  Fuck, yes.

  Were you afraid of him, though? Granted, his whole countenance while exerting power over someone else sent chills through down your spine. But that was not the man standing before you now, no.

  “Who are you?” you asked, trying too hard to keep a clear head.

  He straightened his back. “My true name is Michael,” he muttered.

  “You know that’s not what I asked,” you objected.

  “Yes,” he sighed, “I know. Can you keep an open mind?”

  “An open mind?” you scoffed. “I’m here, aren’t I? After seeing a pair of wings growing out of your shoulder blades.”

  “You are,” he chuckled humorlessly. He then walked tentatively in your direction, sitting on the floor as well when he deemed close enough. “I’m one of the Seven.”

  Your face twisted in confusion. Your brain was trying to deny what your subconscious already knew. “Go on.”

  “My brothers and I… we are one of Father’s first creations. Have you ever heard of the seven archangels, George?”

  “Yeah,” your voice was nearly inaudible.

  “It’s easier for you to understand, then. We are responsible for maintaining harmony in Heaven. That, occasionally, includes keeping things in order between the Gates and Earth,” he paused, searching for anything in your face that would require him to stop. “I am… let’s say, of great importance to keep the balance between our worlds, including the nether regions. You might have already gathered that I’m their leader, so to speak. I am in charge of all heavenly troupes, every single one of Father’s soldiers is under my command, as well as I am under His. In times of war, I am indispensable. That’s why they call me Warrior Prince; amongst other things.”

  “So it’s… all real?” your voice almost cracked. “Hell, heaven… God?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “Then why are you here?” you murmured under your breath and his expression darkened.

  “Immortality can make you petty. Do you remember meeting Azrael? I guess you know him as Jin. Azrael is… unique. Known as the Persecutor, he was the first reaper to ever exist – created before I was, even. He harvests human souls in due time and delivers them to a realm that suits them best. Paradise, Purgatory or Hell. My brother can be misunderstood very easily; his job has brought to the surface a sadistic persona. We all deal with evil from time to time, it was born in our home, but… Azrael is death, it’s a heavy burden to carry. Infinite lifetimes dealing with the worst sentiments a human can ever experience is bound to leave some scars. He can be mischievous and quite a pain in the ass, to be honest,” he huffed, “but his loyalty is admirable. So, when he made an egocentric mistake, Father reunited us all to discuss the best course of action. Much like a trial, if you will. The point is: they banished him to live amongst his… victims for a certain period of time. I could never agree to that, I believe every single one of the Seven serves a purpose, we are all needed to maintain natural balance.”

  “So you rebelled?”

  “No,” he scowled. “I’m not a rebel, I’m… a nonconformist.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Not for us, it’s not.”

  “Okay. Then what happened?”

  “It’s a long story, if you want me to explain it correctly.”

  “I do. And you’re everlasting, so I bet we have some time to spare.”

  “Right,” he snorted. “My people is a bit traumatized when it comes to defiance, you probably know why.”

  “Because of the devil, right?”

  “Lucifer deeply despises all of his nicknames. But yeah, he’s the reason. A very long time ago, Father decided to expand our family. My brothers and I were content, but when He presented the idea of more… more of us, more love, we agreed on the spot. See, He was never, ever, the tyrant your kind makes him to be. Until Lucifer, that is. He was… exquisite, my brother. From his birth, each and every angel to exist used to say that Father got inspired by me when creating him, but in a very distinctive way. As much as possible, we were the flip side of each other, although extremely similar still, if that makes sense. With time, our bond grew stronger; we became inseparable. Almost everything we did was in each other’s company: from training in the fields to reading manuscripts under the sunlight. My brothers and I didn’t have much to worry about, it was a very peaceful existence. We had not come to know sin yet.

   Needless to say, it did not last. Because we were oddly alike and yet so different, comparisons were nearly inevitable. I didn’t mind them back then, so I thought he would never take it to the heart either. I was wrong. Lucifer distanced himself slowly but surely, and with each passing day, he tried harder to triumph over me in a childish competition, one that existed strictly in his head. He’d become resentful, and his animosity soon spread like wildfire towards the others, too. None of us were able to comprehend a feeling we had never experienced ourselves, so it took us years to make sense of the situation. By the time we did… I guess it was already too late.

   When Father created your kind, the hierarchy became even more apparent: only us, the archangels, were allowed to interact with humans – even so, only to a certain degree and always serving a purpose. Father wished your… species to stay untouched by our graces. Masterpieces, as long as kept apart, he had said. You see, your people got it terribly wrong. Lucifer was never jealous of humans – in fact, he holds deep contempt for them. He was jealous of us, of me, because my new responsibilities evinced that we had different roles on the chain of command. If rancor was his first sin, fury came to be the second. He endeavored to make a point of how unfair it was of Father to ‘play favorites’ and provide the Seven with greater might. My brother was a very shrewd, intelligent being, but his envy made him blind to a lot of things.

  Lucifer used the following years to spread his beliefs right under our noses, and therefore was able to gather a herd of angels who succumbed to blatant lies just as much as he did. That was the beginning of the rebellion. His ability to lead was remarkable, but he could never be a true leader – not that he intended to, anyway. The reason is pretty obvious: my brother did not care the least about those under his directions, they were means to an end. His main goal was to dethrone the Seven, and for that he forged a deadly weapon: the flaming sword. The uprising initiated a war that none of us were ready for, not even him. For seven days, we fought. For seven days, we continuously killed our own. I suppose you already know the end to that story.”

   You were so fascinated by his narrative that you’d already forgotten the reason he brought up the subject.

  “I think so,” you said. “The real thing is actually so… different from everything I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. Tales never accomplish the whole truth.”

  “But what does that have to do with the reason you’re here?”

  “Like I said, my kind does not tolerate defiance after everything that happened. When Azrael was sentenced, I didn’t exactly make an effort to hide how I felt about it. They didn’t take it very well, so if you ask any of them why I was exiled, they’ll say it was for disobedience. When, in fact, it was because I reminded them too much of him,” he sighed, and you both fall into a pregnant pause. “How are you taking this?”

  “I’m not sure. I guess I just didn’t have enough time to process yet.”

  “I know,” he twisted a strand of your hair in his slender index finger.

  All of a sudden, a realization fell heavy on your heart.

  “Is your time up?”

  His brows knitted themselves together. “My time?”

  “Yeah. You said you’d stay here… for a predetermined amount of time. Is that why they came to get you?”

  “No, George,” he let out a puff of air from his nose, “that’s not why they came for me.”

  “Then why?”

  “Think about it. Why would they need their General for?”

  You shook your head, trying to make sense of what he was telling you. Oh.

  “You said you were indispensable in times of…” your whisper faded to an end.

  “War,” he completed.

    ||\\

                                                                                                                                  “While they adore me on the throne of hell,

With diadem and sceptre high advanced

The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery; such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent and could obtain

By act of grace my former state; how soon

Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

What feigned submission swore: ease would recant

Vows made in pain, as violent and void

For never can true reconcilement grow

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

Which would lead me to a worse relapse

And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

Short intermission bought with double smart.”

      There was a thin layer of snow covering the streets once again. The friction between the tires and the asphalt was barely there, and if the circumstances were different, that would be your main concern. The wind howled as you cut through it like bullets, and you tightened your embrace around his waist, somehow enjoying the numbing air of a cold late-afternoon. Eyes wide opened this time. When he finally parked in front of the porch, you quickly hopped down and took the helmet off, placing it in the seat you had previously taken. Before you could say or do anything, Yoongi seized your wrist with a leather-gloved hand.

  “I’m positively opposed to this,” he blurted in a last attempt to change your mind.

  “I know.” You tried to free yourself from his iron grasp, but to no avail. It was getting easier to read his features, and you could tell he was still unsure. But you were not. “Yoongi, it’s my call.”

  “Don’t I have a say in it?”

  “Ultimately… no.”

  “Want you to be safe, that’s all. Let us be reasonable about this, why don’t you?”

  “I thought you understood better than anyone that I don’t get to be reasonable about this,” you sighed with impatience. “Please, I—”

  “Okay,” he loosened his grip. “I’ll wait here.”

  “Okay.”

  The light was off in the living room, your mother wasn’t home yet. You told yourself that it was better this way. Making a beeline to the stairs, you went over the little list in your head once again before entering your bedroom.

  Set of clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, laptop… What else?

  You looked around, the baby-blue walls somehow mocking you, an excruciating reminder of simpler times. Memories of your childhood swirled inside your mind. All the times you and Taehyung would play hide and seek, the squeals he’d let out whenever you caught him off guard, how he was certainly faster than you, but would let you win a childish race every now and then. The familiar scent of caramel and coffee roaming around the house in the wee small hours of the morning after movie nights, your mom’s chocolate chip pancakes for lunch on Sundays. It all felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hauling your backpack across your shoulder, you had a weird feeling that that was it. That was goodbye. Although Yoongi had promised you’d be back safe and sound in a couple of days, you knew things could go wrong. It was a pondered decision; you were aware of the risks, he’d made sure of it. Still, leaving his side when there was a real possibility that he might not get out alive was just… not conceivable. Logically, you understood that, if things went south, you would not be able to do much. You did not care much for logic these days, anyway.

                                     [Cheers Darlin’, by Damien Rice]

  Stepping out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as possible—for no apparent reason—you hopped downstairs two steps at a time, making sure to avoid staring at other parts of the house that could trigger another episode of nostalgia. Too focused on the task of trying not to focus, you missed the six feet tall barricade blocking the entrance to the living room, crashing into it face-first. If it wasn’t for the unrelenting grip keeping you in place, you would’ve certainly hit the floor.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the flat baritone voice resonated throughout the empty space.  

  Of course. You closed your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath before even contemplating lifting your head to make eye contact.

  “Do you need something?” in a poor attempt to shield yourself, you parroted his dead intonation.

  “Do I need something,” he hummed. Then he chuckled, fists clenching around your forearms. “Are you leaving?” he spat. “What about your mom, huh?”

  “It’s just a couple of days. I’ll call her.”

  By the scowl plastered on his face, your dismissive attitude hadn’t worked the way you planned it to. You had to do this quick, like ripping off a bandage. If anyone could give you a run for your money in this situation, that would be Taehyung. You knew he’d try to persuade you into staying, so you couldn’t risk it. For both your sakes.

  “I see,” he remarked. “Were you planning to tell me you’re running off with your boyfriend or you’d just leave me to figure it out on my own?”

  His venomous words burned out of his mouth at lightning speed, tainting his tongue with a pungent aftertaste.

  “You know I would never do something like that,” the hurt that laced your voice was evident, but, maybe for the first time, it didn’t make him feel half as bad as it should.

  “Do I?” he scoffed. “For the past few months, it feels like you’ve already left. Wouldn’t make much of a difference if you actually did, I guess.”

  That did it. You felt tears well up in your eyes, but you were determined to not let them fall.

  “Okay, I’m not doing this,” you whispered, not trusting your voice enough to speak properly, and pulled your arms out of his grasp roughly. You darted for the closed front door, feeling sick to your stomach at the thought of spending another minute inside the house. He clutched your shirt tightly, as if it was a lifeboat.

  “Wait,” his fists clenched tighter. You could sense him getting closer, but you didn’t have the guts to turn around and face him just yet. He buried his face on your right shoulder, holding your hip now, nails bound to leave little crescent moons on your skin. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “I hate this.”

  Your heart ached. You hated it, too. Pushing Taehyung away was never your intention, but you finally came to understand all the times Yoongi had kept a safe distance before. To keep you safe. You couldn’t risk it, not with Marzipan.

  “It’s fine, Tae.”

  “It’s not,” he shook his head, brushing his nose on the fabric of your blouse. Inhaling deeply, he moved to the nape of your neck. You shuddered. “None of this is fine,” a peck on the bare skin of your neck, and your entire body tensed.

  “Taehyung…” you warned.

  “Don’t,” he begged, turning you around. You were adamant on avoiding his gaze, so your eyes kept darting between your feet and your hands. “Don’t go.”

  While he rested his forehead on yours, one hand on your cheek and the other thumbing your collarbone, you knew what was about to happen. You knew, and, still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him. You knew, but it was Taehyung, your best friend. Marzipan, the little boy from the house next door. Boxy smile, disheveled hair, sweet-toothed Taehyung. How wrong could it be? You were saying goodbye to a part of your own soul. How wrong could it be?

  When his lips touched yours, soft and ravenous, you really wanted it to feel right. But the answer to your previous question was: too wrong. You loved him, yes. But he wasn’t him. Didn’t taste the same, didn’t feel the same. His movements weren’t slow yet demanding, his hand wasn’t drawing invisible patterns on your lower back, his smell wasn’t musky enough. It just didn’t feel right.

  “Tae,” you tried to end the kiss, but he led his mouth back to yours like in a trance, nibling on your lower lip. “Taehyung, stop!”

  By the end of it, you were both panting. It dawned you how big of a mistake you had just made, and guilt made you nauseous. Neither of them deserved what you’d just done, neither of them deserved to have their hearts broken because you were such a fuck up.

  “I-I’m so sorry, Tae,” your voice cracked. He was about to answer, but you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t breathe, your skin was on fire and there was a big, nasty lump in your throat. You bolted out the door, only to be met with Yoongi’s inquiring gaze. It seemed to have broken a damn, and heavy tears tumbled down your cheeks. He rushed to meet you halfway, brushing the tears away as soon as his hands reached your face.

  “Hey,” he shushed you. “What happened, baby?”

  “Can we go home, please?”

 The crease between his furrowed eyebrows deepened, but still, he chose not to pry any further.

  “Of course, love. Of course we can,” he softly muttered, although still hesitant to take his hands off you.

  You climbed onto the familiar grey motorcycle and hid your damped cheeks on his jacket. The beast rumbled, gaining speed as you cut through the air. The ghost of Taehyung’s lips on yours haunting you the entire way back.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 20

Request: Yes or No

~

"Time travel sounds fun until you see how cringy you used to be." You said, watching Nebula fix some things on the suit Scott had on.

"I've never been cringy." Scott said. You stayed silent in response, glancing at Rhodes. Scott blinked, scoffing softly as you giggled.

"You're great, Scott." You gave a tired smile. Bruce went to put in the red capsules.

"Hey- Hey, be careful!"

"I'm being very careful." Bruce replied.

"No, you're being very Hulky." Scott put in the capsules himself. Even if Bruce was careful, he could still crush whatever was in there without even thinking about it. It was weird seeing Bruce in Hulks body but you supposed it helped end the beef they had. Scott and Bruce went back and forth until he turned small and big in a second.

"Alright, one test run." Scott gave a sheepish smile, glancing at everyone in the room. "I'm not ready for this."

"I'm game." You turned your head, looking at Clint. You crossed your arms, a soft sigh leaving you.

"I'll do it." Clint shrugged. Scott licked his lips, looking at Bruce. Bruce gave him a small nod so Scott walked out of the room to change out of the suit. Clint followed.

"So.. He got a new tattoo." Rhodes glanced at you. You licked your lips, shrugging lightly. Rhodes sighed, leaving the room momentarily before returning with some twizzlers. He offered one to you, giving a small smile. You took it, taking a small bite from it as Clint walked into the room with the suit on. Nebula made sure everything was good with the suit.

"Clint, you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the shift. Don't worry about it." Bruce told him.

"Wait, wait.. Let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos and just.." Rhodes made a wrapping and squeezing motion.

"I mean, it's a solid idea. Baby Thanos was probably real ugly anyways." You said, chewing on the candy. Bruce stared at you and Rhodes in disbelief.

"First of all, that's horrible-"

"It's Thanos."

"And secondly, time doesn't work that way. Changing the past doesn't change the future."

"We go back and get the stones before Thanos gets them.. Thanos doesn't get the stones!" Scott said, shrugging. Rhodes nodded, motioning to him.

"Problem solved!"

"Bingo." Clint nodded as Nebula glanced at them, giving a small shake of her head.

"That's not how it works." She muttered.

"Anyways, who told you that?"

"Star Trek, Terminator, Time Cop, Time After Time, Wrinkle in Time, Hot Tub Time Machine-"

"So, any movie with time in the name." You said with a chuckle.

"Well, it doesn't work like that. If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future and your former present becomes your past." Bruce explained. You hummed, continuing to munch on the twizzler.

"If time travel works.. That means there's different versions of ourselves in different.. Dimensions, right? Like living things we've lived and making decisions we'll eventually make?"

"Yes, actually." Bruce nodded, glad that at least someone was getting it.

"For example, my past self might be in Sokovia fighting Ultron right now while my future self might be relaxing on a beach." Bruce said with a shrug. You hummed, nodding.

"I wonder what my future self is doing.."

"Probably getting therapy instead of napping and drinking." Rhodes muttered, glancing at you. You scoffed softly.

"You drink?" Clint questioned, brows furrowing as a frown tugged at his lips. You shifted your gaze back to the man you used to call dad and shrugged.

"Occasionally." Once the suit was good to go and Bruce had told Clint everything he needed to do, you followed the guys and Nebula to the platform Rocket had built. It was surprising how much a raccoon could built. You glanced at Thor, giving him a small nod. Bruce walked up to the controls, the others standing behind him as they watched Clint stand in the center.

"Alright, Clint.. We're going in three.. Two.." You could tell Clint was nervous, you were too. Despite everything, he had still been someone who took you in and loved you. You slowly chewed on the twizzler, gaze flickering around the platform. To Clint it could feel like hours but it would merely be seconds for you and the others. Clint suddenly appeared, falling on the ground. The helmet retracted as he panted. Natasha quickly rushed up onto the platform with you following incase he had injuries. Natasha helped him up, getting him grounded as Clint looked around.

"I saw her... I saw Lila again.." Clint panted. You stared at him, swallowing as your grip on the twizzler tightened. Clint tossed a baseball glove at Tony, nodding.

"It worked." Clint said. A sense of relief filled you along with everyone. There was a chance at getting everyone back. The team turned, heading to an office in order to talk more and come up with a game plan. You finished your twizzler, taking a seat and watching Tony pull up pictures of the stones.

"We gotta find out the when and the where." Steve said, looking over all of the stones.

"Almost everyone in this room has had at least one encounter with an infinity stone." Steve turned his attention onto everyone. You supposed Vision counted as an encounter.

"Or substitute encounter by being damn near killed by one of the stones." Tony added, shrugging as he sipped on his coffee.

"I haven't." Scott piped in. "I have no clue what the hell you're talking about."

"Regardless, we only have enough pinparticles for one trip each and these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history." Bruce said, slowly walking around the office.

"Our history." Tony reminded him. "So, not alot of convenient spots to drop in."

"Which means we'll have to pick our targets." Clint muttered. Tony nodded, shooting him the side eye. You cocked a brow when you made eye contact with Tony. Tony simply patted your shoulder.

"Let's start with the ether. Thor, what do you know?" Steve asked, everyones' attention shifting onto the god of lighting. Thor sat in a corner, coke bottle in hand and sunglasses on.

"Is he asleep?" Natasha asked after Thor didn't answer. You stared at him. The last five years had definitely been rough for him.

"Pretty sure he's dead." Rhodes mumbled. You sighed, reaching forward and grabbing a cup of water. You made it turn ice cold before tossing it at the god. Thor jolted awake, looking down at his wet shirt.

"Thor, the reality stone. What do you know about it?" Steve asked again, watching him stand and approach the picture of the reality stone. You listened to Thors' rambling, turning to look at Tony. Scott was the only one interested in what he had to say. Tony approached him, urging him to sit.

