#impromptu thought n comic

[green-neggs]

" ....You didn't sign anything, did you? Where did you get that mask?"

*You're at the Start! 🎭 Next ->

[prodbymaui]

These Secrets That I Have.

what if I told you that I've fallen?

PAIRING: mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE: our friendly neighborhood spiderman ; the best friends

WORD COUNT: 4.3k+ words

WARNINGS: eventual smut, choking kink, arson

SYNOPSIS: Joking that your best friend is the infamous superhero bitten by a spider has been a habit for the group. It was all a joke, until it wasn't.

A/N: THE UPSIDE DOWN KISS!! spidermark agenda, I wouldn't let you die. and forgive for the poor attempts of comedy lmao. anyways, happy reading and don't forget to share your thoughts about this fic! <3

''With great power comes..''

''Great responsibilities--''

Gasping dramatically, Johnny stands up as his finger points accusingly to the male who's unknowingly straining his vocal chords due to laughing so much.

Mark shakes his head, clapping his hands in amusement. ''Dude, everybody knows that.''

''Nobody gets it right.''

Jaehyun joins the tallest among all of you. ''Except spiderman.''

Cackles once again blooms, the way these two delivers their impromptu exposing session is so comical that you are all gasping for air.

If you didn't know better, those faces full of shock mixed with betrayal would fool you into thinking your best friend is actually the one behind the infamous red and dark blue suit with webs and spider symbols decorating it. No ones knows when it actually began, the spiderman jokes. Johnny and Jaehyun are certainly the ones to start the teasing on Mark, doting on him and urging him to 'admit it' in every chance they get. Oftentimes, the jokes are fueled by Mark's fast reflexes. Someone can react fast, alright, but something about Mark's tells that there's a deeper root or cause, Johnny's words.

Personally, you don't really think Mark would be the 'friendly neighborhood' superhero neither do you consider even the smallest chance because-- one, the male is literally with you almost 24/7 and spiderman saves people 25/8. And two, you've stayed at Mark's apartment more than you've done to your dorm, you know the in and outs, every nook and cranny of the space-- not once did you found even a mere clue that suggests what Johnny and Jaehyun had in their mind.

''You really gotta back us up here, dude. You know what you've seen.'' Once again, the faux seriousness shows in his words and his eyes widening to convince, you decides to ride his flow this time.

''Actions speaks louder than voice, Mark. If you're not spiderman, then explain the spidey senses!'' Johnny throws a cap towards Mark's direction, effectively making the man catch it within seconds, eventually proving your 'theory'.

'I told you so' looks are exchanged between the three of you. Haechan barks a laugh at that.

''This is fucking crazy.'' Clearly, he's enjoying the show judging by the tears escaping the sockets of his eyes.

The series of persistence is left to deaf ears. Mark prefers downing as much pizza as he can right now rather than dealing with endless accusations that, to say the least, is absolutely nonsensical. ''Y'all would cut this shit out or you'll have webs shoved down deep in your throat in a minute?''

By now, Mark should've known making empty threats that has connections with spiderman's universe or spiderman himself will just worsen the situation he already finds hard to be in. Albeit his ears ringing, Mark didn't make any effort to stop the banters of his friends regarding if he's the superhero bitten by a spider or he's just a natural. Concluding that the discussion is harmless, he doesn't find the need to.

Ha! It's not like he's actually the 'Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman', right?

Another groan escapes past your lips, fingers drumming the white table. 15 minutes upon arriving at 7/11, your instant ramen slash source of distraction from boredom sadly disappears in thin air. What the fuck is taking Mark Lee so long?

''--so you mean, 10 muscled people holding rifles each was nothing against 1 spider descendant or some shit?'' Your ears perks up.

''Yup, flicked those robbers away to the police like it was nothing.''

''Damn crazy, and fucking awesome.''

''That's spiderman for you,'' The boy browses through the ice cream freezer near you. ''Still can't believe he's in this area just minutes ago.''

Eh? The superhero was here? Then that would mean the said robbery took place somewhere not far from where you were eating your ramen peacefully. How come you didn't hear the sirens? You sigh, mind wondering the possible outcomes if the robbers decides to raid the stores nearby and eventually reach yours. It fuels your urge to go home even more.

Supposedly, this trip shouldn't last no more than 10 minutes considering the fact that the store is not even 3 minutes away from your dorm and choosing chips to your liking only takes less than 5 minutes of your time-- depending on how indecisive you are and how crazy your cravings are. It'll all bring you back to the comfort of your bedroom in no time, nonetheless.