"Alright.. Who's next?"

~~~~~~~~~~

You stared at the pictures. Three stones in New York, one in Asgard, and the other two in Morag. You looked at Steve as he approached the hologram.

"Alright, we have a plan. Six stones, three teams. One shot." Steve said. You swallowed, glancing at Rocket and Thor. You had been assigned on their team. Just in case. You stood up with the others, going off to change. You stared at the two pictures in your locker. One of the Barton family and the other of the Stark family. You headed towards the platform after changing, standing beside Thor and Rocket.

"Stay safe." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. Steve gave a pep talk before you put your helmet on. You absolutely hated the feeling as you went through what looked like a blue tunnel. When you blinked, you were in Asgard. Thor held a finger up to his lips, passing by a room. You followed, glancing back and seeing his brother. You had never officially met Loki but he was an odd dude. You reached a hall, standing besides Thor. You listened to the women talk in the hall. You shared a look with Rocket.

"There's Jane." Thor whimpered, shaking his head. Rocket sighed.

"Alright.." Rocket hopped off the stone block, looking at you and Thor.

"You're gonna charm her, (Y/N) will be our lookout, and I'll poke her with this thing, get the stone, and we'll be gone." Rocket said, watching Thor. You gave a nod but Thor sniffled.

"I'll be right back. The wine cellar is just down here. My father used to have this huge barrel of ale." You stared at Thor, letting out a sigh as you scratched your forehead. You heard a door opening and quickly ducked besides Rocket.

"Yes, and could you also let me know when Gaia plans on visiting again?" You blinked, feeling your body freeze. You slowly stood, glancing at Thor as he slowly walked down the hall, gaze on the woman.

"Who's the fancy woman?" Rocket asked, hopping onto the stone. You swallowed, turning your head and looking at the woman.

"That's my mother..." Thor answered. Your eyes slightly widened, turning to face Thor. You opened your mouth to ask him a question.

"She dies today." Thor whispered. You shut your mouth, frowning. You licked your lips, gaze flickering around.

"How.. How does she know Gaia?" You asked softly. Thor glanced at you with furrowed brows.

"She was a friend of my mothers'." Thor answered. He looked back at where his mother had been, shaking his head.

"I can't do this." He breathed out, beginning to pant softly. You and Rocket faced him. Rocket told Thor to get closer as Thor rambled. You blinked as Rocket slapped him, almost laughing at the sight of a raccoon slapping a god.

"You think you're the only one who lost people? What do you think we're doing here? I lost the only family I ever had. Same with nature boy over here. I get you miss your mom, but she's gone. Really gone and there are plenty of people who are kind of gone. You can help them. So is it too much to ask that you brush the crumbs out of your beard, talk to the girl, and when she's not looking, suck the infinity stone and help us get our families back?" Rocket stared at him. Thor nodded, a small whimper leaving him as his eyes watered.

"Thor, calm down." You said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You're the god of lighting, Thor. You can do this."

"Yeah, yeah, I can." Thor nodded. You gave him a small smile, following Raccoon towards the door. You turned, hearing footsteps rushing away. You sighed.

"He's gone." You muttered. Rocket groaned softly.

"You go after him. I'll go get the stone." Rocket said, turning around and walking towards the room.

"I don't know this place." You huffed, looking at the talking raccoon. Rocket let out an exasperated sigh.

"Be my lookout." He mumbled. You walked towards the room Jane was in, watching Rocket enter. You stood infront of the doors, gaze flickering around. You had no idea what you were gonna do if somebody asked you what you were doing. You swallowed, glancing in the direction Thors' mother had gone in.

"He'll be fine." You assured yourself, speedwalking in the direction. You spotted Thor, quietly walking towards him.

"Thor-"

"Shh." He brought up a finger to his lips. Thor grabbed you, keeping you hidden behind the pillar as his mother passed by. She dismissed her girls. You and Thor peeked around the corner.

"What are you doing?" You flinched, letting out a yelp as a woman yelped as well. You turned and faced her, watching her look at Thor. Thor suddenly grabbed you, covering you with his jacket.

"You're better off leaving the sneaking to your brother." The woman said, head tilting.

"What are you wearing? Who is this?" She asked, stepping forward. You swatted Thor's arm away, clearing your throat.

"Uhm, I'm- I'm (Y/N)." You said. Rocket was gonna kill you.

"Frigga." She gave a polite smile. "What are you wearing?" Friggas' brows furrowed, looking Thor over. Frigga slowly approached her son, placing a hand on his cheek. Thor rambled slightly. Frigga smiled softly.

"You're not the Thor I know, are you?" She asked softly.

"Yes I am."

"The future hasn't been kind to you, has it?" She gently brushed some hair out of his face. You watched her, gaze softening. You could see why Thor loved his mother so much. They shared a tight hug, something Thor had desperately needed.

"Let's talk." Frigga smiled. You tuned out as Thor spoke to his mother. You walked around her room, looking over the glass. You licked your lips, looking over at them.

"How do you know Gaia?" You asked softly. Frigga turned to look you curiously.

"Like, uhm, Thor told me but I.. I wanna know more." You said, facing her. Frigga tilted her head, slowly approaching you.

"Gaia? What would you want with her?"

"She's my mother and she.. She kind of abandonded me." You shrugged lightly, letting out a small awkward laugh. Frigga hummed, gaze softening.

"Gaia's in.. It's hard to explain. She's in The Garden. She lives there and it's how she watches over her creations." Frigga explained.

"How do I get there?"

"Fairy rings. Only certain people have access to her portals." Frigga said. You nodded, keeping it in mind. Thor stood, approaching you and his mom.

"Mother, I must tell you something-"

"No, Thor." Frigga turned to face her son, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Mother-"

"Guys!" Rocket shouted, running towards you. "You were supposed to watch the door!"

"I know." You gave an apologetic smile. Rocket shook his head, showing the stone.

"I got it." He breathed out. "Oh, hey, you must be mom."

"I wish we had more time." Thor said softly. Frigga smiled gently, grabbing his hands.

"This was a gift. Now you go and be the man you were meant to be." Frigga said softly. Thor gave her a sad smile.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you." Frigga hugged Thor tightly. She pulled back and smiled. Rocket began to count but Thor stopped him. He extended his hand towards the balcony area. You and Rocket shared a look.

"W-What are we looking at?" He asked.

"It takes a second." Frigga chuckled softly. Thors hammer returned to him, making him beam. You smiled softly as the suit returned.

"Nice meeting you." You said.

"Same here." Frigga smiled, giving a small wave. The helmet came on and you went back through the nauseating blue tunnel. You grunted, shutting your eyes tightly.

"Yeah, fuck that." You muttered, rubbing your forehead. You looked around, noticing Clint fall to his knees with teary eyes.

"Where's Nat?"

~~~~~

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace @jjk-is-my-shit

[emeraldiis]

37 in smut for best friend!Bucky

37. “we should skinny dip.”

A/N: i really really liked this one omg

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

The ocean waves crash against the beach like a lullaby, making it difficult to stay awake. You lean your head against Bucky’s shoulder, casting a glance at his face. He looks almost ethereal with the moonlight washing his skin in a pale glow. A smile creeps across your face as you realize that you could spend the rest of your life with him.

Being in love with your best friend is the worst--and best--pain in the world. With every inside joke, every hug, you just fell deeper and deeper. He can make you laugh until you cry, and can make even a boring Tuesday night like this feel special. And he has no idea what he does to you, just how much you care for him. You’ve told him that you love him, and he’s responded in kind, but you know that the love he feels for you is platonic. And you’ll never tell him how you feel, because jeopardizing your friendship is too big of a risk, not a leap you’re willing to take.

Bucky nudges you, startling you out of your thoughts. “Wake up, sleepy head. I thought we were gonna watch the sunrise?”

You eye the pitch black sky skeptically. “Yeah, I think I’m safe to nap for like two more hours before the sun even thinks about coming up.”

With a snort, Bucky shoves your arm, sending you tumbling into the sand. “There, now you’re awake.”

“And covered in sand, ass!” You growl playfully. Sand comes flying up as you launch yourself at Bucky, toppling both of you over. You wrestle for a moment, finally pinning Bucky’s arms beside his head and sticking your tongue out at him. “I win, like I do every time.” You toss your hair away from your face, smirking.

Bucky just rolls his eyes at you. “Only ‘cause I let you every time. My ego can handle losing.”

You pout, angry because he’s right. “Whatever,” you say, rolling off of him and dusting yourself off. “I wish I had brought my bathing suit.” You gaze wistfully at the sea, wishing you could take a dip to wash the sand off.

“Or,” Bucky starts, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We should skinny dip.”

Your eyes go wide, and you bring your hand to your chest in mock horror. “How dare you suggest something so perverted, you sleaze!”

Bucky throws his head back and cackles, and you take the chance to admire the sharp lines of his jaw and the smooth skin of his neck. “Sleaze? I haven’t heard that word since my mother used to yell at the TV.”

“Oh, shut it. Your mom is smarter than you and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. So are you in?” Bucky waggles his eyebrows at you. “Or are you too scared?”

Oh, now that was dirty. Bucky knew that you couldn’t back down from a challenge like that. Despite every instinct screaming at you to think about this for a second, you stand up and take off running towards the water, pulling at your shirt. Bucky is close behind you, laughing giddily.

When your toes hit the ocean, you pause to shed your clothes, barely even hesitating when it came down to your underwear. Off came the bra and the panties, tossed up on the sand away from the water. You shoot a glance back at Bucky, and quickly look away when you see that he’s as naked as you are.

It’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked before, but that had been when you both were younger. And this feels different, more electric. Shaking off the nerves, you plunge into the chilly water, shrieking at the surprising cold that washes over your bare skin. You hear Bucky come crashing in behind you, and soon you’re up to your chest. You finally turn around the face Bucky. Both of you are flushed and panting, keyed up from the thrill of doing something so risky in public.

You’re thankful for the dark waves covering your breasts, and can’t help but notice Bucky’s eyes flick across your bare shoulders before coming back up to your face. He chews on his lip, looking away bashfully. “I know I can’t see much right now, but you gotta know that you’re gorgeous, doll.”

Fuck. Your heart aches, wanting so bad to close the gap between you two and press your blue lips against Bucky’s. Instead, you shiver, drawing your arms up around yourself. “It’s cold,” you say slowly, hoping Bucky will get the hint.

Something that looks a lot like lust flashes across Bucky’s face, and he takes the bait. He moves closer, then places his hands on your hips underwater. “Is this okay?” He breathes.

You nod, and suddenly the tension in the air snaps, and you’re all over each other. Hands are everywhere, touching, grabbing, lighting your skin on fire even as it’s drenched in sea water. When you press your naked body against Bucky’s, you can feel his erection against your thigh and unconsciously grind yourself against it.

Bucky groans, then brings his lips to yours. Every part of you is screaming out in pleasure as Bucky plunges his tongue into your mouth. You rut up against each other like teenagers, moaning shamelessly. Every sound you make is drowned out by the waves, but Bucky drinks in your whines and whimpers like a man starved.

Before long, Bucky tenses, gasping against your lips and going completely still. His cum is washed away by the water, but you can still feel how he throbs against your thigh. You whine at him, needing more, and he nods dumbly before reaching down to rub a thumb across your clit. You nearly go cross eyed at the pleasure, keening desperately. You reach your peak shortly after Bucky, and then sag against his chest, trusting him to hold your head above the water.

“What did we just do? What are we?” Bucky asks against your soaked hair, voice sounding unsure through ragged breaths.

“I just want you,” you reply, too worn down to give a real answer.

“You have me, doll.”

[everlarkficexchange]

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, ���I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 1! “Harvest”

My first ficlet for Suptober! Read under the cut :)

Pairing: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 2,218

Tags: Fluff, Disaster Bi Dean Winchester, Daydreaming about hot farmers, Some suggestive language (and swearing), Angelic wheat harvest assistance, The Dom Brow makes an appearance, Sam Ships It, Mini Case Fic  

On AO3 here.

“All right,” Dean announces as he stomps into the hospital room, trailing mud with every step. “You’re not gonna have a problem anymore, Randy.”

The man propped up on the hospital bed cushions glares at Dean from under bushy eyebrows. “Well, it’s about time,” he snaps. “First these-- these things terrorize my fields for weeks, then y’all show up and are so useless that they maim me after you’re already on the case, and now I’ve lost the prime window to harvest a year’s worth o’ growth ‘cause I’m laid up in this godforsaken facility. So don’t you tell me I ain’t gonna have a problem anymore.” 

Dean sinks down onto the rickety plastic chair next to the bed, moving gingerly to avoid jostling his (probably) dislocated shoulder, courtesy of some extremely vengeful spirits. He fixes Randy with an even gaze. 

“Man, I’m sorry about your leg. I am. The spirits had a wider range than we thought and we figured you’d be safe at the house.”

Randy snorts in obvious derision, his scruffy mustache fluttering comically. Dean presses on.

“But, we’ve put them to rest. Your great-grandparents aren’t gonna give you any more grief.”  Even if the rest of your family did totally fuck them over.

He stands again, awkwardly, and pats Randy’s good knee. “Sorry about your harvest, though. Can anyone help out? Neighbors? Friends?”

Randy glowers. “I ain’t takin’ no charity.”

Dean quirks his lips and nods. “Right. Take it easy, Randy.” He leaves the still-grumbling farmer behind, following his own trail of mud back down the hallway. A tall janitor lurking around the corner sends him a death glare and Dean tries for an appropriately apologetic smile. 

It’s been a real headache of a night. 

The pair of spirits haunting Randy Johnson’s wheat fields ended up being way more pissed off than Sam, Dean, and Cas had anticipated. By the time Cas located the heavy brass key to the farmhouse that was apparently tethering the property-line-obsessed spirits to the material plane, Dean and Sam were long out of rock salt. In their retreat, they’d ended up waist-deep in a pebbly creek, splashing and wobbling as they beat off the screeching spirits with crowbars. Dean has an unfortunately-placed boulder to thank for his dislocated shoulder -- he went down hard and clumsy just as Cas reappeared next to the stream, the old key melting dramatically in the bright glow of his palm. 

The spirits burned away in a shower of sparks, along with Dean’s dignity.

To top it all off, Dean drew the short straw to go tell Randy the case was closed, and he may have stomped off in a sulky huff before thinking of asking Cas or Sam to put his shoulder right. 

Oh, well. At least it’s dealt with. One more night in their more-stained-than-usual motel room, and first thing in the morning they’ll get the hell outta Dodge (almost literally - they’re up in Osborne County). 

Dean thinks of a bright July morning on the open road and sighs in relief.

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

He doesn’t get his wish.

“I just feel bad, Dean!” Sam protests as Dean gesticulates incredulously at him. (His shoulder was very pleasantly healed by Cas the night before, and if Dean noticed that Cas’ warm hands lingered a little longer on his skin than was technically necessary for a cursory dislocation repair, he didn’t mention it.)

“God, Sammy, yeah, it sucks about the guy’s leg, but maybe if he wasn’t such an asshole to everyone he knows, somebody’d help him out! It’s not-- it can’t be our problem.”

Sam crosses his arms stubbornly. “It’s not about Randy. His fields are part of a huge supply that feeds a ton of people. Do you want people to go hungry, Dean?”

Castiel chooses that moment to materialize directly next to Dean, his nose inches away from Dean’s cheek. He’s holding two steaming cups of coffee and Dean immediately grabs one. Cas squints and tilts his head. “Why does Dean want people to go hungry?”

“Oh my god.” Dean throws his free hand up. “Fine. Fucking fine. We’ll find someone who’s willing to plow the dude’s fields. That’ll be easy.”

Sam opens his big mouth, probably to say something about having faith in humanity, but Cas beats him to it. Still planted firmly in Dean’s bubble, he sends a puff of warm air against Dean’s face as he speaks.

“Oh. I can do it.”

Dean and Sam both look at him. Dean shuffles back a couple steps and wills his eyes away from the guy’s lips. He really spends too much time staring at them.

“Um--” Sam clears his throat. “You can harvest Randy’s wheat?”

“I can plow, yes.” Cas nods firmly. Dean’s first sip of coffee comes spraying back out. He pounds his chest and wheezes. 

“Like-- like-- with a combine?” 

Cas furrows his brow. “Is that a machine? No, I don’t require machinery. This is a very basic task.”

“Plowing,” Dean says weakly.

“Harvesting,” Cas corrects, tilting his chin down and narrowing his eyes. “Humans have been doing it for a very long time. I used to help, now and again. I can’t imagine the process has changed much.”

Sam slaps his thighs as he stands up from his bed. “Well! Look at that, Dean. Cas doesn’t want people to go hungry.” 

Dean flips him off, but it lacks the usual heat.

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

An hour later, they find themselves on the edge of a vast, lazily undulating expanse of gold. They’d skirted the north edge of the field extensively while working the spirit case, since the activity was strongest there along the creek, but in his single-minded focus Dean hadn’t really paid much attention to the field itself.

It’s big. Like, squint-into-the-distance-and-you-can’t-see-the-end big. 

“You’re really gonna plow all that?” Dean asks, glancing at Cas. The morning sun is turning the tips of Cas’ hair a chestnut gold. 

“I will cut down the stalks, separate the grain from the chaff, and deposit the edible grain into a large truck, which apparently takes it where it needs to go,” Cas says matter-of-factly. “I visited Randy early this morning to make sure I knew which truck it was.”

Sam laughs. “Oh yeah? How’d good old Randy take that?”

“He seemed dubious,” Cas says. “And rude. I assured him that despite his unsavory attitude, he would come home to harvested fields.”

“Very angelic of you,” Sam remarks. 

“So how’s this gonna go?” Dean lifts a hand to block out the steadily-rising sun. “You gonna be flapping back and forth? Probably not smart to let the locals clock an angel doing the harvest.”

Cas arches an eyebrow at him, somehow gazing down at Dean despite being an inch shorter. “I don’t flap, Dean. I may have wings, but their movement in the ether is beyond your comprehension.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and turns his face away in a show of studying the field to the north, but mostly to conceal the flush of his cheeks in response to that eyebrow. 

For Christ's sake, keep it together, Winchester.

“I can’t explain to you how it will look,” Cas continues, oblivious. “You’ll just have to watch. Anything you see will be for your eyes only. I guarantee no locals will ‘clock me.’”

Dean looks back just in time to see the tail end of the finger quotes. Cas is staring right at him, that damn eyebrow still up, a subtle challenge, daring Dean to make a move.

Maybe not so oblivious. Asshole. 

Dean smiles sweetly and gestures at the wheat. “All right then. Have at it, buddy. Show us what you’ve got.”

With no further ado, Cas is gone. Dean’s left staring through the previously-Cas-occupied space at his brother, who’s grimacing with an air of great suffering. 

“What?” Dean demands. 

Sam sighs heavily and gazes out over the field. “You two are so weird.”

Dean’s about to respond with something really witty when Sam perks up and points into the distance. “Holy crap, look!”

Dean follows the path of Sam’s outstretched finger and his mouth drops open. On the horizon, at the far end of the field, there’s a cloud. No-- a mini tornado. A golden tornado. A… sparkly tornado?

“What the--” Dean cups his hands around his eyes like blinkers. Even with the glare of the sun blocked out, though, the tornado is just as bright -- a swirling, racing funnel criss-crossing the field way faster than a combine, or even Baby, could drive. 

“Why is it-- what’s the sparkly stuff?” 

Sam’s squinting too. “I think it’s the pieces of the stalks he’s separating? And they catch the light as they get tossed around.” 

The tornado’s already halfway across the field, approaching them steadily. It’s about as tall as an oak tree, and as it gets closer Dean sees that Sam was right: thousands of little stalks and bits of grain and -- what had Cas called it? -- chaff are whirling and flitting amid the twisting golden dust of the tornado. The effect is a bit dizzying, kind of like that ocular migraine Dean had one time as a teenager, when an aura of tiny flashing spots obscured his vision, right there in his eye yet impossible to focus on. 

He steps back instinctively, Sam mirroring his movement, when the tornado grows close to them. It whips past, blowing Dean’s jacket open, and where there was once chest-high golden grain, there’s now just dirt littered with aborted stalks. 

“Damn,” Dean whispers. He’s seen Cas do all kinds of badass things, of course, but they’ve been more of the smiting and heavy-lifting variety. This is a new level of cool. In a farmer-y way. This, of course, leads Dean’s traitorous brain directly to images of worn flannel stretched tight over biceps; of a blade of hay dangling jauntily from chapped lips; of long, strong fingers gripping a pitchfork--

“--Dean!” 

The pleasantly-evolving bubble bursts. Dean twitches as Sam elbows him in the ribs.

“Dude! Cas is done, come on.”

Dean blinks a few times to bring himself back to reality (a reality with wheat-harvesting angel tornados) and realizes that Sam’s heading north along the field to where a normal-sized, non-funnel-cloudy Cas is standing, brushing off his trenchcoat. Dean follows his brother and takes in the scene; the whole field really has been reduced to nothing -- just a flat, dappled expanse.

“Damn, Cas,” he says quietly as he reaches Cas’ side. His voice comes out strained and a little breathless. “That was some good plowing.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Can replies gravely. He tugs on his cuffs and some wheat dust puffs out. “It was an effective harvest. I disguised myself from mortal eyes -- including yours -- as I transported the grain to the truck, but I trust you saw the rest?”

Sam nods enthusiastically and launches straight into a barrage of questions about the physics and techniques and yadda yadda before Dean has to come up with a response. Yeah, I saw it. Yeah, it got me all tingly. That’s normal. He takes a few deliberate, slow breaths to calm the pounding in his chest.

Still tuning Sam out, he zeroes in on a single piece of wheat still stuck in Cas’ hair. It’s poking up toward the blue summer Kansas sky -- a tiny, trembling link between earth and heaven. Dean sidles up to Cas before he can overthink it. He slips his fingers into Cas’ wild, dark hair and plucks the wheat out. 

He throws it on the ground. It belongs to the earth. 

Sam falls silent with a choked-off laugh and Cas turns his trademark unblinking stare onto Dean. But this time there’s a slight crinkle to the edges of his eyes. A quirk of his lips. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says again. He reaches out and -- Dean stops breathing -- brushes another piece of wheat out of Dean’s collar. His warm fingers graze Dean’s throat and all Dean can do is watch the little stalk flutter to the ground. 

Well. So much for a steady heartbeat. 

“Hey, I’ve got stuff in my hair, too,” Sam announces, voice thick with amusement. “Anyone gonna help me out?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the enlightening piece of wheat and points a finger at Sam, leveling him with his sternest shut the fuck up face. He prays his cheeks aren’t flaming. 

“If you need assistance, Sam--” Cas says, starting toward him.

“--He’s fine,” Dean interjects hastily. Maybe a little loudly. He coughs to cover it up. Smooth. “Let’s go. I wanna hit the road.”

Sam’s already jogging away before Dean’s done speaking. “I’ve still got the keys,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ll warm up the car. You guys can catch up!”

Cas and Dean are left at the edge of the empty field. Dean rubs his neck and shuffles his feet, acutely aware of Cas’ piercing gaze. It’s nearly warmer than the morning sun. “Uh-- that was really cool, Cas. Thanks for letting us see it.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replies, measured and deep. “I enjoyed sharing that with you.”

Wow. All right. Dean needs to get moving or he’s going to explode. But not before filing that particular comment away for extensive mental perusal later, in the privacy of his bedroom. 

He flashes a grin and punches Cas’ shoulder. “Come on, farmer angel. Let’s go home.”

[seodami]

Skinny dipping | YJH

Genre: fluff, a bit suggestive and mature

Warnings: being naked

Word count: 2957

Pairing: Slytherin!Yoon Jeonghan x reader (Hogwarts AU)

Note: Last night I heard Katy Perry’s ‘Last Friday night’ and suddenly had the idea to do a skinny dipping imagine with Jeonghan in Hogwarts. I’m a huge simp for Hogwarts rn so don’t mind me haha

“By all means wait up Jeonghan!” You whisper shouted to the boy walking a few feet in front of you. You heard his familiar amused giggle and saw him turn around to allow you to catch up with his pace. The corridors of Hogwarts this late at night were filled with darkness, not a single sound could be heard besides your fast footsteps. It was a stark contrast to the busy crowd at daytime.

“What? Are you afraid we might get caught? You can still go back.” The witty Slytherin joked, not even caring to hide his mocking smile. You scoffed finally reaching his side and linking your arms together so that he wouldn’t be able to walk faster than you. “Pff noo...it’s just a bit dangerous alone at night. We could have at least gone in the afternoon rather than 1 am...” you said while avoiding his eyes.

He chuckled tugging you to the left into an even darker corridor. The only source of light being his wand. “That’s definitely no fun sweetheart. I know you like it. You don’t have to lie to me. And it’s not dangerous when you go with me.” Looking up at his face, you nearly choked about how close you were.

Things with this Slytherin boy were just confusing. One time he is ignoring you in class, the next time he bangs on your dorm room just to cuddle him. He is a real mystery to you but what could you do? His charms were irresistible. You noticed that right from the beginning.

But he was right. On the surface you were scared. A scaredy cat. But deep down, you wanted to experience and enjoy the drill of being together with Jeonghan even in the weirdest situations. He made you do things you never thought you would do.

“Are you cold?” He asked sweetly as you still haven’t answered to his previous reassurment. There were times you could absolutely despise Jeonghan for being such a jerk. But there were also times like this, where you swear your heart will leap out, out of adoration for this special boy. When he could be aggressive and over confident, he could also be gentle.

You nodded your head, squeezing Jeonghans arm a tad harder. His hands sneaked down to your hands, slowly intertwining your fingers with each other. Heat rushed to your cheeks, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“Look there’s the back exit. If we run to the lake, you won’t feel cold anymore.” He whispered softly, making your brain feel dull. His sweet scent fogging your mind totally. As on cue you nodded whispering a small ‘okay’ back. And before you could do anything else, your hand got dragged and the wind flattered through your hair. Being with Jeonghan definitely was exciting.

And being with him definitely shut off the responsible part of your brain. And was it really bad that you loved it? The adrenaline, the risk of being caught and the rush of serotonin. It was nearly addicting. So in the end it was an impossible task to stay away from the said Slytherin despite all the warnings from your friends. And you did not regret a thing.

Heavily breathing, with Jeonghans hand still clasping yours tightly, you both came to a halt when you saw the Black lake stretching out in front of you. It looked just as dark and mysterious as the name told. It seemed nearly intimidating and dangerous.

Your eyes wandered towards Jeonghan. You watched his chest rise and fall from his heavy breathing and his silky blonde hair softly falling onto his forehead. His cheeks had a faint tint of pink because of the cold, from what you could see in the dim light.

He was truly breathtaking.

You swore in that moment, you had never seen anyone nearly as ethereal as him. You could look at him for hours.

His eyes met yours in a silent moment, absolute quietness embracing the two of you. His lips curled up into one of his most genuine smiles. If you were still cold after the running, now you definitely felt burning hot in every fiber of your body. His eyes told you how he truly felt. In moments like this you came to realize that his teasing nature really just was a mask after all. He genuinely cared. You knew that. So you smiled softly back at him. Letting him silently know the same.

Unconsciously you leaned even closer to him, just needing his close proximity at this moment. You were so ready to give it all for Jeonghan. You would have done anything if he just asked you. You only and only cared about him right now.

While his hand never left yours, his other hand wandered to your cheek. His long fingers gently stroking over it making your heart race even faster. Everything inside of you screamed for him. Your thoughts were all over the place but every single one was about him.

“Let’s go skinny dipping...” he whispered with sparkles in his big brown eyes looking down at you. Your heart sank for a second. “S-skinny...dipping? You mean... naked?” Your breath hitched at thinking about seeing naked Jeonghan. Even just a tiny glimpse at his toned chest would make you want to faint right on the spot.

His genuine smile now was mixed with his usual playful smirk. His thumb momentarily ran over your bottom lip, not being able to say anything. He let out a little giggle.

“That’s what skinny dipping means, love. Are you scared or...?” he grinned, two rows of perfect straight white teeth peeking from behind his lips. You shook your head immediately, not knowing how he could persuade you that easily.

“What about the giant squid? And i bet the water is freezing. I...” he cut you off with a giggle again. “Just trust me, you can do that right? I will protect you with my life. Always. There’s nothing scary about taking a secret swim with me at night.” His voice was like honey, melting everything inside of you. He was intoxicatedly sweet to you and you couldn’t get enough of this side of Jeonghan.

Your head moved as if by magic, letting him smile even wider. “There you go.” He let out a small laugh before letting go off your hand and face, leaving you with a cold feeling.

His tender fingers moved quickly to his shirt after slipping off his shoes and socks, slowly unbuttoning one button after another. More and more skin getting revealed by each passing second. Your eyes unconsciously followed his every movement letting him chuckle. “I knew you would love this idea Y/N...” he indirectly teased you, making you immediately look away, left speechless.

“You do this just to tease me, aren’t you? There aren’t many attractive boys lining up to undress themselves in front of me.” You murmured, suddenly finding the tree besides the lake far more interesting than Jeonghans bare chest. His small giggles trying to enchant you once again as you saw him toss his white shirt next to him in the grass from the corner of your eyes.

“Well I’m actually quite glad about that. Wouldn’t anyone else voluntarily undress in front of you besides me.” He murmured deeply, stepping a bit closer to you. Your breath hitched again as your eyes accidentally crossed his upper body. “Should I tell you something?” He started unbuttoning his black pants. You nodded, eyes fixated on the ground.

“You are the first and only person I would ever do that.” Your eyes looked up into his dark brown again. You could see he meant it. A small smile replaced the nervous chewing on your lips. “I feel honored...” you managed to joke as he stepped out of his pants, leaving him standing in front of you in just a pair of black boxers.

“Oh you should. Now hurry and undress.” He smirked before his fingers grazed down to the elastic of his boxers. That was your cue to immediately turn away to look towards the castle instead. Jeonghan laughed loudly. “You are so cute Y/N...”

He threw his boxers on purpose right in front of your feet. You have never had a heart rate that fast in your entire life. Blood rushing into your ears, all you could hear was your irregular fast heartbeat. This boy knew what he was doing.

“Don’t be shy, darling... I’m gonna wait in the water. I’m not gonna look I promise.” He chuckled, hearing his voice slowly getting quieter as he walked towards the water. You let out a shaky sight not sure what to do. You definitely did think about either running away or just straight up making out with this boy. But seeing both options won’t help you, you began unbuttoning your blouse.

Jeonghan left his wand in the grass, the Lumus spell he casted before, slowly fading away, letting darkness take over. Before you tossed your shirt away though, you couldn’t resist taking a quick peek behind you, checking on the Slytherin. This happened to be a huge mistake as you took notice of his completely naked backside, consisting of a very very cute butt. You accidentally choked on air as you saw him turn his head slightly around to lock eyes with you.

Even in the near darkness you could swear making out a smirk. Quickly you turned around acting as if nothing had happened fiddling with the zipper of your skirt. “I know you looked Y/N.” He snickered, clearly teasing you again.

“No I didn’t. You have no proof. Also...you did look as well. So quit playing cool Jeonghan.” He laughed in the distance, hearing water softly splashing. “No I didn’t. You have no proof.” He mocked you with a playful tone. Rolling your eyes and assuming Jeonghan wouldn’t look again.

After you pulled your skirt off and slipped off your shoes and socks, your hands hesitantly unclasped your bra. With a deep breath you told yourself not to be such a scaredy-cat. It was just Jeonghan. Jeonghan, yes. The light cold breeze around night time let goosebumps appear on your whole body. Never would you ever have imagined yourself undressing in the middle of the night outside with Jeonghan. But life wasn’t the most predictable, wasn’t it?

At this point there was nearly no light around you at all. Only the faint glimmer of Jeonghans wand and the dim light of the moon letting you know in which direction the lake was. With a last reassuring nod towards yourself, you slipped off your underwear, now being completely exposed.

“Do not look Jeonghan, I’ll warn you.” You threatened the older boy with slightly shaking voice. “I won’t... the water is a bit cold but it’s very refreshing.” He assured you without a mocking tone this time, surprising you. Little did you know the boy had already broken his promise the second you warned him. It nearly took his breath away, seeing you standing purely naked in the faint moonlight. Your dark shillouette being enough for him to feel utterly and completely lost in his deep feelings towards you. He wouldn’t admit it sometimes but you were the most beautiful human being he had ever seen. The way you looked at him through your long lashes, immediately making him even crazier for you. He fell that deep for you, it was impossible for him not to touch you or be close to you all the time.

He loved how open and carefree he could be around you. He didn’t fear about his stupid reputation around you. All he cared for was your well-being. You indeed make him a better version of himself.

As you turned around, you carefully followed his voice, not exactly seeing Jeonghan in the dark. Only if you squint your eyes, you could faintly make out his dark outlines.

The water around your ankles was freezing cold and immediately made your brain clearer than ever, all tiredness from before gone like thin air.

“Where are you? I can’t see...” you whispered while clasping your teeth to avoid stuttering because of the cold. “I’m here, sweetie. Just a few more meters.” His intoxicating voice kept dragging you deeper into the water. You would follow him everywhere. Now you really understood all of the characters in movies from all these bad romantic movies. It was exactly this deep feeling you couldn’t resist but wanting to feel more.

You stretched your hands out in order to find Jeonghan. You definitely didn’t like being alone in this strange water. Just touching Jeonghans hand would reassure you a lot. You actually didn’t care anymore that you were naked in front of your crush, you just wanted to be by his side.

“Jeonghan?” You whispered still unsure where he was. Suddenly you felt a hand around your hip, letting goosebumps and a shudder down your back appear on your skin. “Here...” he mumbled with airy voice as he stood in front of you. His body warmth making you feel warmer in an instant. Not only that, but your racing heart and the adrenaline in your blood made it easy for you to not feel as cold as before anymore.

“I got you...” his voice was so tender, everything inside you screamed for him. You moved into his touch, letting your hands wander from his hands upwards towards to his shoulders. After a moment of just enjoying each other’s company, feeling nothing but a bliss of excitement and pure joy, you felt yourself moving even closer to him. Your chest already touching his, swearing his breath hitched for a second. Fingers slowly wandering behind his neck, gently playing with his silky hair at the back of his head. The smell of his fresh shampoo and expensive cologne fogging your mind slowly. Gosh you were just crazy for that Slytherin boy.

“You are so gorgeous Y/N...I can’t ever get enough of you.” He quietly confessed, feeling hot air against your neck. His lips gently grazed up your neck, slowly pressing a row of gentle kisses on the skin between your jaw and neck. Letting out a content sight, your hands dogged deeper into his fluffy hair as you pressed your bodies even closer together. Your legs courageously wrapping around his hips and waist. One of his hands wandering over your legs upwards.

“Jeonghan...” you sighed slipping your hands from his hair around his god shaped face, faintly seeing the sparkle in his eyes. Jeonghan on the other hand hadn’t heard anything more beautiful or stunning in his entire life than his name falling from your lips.

“I...I think...no I know, that... t-that I love you so much. I am completely crazy for you...just for you.” it was now your turn to confess your love to him and their was no going back. It was the pure truth. He grinned widely letting out a happy laugh, closing his eyes for a second. The moonlight hit him just in the right places.

“Me too Y/N...me too. God I love you so much.” He caressed your cheeks with his hands, letting you smile just as big as him. Serotonin just kept rushing through your veins, unable to stop smiling. Your brain couldn’t believe what you just heard. Your love was never pointless. You felt so loved.

Without hesitating any more, he pulled your faces together and gracefully layed his lips onto yours, moving together in harmony. Your whole world erupted in colors and emotions. You couldn’t quite grasp the feeling you felt during that moment but it was freeing for your soul and heart. It felt like a huge weight being taken from your shoulders and replacing it with love, love and love again.

Yoon Jeonghan loved you. He kissed you. He held you close. He protected you. It was like you even forgot you still were in the freezing water, being sure you both would catch a cold after this night.

His lips slowly pulled back from yours just to peck them again and again. Both of your giggles filling the quiet night air. None of you being able to pull away, let alone stop touching each other.

“J-Jeonghan...we...we need to stop...” you tried to tell him in between your giggles and kisses, slightly squirming under his touch. Said boy nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, covering the place with all sorts of kisses. “Why...gosh baby you smell so... good...” he breathed heavily as he began nibbling and sucking on one spot on your neck. You immediately let out a soft moan, exciting Jeonghan even more.

“N-no...we...we are still in...the lake. We will get a cold Hanie...” you kept mentioning, letting out a tad louder moan after him finding a new place for a second hickey. Pressing you even closer after hearing the nickname you have given him, he was unable to stop smiling against your neck.

“I absolutely...would love to keep doing that... but you have a point. I don’t want you to get sick.” He let go off your neck, pressing a kiss to one of your cheeks and after that on your lips. “You have no idea what you are doing to me...” he laughed before carrying you both out of the water, suddenly freezing after a cold breeze blew over your wet bodies. Your bodies were covered in goosebumps again.

You both didn’t care what you wore at this moment, you just quickly grabbed anything you could find in the dark, rushing hand in hand back towards the castle, finding a new place to share your new found love.

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

[cherry-gemz]

The City by The Bay: Part III

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chilvary and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Previous Chapters:

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Rating: PG, fluff

Word Count: 1500+/-

A/N: Much fluff in this chapter, will pick up more speed in the next, but hope you enjoy.

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye ​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester ​ @fookingbetch ​

*************

The fluorescent lights flicker as Keanu switches the switch up. They domino on and your eyes open to the garage full of motorcycles, his toys. You smile slightly as he beams and holds out his hands in a gratifying gesture.

"My second favorite room!" He says as he takes your hand and leads you through the room. There are a dozen bikes or so and you're impressed.

"Was the bike we rode earlier not enough?" You joke as you admire his collection.

"Heh, some collect guns...which I do own a few...others collect these babies," he replies as he slaps his hand on one of his own bikes. "Personal favorite."

You look at him, "Not the one we rode earlier?"

"That is a favorite, it's from ARCH -"

"Oh, is it the KRGT-1? That's what we were on?"

His mouth is agape, "Are you into bikes?"

"Me? Oh no, definitely not an officinado, but um, well I'm quite embarrassed to say this…but I'm a fan of yours. I have watched an interview or two of you discussing motorcycles."

You blush ever so slightly at your confession, hoping he doesn't think too much into it.

"A fan, huh?"

"Well I obviously knew who you were when I had come to my senses this morning after our run in. But don't worry...not a stalker." You laugh nervously.

He smiles, "That's exactly what a stalker would say."

Your eyes widen, "What? Oh no, I...I've put my foot in my mouth."

"It's okay, Y/N. I've met stalkers. And while they are lovely people at heart, they're fanatic and obtuse, you don't have the stalker MO."

A sense of calmness rushes over you and you hope that you hadn't turned him off the idea of knowing more about you.

He changes gears and seems unphased, "But yes, the KRGT-1 is what we rode earlier. But this baby right here, is a Gordon Commando. Lots of miles on this one, good memories."

You peer over at the metal bike and it's classic look and nod, "I'm touched you would show me a personal favorite."

Your phone buzzes, but you quickly ignore it as he walks over to a wall of helmets and selects two, tosses one over to you. He reaches into his leather jacket pocket and clicks the garage opener.

"You're also gonna ride the personal favorite," he smiles mischievously and swings a leg over the bike and peers back to you.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, hop on," he grabs his keys from his jeans pocket and starts the ignition. It purrs loudly and he ramps it up and waggles his brows to you.

“I’m not sure…” you reply hesitantly as your phone goes off again. You quickly grab it and your client sent a text that they need to reschedule. A tinge in your heart shot through and you smiled.

“Everything okay?” He asks looking back at you.

“Yes, just fine.”

“I wanted to grab some food on the way where I’d like us to go, but didn’t you say you had a client's lunch?” He shouts over the engine.

“I did, but I am now available. Let’s go grab a bite.”

“Yeah? Oh that’s awesome!”

You pull the helmet over your head and manuver your purse to the side of your hip as you mount the bike.

"Ready?" He shouts over the noise of the engine and you give him a thumbs up.

*

You hold tight to his waist and bury your face into his leather jacket. It's a bit nippy and the pace of the motorcycle chills you slightly. You could hold onto him forever. It's all a dream really. Who would have thought just hours before you were a normal person out to get coffee. Now, you're riding a motorcycle with Keanu Reeves. Twice. And been to his house where he made you cappuccino and let you borrow a book. This universe you're in is most likely to dissipate and you wake up in bed any minute now. He had stopped at a mom and pop burger joint and had sworn their cheeseburgers were ethereal.

After a scenic route, you find yourself noticing the massive Redwood trees that wind up and down the Pacific Coast. Muir Woods. One of your favorite places to center yourself. You’ve walked the trails before and enjoyed the beach, but this time was different. It was with him. He pulls over to the side of the road and you hear the waves crash against the shore. As you both hop off and remove your helmets, he gestures to take the bag of food off your hands and you willingly do so.

"C'mon, let's go down to the beach," he says. You nod and you follow him onto the sand. You've always hated sand in your shoes, so you slip off your ballet flats and toss them aside. A mischievous grin appears on his face and he slips off his boots. He reaches for your hand and you look to it for a moment.

He smiles warmly and you accept his invitation and hold tight as you both scamper off to the water.

A few short minutes and breaths later you laugh as the wind picks up and pushes your hair to your face. He flashes a grin and is close to you, neither have spoken for some time, but somehow understand each other. He gently tucks a tendril of your hair behind your ear and gazes into your eyes: His are deep and expressive. The laugh lines appear and you can tell he's genuinely happy.

He plops to the sand and sits crossed legged and rummages through the white paper bag of greasy goodness.

You sit next to him and watch as he digs out a translucent paper wrapped burger and hands it to you.

"Fries are in the bag. Ketchup?" You nod and he sifts through the bag further and pulls out a ketchup packet as if he's found gold. "Ah-ha!"

"Okay, let's see what the big fuss is all about," you say and bite into the juicy patty. Your mouth ignites full of flavor, your eyes widen. "Omigosh…"

He looks at you, "Right?"

You nod in agreement and let out a slight moan which makes him laugh.

"Nice to know I can impress a chef," he states and bits into his burger.

"This is out of this world, wow."

"A hidden gem. Found it a few months ago when I went riding up here. I usually try to make sure I can give back to the community whenever I'm in location. I lie finding little spots like this."

"You have a good heart you know."

He bashfully turns his head and looks to the sea.

"Thank you…" he replies softly. "But I just do what everyone else does, nothing special."

You can tell he shies away from compliments and doesn't need flattery, and he tries change the subject.

"So tell me what is your favorite food?" He asks as you bites into your burger again.

Your mouth is full and you try to talk and then realizes you can't reply, then moves into a laugh instead.

"Sorry, finish your bite. I'll tell you mine…"

You nod and wipe your mouth with your jacket sleeve.

"Steak and potatoes. Pizza. Comfort food y'know?"

You nod again.

"And marshmallows."

"Marshfhmallows?" You reply, still chewing on your food.

"Heh yeah."

"Like s'mores?" You finally finish your bite.

"No, like a marshmallow. No graham cracker, no chocolate."

"But roasted?"

"Yeah, definitely," he smiles.

"Interesting…well my favorite food…" you start as you look up to think and then quickly dive your hand into the bag. "...has to be French Fries."

He laughs as you toss a few fries into your mouth.

"I take it you won't be sharing?" He asks as you playfully lick your fingers clean.

"Most definitely not," you tease.

He starts to open his mouth when suddenly thunder claps and you peer into the sky. Large, black clouds start to roll in and Keanu quickly gets up and grabs the food. You follow suit as he extends his hand again and you smile.

Another clap echoes and rain starts to fall heavily on the two you. You squeal as you try to run through the sand together and quickly arrive at your shoes. The rain falls heavily and quickly and eventually you both make it to the bike. Keanu tosses the bag in a nearby wastebasket and you throw on your helmets.

*

You shut your eyes tight and let the rest of your senses ignite as the rain drops fall. The coldness of the breeze continues to brush your face and makes the tip of your nose tint pink. You can smell the rain and salty sea in the air, it's distant, but permeates enough to your nose. You can still taste the remembrance of the cappuccino on your tongue and bite your lip in anticipation that it never leaves.

Lastly that glorious sound of the engine purrs to you. It's a new sound you're not too familiar with, but it's one you could definitely get used to. It's the sound of the heart that beats through his chest, it's calming and pure. It's one you'd like to call home.

[rory-for-short]

We are not our parents|Part Five

He couldn't see them

When Lucy had gotten the call from her, well, she didn't know what they were... her Richard Grayson, asking for her measurements, she was ever the skeptic.

"Is this about your dad's big fling?" She asked over the phone as she settled on her couch.

"Possibly," he answered from the other end, sitting at a desk in his room.

"Why don't I just pick what I wear," she questioned. The way she said where was like "whey-uh" . It was all Jersey, and made Dick laugh to himself.

"You definitely could, but I just wanted to give you a designer option," he explained.

"You think I can't afford a designer option?"

"I know you can't. You make 11 dollars an hour in Gotham city

"Fair. Okay. Fine we can try designer, but I have some specifications."

"Okay, shoot."

"No checker board, no pinstripes. Nothing that says criminal. I don't mind blazers or flowers. Nothing flashy I'm laying low," she rattled off.

"Don't worry. I know you are feeling a little weird about this-"

"-A little?-"

"But I know what I'm doing. Well, I guess the dress maker does. I don't have any say. I can pass on your message to them though," he explained. She gave a sigh of relief. She had been freaking out all week about this party. This stupid, ritzy, heart of Gotham party.

After she found out about her man being THE Richard Grayson Wayne, she wanted out. Even if her parents weren't terrorists, she still wouldn't be on his level. She missed when she thought he was just a gutter rat greecer wannabe punching muggers for fun. But he was educated. High Socioty. Fit as a fiddle, and hot as the Sahara. Yet he chased her. He wanted her. He was so infatuated.