But a certain someone thought it's a good idea to leave you at the store and tells you that he'll be back in a bit, making you wait like some child for their parent. Heck, no parent would even leave their child alone at a convenience store, opting to take the kid with them. He insisted on meeting here again in spite of your whines to go separate ways so you can enjoy the warmth of your bed all the while he fulfills the errand that he so eagerly wants to finish.

''This motherfucker, I swear to God.'' Informing Mark that you'll go back via message, the chair lets out a faint screech as your body heat lingers a little longer after standing up to leave. Just as you turn around, your shoulders meets a chest, sending you both to a halt as the collision sinks in. You look up to see your most awaited best friend with his unstyled chest nut hair serving as a curtain for his same shade orbs. He breathes heavily, as if catching some air to fend his lungs.

Eyes raking down his body, you drink in his appearance. He looks like he just came from.. a fight. ''The hell happened to you, dude?'' Your figure heads towards the store's exit.

''Police thought I was one of those that belonged to the robbery, took me a while to convince them I'm not, sorry.''

You snort. ''Well, I would mistake you as a robber too with this beanie and all black outfit you have.''

Mark scowls. ''They thought I'm a victim, just for your information.''

''Really? That's surprising.'' Laughing softly under your breath, you tosses a bag of chips to Mark as compensation for your teasing.

The gust of cold breeze remains disregarded, warmth coming from the other's body heat is enough to ease the coldness. Passing by where the crime occurred, your feet unknowingly fasten their pace, shuddering at the thought of danger albeit the police cars and armed officers surrounds the area in protection stance.

Overhearing a reporter going on about something along the lines of 'the cops thanking Spiderman as it weren't for him, they wouldn't be able to catch the criminals' makes you sigh.

They should really stop depending on the superhero. You thought.

''Isn't it scary?''

Mark turns to you. ''What is?''

''The way greed can drive humans to intense, irrevocable madness.  It pushes them to do these things that'll not only put their lives in danger but will also fail to satisfy their desires. Sure, they can have money in the palms of their hands with just a snap, stealing from people-- but will those bills last for a long time? Will that be enough for them? Certainly not.''

A brief glance from Mark is what you received, the bop of his head caught by your peripheral vision assures you to keep going. ''The more they steal, the more they crave. If the officials thinks that every on-going and unsolved crimes plastered on the news by the media will scare the criminals away because they are apparently doing their best to find the suspects and pull them out of wherever hole they are hiding, they're wrong. The cops wouldn't be forced to  use their best assets and experience sleepless nights if the criminals are not doing well at their job, right? Those announcements of endless searchings and calls for the people's help only pats the wanted people on their back, telling them they've done an excellent mayhem job.

Sometimes, I don't even know who to blame when crimes, like this kind, happens. Is it the criminals themselves because they lost their morals over materialistic things? Because they gave in to the urge of possessing those that goes beyond what they can comprehend? Is it the police for not hearing the reason why these criminals have done it? Is it the society who embodies judgemental and discriminating in all sorts of way that probably pushed them to do such things? Or is it the government who failed to make education and employment accessible to everyone no matter what their status in life is?''

Kicking a pebble out of your way, it creates a dull thudding sounds. ''Proper education and enabling people to have a grasp of legal source of income would probably prevent crimes from happening. I'd like to think that most are just desperate measures.''

Mark hums. ''What you said are somewhat right. They makes sense.''

''But.. ?'' You know there's more that he itches to say.

''But, as much as everyone deserves to be heard and understood, some are just born evil. Born without remorse for others. It'll surprise you how we encounter many people such them in our daily lives. So avoid thinking that criminals did what they've done because they had a traumatic and devastating life. You're unknowingly justifying the ends by their means, something you cannot do especially if the lives of innocents are on the line.''

It's unclear why Mark sounds firm and sure regarding of meeting the people he just talked about but since their existence is not exactly a secret from the whole world, you suppose he's correct.

Too caught up in your conversation, your feet reached the entrance of your dorm's building in no time. Turning around, you offer a cheeky smile at him. ''Thank heavens then that I don't need to worry about my safety.''

Mark returns your smile with a hearty scoff. He knows where this is going. ''Uh-huh, and why is that?''

''Because I have Spiderman as my best friend! You'll protect me, won't you spidey?'' Giggling, Mark nudges your arm as you walk side by side, resorting to shaking his head instead of joining your spiderman agenda.

Spiderman or not, Mark vows to himself to keep you away from the darkness of this world with all his might. He already lost his uncle, he couldn't afford to lose someone so dear to his heart once again.