It's not like she didn't see anything good about herself. On the contrary, she knew she was hardworking, pretty funny, nice to look at expessialy when she was trying, and all in all she was a cute, blonde girl next door. However, sometimes it felt like none of that mattered. She was surrounded by a dark legacy. She couldn't even consider having her own kids. What would she tell them, and mabey crazy skips a generation.

But this dumb, cute, himbo of a boy saw none of it. Or at least, he pretended not to notice it. Sometimes he'd give her a strange look and she wonder if he was thinking about the people who raised her. She started being a bit more subtle. No dark makeup, lest she look like her mother. No red lipstick, because that was her father's signature look. Hair up in pigtails? Off limits. The colors red or green, she avoided them before Dick Grayson anyway.

"Hello? Lucy are you still there," Dicks voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry I think a siren was going by," she said avoiding the truth.

"No worries, I was asking if you wanted me to get a hair and makeup person too?"

"Oh gawd no! I know what looks good on my face," she laughed.

"Even with you not knowing what the dress will look like?" He challenged.

"On second thought-" she trailed off. She could hear him laugh from the other side of the line.

"Gotcha, I'll get it all set up," he assured.

He got it all set up alright. The afternoon before the party a knock on her door sounded. She opened it to fing him grinning with a black dress bag slung over his shoulder.

"Heya-Hiya," he greeted fondly. She noticed he wasn't alone at the door. There was also a pale woman with raven hair longer than she'd ever seen and jagged bangs. She wore a mesh top, black shorts and a leather jacket. She was ethereal and beautiful. Lucy almost forgot to talk.

"Babe, this is Rachel. She's really good with makeup and she's a buddy of mine," he introduced.

"So you're Lucy? The way your Golden retriever of a boyfriend described you I was expecting Shera, or Captian Marvel," his friend mused. Dick was turning bright red from the tips of his ears to his neck.

"Yeah, yeah, that's really funny Rachel," he awkwardly laughed. Lucy welcomed them inside and Dick layed the dress bag on the couch while Rachel carried in a big metal mackup case.

"I haven't seen the dress yet," Dick admitted, "I told her all that stuff you told me. Hopefully they listened." He said getting ready to unveil it.

Rachel was now standing beside them as Dick revealed the dress. As they stood there taking it in, she realized that there was a color she forgot to say was off limits. It was a beautiful dress. The top of it like a Corsett with spaghetti straps. The tooling elegant and down to the knees. There were several star details on it. They lay on a sky of deep purple. Lucy bit her lip nervously. Richard noticed immediately.

"Well, that was an oversight on our part," he sighed disappointedly. Rachel cocked her head confused.

"And I thought I was a Debby downer. It's a beautiful peice, plus it isn't too bright. Hell, I'd wear it," she concluded settling her hands on her hips. And she was right, it was beautiful. Mabey beautiful enough to distrct from the rest of her. If the only people talked about was her dress, she'd be okay with that.

"I love it," she said smiling.

"Yeah, Dick doesn't know what he's talking about. He has zero taste unless it's in women," she joked. She met eyes with her boyfriend and smiled.

Bruce was stewing in indecision. His son had come to him and told him that he and Lucy discussed the risks involved with a public appearance, that he could protect her, and that she had been through enough in her life so she should be able to just have fun for one night. He agreed. Deep down he agreed. However, he knew the kinds of people that attended these parties.

Not all of them were in it for the charity. Big names who wanted investors, ass kissing new moneies wanting to climb ranks. People with dirty money. It was an open charity event, and gossip from the criminal higher ups couldn't be discounted. All his parties had this risk, but this time it felt more pressing. On top of that he now knew the Jokers name. His full name. All he had to do was bluff with the first name an Harley had spilled all her info. She had told him all about Joker, her daughter, and how no matter how brutal the man was she wanted to stay with him.

"Yah know, I could handle our fights. The way we went round and round. I never considered leaving him until he suggested we get Lucy in on the family business," she sighed taking a drag of her cigarette. "I knew then I had to get the hell outta dodge. You and I both know a battlefield is no place for a child. She was only 15-" she stopped herself as she realized just who she was talking to.

"Nevermind. I guess you wouldn't get it. I wanted her to be normal. Arthur wanted her to be us. You always gotta want better for your kids. I might be a criminal psychopath, but why drag her into it. Why make her fight my battles? Or his? Or anyone's? I started a money stash. I was gonna run away with her," she looked down at the ash falling from her cigarette, and stamped it with her foot.

Bruce knew the rest of the story or at least from the perspective of his and police. Jason was his Robin at the time. They got an anonymous tip on the Joker's hideout. Harley had sold him out. When they arrived on the scene there was almost no reason to interfere. The way the two clowns were going at it, they would probably just end up killing eachother.

Harley's neck was cut. Only deep enough to make a red necklace that was surface level but he could guess what Joker was trying to accomplish. The Joker had two knives in him. He was still on his feet sporting a death grip on a hatchet with Harley's name on it.

There was also a hostage. Looking on, holding a gun, and not knowing who to shoot at. She was about 15.

They didn't even stop to look their way. They knew he and Robin were there, but this was deeply personal and toxically volatile.

Bruce remembered how easy they were to take down. Gotham police had them unarmed, sedated and in medical vehicles in practically no time; they had already done so much damage to eachother they hardly needed a push. Jason got the gun from the hostage. While Batman delt with the authorities and offered to gaurd the hospitals, not to keep anyone out, but keep the two clowns in, he left Jason in charge of the hostage.

He found out later that night, or he guessed, the next morning, that she was their kid. He learned when he read the police report. He forgot about her after that, but it did cross his mind that she was out there, somewhere, from time to time.

Dick and Lucy headed to the mannor before the party. He explained how his dad was a tightass and his butler was a total bro, so they'd be going through the garden and climbing the wall.

"You want me to climb in this dress and heels? In your dreams puddin," she scoffed rolling her eyes and playfully hitting him on the shoulder.

"I'll lift you over you won't have to break a sweat," he coerced. She lifted her eyebrow, amused.

"I'm 5'9 and 173 pounds of pure woman. If you think you can get me over that wall you are psyco!" She laughed exgerattingly gesturing as she spoke. When they had first got together, he would have had one of those danger reactions to this. To her eyes going wide with disbelief, and throwing her head back in a cackle. But those happened less and less. He realized something

He couldn't see them in her anymore.

Without another word he placed his hands on her waist and practically ballerina tossed her. She managed to catch halfway up on the flat part Making the wall a ledge. It almost knocked the breath out of her. But she managed to steady herself and hoist her body the rest of the way up. She was a bit of a ballerina after all. When they had both sets of feet in the garden, he flashed an "I told you so" smile. She rolled he eyes and gestured for him to lead the way.

When he began sliding open the kitchen door, he heard Tim's voice carry from the foyer.

"Well, well, well, how the turn tables!" He cackled. He heard a frustrated groan.

"Forget it, I don't see why I ask you for anything," he heard another male voice carry. The two pairs of couples entered the kitchen at the same time. Tim with his 'friend' Connor, and Dick with Lucy.

There was a beat of silence.

"So, you went the kitchen route huh?" Drake noted.

"Yeah, we went the kitchen route," Dick sighed.

"You look like a ruffian," Conner stated.

"I'm getting into my suit. It's wool and everything, I just didn't before picking up Lucy," he srugged.

"The matching ties are cute. You guys look adorable together," Lucy chimed in.

"We're not together," they defended in unison.

Another beat of silence.

"Well, okay. We are going upstairs. You guys have fun," Dick announced as he practically dragged Lucy behind them. Once they hit the back staircase they went from stone cold silence to giggling.

"They were wearing pride pocket squares and matching ties, how was I supposed' ta know," she defended with a hushed alarm.

"Oh they are. They just don't know it yet," he lead her to his room and opened the door for her.

[brandyllyn]

In our own image... (29)

Chapter 29

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters... My Masterlist

Word count: 2000. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Mature (NC-17) language. sexual content. PiV sex.

Poe ignored K-0’s comment.

Kina was in his arms and kissing him like her life depended on it and that was all he had wanted from the moment this night began. From the moment he had opened his eyes with his head in her lap and it was like she had never left. His body was pulsing with adrenaline and he wasted no time when he guided them to the bunks, pressing her down onto the mattress and covering her body with his. She shifted with him, parting her legs so he fit between them, nestling in like he had never left.

He didn’t want to talk. Talking was where things had gone wrong earlier and whatever had happened to change her mind - he had absolutely no desire to get involved in another long discussion about free will. Not when he could run his hand under her shirt and cup her breast in his palm and feel her push all of that soft skin into him. The door had been open while they were gone and the air inside was warm enough that he had no hesitation in sitting up and pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side before stripping his own off.

He wanted to look at her, wanted to take in the sight of her flushed golden skin and those rosettes that framed her body so perfectly but her arms were reaching up to him and he sank back into her embrace with a low moan. The metal on her arm hit his shoulder and he turned his head with a glare, reaching with one hand to release the translator cuff and tuck it above her head.

That was better. Now, when she reached her hands around his neck there was no cold press of metal. Just her skin and his skin and the tactile slide of the one against the other. He dropped his mouth to her neck, licking across the markings there, rocking his hips into the juncture of her thighs until she was gasping and her hands tore at the fastenings to his pants. It took him barely a heartbeat to be rid of them, pulling her own off.

It was no longer just skin to skin. It was skin meeting skin and his hardness pressing to her softness. Her wetness. She was so ready for him he had to bite his lip to stop himself from rutting against her thigh until he came like a teenager. On second thought, it didn’t seem like she’d mind. Her back was arching under him, her hands pulling him close, her hips canting at just the right angle that the head of him slid inside of her.

"Fuck, I wanted you to come first," he mumbled into her lips and she huffed a laugh, her legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him down. He sank into her, every inch of his flesh cradled by her.

"I want to come with you."

Maker he wanted that too. He moved inside of her with slow measured strokes. Drawing himself out until he nearly left her and then sinking inside until there was no more of him left to give. He bracketed her face with his hands, kissing her and making love to her, barely even noticing the sound of a door sliding open or the soft yawn from the hallway.

She noticed though, her eyes going wide and she pushed on his shoulder with one hand. "P-"

Footsteps, padding softly, the sound of the refresher door sliding closed. They stared at each other with wide eyes and Poe was thankful that whoever that was had no need to pass by their berth. As one they turned their heads and looked at the wide open door.

Poe shifted, feeling himself pull out of Kina’s body and she made a small distressed noise. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and then reached out with his foot, pressing the door panel so it slid closed. The room was lit only by dim orange light, making her seem even more ethereal. He ran his fingers over her temple, across one eyebrow,

"Now where were we?" He grinned down at her and she shifted beneath him, welcoming him back into her body with a pleasured sigh and the softest brush of her lips on his. He had missed her. One day he would tell her. One day he would tell her how he hadn’t slept for days after she had left, missing the feeling of her in his arms. His heart aching for the soft way her laughter breathed life into a room. The way her hands had moved so delicately and competently along the parts of her work. He would tell her one day when she was able to hear it.

For right now, those hands were on him, digging into his back and he shifted on his knees, changing the angle of his movements inside of her. Her lips parted, her eyes fluttering closed, and he pressed further inside of her.

"You said with me," he mumbled into her neck. "If that’s what you want it’s gonna have to be soon."

She nodded, biting her lip and staring at him with wide eyes when he pulled away to study her face. He smiled, cupping her jaw in his hand. "Yeah? Soon?"

She nodded again and he let his control go, picking up the pace of his hips and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Her body met his, arching into every snap of his hips, tongues tangling inside his mouth. When he felt her go rigid he groaned, felt her muscles tightening around him and he spilled himself inside her with a harsh rumble of her name.

He didn’t want to move. Her hands were tracing patterns onto his back, her body soft and warm beneath his. Being this close to her was… it was peaceful. Right.

They probably still needed to talk but he didn’t want to, would rather hold himself inside of her and gather her body as close to his as he possibly could. So that’s what he did, carefully rolling them both to the side - not letting their joining end - and wrapping her in an embrace so tight he worried she might not be able to breathe.

He needn’t have bothered. Her answering embrace was just as needy, her hands clutching him close and her lips brushing his. He shut his eyes and let sleep finally overtake him, every part of him that could be touching every part of her.

They woke still wrapped in each other’s arms. Kina’s breath ghosted against his neck and he took a moment to just look at her. To trace his fingers along the rosettes by her ear. She blinked at him and he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

"Good morning beautiful."

"Morning," she whistled and her nails raked into his hair. He moaned and leaned into it, almost purring at the sensation. He heard her laugh and grinned as he rolled her beneath him, nuzzling under her neck and making dire threats that only caused her to laugh harder.

It was another hour before they left the berth.

Poe kissed her fingers before they parted ways, her to find Rey and him to the cockpit to check the systems. He couldn’t help the slight bounce to his step as he ducked into the small space, nodding at Chewbacca as he dropped into the co-pilot’s seat.

"Peace of the Day, Dameron."

"Good morning to you too," Poe was practically whistling as he rotated through the flight systems, everything looked good. Barring no further detours, they were due to arrive back on base early tomorrow. Out of curiosity, he checked on the heating system but whatever mess the droids had made of it, the system was functioning optimally now. He noticed that Chewie was looking at him and he gave the Wookie a rueful shrug. "The droids decided to play with the heating yesterday."

Chewie grunted and looked away. The reaction made Poe pause, "No questions? Comments?"

"Like what?"

Poe turned and narrowed his eyes. "You don’t want to know why the droids might mess with the systems?"

A rough cough. "I do not."

Poe stared at him for a moment longer before turning forward. "I see." He let the words sit there before saying, "You were in on it."

"I was not," Chewie roared, turning fully to Poe. "I told them I did not like deception but they-"

"Who?" Poe cut in, "Who did you tell?"

Poe put on his best Command face as he walked into the Commons, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe while he took in the room. Rey and Finn were playing dejarik, Kina and K-0 at the workstation in the corner. BB-8 saw him first, the droid rolling hesitantly towards him and giving out a low whistle.

"Friend Poe?"

"It has come to my attention," he began and hid a smile when everyone turned to look at him. "That there was a massive conspiracy of which Kina and I were the victims." Kina met his eyes and winked, and Poe had to work to keep his face straight while he frowned at Rey and Finn.

Finn tried to bluff. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Poe glared at the man. "Chewie gave you up."

Finn cursed and Rey patted his hand. "Didn’t figure there was any harm," she shrugged, looking at Kina.

"We could have died," Poe pointed at her. Every living organism in the room rolled their eyes at him. Hell, even K-0 did. Only BB-8 seemed to take him seriously.

"I am sorry Friend Poe!" BB-8 spun so fast he wobbled. "It was not my intention I assure you!"

Poe met Kina’s glare and pushed off the wall with a huff, squatting next to his friend. "I just don’t like it when you lie to me Beebs."

BB-8 spun and leaned his weight to Poe’s knee. "I will never do it again."

Cracking a smile he rubbed along the droid’s sensors. "That’s all I needed to hear buddy."

He stood and gave the two at the dejarik table a pointed glare and dropped into the seat next to Finn. "You’re losing."

"I know I am," Finn grunted.

"If you move your-" Poe started to say but he was interrupted.

"Do you want to finish this?" Finn snapped.

Poe didn’t get a chance to respond, Chewie ducked through the doorway with a loud yawn and a stretch. "What’s for lunch?"

Somehow, through a unanimous decision, it seemed it was Poe’s turn to scrounge up a meal. Which he did with minimal fuss and a bit of Rey’s help to go through the storage bay. He was still getting everything moved when he caught Kina’s conversation with Chewie.

"We’re following the old Farrekkian trade route?"

"That’s correct."

"That’s great, can we make a side trip? We’re going to go right by Centares and you can drop me off."

Poe’s eyes cut to Kina quickly but she wasn’t looking at him. She had a wide smile and was fully turned towards Chewie. The Wookie did glance at him before giving her a nod. Poe dropped the packets of food on the table and turned back to the storage, brushing past Rey on the way. Inside, he kicked the corner of a crate, cursing to himself when the crate didn’t move but his big toe began to throb.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. Kina had already left him once, there was no reason to think she was back to stay. She certainly hadn’t said anything to that effect. Just because they had slept together again it didn’t mean that she wanted more with him. He knew that.

Really he did.

But he’d thought… He’d thought maybe things were different now.

"You okay?"

He didn’t look at Rey. Just propped a forearm on the storage crate and pressed his forehead to it. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Probably not."

He sighed. "Didn’t think so."

The muffled sound of her footsteps moved closer. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

She didn’t say anything more, but he could see her feet when she leaned next to him, her presence comforting him while he tried to convince himself that he could let Kina go.

Again.

.

Chpt30

[potatotrash0]

Your DR magic AU, hand it over 🤲

Okay I have two other anons and I’m just gonna split the character ideas among the three asks. I don’t quite have a plot thought out, and most of these characters’ concepts have only existed in my head up until now...bare with me skdjksjfkd

Mm I talked about them briefly in Prom’s ask? But here’s a more in-depth thing of the THH fighting styles.

Makoto is a mage-type. (I used fighter, support, and mage to describe the various adventurer types it’s temporary just roll with it) Again, he can’t really hold magic for very long? He’s got a large mana reserve but it’s hard to activate and harder to control, so he’s currently working on mastering the little bullets. In the future, I imagine large barrages of bullets would sort of circle around him like they would in the barrel of a gun.

He probably got in accidentally? I’m not entirely sure about this, but I think there’s an entrance exam for Reserve Courses and he was probably forced in on Komaru’s behalf for some reason.

He was basically running the entire time until the very end when he panicked and suddenly the entire field was wiped clean from him waving his arm. HPA saw that, decided that he was worth training, and put him into the Main Course. He doesn’t feel very good about getting in that way, but HPA isn’t exactly empathetic like he is. Again this is like one of three ways I think he could’ve gotten in with the rest of the cast because I’m indecisive skdjsjf

Kyoko is another mage-type, in general the Main Gangs of each game have various themes. THH’s trio has a magic theme, they all use magic. She doesn’t use a weapon, though I’m thinking her gloves act as a limiter of sorts?

As a general rule, more mana means less control, and being half-demon gives her a lot of it. Her gloves help her regulate her mana output so that she doesn’t use too much of it when attacking and tire herself out. Later in the timeline, I imagine there might be a scene where she takes them off and fights off some enemies to buy the rest of the class time to escape something? She would get trapped in the process, but I think this would happen after she’s worked with Makoto for a while and she would trust him enough to believe he would come back for her if she didn’t return.

Oh this isn’t related to her fighting style but on the topic of her being half-demon, that’s mainly because I thought it was boring for everyone to be human and I’m a big sucker for fantasy species so yeah. She’s a cambion.

She has purple-tinted skin, horns that curl up and are fairly close to her head, a thin pointed tail, pointed ears, her pupils are slitted, she’s got carnivore-style teeth, her nails are longer and sharper by default. Whenever she uses the full extent of her magic, her scleras turn dark purple and her irises turn white. Oh yeah her scars came from an accident she had when she was young where her magic got out of control and burned her hands. Her mom’s the demon by the way, for no particular reason, I just thought that the Kirigiris would stay human in this and I don’t know anything about her mom’s side of the family.

I just realized I never said Makoto’s race skdjks he’s human!! He and Komaru just happen to be a special case and have a lot of mana. Most other humans in this AU aren’t so lucky. (cough hinata cough cough)

Byakuya, again, uses magic. He’s the only one who uses a weapon in the Trio, he uses a staff specially made by the Togami family. He also knows how to use a sword and a bow.

I haven’t put too much thought into him, but I know for a fact that his adventuring outfit would have a big sweeping cape later in the timeline. In the beginning though, he just has a stupid expensive suit. The cape comes in later as he, Kyoko, and Makoto start to group up more and more.

I’ve decided that adventurers in this AU group up just as often as they go solo, and while Byakuya would initially be solo, he would deem Makoto and Kyoko strong enough to work with whenever they’re taking on a difficult job.

Groups would change to have matching designs the longer they’re partnered up, and capes/cloaks happen to be the THH Trio’s Thing, as in all three of them would have a cape/cloak of some sort. Byakuya because he’s pretentious, Makoto because he thinks it looks cool, and Kyoko because she uses the cloak for practical reasons like storing things and keeping a low profile when needed. Oh and Byakuya’s bloodline is of royal elven descent, their business is selling spellbooks, runestones, potions, reagents, any magical item you could think of.

Sayaka is a half-siren mage! She mostly uses charm and illusionary magic, as well as healing so that she can support her allies. Later on, she might learn water magic so she can actually deal damage as well. I haven’t decided on her weapon of choice, perhaps she uses a lyre or casts spells from a book. I’m also debating having her learn hand-to-hand combat instead of water magic?

I just like the idea of someone coming up and trying to challenge her, thinking they’ll beat her easily, and barely getting a hit in before she kicks their legs out from under them and tosses them over her shoulder like they weigh nothing. She deserves to take out people twice her size and be menacing, as a treat for the amount of disrespect she gets in the fandom. And I want her to take Leon down a peg because he definitely acts a little like a cocky frat boy sometimes.

Speaking of Leon, we’ve got our first fighter-type!!! I could have him use a baseball bat but that’s boring so I’m thinking he might utilize items as well as a weapon? Bombs or grenades that look like a baseball and explode on impact, baseballs that ignite when thrown and act as fire balls. Alas, I don’t think about him much so this is all just me throwing ideas to see what sticks.

Whatever the case, the main thing I know would happen is that he frequently gets help from Kazuichi and Miu because he just cannot for the life of him stop breaking his equipment. He’s reckless and rushes into battle and now that he doesn’t have Kanon to stop him from setting stuff on fire all the time, he gets detention a lot. (And no she isn’t into him like in canon, I refuse to acknowledge that she ever was.)

Chihiro......they can’t fight djfjsjfjjf. They specialize in making tech and weapons, and in the beginning, would mainly use robots that they programmed to support their allies. Though, they do end up training with Mondo, Sakura, and Aoi to help them become better at combat, and eventually they join everyone else on the front lines as a ranged fighter/support type.

Also, the robots would kinda follow them around like pets. Cute little guys that can also shoot lasers. The robots are powered by mana crystals and each one has a different personality and magic type! Sometimes they follow around different people, the electric one took a liking to Mondo and you’ll see it floating around while he works out. They’re buds.

On the topic of Mondo, he’s another fighter-type! He’s more hand-to-hand combat. A controlled berserker, if you will. Probably started out fighting guys in his hometown and progressed to clearing out monsters when Daiya got concerned about his temper? Perhaps. Maybe. I do not think about Daiya I apologize.

Oh wait hold on. I’m looking at his character art and he’s got a hammer.........it’s decided he uses a warhammer, the biggest one they’ve got, and it’s probably a mana-based weapon. Specifically electric. He and that lil robot wipe the battlefield with their opponents >:D

Taka is probably a fighter-type? I can’t for the life of me find where I read this, but apparently he’s really good at self-defense so I imagine he does hand-to-hand combat as well as sword-fighting for the Noble Paladin Aesthetic.

Hifumi was originally a mage-type, but upon second thought, I’m making him a support-type who uses items and potions and stuff! I like the idea of him making fun little bottles and potions themed after his favorite animes and mangas..........he also definitely helped everyone design their adventurer outfits. He’s the only reason that Makoto’s outfit isn’t boring as hell.

Celeste is, of course, a mage-type. She’s Miss Lolita of course I have to make her an ethereal magic user alright also I love her and I love mages let me have this skfjdkjf. As for her weapon, my first thought was her having playing cards that she throws HxH style?

Or she could summon goons to fight for her, playing into the whole loyal servant dream she has. They would be vaguely themed after the cards, so there would be a jack, king, queen, and joker, all of different magic types depending on the suit of the card she throws. Electric for a spade, fire for a heart, ice for a diamond, something along those lines.

I’m also considering having her little...finger armor thing? I’m thinking of having that cross into her magic, where she attacks with claw-like things formed out of mana. Of course she could also just. Use the cards to cast spells directly skdjksjfkhf

Sakura is definitely a fighter-type. Again, hand-to-hand style, but I imagine she’s more controlled and strategic than Mondo. I can’t see her using a weapon, so I guess she’s like one of the only characters to fight exclusively with fists.

Mukuro’s a ranged fighter-type, but she can also do melee. She uses magic-based guns, ones that shoot mana infused bullets. They have a variety of effects depending on the type of bullet and magic. (I’m not a gun person so take this with a grain of salt.)

Bullets that break apart might be laced with electric magic so that they can shock a target from several points, or fire magic if she’s aiming to start a fire quickly. Exploding bullets are usually used with fire magic, but she might switch to ice if she wants to create a barrage of ice shards for...some reason, I don’t know. There’s more combinations I could probably make, but I’m. Not here to spend an hour researching guns. Not right now at least, who knows what I’ll want info on in the future.

Mmmmmm I’m starting to lose patience here so forgive me for the shorter explanations. I might throw in a fun fact about them for ✨ flavor ✨

Junko’s a fighter/mage-type! She uses a scythe and laces the blade with magic. She could combine it with fire magic to create a flaming scythe and go nuts with it, or she could just channel general mana and slam the blade into the ground to create a big crack in the ground.

There’s about an 80% chance she gets several weapons later in the timeline. Her scythe, a spear, possibly a gun. Monokuma probably exists, I like to think Junko ran into a smarter monster and tamed it and kept it as a slightly feral pet.

Also, yes, she’s still a big adrenaline junkie who gets off on despair. If you see her fighting things she knows are out of her league, mind your business.....actually, call someone to help before she gets herself killed. Please.

I haven’t decided what Aoi will be just yet? I’m veering towards fighter/mage-type, she could use water magic and maybe a leg-based fighting style. Possibly judo or taekwondo. I.....do not have any ideas for her. However I do know that she and Sakura would have a bunch of combo moves together dkfjkejfkdjjd

Toko is a mage-type! She probably uses a book to cast spells from. Or just uses her hands. She would fight ranged, I don’t think she’d want to be up in the action. Too much stress for her, y’know? I

As for Syo, she fight differently than Toko! She technically uses dual swords, but the swords can also connect to create a giant pair of scissors. Again, this is just sort of a fun character thing, but she gets to hate Byakuya in this AU. They have arguments and get on each other’s nerves a lot, but I think the rest of the class usually separates them before anything serious happens.

At some point after Toko befriends Komaru, I like to think that Syo gets a proper fight scene with Byakuya where she rips into him. I don’t think Toko would want to hurt anyone though, even him, so Syo would probably leave him with a few minor cuts at most.

Afterwards, I think Byakuya would quiet down with the insults with Naegi and Kyoko’s requests. (Well. Naegi asked him to try and be nicer because he was worried that they might fight again. Kyoko just bluntly told him that he needed to stop being a jerk and start considering everyone else’s feelings.)

Skfksjfkdh ah. I also like to think Komaru and Toko were initially partnered up by HPA for a job. They were assigned to deal with a couple of school kids wreaking havoc on a nearby city with some monsters they semi-tamed?

But after finishing the job, they decided to partner up permanently on their own. They probably have a few combo moves that Komaru came up with, Toko tweaked them to make them actually possible with their skill set and weapons.

Hiro is...possibly a mage/support-type? He’s probably a bit cowardly and freaks out when on the front lines, but he can use a crystal ball to attack from afar. I’m also considering giving him tarot cards so that he can toss them and attack from several points at once?

Or the ball could shatter at some point during the story and he could just roll with it and spread the shards out during battle to attack from several points at once. They could also be used to create a magic cage of sorts, like electric fence but only electricity.

Okay that’s everybody oh my god. I have plenty more stuff about this au, this isn’t even half of it trust me lmao. I’m sorry about this being so long I didn’t realize it’d be this wordy!!!!!

[sleepawaywriting]

Deep Into That Darkness Peering

Chapter 1 (of 4): The Siren

[Piers x Reader, SFW]

Warnings: Alcohol Mention, Caves, Monsters, Existential Horror, Near-Death Experiences

What do you do when you discover that your best friend is an eldritch monstrosity that has inspired countless myths and ancient folklore, who could easily tear you limb from limb or consume your entire existence whole? You double down, obviously.

(An AU where everything is the same except Piers is the monster mash and you’re down to graveyard smash.)

[Told ya I was gonna do it. Don’t worry, we’ll soon get back to your regularly-scheduled requests and smuttery, I just had to get this ball rolling and out of my system.]

The first time you saw him, it was an accident.

You were tired. Your days seemed to become busier and busier, and recently, you slept very little, finding that with every waking morning, the bags under your eyes grew deeper and more pronounced. Your nerves were fraying, and your patience was wearing thin. Finally, at the precipice of burning out, something inside of you snapped. You decided to take a holiday, retreating to the seaside town of Spikemuth, where you would hopefully find solace among the neon-laden streets. Most people would raise their eyebrows at the prospect of spending a holiday in Spikemuth. After all, the town was somewhat run-down, notoriously underfunded and forgotten by the region’s more affluent citizens. However, beneath the massive structure overhanging the forgotten hamlet, was a treasure trove of beauty and inspiration, not only in its many historical structures, dilapidated as they were, but in the people that lived there. Spikemuth was a town that thrived on artistry, home to an impressive number of painters, sculptors, photographers, and, of course, musicians. This was the aspect of the coastal town that drew you under its spell. You fully planned to spend the majority of your time looking at art, attending concerts, drinking heavily, and crashing on your best friend’s couch. And luckily, said best friend was none other than Piers, the town’s local celebrity, and resident expert in all things Spikemuth.

One night, a few hours after passing out on Piers’ couch for the umpteenth time, you found yourself wide awake and painfully sober. After tossing and turning for another hour or two, you decided to give up on a full night’s sleep altogether, begrudgingly dragging yourself out from under your pile of blankets and retreating to the bathroom, where you proceeded to slide on a pair of well-worn sweatpants, and a hoodie with Piers’ band’s logo on the back (an outdated one, which the singer insisted on replacing for you at some point), topping it all off with a messy bun. Tip-toeing to the front door, you put on your sneakers, grabbed your phone and keys, and exited the flat, pulling on your hood when you realized just how cold it had gotten—and it would only get colder, where you were going. Walking along the main street, you breathed in the crisp seaside air, adjusting your eyes to the pulsating neon and trudging your way past a few bars and clubs where the town’s nightlife was still raging strong. You smiled as you noticed a few Sableye skitter around a corner into a nearby alley, clearly looking to cause some mischief to any overly-drunk party goers.

The town’s energy waned as you approached the east exit, the one leading to the sheer, black cliffs that descended to the rocky shoreline far below. You loved exploring them, especially at night, despite the potential dangers that lurked there. Luckily, you arrived when the tide was low, so there was no immediate risk of being swept out to sea or thrashed against the jagged rocks. You carefully made your way down one of the many damp, creaky wooden staircases to the main beach, the misty wind nipping at your skin, cold enough to bite, but not enough to cause a shiver. It invigorated your senses as you leaped down the remaining steps and onto the shore, almost stumbling in the process. The beaches of Spikemuth were not exactly the type you would want to picnic on—on top of being rather cold and windy, the floor was comprised entirely of uneven pebbles. However, it was still beautiful, in its own way, and in the past, you had spent countless hours watching the waves, collecting sea glass, and occasionally exploring the array of mysterious caves and tunnels that bore deep into the cliffside. They were only visible at low tide, and never failed to capture your imagination, particularly Mourner’s Cave, which was by far the largest of the bunch—you had yet to find its end, if it had one, in your own amateur spelunking. As with all the darkest, deepest, most unknown parts of nature, there were many folktales surrounding Mourner’s Cave. For centuries, locals regaled tourists with the harrowing tale of a siren, who would lure victims into the depths of the seaside cavern during low tide, in order to feast upon them. Of course, it was likely just a story parents would tell their children in order to keep them from straying too far beneath the cliffs, potentially getting lost, trapped, or worse.

Standing at the very edge of the water, just inches from where the waves ebbed and flowed across the craggy shore, you stuffed your hands into your pockets, relaxing your gaze, allowing yourself to fully space out. The sky was mostly clear from where you stood, a large, full moon illuminating the icy waters, its luster reflecting off the thousand tiny, shimmering pebbles beneath your feet. In the distance, you could see a heavy fog rolling in, and there were no boats, as far as you could tell, so the horizon line was completely obscured by an inky, infinite haze. You stared, allowing your mind to wander, breathing in the briny scent and relishing in the isolation, when you heard something. It was faint—so faint that you barely noticed it above the crashing waves and the wind whistling through the jagged grottoes. At first, it sounded like a low humming, which you assumed was just your loss of hearing from the eardrum-shattering concerts you’d been attending. As you wandered further down the beach, in the direction of Mourner’s Cave, the humming grew louder, and you reached up to plug your left ear, then your right, seeing if you could isolate the damage. It wasn’t until after bending over, turning either ear towards the ground, and shaking your head up and down like you were trying to empty a piggybank, that you realized it was neither hearing damage nor vertigo.

Your curiosity getting the best of you, you decided to follow the sound, fully expecting to come across some sort of wild Pokemon, or even nothing at all. The beach’s rocky structures had a tendency to “wail” in turbulent weather, creating an eerie, otherworldly effect and spooking hapless beachgoers who were unfamiliar with the area’s geology. Continuing your trek, you were led away from the tumbling waters and towards the sheer, ashen cliffside containing the entrance to Mourner’s Cave. As you drew closer, so did the sound, and you realized that it wasn’t humming at all, but singing—a strange, mournful, sort of singing, that made you stop in your tracks. It was unlike anything you had ever heard before—a swirling, ethereal sound with no discernible melody. It seemed human, uncannily so, but there was a sort of… wrongness about it, like it was almost synthetic—and there was a warbling to it, as if it was not one, but multiple voices, all stacked on top of each other, but clearly belonging to the same owner. You inched closer to the mouth of the cave, wanting to turn back, wanting to sprint back across the beach, up the wooden stairs, back to town, but your shoulders tensed, your stomach knotting in worry. What if this person, or Pokemon, or whatever it was, needed help? It almost sounded pained, or at the very least downright miserable, and something else—something that bothered you more—a sense of… familiarity. A unnerving, nostalgic sort of feeling that forced you to carry on, despite yourself.

Just as you decided to retreat, to call it a night, to run and hide under the covers and try to forget this ever happened, you passed through the mouth of Mourner’s Cave. Something in the air shifted, as if you broke an invisible barrier, and suddenly, there were no waves. There was no wind. Not even the sound of your footsteps, once shifting and trembling through the gravel, now plodding across solid, damp stone. There was only the singing. It filled your head, to the top your skull, pouring out of your ears—overshadowing any thoughts of fear, worry, or self-preservation, stripping you of any desire to leave, of returning to the world you once knew. Your eyes glazed over, shoulders relaxed, arms hanging at your sides as your legs moved of their own volition, though sluggish, as if moving against the tide. You no longer felt the cold, salty air against your flesh, instead feeling something heavy, oppressive, suffocating, weighing down on your shoulders. The air around you crackled with an unseen energy, prickling at your skin, making each hair on the back of your neck stand on end. The darkness ahead smelled like dry ice and ozone, but you didn’t care. You never cared. You could not remember caring about anything but the singing, of finding it, claiming it, lying in it, succumbing to it.

The moonlight had long since abandoned you, as you journeyed further and further into the depths, where it could not follow. The encroaching darkness only served to heighten the sound as it bounced around the cavern walls, infinitely echoing in a beautiful, dreadful cacophony. A streak of warmth slid down your cheeks, though your eyes were unblinking, as you mindlessly accepted the fact that you were going to die. You did not feel afraid, so much as indifferent, and somewhat peaceful, like the darkness was an old friend, and you were always meant to become a part of it.

The singing stopped.

Blinking rapidly, your eyes stinging, you reached up to rub them, surprised to find that that they, along with your cheeks, were wet. Were you crying? Wait, where were you, anyway? You whipped your head around, squinting against the darkness. Why was is so dark, all of a sudden? You turned on your heels far too quickly, panic welling up in your chest as you slipped on something. You yelped, falling forward, managing to catch yourself before splitting your face open on the clammy stone floor. Wait, stone? Were you in a cave? Ignoring the fresh scrapes on your palms, you fumbled with your pockets before finally retrieving your phone, turning on its flashlight. You blinked against the harsh, cold light now illuminating the yawning chamber, seeing that, in your panic, you managed to slip on a slimy, stubborn patch of algae. Standing up on shaky knees, you tried to ignore the trembling in your hands and the thumping in your chest once you realized you had no clue which way you came in. If you weren’t careful, you would end up wandering deeper into the cliffs, and wouldn’t be able to escape before the tide rolled in. You tried not to think about what would happen then, deciding to stick to the path opposite of where you were facing when you snapped out of your stupor. As you walked, you got an idea, and looked down to your phone, unlocking it and turning on the camera to record some footage. You figured that if you didn’t manage to make it out in time, you could at least leave behind some evidence of your final moments, as morbid as that was. That, and, as you walked, you thought about the stories you’d heard of people losing time, of being in one place and suddenly waking up in another, often citing alien abduction as the cause. Maybe if you were recording your predicament, there would be a chance that someone could find out what really happened here, in the deepest, darkest depths of Mourner’s Cave. Maybe they would make a late night TV special about you. The thought made you laugh, though it was more of a sad, frantic giggle, and you were thankful nobody was around to hear it—or so you thought.

Something shifted behind you, above you, dragging along the cave ceiling and knocking loose a few rogue stones, which tumbled down the rounded walls and skidded across the floor before bouncing off the back of your shoes. You spun around, bringing your flashlight with you, fully expecting to come face-to-face with a ravenous, wild Pokemon—inwardly cursing yourself for forgetting to bring any of your own. Instead, you were met with… darkness, but not the darkness you had come to expect from within a cave in the dead of night. No, that darkness was malleable, it had depth, it could be permeated. This darkness looked… solid... quite literally the definition of pitch black, like someone had cut out a section of deep space and draped it across the cavern wall like some impossible curtain. Frankly, you had no idea what you were looking at, and a confused, fearful noise bubbled up in your chest and slipped past your lips.

Suddenly, the darkness jolted towards you, surrounding you completely and snuffing out your only source of light. You yelled, dropping your phone and throwing out your arms in a feeble attempt to defend yourself. Your body made contact with nothing, however, as the air grew thick around you, caking the inside of your lungs. The oppressive static returned, jogging your memory and overwhelming every one of your senses, your nerves screaming as your fingers and toes twitched. You felt yourself seizing, a deep weight in your chest forcing you backwards, and after stumbling, swearing, and babbling incoherently, you tripped over yourself, your tailbone slamming hard against the stone floor. Before you could register the pain, you suddenly realized that you could now see your legs stretched out in front of you, as well as the rest of your body. Though faint, there was undoubtably some sort of light coming somewhere from above, and after looking up, you realized you much preferred the darkness.

Hanging above you were eyes—so many eyes—staring accusingly down at your pitiful form, each of them glowing an electric magenta that made your retinas burn and your forehead pound. Next, you noticed the teeth—an obscene amount of teeth—razor sharp and emitting the same unnatural hue, stark against the pitch backdrop. Behind the sickening aura, you saw the faint outline of something sharp and skeletal, forcing you to look away, and thanks to your new, terrifying light source, you could now discern that the solid darkness enveloping your senses was, in fact, hundreds of black, amorphous tendrils, covering every inch of the cave, floor to ceiling, effectively trapping you. You had no chance of escape, entirely helpless, completely at the mercy of whatever creature made up this hellish cage. You were going to die.

You wanted to scream, but felt as if your lungs were being squeezed inside your ribcage, so all you could do was sob—a pathetic, choked noise escaping your throat. You fell, your consciousness descending deep into an abyss from which you never expected to awake.

---

[Eldritch Piers' look in this story is HEAVILY inspired by @lulzyrobot's version of him, so go give them some love!]

[to-star-lake]

ether [ pt. 1]

pairing | pjm/jjk x reader genre | angst, love triangle word count | 6k rating | M, 18+

“Y/N! Come on!” Taehyung urged, waving his hand up at you from the doors of the bar. 

It was almost 10:30 and the side of the building was lined with people dressed up and ready to have a good time. You ducked under the velvet rope and hustled up towards Taehyung who held the door open for you, while the very tall and imposing bouncers in extra tight black t-shirts were blocking two guys in fancy-looking suits. 

“Look, I got a table, check the list!” One of them swung his arms out in drama and the other one dodged it but in doing so, stepped back and ran right into you. 

You fell back a little, almost rolling over on your heels, but you felt his arm catch you and steady you back on your feet. 

“Shit, my bad, are you alright?” 

“Oh, I’m ok, thanks,” you brushed out your dress, and looked up to see a concerned face under a perfectly styled wave of silver hair that fell slightly over his eyes. 

He smiled shyly, his eyes forming into little crescents from his cheeks pushing up against them. 

“Jin! Jimin!”   

He turned and you followed his gaze and saw two girls in tiny cocktail dresses and stilettos walking up to them, arm in arm, one waving. 

“Y/N, come on,” you felt Taehyung’s hand reach out and grab your wrist, pulling you through the bar entrance, and noticed that that guy’s hand had lingered on your back until you were pulled away. 

“What took you so long? We’ve already been here like an hour,” Taehyung shouted over the music, leading you through an overcrowded dance floor under a haze of neon lights. 

“Sorry, I had a presentation to wrap up at work,” you shouted back as he led you to the back corner to a seating section where your friends sat. 

“Y/N!” Namjoon greeted, throwing both his hands up and cheering when you arrived. “Finally! Were you working late again? On a Friday night too, overachiever!”

Taehyung slid into the booth beside Namjoon and you took a seat beside him. “Ha, I just had a presentation to wrap up for next week,” you leaned in and shouted over the music. “Where are Hoseok and Jungkook?” you asked, looking around. 

“They went to the bar to get more drinks,” Taehyung leaned into your ear and answered, before looking and pointing out past the dance floor to the crowded bar. 

Under the spinning lights and past the crowds you were able to make out Hoseok’s profile and he was leaned onto his elbows against the bar, bobbing his head to the music. But you didn’t see Jungkook beside him. You glanced up and down the bar and finally at the opposite end, saw the messy dark waves that was unmistakably Jungkook’s head. And a girl in a backless dress leaning into him, sliding an arm around his neck and whispering something into his ear. 

You felt your teeth clench together when you saw this. “Hey Tae, who’s that girl talking to Jungkook?” you tapped Taehyung’s knee and gestured over towards the bar, trying to ask the question as inconspicuously as possible. 

Taehyung glanced where you were looking and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, some rando, she’s been trying to hit on him all night,” he leaned over the table, picking up his glass and taking a sip. 

You nodded at his response, trying your best to control any emotion from surfacing on your face. 

“Y/N, you’re here!” You were brought out of your thoughts by Hoseok, scurrying back to the table, his hands full of glasses. 

“Hey Hoseok,” you smiled, standing and taking a few of the glasses out of his hands and helping set them down on the table. 

He reached an arm out and leaned in to give you a hug. “Long time no see!” he joked, but he’d actually just seen you a few hours ago as he was leaving work. 

You noticed Jungkook walk up in your periphery and you did your best to maintain your composure. Not knowing whether to give him a hug as a greeting, you simply sat down, grateful that Hoseok quickly scooted into the booth beside you. 

Jungkook had both hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt, and the girl was with him, arm locked in with one of his. 

“Hey!” you smiled, trying to greet him as naturally as possible. 

“Hey,” he said simply, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. The girl took a seat beside him. 

“This is Yuri, we work together,” he gestured towards her, introducing her to the group. “We just ran into each other at the bar.” 

“JK and I met on a project we were paired on last month, he totally saved my life for that final client presentation,” she gushed, slurring a bit and craning her head into his shoulder, her arm still locked around his. 