The alarm blares loudly and pierces your ear drums, almost busting them yet you didn't make any effort of getting up. The ringing sounds extra loud today, though. Ah.. you don't really want to wake up. Your body shifts to a new position, hands searching where your phone lays.

Definitely, no one wants to wake up before the roosters crows in a weekend where you should be using all your time to rest in preparation of yet another tiring week.

Skin making a contact with the source of the sound, you didn't feel any vibration with it. Just as when you decided to go back to sleep and withstand the annoying ringing of the alarm, rapid knocks on your door overpowered the previous sound, effectively pulling you out of the borderline between dreamland and reality.

You sit up. ''Fuck--'' It is only then that you realized, the alarm isn't coming from your usual alarm clock. Instead, it is the fire alarm ringing and announcing the state of your building.

With panic taking over your emotions, your body moves fast. Getting all the things that you know is important before soaking a blanket in water, covering yourself with it, and finally running out to leaving your room. Tears pricks your eyes as you meet the fiery blaze engulfing the whole building, enclosing in with every blink and every breath you take. You step a few backwards, lips quivering as you try to ignore the scorching heat seeping through the wet blanket, threatening to burn your skin any minute. Your eyes wavers.

There's so many ways you could die but dying helplessly amidst of an arson is not what you fancy. A scream of horror couldn't even be used to express your fear, you remain quiet and whimpering despite the shivering of your body, arms hugging yourself.

Your doors shut close once again, your back leaning against it as you falls to the ground, drops of tears continuously running down your cheeks. The fire started from a floor below yours, or at least that's what it seemed like. Meaning you absolutely have no chance of escaping the flames unless you jump out of your window. Surely, you're somehow survive a fall from the 5th floor, right?

A rattle created somewhere in your house snaps you out of your nonlogical thoughts. Looking up, you don't know whether to believe your eyes or rub the surface of your orbs, taking a second look in case what you're seeing is just a figment of your imagination. Maybe you're slowly losing some screws in the head.

But the movement of the figure, jogging towards you, tells you otherwise. ''What the fuck.. ?''

It's real.

It's him.

It's Spiderman in the fucking flesh.

Once again, you are stolen from your trance by his arms gently pulling you up, steadying you. Without much of a warning, the superhero scoops you in his arms and flies out of the window. And holy fuck, does it scared the shit out of you that the fibers of your body started to scream nothing but hold on tight to the man who's swinging down the building with you.

The uncalled adventure ended before you could even processed that your building is currently burning down, you got stucked between the fire and now Spiderman just saved you. No one should be able to blame you if you take days to properly digest what just happened.

He stands before you for a few more seconds, as if raking down his eyes. You tilt your head when he nods and runs to save the others. ''The fuck.. ?'' For the nth of the day, you let out a curse.

Your brain is totally playing with you. There's no fucking way Spiderman helped you, made sure that you got no wounds slash you're safe and sound before nodding as if to assure himself. Johnny is gonna combust if he's to hear your story.

The comfort of the thick blanket engulfs your figure as you hold your cellphone and wallet in your hand. Sighing, you turn to Jaehyun who came to your aid at this goddamn hour. ''You don't really have to stay with me, Jay. Pretty sure this'll end in an hour or so, you can go back now.''

Stubbornly, the male shakes his head. ''Did you know how worried we are when we heard from Mark that your dorm was on fire? Johnny and Haechan almost even flew out of Busan just to make sure you're alright.''

''Dude, I'm really fine, I promise. I can manage this, just rest.''

His hand pushes your head lightly to lay on his shoulder. ''No, you rest.''

Giving up, you let yourself relax, leaning your weigh towards Jaehyun as you pull the blanket tighter around you. The dreamland train is ready to send you to your slumber when your eyes opens abruptly, realizing what Jaehyun just said.

''Jay?''

He hums.

''From whom did you heard about the fire again?''

''Uh.. Mark?''

''And where is he right now?''

''... Dunno, maybe he's somewhere that's why he couldn't come.''

Your silence tells Jaehyun you're not convinced by his reason.

He silently prays Mark doesn't kick his ass.

2 hours passed and you decided to make Jaehyun drop you off on Mark's place, opting to stay there until everything's alright back at your apartment. It is proven that the male's walls have nothing against your persistent whines as you now lay on Mark's bed, scrolling through your phone.

Ever since stepping a foot here few minutes ago, you didn't catch nor sense Mark's presence. In usual days, it's Mark who zooms from wherever he is to your place once the news of something happening to you reaches him. But today, it was Jaehyun instead.