The way she called him ‘JK’ made you shudder, but you did your best to smile and reached for one of the glasses Hoseok brought over, downing it in three gulps. 

“Hey, guys, check out those assholes over there,” Namjoon said, nodding towards the table a couple down from yours. 

You looked over and saw that it was the two guys that you saw at the front door of the bar. The two of them looked out of place compared to everyone else. Everyone was dressed nicely, but the two of them were a whole other level of nice. The one with the theatrical display outside was tall and thin, with perfectly coiffed dark hair, and had on a designer shirt and coat, and sat in the corner of the booth with both arms on the backs of the seats, tossing his head back in laughter at something the girl next to him said. 

The other, the one that ran into you outside, looked much less ostentatious, but anyone could tell that the silver strands of his hair were professionally groomed, and his clothes probably cost as much as your rent. He was seated to the end of the booth, and seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with the girl beside him. 

“Man, do you think those girls are models?” Hoseok asked, jaw dropped looking over at them. 

“Dude, actually, I think I recognize one of those girls from Instagram,” Namjoon said, pulling out his phone from his pocket. 

You turned back to the group and across the table you saw Yuri leaning over and whispering in Jungkook’s ear, her hands tugging on his arm and his thigh, as though she and him were in their own world. You could see he was politely trying to keep his distance, but he was not outrightly refusing her, and this made a knot form in your stomach. 

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you stood up fast, startling Hoseok beside you. 

“I’ll come with,” Jungkook said from across the table, unhooking his arm from Yuri’s. 

“No, it’s fine,” you said and immediately regretted because your tone came out much more scathing than you intended. You quickly brought it down, “I need to go to the bathroom too.” And turned and walked off before he could respond. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself, pushing through the doors to the bathroom hastily and leaning your head back against the wall. 

You wished that seeing other girls flirting with Jungkook wouldn’t get to you like this. It’s not as though he actually likes any of them, you thought. But then why doesn’t he just tell them to stop? It’s not like he actually likes you either, or at least he’s given no confirmation of it, your inner monologue continued, so why are you even letting yourself get worked up over this?

You weren’t exactly sure when you started developing feelings for him. Maybe it was first semester junior year when all of you were at a party after you had just broken up with your ex and you drank a little too much and he walked you home. You remember his arm around your waist, holding you close to make sure you didn’t fall over. The way he draped his jacket over your shoulders and you had refused, saying you felt hot, but he insisted. “It’s November, Y/N, you’ll catch your death.” 

The way he helped you out of your dress and pulled a t-shirt down over your head and when you crawled into bed, tucked the covers in around you. When you began crying, asking “why didn’t he want me, why’d he leave me,” thinking about your ex, that he sat at the edge of the bed with you, holding your hand, and brushing your hair from your eyes. He pulled you close, and you remember the way his cologne smelled on the skin of the nape of his neck, and how he kissed you, saying, “Stop thinking about that idiot. Who’s he to not want you?”

You remember he fell asleep beside you that night, but when you woke up the next morning, he was gone. You remember texting him to thank him for taking care of you, and getting no response from him until the next time you saw him at Taehyung’s almost two weeks later. He said nothing to you about that night. It was as though it never happened. 

The next few years went something like this. There were days when he would call, ask where you were, and would meet you at the library, bringing you food or coffee. Or would sometimes randomly show up at your apartment at 2 in the morning with a pack of beer, ramen, and a bad movie. He would stand in your kitchen, chastising you about the lack of organization, rolling up his sleeves and neatly putting away all the dishes from the dishwasher and organizing your spice cabinet before cooking. 

But on other days, you might text him asking what he’s up to and you just wouldn’t get a response. And you’d run into him with the guys or he would show up where you were hanging out, and carry on totally normal, as though your texts had just gotten lost in the nethersphere and he never saw them. Sometimes you’d go a couple of weeks without hearing back from him or seeing him.

You never knew where you were with him, and that somehow added to the appeal. He would be so sweet and kind to you, and other times he was completely distant, constantly running hot and cold. 

It also didn’t help that Jungkook is incredibly handsome, and had a reputation for being ‘the last of the good ones,’ a gentleman, and all girls chased after him. And he, being such a nice guy, never outrightly refused or was mean to any of them. He always indulged their flirtatious conversation, though never anything beyond that. 

You sighed, deciding it was stupid to continue thinking on this and walking over to the sink, ran your hands under cold water, patting your face a little to cool down your flushed cheeks. You pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, drying your hands, and tossed the crumbled ball into the trash before pulling the bathroom door open and upon walking out, bumped directly into someone. 

“Oops, excuse me-” you looked up, and saw a familiar smiling face. 

“It’s just going to become uncanny if this keeps happening,” he laughed, eyes bending into those little crescents again. 

In the revolving neon lights of the bar, you were able to tell that you bumping into him had caused him to spill almost the entire drink he had in his hand, though thankfully not on himself or you, it just splashed onto the floor. 

“Oh I’m sorry about that,” you said, your hands held out apologetically. 

“Hah, no it’s all good,” he smiled. “This wasn’t that great anyway, I was actually headed to the bar to get something else.” He paused and looked at you for a moment and continued, “Can I get you something? I fear if we just walk away, the universe will keep making us bump into each other and next time this might be more disastrous than just a spilt drink,” he chuckled. 

“Um,” you looked back at your friends, and upon seeing that Yuri was still snuggled up next to Jungkook, decided, “Sure, why not? Wouldn’t want to upset the universe,” you mustered a smile. 

He smiled back. “I’m Jimin,” he reached a hand out to you. 

“Y/N,” you responded, shaking his hand. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, smiling as he turned to move through the crowds back to the bar. 

You followed him over and he reached a hand up, getting the attention of one of the girl bartenders immediately who strutted over, a gleaming smile on her face. 

“How was it?” she asked, leaning forwards on her elbows and placing her chin on her hands, blinking through false eyelashes at him. 

“Better, but let’s do this,” he set the glass down on the counter, his index finger tapping the base. “Colder, less vermouth, and let’s go with that Blue Sapphire,” he turned and looked at you. “Y/N, what would you like?” he asked. 

“Um, I’ll have a gin martini too, please,” you replied. 

She smiled and tapped her hand down on the counter, “Alright, two colder, less vermouth, Blue Sapphire gin martinis comin’ up.” 

“You know your drinks,” Jimin mused, turning to look at you as he took a seat on one of the open stools beside the bar. 

“You want yours with olives or with a twist, babe?” the bartender asked, a shaker in her hand. 

“Olives, please,” you replied, and she nodded in response. 

You turned to see Jimin clutching his chest in drama, “A girl after my own heart,” he smiled. 

You watched as the bartender set two glasses on the counter before filling them both, gently brushing a lemon peel along the rim, and dropping a strand of olives in each, sliding the glasses to the two of you across the counter. 

Jimin picked up his glass, taking a sip and the bartender watched for his reaction intently. 

“Much better,” he smiled, setting the glass down on the counter. 

“Very well, let me know if you need anything else, babe,” she winked, turning to take another order. 

You held the glass to your lips and took a sip too. 

“Well?” Jimin asked, eyes focused on you. “What do you think?”

“Mm,” you made a face upon tasting the drink that made him laugh. 

“What, what is it?” 

You set the glass down. “She had ice in that shaker, you can taste the water,” you said, turning to look at him, brows furrowed. “Frozen liquor, frozen glass, no ice, never ice.”

You watched the smile on his face grow. 

“Vodka or gin?” he asked. 

“In a martini? Gin, always gin,” you replied, brows knitted together taking another sip, seeing him staring back at you with a giant grin on his face. “What?” you set the glass down, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious under his unrelenting gaze. 

“I love you.”

You coughed, almost choking on a sip of your watery martini. “Hah, um, martini’s are fairly straightforward, I think most people know how to make one..” you said, laughing nervously. 

He chuckled lightly, “No, I don’t think they do.” 

“Jimin! What the hell man, I’ve been looking for you.” A bombastic voice approached and you looked up to see the skinnier guy with dark hair throw his hand forward, smacking Jimin’s back, to which Jimin responded with a whiney ‘ow’ and a feigned hurt expression. 

“Come on, let’s go, the girls are bored, we’re gonna leave and get our usual table at Hyacinth,” he continued. 

You watched Jimin sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Jin, this is Y/N,” he said, resting his hand gently at your shoulder to introduce you. “Y/N, this neanderthal is my friend Jin.” 

“Ne-neanderthal?! Really! What-well that’s just-”

“Don’t worry, he may look big and dumb...that’s cus he is big and dumb, totally harmless,” Jimin leaned over and whispered as Jin continued his rant. This made you laugh. 

“I’m not gonna go to Hyacinth man, you guys go,” he said, looking up at Jin. 

“Dude! Come on, you were supposed to be my wingman! You know how I got Yena to come out tonight? It was cus her friend Miya was coming out with us. You know why Miya came out? Do you? Cus I told her you were gonna be here, come on man, help me out here,” Jin whined, throwing his arms out. 

“You’re gonna have to find some other way to get Yena to like you,” Jimin laughed at Jin’s childish displays. “I’m staying here man, I found better company,” he turned to you, smiling. 

“Fine! Be like that! You stay here and drink your shitty martinis, we’re gonna go to Hyacinth and don’t even think about coming to join us, I’m gonna tell the guys at the door not to let you in!” Jin huffed, turning and stomping off. 

“Sorry about him,” Jimin turned back to you, laughing softly. 

“It’s okay, you guys must be pretty close, huh,” you said, watching as he ran his hand through his hair again.

“Yeah, like an annoying sibling,” He dropped his arm down on the counter, looking at you and grinning. “He is right about these martinis though,” he said, pushing his half empty glass away. “How about we go somewhere that knows how to make a proper drink,” he smiled. 

“I was always told not to wander off with strangers,” you said, pushing your glass away too, and considering his proposition. 

He stood up from the stool, moving a bit closer, and leaned onto his arm on the counter beside you. “We all start off as strangers,” he said, lowering his voice.

You felt your cheeks become instantly flushed and looked away quickly, but you could feel his eyes were still focused on you. Past his shoulder, you saw that your friends were still hanging out and Yuri was still seated beside an indifferent Jungkook, putting in her best effort. 

What the heck, you thought, how could going somewhere with a handsome stranger be any worse than staring at Yuri trying to vie for Jungkook’s attention all night. 

“Where are we going?” 

He smiled, and reached down, taking your hand in his to lead you toward the exit. 

“Hey! Hey Y/N! Where’re you going!” You heard Hoseok’s voice call out as you made your way past the tables beside the dance floor. 

You turned and waved, still following behind Jimin, who was oblivious to your entire table of friends now staring wide-eyed with their jaws dropped at your walking out with him. You couldn’t be sure but you thought you saw a flash of panic across Jungkook’s face before you turned and followed Jimin out the exit. 

Outside, you stepped off the sidewalk onto the busy street and held an arm out for a taxi, but Jimin grabbed your wrist to stop you. 

“Are we going somewhere within walking distance?” you asked. 

“Not quite,” he smiled, and you turned to look in the direction of the loud rumbling sound of a car engine. 

The sound came from a red McLaren P1 pulling up to the curb. 

Everyone that stood outside the club or were walking by on the sidewalk seemed to pause and gasp at the sight of the car. The driver’s side door slid up and you saw a valet step out and hand the keys to Jimin.

“Thanks man,” you watched Jimin slip a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and hand it to the valet. “What?” he grinned, seeing you gawking at him and the car. 

“I, uh,-” you didn’t even know where to begin. “You sure you’re okay to drive?” you asked meekly. 

“For sure, we basically just drank water in there remember?” He grinned, pulling the passenger side door up for you, gesturing for you to get in. 

You gulped, stepping into the car and took a seat, watching as Jimin closed the passenger side door and walked around to the driver’s side and sat, shutting his door. 

The car looked and smelled brand new, and as the ignition roared to life, you saw the lining of the dashboard light up in a low, red LED light. You watched as Jimin held the steering wheel with one hand and looked over his shoulder into the street before pulling away from the curb. 

About 20 blocks uptown, Jimin pulled the car up to the entrance of a stone building and handed the key to a valet failing to hide his giddiness that he would get to drive a McLaren. 

He led you down a few steps to the side of the building into a bar unlike anything you’d ever seen. Stepping through the entrance, you saw a room dimly lit with crystal chandeliers overhead, leather benches all across the room’s periphery with antique mahogany tables and chairs filled with people. The walls were lined with a beautiful wallpaper with painted caricatures that look like they could be found in a children’s book and the entire ceiling was covered with gold leaf. 

You followed him to the bar, where the two of you were greeted by a smiling bartender in a three piece suit. “The usual?” he asked. 

To which Jimin replied, “You know it,” smiling. 

“And for you, miss?”

“Oh, uh, I’ll have the same, thank you,” you looked around at the bar, unable to tear your eyes away from the beautiful paintings on the walls, lost in the dark atmosphere and ambience, the sounds of electric guitar riffs, bass drum, and a sultry, melancholy voice played overhead. 

“You like it?” Jimin’s voice brought you back. 

“The wallpaper..” your eyes locked in on one particular drawing of what looked like a man handing a balloon to a child. “It looks like these books I used to read as a little girl, Madeline.” 

His smile grew. “This is Bemelmans bar,” he said. “The walls were actually painted by Ludwig Bemelmans himself.” 

“You’re lying,” you stared at him in disbelief as the bartender slid your drinks across the bar to you. 

Jimin smiled at your incredulity. “It’s true,” the bartender verified. “We’ve been able to keep the walls in pristine condition over the years.” 

“Holy shit, that’s incredible,” you continued staring at the paintings on the walls around you, and heard a soft chuckle from Jimin as he sipped his drink. 

You picked up your glass and took a sip too. “Oh, wow, that’s so much better,” you commented, taking a few larger gulps of the drink. 

“I know,” he smiled. 

“So, um, can I ask you a question?” you couldn’t hold in your curiosity any longer. 

“Of course,” he replied, taking another sip from his glass, turning sideways on the barstool, facing you. 

“What do you do?” you blurted out, gulping down the rest of your drink. 

The question seemed to catch Jimin off guard, because he laughed, almost choking mid-drink and had to set his glass down, motioning the bartender to bring two new ones over. 

“What do you mean?” 

You furrowed your brows and shot him a look. “I meeaan, the McLaren? The hundred dollar tip to the valet? I just saw the bartender punching our drinks into the tablet over there and I could probably make 30 martinis at home for the price of one of these. And, the clothes?” you gestured your hands over his body. “I mean, what do you do? Who are you?” you paused for a moment, seeing that the cheery expression he’s held all night dropped slightly. 

The bartender slid two new drinks across the bar to you and removed the old glasses. 

“Does it matter to you?” he asked, tone suddenly serious, taking a larger sip from his glass. 

No, of course it doesn’t actually matter, you thought to yourself, self conscious that you might’ve offended him by asking in the first place. It was just that it’s not often you see someone your age having this kind of lifestyle. 

“No, it doesn’t really,” you answered, quietly taking a sip of your drink. 

“I’ll let you guess.” You looked up to see the smile had returned to his face. 

You sat up, thinking hard, staring into his eyes. 

“Are you….” you lowered your voice, “Are you a drug dealer?” you asked, mostly joking. 

He laughed softly at this, “No, I am not a drug dealer.” 

“Are you...an arms dealer?” 

“No, Y/N, I’m not an arms dealer,” he laughed more. 

“A mob boss?” 

He sputtered his drink, setting his glass down on the counter and reaching out to take both your hands in his, swinging back and forth on the stool cheekily and pouted, “Why are all your guesses implying I’m some kind of bad guy?”

You looked into his eyes, at this display of innocence, unsure of whether he’s trying to deflect or if he’s really being sincere. 

Because everything so far just points to ‘bad guy,’ you thought. 

“Oh, this song,” you sat up, hearing the sharp intro bass notes to Tiebreaker come on. 

Jimin stood up, smiling, still holding your hands in his. “Come dance with me,” he said, nodding towards the dance floor to the center of the room. 

You pushed yourself off the seat, standing to follow him and the martinis started hitting you. He held onto your hand as he led you past the bodies tightly packed together til the two of you reached the center of the dance floor, and you felt your limbs relaxing, vision starting to blur under a filter of the smoky, hazy, golden lights from the chandeliers overhead. 

He reached down and took both your hands in his and slid them up around his neck, pulling you in close. He gazed down into your eyes sweetly and dragged his fingertips gently down your back, stopping at your waist to tug your body flush against his. Through the silk material of your dress, you could feel the heat from his palms as he guided your hips gently, slowly moving to the music. You felt your body growing hot and the air around you grew thin, the smell of his cologne falling over you as he leaned his head down to your neck and slid his hands further down your back, pushing your body closer into him, the metal buckle of his belt pressed against skin made your mind drift. 

“Um,” you pulled away quickly, reaching a hand up and brushing your hair back, feeling your heartbeat quickened in your chest. “I’m just gonna go outside and get some air,” he gave you a perplexed look as you backed away. “I’ll just be a minute, I’ll be right back.” 

You pushed clumsily through the crowded dance floor til you found the front doors and burst through them, taking a deep breath and pushing your hair back with both hands, glad for the cold autumn air hitting your skin, the breeze unsticking the thin material of your dress from your stomach. 

What is happening, you thought to yourself as you tried to regain your composure but found it increasingly difficult as your legs felt like jello beneath you, recalling in detail the way he moved his hands and hips against you. Recalling how for a moment back there in your drunken haze, you almost called him Jungkook. 

You felt a rush of blood to your cheeks, your eyes burning as a thin layer of liquid formed in your tear ducts. 

Fuck. 

“Everything ok?” 

You turned to see Jimin step out onto the little stone veranda beside the front entrance where you were pacing. 

You blinked rapidly, trying to make the tears go away. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, it just was a little hot in there, needed to catch my breath,” you stumbled through those words. 

“Are you ok?” He walked up to you, tilting his head and seeing your watery eyes. He reached one hand out, tugging onto your waist and lifted the other to your face, pushing your jaw upward so he could look into your eyes. “Did I do something?” he asked softly. 

You shook your head, “No, no it’s not you, I just-” you sniffled softly, looking away. “It’s nothing.” 

“Hey,” he tilted your face up to look at him. “I can make you feel better,” he smiled. “Wanna hear why I like you?” 

You let out a soft laugh at this. “Um, you like me?” 

“Of course!” he said, a surprised look on his face, as though he was saying how could you question this. 

“But you don’t know anything about me.”

“On the contrary, I know quite a bit,” he smiled wide. “I know that you have good manners, you’re always thanking others, whether it’s the bartender, or me just holding the door open for you, you’re very polite, believe it or not that says a lot about a person.” He slipped both of his hands around your waist and pulled you in close. 

“I know you like your gin martinis the way I do - just a little dirty,” he grinned, and you laughed. “I know you know your cars, and you may think I’m a bad guy, which makes me want to prove to you just how wrong you are about that.” 

His smile grew, “Good, I’ve made you feel better haven’t I?” he quipped, seeing the smile on your face. “Now, your turn, tell me all the things you like about me,” he grinned widely. 

 “Um,” you laughed quietly, tilting your head back slightly to look at him - at his eyes, glittering in under the lights, at how sweet they looked. “I like...your hands,” you said, slightly embarrassed. He looked at you, waiting on an explanation. “Most guys have no idea what to do with their hands, but you use them well,” you continued and saw a smirk grow on his face. 

“Yes, I am very good with my hands,” you felt them slide down to the curve of your hips, fingers digging slightly into your skin. 

“Oh my god, Jimin, not like that,” you laughed, hitting his chest softly with your fist, though you couldn’t deny that actually was exactly how you meant it. “I like...I like dancing with you. I like the way you move,” you continued. 

“Yes, I do move very well too,” his smile grew, and you watched as the tip of his tongue grazed his corner of his mouth, causing your gaze to be completely fixated on his lips. “Anything else?” he asked, voice low, leaning closer. 

“Um...I-” you felt his hands grip into your hips tighter. “I like your lips,” you said in a whisper, your voice shaky. “They look like they might be really soft-”

“I’m happy to let you test that theory.” 

“What-” your words were cut off by him leaning down, pressing his lips against yours. You took a long inhale, feeling your body relax against his, your mind going blank as he pushed your mouth open with his, tilting his face against yours. Gently, he slid his tongue into your mouth and you heard a soft moan escape your throat, feeling his hand sliding down your hip, his fingers grazing your skin under the hem of your dress. 

His other hand reached up behind your neck, craning your head as his lips traveled to the corner of your mouth, your jaw, your ear.

“Well?” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “What’s the verdict?” biting gently into the skin of your neck. 

“Mm, um..” it required a concerted effort to get air to your lungs. His lips traveled across your cheeks and once again covered your mouth, his tongue rolling over yours made your knees feel weak, leaning your full weight into him for support. “Jimin,” you pulled away from him slightly. “Will you take me home?” you asked, looking up at him through sleepy eyes, unable to keep from thinking about what he could do to you once you had some privacy. 

“Of course,” he replied simply, taking your hand and leading you out to his car. 

He drove swiftly, following your directions, his hand grasping onto your thigh. You rolled the window down on the passenger side in an attempt to calm yourself. The car came to a stop outside your apartment complex, and he got out behind you, following you across the dim, open courtyard towards the elevators. 

“Are you busy tomorrow, Y/N?” he asked as you reached the elevators. 

You thought for a moment, surprised at the sudden question, turning and seeing him waiting for your answer expectantly, his hands in his pockets of his pants. 

“Um, I don’t think I have any plans, no,” you replied. 

“Great, you’ll spend the day with me then,” he beamed. “I’ll come back in the morning, I’ll pick you up at 10.” 

You chuckled softly at this. “Wait, you’re serious?” you looked at him, slightly incredulous at his words. 

“Very serious,” he answered, taking a few steps toward you, and you felt your back hit the brick wall beside the elevator. He took you in his arms, leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. “Spend the day with me.” 