Your thoughts ponders to where it has been circling earlier. A voice inside you says something you surprisingly don't find hard to believe. Maybe it was your best friend who found you first after all, just not in his signature beanie and all black outfit.

''That's dumb. I should stop joining Johnny and Jaehyun with their shenanigans.''

You must've gone crazy now that you're talking to yourself.

''What's so crazy about that? Doesn't everyone talks to themselves at least once? It's not like it's so bad. According to scientists, taking to yourself brings you comfort and such.''

Of course, that's bullshit. You hate reading anything that involves science.

''Mark is not the superhero who got bitten by a magical spider that turned him into a man who saves the people from fire and crimes. Mark is just your stupid of a best friend that thinks putting strawberries in a microwave is a good idea because he likes his fruits warm. Mark is your best friend who's scared of cockroaches so how come he's a hero whose powers came from a spider? Mark is not Spiderman--''

Wrong. Absolutely Wrong.

Your claims got debunked right after you lay them down. You're absolutely fucking wrong.

The superhero whom you got to meet earlier, now stands in front of you once again. Hissing at what seemed to be a burn, unaware of the other presence inside the room, the mask comes off of his head, revealing the face the media and government would pay billions of money to see.

All this time, the jokes that Johnny and Jaehyun threw weren't all bullshit. Because the moment Spiderman turns out, the familiar chestnut shade eyes meets yours, effectively stilling both of your figures.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Spiderman IS Mark Lee.

''...''

''...''

''...''

''... let's treat your burn first.''

The hero nods like a puppy.

''Ouch! At least dab it gently. I may have powers but immunity to stings isn't one of them, you know?'' That only pushes you to dab the cotton pad harder on his burnt skin, earning a yelp.

''You deserve that after hiding this secret from us for how many years.''

''Who said I hid it from all of you? Johnny and Jaehyun have known about this months ago.'' Your glare scares the superhero embarrassingly. To be fair, it's not like Mark intended to let the duo know. It was accidental.

''And you didn't even dare to tell me, your literal best friend?'' You know exactly why he didn't want to risk revealing his secret even with those he trusts the most, you just don't know how to properly mask the worry inside you.

Mark, instead, smirks. ''Just say you're worried, it's not that bad to admit it, you know?'' He's right.

Your finger fumbles the cotton, eyes staring deeply to Mark's as you weigh the outcomes if you say the very sentence that lays at the tip of your tongue. The hem of your shirt moves, courtesy of Mark of playing with them.

Fuck it.

No one knows who leans in to who, all you know is that you desire to take more than the heat coming from Mark's tongue on yours. His arm wraps around your waist, flipping your position so you would be the one to lay on the bed, hovering your figure as his kisses travels down to your neck. Whimpers escapes your lips, hand threading the brown strands while the other feels the firm chest through his suit.

Your clothes soon flies to god knows where, the chilly wind bites through your bare skin but the flames of Mark's tongue licking every surface he can eases it. The lips comes back to meet yours one more time, devouring every area that he can reach. It's nothing like you expected to experience from Mark.

It's fierce, hot, and needy.

Wet sounds of kissing echoes through the silence of the room, rustling clothes accompanying it as Mark takes off his suit.

Fingers ghosting over the line that serves as an entrance to your core, your breath hitches. They entered Mark's mouth first, sucking and licking before pulling them out full of saliva just for the show. Finally dipping inside you, a sigh couldn't help but to be let out. It's deep, something you're unable to do whenever you're left to fend for yourself.

Mark gets on it, inserting one after another with little rest in between until he feels you're stretched enough for him. You pant, the angry red tip touching and tracing the line of your pussy, enough to send you desperate. So desperate that you whine and grinds your hips upwards to meet his length.

Caging you in his embrace, Mark's lips stays on yours as his cock slowly but smoothly slides past your opening, the veins rubbing along your walls enough to receive a quiet moan from you. There's a slight sting caused by the stretched of Mark's girthy dick but that's what you wanted, for it to hurt even a bit. In order for you could feel Mark fully.

''Good?''

''So good.''

Mark chuckles, observing your facial expression as he makes circles with his hips, hand caressing your sides in a comforting way. When he senses that you've gotten used to his cock sliding in and out of your entrance, he with no doubts quickens his pace. He starts fucking.

Screams of his name along with vulgar profanity fills the apartment, loud skin slapping fuelling the hunger for release. ''More, more, more-- fuck, Mark, please.''

The male grunts. God, just your calls of his name is enough to make him come. It takes him a lot of self-control to prevent his climax from raining on him quickly. With the determination of bringing you over the edge, his hips snaps harder, harsher and faster.