“Ok,” you couldn’t say no as his lips molded into you, his tongue gliding over yours and he pressed his body to you, pushing you back into the wall. “Um, Jimin, would you..would you want to come upstairs?” you managed through huffed breaths. 

He pulled away from you, looking you directly in your eyes. 

“Do you want me to?” he asked, leaning over you, grinning as he pushed his thigh between your legs, making you gasp. 

“Y-yes,” you muttered, feeling Jimin’s hand slide under the hem of your skirt, dragging his palm up the inside of your thigh, closer and closer to the little puddle that’s been pooling in your panties since you danced with him at the bar. 

“Hmm, if I come upstairs,” he brushed his mouth against your throat, planting feather-light kisses on your skin, making goosebumps rise on your arms. “What would you want me to do?” You felt his finger loop around the dampened material of your underwear, pulling it aside and dipping a finger between your lips, chuckling softly as he touched you. “Is this all for me?” he whispered, gently pressing his finger at your entrance, and you could feel yourself dripping around him. 

“Fuck..Jimin..” 

“What do you want me to do, Y/N?” he bit down softly at your ear. “Use your words, love.” 

“I..um-” 

He retracted his hand from you, kissing at your lips gently before pulling away. You were leaned against the wall, breathless and wanting to pull him back against you but you had no control over your faculties. 

He leaned over, pressing the up button on the elevator, and the doors opened with a ding. 

Taking your hand, he guided you into the elevator and gave you a soft kiss. 

“You think on what you want me to do, Y/N. And we can work on that tomorrow,” he grinned, stepping out of the elevator. 

In disbelief that he was really going to leave you like this, you blurted out, “Tease!” and as the elevator doors closed you saw him tilt his head back slightly, looking at you as he slid his hand over the raised ridges of the tight material of his pants below his belt. 

You bit into your lip and when the doors closed, you felt like you were going to collapse on the floor, your legs felt so weak. 

You hit the button to your floor and managed to drag yourself into your apartment, falling onto your bed immediately as you walked in. The breeze coming in through the open window helped cool your body, and you could still feel all the places his hands touched you, as though his fingerprints were imprinted into your skin. 

You lifted your arms over your face, resting your hands on your eyes, closing them and taking a few deep breaths, wondering if he was actually serious about coming to see you tomorrow. Opening your purse, you took out your phone, tapping the screen and as it lit up, you saw multiple banners flash up - (5) Missed calls: Jungkook. 

[bangtan-madi]

quarter past four — min yoongi

Pairing — Yoongi x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Yoongi, established relationship

Genre — smut, fluff, angst

Word Count — 9.1k

Summary — There are things that happen in the early hours of the morning that have consequences that last for the rest of the day.

Warnings — strong sexual content (18+): dom!Yoongi + switch!Reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control; please wear protection), rough sex, foreplay, nipple stimulation, praise, body worship, fingering, handjob, multiple sex positions (lotus and doggy), dirty talk; strong language, mentions of burn out

A/N — Huge shout-out and thank you to @softlyjiminie​ for giving me some guidance and tips for writing smut, as this is the first time I've attempted it, and to @kooala​ for beta reading it and giving me feedback! Both of you made this first time a lot less of a mess than it would have been otherwise 💜

"Baby?"

Your boyfriend's soft voice causes you to stir for a moment, but the softness of the crisp, white sheets lull you back to dreamland. You were in the middle of an unconscious fairy tale. The rain was soft and the sun was setting and the boys were at the beach. Everything was perfect in that dream. There wasn't any work or deadlines, no travel or commitments. You felt rested and no longer tired. Your body felt light and free. It was only you and the boys and the sea.

"Sweetheart, we gotta go. Our flight leaves in an hour."

A subdued mewl slips from your lips as you bury your face further into the pillows. "Don't wanna. N'sleep."

Yoongi tosses his suitcase to the side, heaving a sigh out as he crawls onto the bed and covers your frame with his. Hands on either side of your curled figure, knees on either side of your hips, he leans down and nuzzles his nose against the shell of your ear. 

"[Y/n]..." he murmurs, giving a gentle nip the edge of your ear with playful fervor. 

Sensing that your dream has slipped away for good, you release a quiet groan and curl in on yourself further. "What time is it?"

Yoongi lifts his watch to check the time, still balancing over you with one hand. "Quarter past four."

With lethargic motions, you push the covers down from over your face. Turning your head, you can gaze sleepily up at him. Even in the darkness, with only the small hotel lamp giving light from the nightstand, you're taken aback at how good he looks. His hair has returned to black, and his undercut is freshly shaven. It's become one of your favorite looks, and you owe it all to Agust D's comeback. He still has a bit of makeup smeared under his eyes from the Daechwita shoot yesterday. Even with that, he looks ethereal.

Slipping one of your hands out from under the warm covers, you attempt to wipe away the dark stains under his lashes. "What time did you go to bed last night?"

"This morning," he corrects in a soft voice as he turns his head to press his lips against your palm. "I think it was sometime around two."

"Yoongi, you can't keep running on two hours of sleep."

He nods once. "I know. It's only this week, sweetheart. I promise. After we get home, things will go back to normal."

You wanted to believe him, but this has been going on for more than a week. It's taken every ounce of energy you have to keep up with him and the other boys. Even they had started to feel burnt out. No one would ever doubt that Yoongi is a hard worker, but you'd started to feel the effects of less sleep and more stress. You know you're getting close to a breaking point yourself, so you can't imagine how bad he must need his rest.

"And what is 'normal'? You almost never get more than five hours, even when we're at home. You're always working or practicing or recording."

"Next year is going to be a busy year," he responds, dipping his head lower so that his lips caress yours. "You worry too much."

"And you don't worry enough."

"'Cause you do enough for both of us," he teases with his signature side-grin.

Rolling your eyes, you begin to roll back over and curl up under the duvet. Once again, you're seeking the ever-illusive sleep. "You're an idiot, and one of these days you're gonna burn out."

"And then you can say I told you so. But, until then..." Yoongi slips an arm under your curled frame, using it to turn you back onto your back. Despite your protests, he tugs the covers back down. "We still need to get up, baby. C'mon."

You mutter a childish refusal. This only prompts Yoongi to arch an eyebrow and use his strength against you. He forces your uncooperative self onto your back, ensuring that you cannot move back this time. When you attempt to shove him off, he grabs your hands and holds them down at your sides.

"Don't be a brat," he warns, voice light and teasing. 

Two can play that game. "Don't be an asshole, then."

"Oh, I'm the asshole?"

You give a single, dramatic nod and exaggerated pout. "Just miss you, Yoons. Didn't see you at all yesterday. Haven't seen you hardly at all this entire trip, and you've been in that damn studio recording for months. I just..." You trail off, not wanting to dish out your feelings onto him this early in the morning. Especially before travel. The exhaustion has you feeling weak. Your thoughts aren't as protected or filtered as they usually are. If you start now, you might not be able to stop the thoughts from flooding.

Yoongi senses this, and his grip on your wrists softens. Thumbs rub soothing circles on your exposed skin, rising and falling with gentle strokes along your forearms. "Tell me, baby. Don't get quiet on me now."

Due to your boyfriend's reassuring touch and soft words, you breathe a sigh and shift your gaze away from him. "I just...I'm embarrassed because I'm tired and needy, and I know we have places to be and things to do, but lately...? I don't know. I feel like we spend less and less time together is all."

The brunet heaves a sigh, his lips pursing together to form a thin line. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought the same thing. You seem tired, baby. When we're off the clock, which is rare these days, I want you to rest and not worry about me. I guess...I guess I give you distance so you can take care of yourself."

His words are genuine, and they cause you to smile and reach up to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, as if it's second nature. Your thumb brushes down the gentle slope of his nose, over his cupid's bow, and across his lips. 

"If I know one thing about us, it's that we do a better job of taking care of each other than we do of taking care of ourselves. I might be tired, but there's not much you can do about me worrying. I miss you, more than I wanna admit, and I feel like we haven't...had us time together in a while." Your emphasis on "us" changes the meaning of the sentence, giving it a suggestive nature.

Yoongi's gaze flickers from yours, to your lips, and back up. Instead of replying through words, he leans down and presses his mouth against yours. At first, it catches you off-guard, but a heartbeat later you're kissing him back. Lips move in tandem, and a fire sparks, even after waking up a few moments prior. Your boyfriend always knows exactly what to do to get you excited. It's a sleepy kiss, one that has you sighing in relief. 

His knee moves between your duvet-covered thighs, applying a bit of pressure where you want it most. One hand cradles your face while the other holds him over you. Not having the energy to fight him or hide your reactions, a soft moan slips out. Yoongi takes advantage of your parted lips to bite and tug on the lower of the pair, causing your breathing to catch. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he slips his tongue into your mouth. The wet and warm muscle dances with yours in the early hours of the morning. 

As the heat begins to rise in your chest, you reach out for him. One hand slides across the expanse of his chest, up his neck, and around to the short strands of his undercut. Giving them a quick tug, you hear Yoongi's control slip. A deep sound reverberates in his throat. The other hand travels in the opposite direction. As you move down his body, you shove the covers down and off your torso. Despite already being dressed for the flight, Yoongi seems eager to press himself against you.

Separating a few inches to catch your breath, Yoongi hovers over you. Lips swollen from your kisses. Eyes glazed over from the intensity of the last few minutes. Free hand moving down to grip the skin of your hip under your loose t-shirt. He's the perfect picture of intimacy. Everything about this man screams love and lust.

"You do know we have a flight to catch, right?" he asks, chest heaving with effort.

The effects of sleep having worn off, you adjust yourself so that you're completely on your back. Your knee brushes up against the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants, earning a hoarse groan from the brunet above you. A tiny smirk tugs at your lips, and you slip your other hand from his hair down under the neckline of his shirt.

"Can't we catch the next flight?" you suggest in a teasing tone. "The boys can fly back without us. Don't you wanna stay here with me a little bit longer?"

"God, you know I do," Yoongi responds, dipping his head so that he can press open-mouthed kisses against your jaw. "But we have to film for Run when we get back. I'm MCing; I can't get out of it, baby."

Knowing he's right, the smile falls from your face, and your hand retracts from under his t-shirt. "Oh...right. I forgot about that."

Yet again, there was something on the schedule to do. You knew what you were getting into when you started working at Big Hit as an assistant manager to Sejin. Years later, you knew what you signed up for when you started seeing Yoongi. Your lives are crazy and busy, and there are very times when you have two weeks in a row without travel. Being an assistant manager, you go where they go. Their schedule is yours, their tasks are yours, their days are yours. If there was a set to be at after a long flight back to Seoul, you were there beside them.

Feeling the intimacy fade, you push Yoongi off of you and pull yourself up into a seated position. You'd forgotten how heavy your body feels. The spur of the moment passion was a welcome distraction, even if it only lasted a moment. Each part of you aches. Every fiber is burnt out and exhausted. It takes all your strength to throw your legs over the opposite side of the bed and stand on unsteady feet.

"I'll get dressed then." You turn towards your luggage on the dresser, intending to grab your travel clothes. "When do we need to—"

Yoongi cuts you off as you turn in his direction. In the seconds it took you to pull your clothes from the suitcase, he's off the bed, crossing the room, and pulling you back against him. His body presses into yours; hands grip your hips and lips attach to your collarbone.

"I said the flight leaves in an hour," he whispers, pulling away from your skin for only a second. "I think we have a problem to address before then." To emphasize his words, he grinds his hips against yours. The bulge you noticed before has become both larger and harder. "I need you. Need to hold you, touch you, love you. Let me show you. What do you say, sweetheart?"

You whimper as Yoongi's teeth graze the juncture between your neck and shoulder. "God, yes."

In response, your lover breathes an airy chuckle. He places a kiss against the underside of your chin and slips his arms around your waist. Your heart skips a beat at the gesture, palms sweaty at his teasing promise.

Yoongi pecks his way up to your lips, whispering a soft command against them: "Jump."

You do as he asks, and your boyfriend catches you in the process. He stabilizes you with his hands under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Not wasting another second, your lips crash against his and both hands card through his hair. Yoongi turns and escorts you both back towards the bed, falling over so that you're pinned underneath him on the mattress.

Having done this dozens of times before, you go back to your earlier positions with ease. Your teeth tug on his lip, requesting access. When he grants it, your tongue darts out and brushes against the tender flesh. 

"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmurs in a sweet tone as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. "Up and off, baby. Let me see you."

Obeying his command, you lift your shirt and allow his nimble fingers to slip it off your torso. Since you'd been sleeping mere minutes before, you're left braless and exposed to the pre-dawn chill. Goosebumps cover your front, causing your breasts to perk, much to Yoongi's delight. He leans back, knees on either side of your thighs. His eyes scan your entire body as if it's the most wondrous thing he's ever seen.

"Do I tell you often enough how beautiful you are?" he whispers, running his hands along every part of your skin that he can reach.

You shiver against his touch, turned on at the movements of his hands but still craving more of him. "Well, not enough, no. I always love hearing it."

Yoongi's dark eyes shift up to your face, and he offers a small smile. It's an odd but welcome break to the dark and cloudy lust in his eyes. "I'll make a habit of doing it more often then."

As soon as the smile appears, it's gone and replaced by a sly smirk. As Yoongi's eyes narrow, he shirks his own shirt over his head. It's tossed to some random place in the hotel room. For a moment, you're allowed to take him in, all lithe and toned and breathtaking. Yoongi has always been on the paler and smaller side. You've always been relieved that it doesn't bother him. Because looking at him, how could you not think that he was the most perfect person alive? In your eyes, even judging on things as shallow as appearance, Yoongi is everything you could've dreamed for in a lover. Taking into account his personality and mind, his ethics and morals, his heart and soul, sometimes you still wonder why on earth he ever chose to be with you.

"You're staring," he teases. 

Your eyes shift from the expanse of his chest, down his stomach, towards the obvious tent in his dark sweatpants. "And you're still wearing too many clothes."

The sarcastic quip causes him to laugh. He leans back, keeping his knees on either side of your thighs while he balances on the balls of his feet. His finger curls in a come hither motion, and you swallow hard. 

"Come take them off then, sweetheart."

Pulling yourself into a seated position, your thighs still caged under him, you don't hesitate when you reach for the drawstring of his pats. Yoongi watches with intense eyes as you undo the knot. Loosening the waist a few inches, you begin to pull the hem further down. Eventually, you spot his boxers, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips. 

"If you go any slower, we might have to leave before this is done," Yoongi warns in a deep and gruff voice, his lips grazing your hairline.

It's partly a controlling tease, but there's a hint of truth to it. Neither of you can afford to miss that flight, and with it departing in less than an hour now, you pick up the pace. Sliding his sweatpants down his thighs, you get them as far as you can. Yoongi shimmies them down the rest of his legs. A moment later, he's on top of you again, shoving his hands past the waistband of your underwear. His fingers brush against the most sensitive part of you, and you gasp at the contact.

"You're this turned on, and I've hardly touched you." He makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat as his fingers begin to rub gentle circles across your clit.

A string of strong curses slips past your lips, which only encourages Yoongi to continue. While his fingers are at work below your panties, his lips trail kisses from your face. Agonizing, he moves down your neck and onto your chest. When his mouth reaches your breasts, your hands shoot up to his hair. Fingers tug a bit too hard on the black strands, earning a slow growl from your boyfriend. His fingers still, and for a moment, you think you've hurt him.

"Shit, sorry."

Yoongi presses an open-mouthed kiss against the top of your right breast. "Do it again."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. You bury both hands into his hair, grab hold of the unruly locks, and give a similar pull. "Need you," you murmur, trying to get him to move again. "Please, Yoongi, pl—Oh god."

Your pleas are cut short by his fingers rubbing figure eights on your clit and his lips attaching to the most sensitive part of your breast. His tongue flicks out against your skin before his teeth gentle nibble on the bud. When he pulls it between his sharp teeth, he runs his tongue over the tender flesh. You mewl in response and jerk harder on his hair. 

"God, Yoongi, please. Don't—Shit, don't tease."

"Not teasing," he retorts. His lips brush against your breast as he speaks, only adding to your pleasure. "Showing you my love."

You glare down at him, catching his gaze for a brief moment before he goes back to attacking your right nipple. This time, his movements are forceful. His lips and teeth are ruthless against the erogenous spot. His fingers also pick up in speed. Every part of your body is tingling and full of pleasure. Breathing erratic, it's all you can manage to not dissolve into a puddle against his touch.

After a minute, Yoongi's mouth detaches from one breast and moves to the other. He repeats the same actions to this one, bringing you another step closer to your high. One of your hands remains in his hair, tugging and grazing and scratching. The other shifts to the wide expanse of his strong shoulders and defined upper back. Every part of his skin you reach, you drag your nails along the surface, leaving goosebumps in your wake.

"Feel like I haven't had you this close in a long while," he murmurs, pulling away so he can give light bites along your neck. 

"Too long," you agree, breathless.

"Just focus on me, right here, right now, okay?" Yoongi moves his hand from your most sensitive part up to the hem of your underwear. "Hips up."

With careful touches, Yoongi tugs the last remaining piece of clothing from your body. His nails graze down your legs as he removes them completely, leaving you completely bare on the bed. The hotel air hits your wetness, causing a chill to run down your spine. And from the way Yoongi is looking at you as he returns to his position over you, that chill turns into another kind of shiver.

"I love you," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. "I'm sorry you've felt needy, and I'm sorry I was an idiot and didn't see it."

Your heart flutters at his confession, and you can't help but smile into the kiss. Yoongi isn't always the best with verbalizing his feelings; he's always preferred actions over words. In the few years you've been together, you've never once doubted his love. Not on tour, not while recording, not while traveling for a variety of events. He's always made you feel adored and safe.

But you'd be lying if you said it wasn't nice to hear it every once in a while.

"Love you, too." You nibble on his lower lip, giving a gentle tug on it as you pull away. "And I love hearing you say that, but right now I don't need talking."

To punctuate your words, you let one of your hands slide down Yoongi's torso. His skin is warm and sensitive under your touch; he reacts with heavy breaths as you get closer to your target. Stopping above the waistband of his boxers, you drag your nails a bit harder.

"[Y/n]..." Yoongi warns in a gruff voice, shifting so that his knee is pressed against your center. "Don't play with me."

In playful retaliation, you slide your hand down across the front of his boxers, cup his growing erection, and squeeze him ever so slightly. Just enough to illicit a heady moan from the usually reserved man.

"Who's playing?" you tease, running your hand across him once more for good measure. "And you said I was all turned on with no touching, but look at you." Your hand slips under the elastic and into his boxers. In a burst of neediness, you take him into your hand and begin to stroke him. "All this, just for me?"

Yoongi lets out another groan as he buries his face into your shoulder. Once in control, your boyfriend has succumbed to your touch. You have power over him that both of you know well, and while you don't use it very often, time is of the essence. You'll be damned if he gets lost in foreplay and doesn't finish what he started.

"Only for you," the brunet murmurs against your skin.

As a reflex, you tighten your grasp around his member, moving your hand up and down from base to tip. As your movements continue, he grows harder. His pleasure leaks from his tip. Hips buck against your motions, forcing him further into your palm. In the span of a minute, the tiger persona has crumbled into a mewling kitten. His moans and instinctive movements turn you on even more. You find yourself gyrating your hips against the thigh between your legs.

In a moment of clarity, Yoongi moves one of his hands from your side down towards your entrance. Without the hindrance of your panties, he's able to run his middle and ring fingers against you with ease, only adding to your sensitivity. You try your hardest not to slow or stop your actions on him. But lust has clouded your mind and his ministrations aren't helping. After circling your clit a few times, he dips one finger down a little farther. Past your entrance and into the place where you are in desperate need of him. A gasp slips out as his finger enters you, curling a bit to stretch you out.

"M-More," you whimper, jutting your hips against his hand.

Yoongi's chuckle is deep as he adds another finger, complying with your request without any teasing or fighting. The size inside you doubles, and you let out a breathy moan as he pushes them in deeper, up to the second knuckle.

"God, Yoongi..." You bite your lip as you continue to pump his shaft. 

"C'mon, sweetheart," he whispers, curling his fingers deep inside you. "Fuck—just like that."

As his digits continue to curl inside you, his thumb begins to circle your clit. The added pressure brings you closer to your high. Yoongi knows exactly where to touch you, where to press and pull and tease. He's learned your body like the back of his hand, and even with a time limit, he knows how to take you there.

But what you want isn't his fingers. As good as they feel, that's not the part of him you're craving right now. Your mind clears at this revelation, and you force your hand away from his cock. Though confused, Yoongi doesn't fight you. With ease, you grab the edges of his boxers with both hands and attempt to drag them down his thighs. 

"Need you," you hum. "These. Off."

Yoongi smirks and does as you ask, shimmying his hips so that his boxers are slid down and kicked off to the side. Both of you completed naked to each other. You allow yourself a once-over of his frame, enjoying every inch of exposed skin. It's been a while since you'd both made the time to see each other like this, and that thought makes your heart swell.

"You're beautiful, too, y'know," you admit, heat rising in your face at your unexpected words.

Your boyfriend runs a nervous hand through his hair, grazing his undercut. A tint of pink covers his cheeks. As his hand drops down, he taps against your hip and nods his chin up. 

"C'mere, baby."

Pulling yourself up, you move so that you're straddling his lap. It's a position of closeness and intimacy, one that you adore. You're able to wrap your arms around Yoongi's shoulders while his hands grip your hips. His thighs are stable and firm under yours. Your chests press together, the inches between you vaporizing.

His length brushes against your entrance, and you whimper at the contact. It takes everything in you not to break down and beg, which would only cause him to prolong the inevitable. Yoongi moans with you, and his hips rise once more. The tip of his cock runs along your slit, collecting the moisture needed for painless entry.

"Fuck, Yoongi, please. Please, no m—more teasing. I can't...I can't..."

Despite loving seeing you come undone at his minuscule actions, Yoongi relents. He lifts your hips upward and positions his hardened member under your opening. "Shhh, I got you, sweetheart."

Not delaying another second, Yoongi's fingers dig into your hips as he lowers you onto his cock. The first inch or two stretches you out. He's ever so slow and gentle, placing kisses against your shoulder as he moans deep against your skin. Failing control slips for a moment. He contemplates not giving you the time to adjust before furiously pushing himself in and out. The warmth and wetness around him is all but unbearable without the movement. As you clench tighter, he's all but lost in his own fantasies. 

You've had sex countless times, in a variety of positions and places, but you're never used to the initial stretch. Despite your lover's silent struggle, your focus is on taking him in, one inch at a time. At the halfway point, you're forced to stop, take a breath, and stabilize yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Biting your lower lip to keep your cries at a minimum, you attempt to calm your racing heart.

"Are—Are you okay?" Yoongi murmurs. Maybe after a minute, maybe more or less; you've lost all track of and concept of time.

Giving a fervent nod, you feel him press a kiss against your cheek. As he pulls back, skin already glistening with sweat, you hear him say, "If you're too sensitive or sore—"

Knowing where that conversation is going, you cut it off at the root by sinking further onto his length, taking almost all of it inside you. The familiar stretch increases, and you wonder how his fingers ever were adequate a few moments prior.

Yoongi gasps at the sudden pressure around his cock. His nails dig deeper into your skin. Once he bottoms out inside you, he breathes a sigh of relief. The wetness and warm encasing the most sensitive part of him is heaven on earth. He is throbbing inside you, desperate for you to give him the usual okay to move.

You take another moment to catch your breath. Feeling your walls clench, your legs tremble under you. Yoongi keeps a firm hold on you, encasing you in his security and love. He always waits for you before making a move, something that you're always grateful for. But after that moment passes, the initial pain subsides and the pleasure begins to take over. 

"Please...Please tell me you're good," he shudders. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

You give an experimental movement of your hips, and your boyfriend twitches inside you at the change. Flashing him a sly smile, you nod your consent.

Without warning, Yoongi pulls out of you and thrusts back inside, giving you no time to adjust on his second penetration. You break eye contact, closing your eyes and letting your head fall forward against his shoulder as his hips begin to give steady rocks into yours. Every movement, every retreat and return, every unrestrained pulse of him inside you is enough to send you reeling off-kilter. You dissipate into a puddle of pleasured cries and desperate pleas for more.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans with a sharp snap of his skin against yours. His hands travel lower, gripping closer to your ass as he continues his unrelenting assault. "You always feel so good for me, baby. Always so perfect."

"Y—Yoongi!" Your nails trail across his shoulders, up his lower back, down his chest. Every part of him you can reach, you hold onto as an anchor. "More, god please, more."

Seeing that you're completely in the moment, and no longer worrying about your possible discomfort, the brunet pulls you closer. He uses his strength to pump up into you. From the angle below you, he's able to reach deep into your trembling body. Unconsciously, you suck him in, allowing him to pleasure you in all the ways you've come to adore. He loves seeing you turn into a needy, whimpering mess, as you are at this moment. It lights an all-consuming fire inside him, and he quickens his pace.

When his thrusts deepen, you bite down onto his shoulder to silence your gasps and moans. In the middle of lovemaking, you can get a bit noisy. And with the boys in suites on either side of yours, you have no doubt that if you don't try to keep quiet, the teasing will never end.

A deep growl reverberates in Yoongi's chest as your teeth pierce his skin. "Don't hide those sweet sounds from me, babygirl. Let me hear you, all of you."

"But the boys," you murmur, trying to concoct a coherent sentence through the pleasurable haze.

"Don't think about them," Yoongi tempts. His voice turns even deeper as his lips brush against the shell of your ear. "Think about me. Only me. Tell me how good you're feeling."

Despite your better judgment, you relinquish control and obey his commands. "You feel so good, Yoongi. So deep and hard. You—Shit, you always know just what to do to make me feel good."

Yoongi gives a satisfied purr at your words, dragging his hands up and down your sides. One hand shifts down towards your center, and his fingers rub against your clit. You writhe under his touch, once again panting against his skin, your hands shifting to yank on his hair. Yoongi tilts your head up with his nose and trails aroused bites down the column of your throat.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" he inquires, circling his middle and ring fingers around your sensitivity as his cock continues to ravish you.

Sweat pouring and body trembling, yet still not quite to your climax, you pull his hair. As you jerk your hips down against his, you show a silent display of your desperation for more of him. "Need more of you. Need to feel you deeper and— Fuck! Damn it, I need it harder, Yoongi."

Your lover stops mid-thrust and pulls completely out of you. Cock still tall and proud, you glance up at him as he pushes you off his thighs and onto the white duvet. The commanding look in his eyes is not lost on you as he jerks his chin towards the headboard.

"Hands and knees, babygirl."

Swallowing hard, not another moment is wasted before you comply with his soft demands. His voice is quiet and dominating, and it sends shocks of pleasure all over your body. He places his veiny hands on your waist as you turn over, balancing on hands and knees, ass in the air. It's a position you don't do often, but it always gets both of you there in a matter of minutes.

Instantly, Yoongi is behind you. He runs his hands along the expanse of your shoulders, back, and hips. Leaning forward, he presses open-mouthed pecks against your skin and takes a moment to calm both of you before pushing back inside. 

Your lover doesn't give you that few seconds of pause to adjust before he begins moving. The pace he returns to is one of sheer speed and power. Attention only on you, Yoongi focuses on bringing you pleasure. The sounds you make, everything from soft whimpers to loud cries, are music to his ears. The way you grip him in this position makes it almost unbearable to hold out very long.

"You take me so well," he praises, his voice strained from the constant thrashing of his narrow hips. His eyes trail down, towards the place where you're joined. It turns him on even more to see how wet you are. How eager your body responds to his. How intent you are on pushing yourself back against him. "Look at you, baby. Shit, so beautiful. So tight and perfect. I've missed you. I've missed this—Fuck!"

His hands grip the curve of your hips even tighter, using all his strength to thrust every inch of himself in and out of you. Each time, completely disappearing into your warmth. Sounds of sex fill the room. The new position gives him an angle that allows you to take him further than before. It only encourages him to push harder. 

Yoongi leans over you, once again forcing you to swallow him deeper. One hand remains on your hip while the other travels around to your breasts. His hand massages your skin while his thumb and forefinger give your nipple a hard twist. He smirks to himself and presses a kiss between your shoulder-blades as you cry out. He continues this action and moans in pleasure when you clench.

Your hands grip the pristine sheets with fervor, forehead pressing against the strewn pillows. His member brushes the soft, sensitive spot inside you with each thrust, causing an array of sounds to slip from your lips. His hands on your hips and breasts only add to the spark. Every fiber inside you is lit up with your impending orgasm. As you get closer, your walls begin to constrict around him, adding to both of your pleasure. You can feel every part of him as he continues to maintain, even accelerate, his speed.

"Fuck, tell me you're close, sweetheart," Yoongi whines, pulling his hand away from your chest as he pulls your hips harder against him. 

"So close! So close, Yoongi. Mmm, fuck!"

Yoongi reaches around to rub his fingers against your clit, adding yet another layer to your pleasure. The figure-eight movements cause you to squirm against him. Breath coming out heavy, eyes rolling back, back arching, you feel so close to orgasm. 

"Just a little more, babygirl," Yoongi murmurs, his lips close to your ear.

A high-pitched whimper escapes as you reach your hand down to press Yoongi's fingers harder against you. "Fuck, Yoongi, s—so close. 'M gonna...gonna..." Unable to finish your sentence, you drop your hand. Yoongi's gentleness fades as his fingers press hard against your clit.

"Where do you want me?"

"I—Inside," you plead, knowing that both of you are aware of your birth control. "Please. Please, Yoongi—"

Yoongi places a trail of kisses from the back of your neck to the middle of your shoulder blades. "Come with me, baby. Let go."

Your high rolls over you like a tidal wave. Burying your face into the pillow to hide your cries, pleasure floods your entire body. Toes curling, insides clenching, sweat pouring. It's a climax more intense than anything you've ever felt. You hold Yoongi's cock in a vice grip, pouring liquid pleasure all around him as you release. 

Yoongi continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. His fingers on your clit never cease. Moments after you hit your high, he's overcome with his own need to release. Several brutal thrusts have him coming inside you, flooding your interior walls with his seed. A sound half-way between a grunt and a moan echoes throughout the room. He holds himself inside you throughout his release, giving both of you the time to completely ride through your highs.

Once his fingers move from your sensitivity, Yoongi begins to mumble sweet nothings. He presses chaste kisses against every inch of skin he can reach. There's no part of your shoulders, back, or waist that are neglected. Both of you are breathing hard, trying to blink away the fog of passion that's clouded the morning. 

As the lust fades, Yoongi is careful as he pulls out of you and releases his vice-grip on your hips. Without him to hold you up, you curl up on your side of the bed. The wave of exhaustion returns, despite the post-sex glow around you. Yoongi collapses onto the bed beside you, rolling onto his side to face you. Without words, he opens his arm and beckons you closer. A sleepy smile spreads across your face, and you snuggle into his chest, knowing that this is exactly where you want to be.

For a few minutes, neither of you says a word. Yoongi holds you close, his leg hooked over yours and his arms tight around your waist. Gentle fingers brush against your lower back. The movements soothe you down from the intense love-making. His lips are constant against your forehead and hairline. You lean into his embrace. Face buried into the crook of his neck, you allow his scent to calm you down. Your fingers brush against his upper back; you know you must've left some serious marks.

A heartbeat later, Yoongi speaks up. His lips brush against your forehead with each word. "I love you."

"Love you, too." 

He pulls away a little bit, allowing you to look at each other as the conversation continues. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

You shake your head with a small grin. "Not at all. I just really get into it, you know me." Your boyfriend smirks, then leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. It's a welcome and sweet gesture to follow all the passion. "Thank you for making time for me this morning. I know we're on a pretty tight schedule...but I'm glad we had some time to ourselves before everything gets busy again."

His hands move up to cradle your face in the most tender way. Foreheads pressed together, Yoongi murmurs, "I'm glad you were finally honest with me. From now on, you gotta tell me when you need me, okay? Not just the sex, either, although that part was fun." You roll your eyes, but he continues in a serious tone. "When you're tired or unhappy or down, you gotta come to me for that, too. I want to know when you're overwhelmed or anxious or sad. I signed up for all of that, so I'll be there for you no matter what you need."

Your heart swells at his words. You know he means the best, and you can't thank him enough for the effort. But there's a pinch of guilt you feel when you mutter your agreement. A lot of the things you told him about are caused by overwork. You know that much, but it's next to impossible to keep up with him in his crazy world. You have to keep trying your best, no matter what.

Yoongi's eyes narrow as his lips purse into a line. "Promise to not keep things from me anymore?"

His expression causes you to chuckle. You nod your agreement, pushing the shadow of guilt aside. "I promise, Yoons."

One hand lifts from your cheek, and he holds his pinky out towards you. "Pinky promise?"

A whole-hearted laugh slips out at his gesture, and you can't help but link your pinky with his. "Pinky promise, you big dork."

Yoongi grins, pulls you in for another kiss, then moves away. "Maybe, but this dork is going to be late if we don't get a move on." He slips to the edge of the mattress, extending a hand behind him for you to take hold. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get washed up, then we gotta go if we're going to make that flight."

"I didn't need a shower before all this, so that's on you."

"We can make it quick," he retorts.

True to his word, the two of you are washed—or in his case, rewashed—and ready to leave the hotel within the time-frame he promised the others. The lobby is quiet this early in the morning, which makes it a lot easier to check out. Yoongi chats with the woman at the front desk, while you take a seat in a chair to await the others.

Hoseok and Namjoon are the first to arrive. They tow suitcases behind them with sleepy expressions on their faces. "Morning," you greet, trying your best to sound chipper.

Namjoon gives a small smile and accompanying wave while Hoseok greets you with a giggle and wink. "How'd you sleep, [Y/n]-ah?"

"Fine, not long enough. How about you boys?"

"Until we had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, super," Namjoon grumbles, slumping into the chair beside you. "I'm not leaving Seoul for a week when we get back."

As he finishes his complaint, much to Hoseok's amusement, the rest of the boys make their way out of the elevator and into the lobby. A sleepy Jungkook slips to Yoongi's side at the check-out. Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jimin make their way towards you. Seokjin gives a pleasant smile, offering to get everyone coffee.

"As dark and bitter as my soul," Hoseok grins.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. "Don't you dare quote Tiktok at me this early in the morning."

Despite the oldest member's grumbling, the mood seems pleasant. Taehyung is still half asleep. He greedily takes the orange juice that Seokjin brings him. His hyung knows his preference of anything over coffee. The others have different variations of the same, dark beverage.

"Annnd for the lady, a medium roast with cream and two spoonfuls of suga." He gives a dramatic bow as he presents you with your disposable cup of coffee, dropping the "R" in sugar so that it sounds like your boyfriend's stage name.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. "From the sounds of it, you got a little more than two spoonfuls of Suga earlier this morning."

You nearly drop your cup at the comment. Namjoon almost chokes, barely catching himself before he spews coffee everywhere. Seokjin turns to the second-youngest with wide eyes, and Jimin bursts out laughing. Hoseok is quick to excuse himself to assist Yoongi at the front desk.

"What he means is...I think you both forgot you had neighbors," Seokjin says. He is automatic in shifting to damage control as Namjoon catches his breath. "Neighbors who were sleeping until about an hour ago."

A wave of realization washes over you, followed by horror and embarrassment. You raise your hands, clutched around the disposable cup, up to shield your face from the boys. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Unfortunately, not," Jimin agrees, keeping his teasing voice low. "Maybe next time you wanna get...involved, wait until none of us are in the vicinity?"

"Or in the city," Taehyung murmurs, earning another sharp look from Seokjin.

Thankfully, the comments end there when Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook return. Your boyfriend takes notice of your flushed face and averted eyes, as well as the states of the other boys.

"Everyone ready to go...?"

"Yep!" you hop out of the chair. Mustering enough energy, you grab your coffee and suitcase and waltz towards the door.

The trip to the airport doesn't take long, nor does the rush to get to the plane. However, the embarrassment lingers along with the exhaustion. Every minute that passes, you find that the single cup of coffee isn't enough to maintain consciousness. On more than one occasion, you almost fall into one of the boys. You even walked down the boarding ramp to the wrong plane, eyes squinted and lightheaded.

Once on the plane, you find your seat in a hurry, feeling a heavy sleep wash over you. Jetlag and work are catching up to you. Going a round with your boyfriend probably wasn't the best idea in the long-run.

Jimin hands you a soft blanket from the overhead bin of first-class, his dark eyes full of concern. "Are you okay, [Y/n]-ah?"

Forcing a smile, you give the blond a reassuring nod. "Just sleep, Chim. Don't worry about me."

The younger member doesn't look convinced, but he drops the topic. Though you don't see it, he shoots Yoongi a side-eye that has your boyfriend's brows pulling together in confusion. 

He leans over the back of Jimin's chair and taps him on the shoulder. "What was that for?"

Jimin glances from Yoongi, towards you in the adjacent chair. You've reclined the seat to make a sort of makeshift bed. Moments later, you've already curled up on your side and passed out under Jimin's gifted blanket.

"She's exhausted, hyung. Did you see her at the airport? She was about asleep while we were going through security. She couldn't even remember her own luggage after she went through the scan."

"She only got a few hours of sleep." 

Jimin cocks an eyebrow as Taehyung slides into the seat beside him. "And who's fault is that, hm?"

"Yeah, we heard some...interesting sounds coming from your suite this morning," Taehyung snides. "Did you forget we shared a wall?"

"And evidently the one the bed was against."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Very mature. What [Y/n] and I do in the privacy of our hotel room is none of your damn business."

"It is when it's my alarm clock!"

Yoongi shoots a poignant glare at Jimin at his elevated voice. Looking over his shoulder at you, he sees you shuffle under the blanket. He's grateful that you're still sound asleep.

"All I'm saying is that she's been like this for a while," Jimin says, this time at a lower volume as to not wake you. "A few weeks, at least. She's always at the office with Sejin. PD-nim says she's been pulling ridiculous hours for the comebacks."

"Comebacks?"

Taehyung nods in agreement as he shuffles through his bag to find his earbuds. "She's assistant manager on our group comeback, but also on yours. Bang-PD-nim asked her since Sejin is so occupied with us. She's been pulling sixteen-hour days, six or seven days a week for the last two months. She's trying to make sure that all the filming, events, and schedules go smoothly."

Yoongi keeps his focus on your sleeping figure. He'd noticed that you were tired, but he'd been gone and occupied with work. Between travel and the comebacks, he'd been too tired to notice. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he'd overlook something so significant. You were always off when he was, even if that was a few days a month, and when he slept at your apartment, you were always there. The fact that you were hiding all of that, just to ensure that he and his members could go after their dreams, causes his heart to sink. 

"I...I had no idea," he murmurs. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"Maybe because she knew how much this means to you? To all of us?"

"She's a bit too much like you for her own good, Yoongi-hyung," the younger of the two agrees. "She's been trying to keep up with us, and it's taken a toll."

Jimin gives you a sympathetic glance as Yoongi turns back towards them. "Don't beat yourself up," he says, noticing the way Yoongi's face has shifted. "All I'm saying is be sure to look after her. She's gonna burn out if she's not careful."

"And she's not going to stop on her own," Taehyung scoffs. "She won't—no, can't say no to us."

"Maybe try thinking of that before you jump her next time?" Seokjin suggests from the row across. Yoongi turns to glare at the oldest member. Seokjin shrugs nonchalantly, defending his words with, "You have two walls you share with. Mine wasn't even the one with the bed against the wall! You guys were really enjoying yourselves, weren't you?"

"This conversation is over," Yoongi states. He reaches up to pull the first-class divider around so that your seats are separated from the rest. The little cocoon is a bit darker thanks to the curtain. Your boyfriend settles into his seat with a heavy sigh and heavier heart.

He pulls the armrest up and reclines his chair, causing the makeshift bed to become larger. Lying down beside you, he curls his body around yours. His arm wraps around your blanket-covered waist, his leg hooks over yours, and his nose buries into your soft hair. When he inhales deeply, a waif of your shampoo washes over him. It's always been a smell that soothes him, and even if it's selfish, he is in desperate need of it now.

At his touch, you snuggle back against him, sensing his presence, even if unconsciously. Yoongi's eyes flutter shut at your actions, and he folds his other arm under his head. Holding you against him, the fervently-fought sleepiness catches up with him. Despite this, and the flight being several hours long, Yoongi knows he won't sleep. With too much on his mind, all he can do is listen to your breathing and hold you close.

Somewhere along the way back to Seoul, he makes the decision that things are going to change. This lifestyle, the way you're both living, the unhealthy habits you've formed, they're unsustainable. You're close to a burn-out, and he's not far behind. He's been grinding his entire life, and while you've always been a hard worker, you never signed up for this. He's become used to it, and while that's no excuse, you never wanted your life to be all work, no play. He hates that you've been taken advantage of, especially as your boyfriend. If something doesn't give, the guilt is going to eat him alive.

Yoongi's arm tightens around your middle. At your satisfied hum, he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

Things are definitely going to change.

Later, once you've returned to your shared apartment, you tread towards your home office. You're intent on getting some work done on the Agust D comeback before collapsing into another jetlag slumber. Technically, it's early in the morning of the next day. Jumping multiple time zones on the multi-hour flight has messed up your circadian rhythm. Sleeping almost the entire time did little to help. A few extra hours is nothing compared to an unpredictable sleeping schedule over several months.

"Where do you think you're going?" Yoongi asks, reaching to grab your wrist before you get too far down the hall.

"I gotta handle a few things, Yoons," you retort, too tired to turn and face him.

Yoongi clenches his jaw. He remembers what the other members said earlier about your burnout. "You need to get some rest, baby. It's been a long day. Come to bed with me."

"I'm really not tired—"

"—I can see that you are." Not taking no for an answer, Yoongi tugs on your wrist, guiding you to turn around and face him. Your eyes are drooping and bloodshot. Your shoulders slump in a way that makes him wonder how long you'll be able to stand. "The boys told me about you taking on the production of my comeback."

A groan slips out. "Who?"

"Doesn't matter." He cups your face between his hands. "You've gotta start taking better care of yourself, [Y/n]. This isn't sustainable."

"That's rich coming from you," you scowl.

"I know," he nods. "And I'm going to do better, too. We gotta take care of each other. We're too much alike in that we push ourselves to our absolute limits and collapse. It's hard to see yourself from an objective perspective, but I know what I see you going through. Am I wrong that you see the same in me?"

Relenting a bit, you take a deep breath and murmur, "You know I worry about you, Yoons. I told you as much this morning."

Yoongi closes his eyes and leans down. His forehead presses against yours in a gentle, affectionate manner. "I don't want to be the reason we both burn out. We gotta start communicating better and let the other know when we're overwhelmed. I can't help you if you take on too much and never tell me."

"And vice versa," you smile.

Your boyfriend places a chaste kiss against your forehead to hide his smirk. "You were right, you know."

"Duh, but what about specifically?"

"We do a hell of a better job taking care of each other than we do taking care of ourselves."

You wrap your arms loosely around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder as his noes buries into your hair. "See? I'm wise beyond my years."

"So wise," he snickers. Yoongi continues to hold you for a few more moments, rubbing soothing circles along your shoulders and back. When he pulls back, he smiles down at you and runs a thumb across your cheek. "You're not working tonight. Neither of us are. Run filming is moved to tomorrow."

A false sound of annoyance slips out, and you snap your fingers to the side. "Aww, man. Was really looking forward to that."

"I'll make it up to you. How does a bath with me sound instead?"

"No funny stuff?" you ask, cocking an eyebrow. "No offense, but I'm still a little tired from earlier."

Yoongi reaches for your hand and links his pinky with yours, a gummy smile spreading across his face. "Pinky promise."