The way his tip gets caught on your walls before fully pulling out is hypnotizing. Hands gripping the pillow beside your head, Mark changes his angle a bit and that's when you scream his name loud enough for the neighbors to complain tomorrow. Mercilessly, Mark's bulbous tip jabs on your spot dead on continuously, giving you no time to catch some air.

His mouth attaches to your skin as he paints it with love bruises, a remembrance of your activity. ''Aah, shit-- are you close, baby? Are you gonna come around my cock? Tighten your-- fuck-- walls around me until I can't fucking-- aah-- breathe?''

You nod, chanting his name like a mantra as you plead him to bring you the mind numbing pleasure. Scratching his back, nails digging and creating crescent moon shapes on his skin-- Mark finds himself only getting closer to coming. His fingers wraps themselves around your wrist, placing your palm on the expanse of his neck. Mark groans when he feels the pleasuring grip on the sides of his throat, eyes rolling to the back as the perfect press sends him to his peak.

With your walls pulsating around him, white cream creating a customized ring for his cock, Mark thrusts once, twice, trice and a few more before he pulls out. Ribbons of white makes itself known on your stomach through the warmth it radiates. His head is thrown to the back as his mouth falls apart, moaning your name.

Minutes passes by and it was only then that Mark came to his senses, laying carefully beside you. Despite just having his cock inside you not long ago, Mark visibly stills when you wrap your arms around his waist. You chuckle.

''Any secrets you have that you want to tell me?'' Whispering against his shoulder, Mark gains the courage of placing his arm to hug you side ways. He smiles, staring at the ceiling.

''If I didn't know any better, I'd say that smiles means you like me.''

''Well, do you?''

''Do I what?''

''Know better.''

Giggles of happiness echoes the bedroom.

It is night and your heels clicking the floor is heard along the quiet alley. You purses your lips, hands buried in the pockets of your jacket to hide from the freezing cold of the night. Eyes remaining to the ground, you steps comes to a halt when you sense another presence just behind you.

The shadow shows an upside down figure of someone, a strange yet familiar way. You turn around with no fear, smile of adore dawning your face as the sight of your boyfriend waiting greets you.

''Hi,'' Softly, you caress his upside down face. ''The people are waiting for you to save them, spidey.''

''Can I get my good luck? So I'd know someone is waiting for me to get back home?'' Chuckle rumbles on your chest as you pinch his cheek.

Your fingers tugs the hem of his mask, enough to reveal the naturally red yet slightly chapped lips that you love. Pressing a loving kiss, you hoped that Mark was able to decipher all the feelings you've put.

''Can I tell you a secret?''

You didn't wait a respond from him.

''I love you.''

You peck his lips.

''So damn much.''

You fix his mask and ensure that it wouldn't slip off of him.

''Be careful while saving the world, will you? I wouldn't know what to do if I lose mine.''

With one last kiss through the fabric of his mask, Mark vows that after helping the people, he will come back safely-- to his very own home, his own world.

[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 2: The Proof is in the Pudding. Or the Banana Bread

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 3

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

There's an odd numbness that you feel on the bus ride home from your interview(s). Almost like shell shocked. When you step onto the bus, the driver smiles at you, and your brain fights to conform your lips into one. But, when you sink onto the fabric chairs, you let your eyes go out of focus and tune out the murmurings of other passengers. It's expected of course, from the day you've had. You have been picked apart and put back together again, over and over, and experienced a dizzying amount of emotions.

There was anxiety, of course; but also an odd sense of pride and happiness from your interview with Cuddy. You spoke confidently. You had the credentials, the experience, and the eagerness to learn that allowed you to win over the Dean of Medicine herself. She had praised you on all of the above.

But there was also anger. Annoyance. And an overflow of self-doubt from your interview with House. Honestly, you thought Cuddy's warning of the Diagnostic doctor was exaggerated, simply to keep you on edge for the remainder of your evening. But after meeting him yourself, the sincerity of her warning became apparent.

He was rude; egotistical; and most definitely infuriating. Your first interaction with him was not during the interview, but rather under the guise of making awkward small talk with a patient waiting for House. He had then proceeded to degrade you; and later, belittle and mock you. All within less than half an hour.

And then he did something incredibly surprising. He hired you. It was awkward, sitting back down to his desk and collecting manilla folder after manilla folder of official guidelines, resources, and random paperwork. You had half a mind to slam it on his desk and tell him where he could shove his paperwork. But, like you said: You were willing to put up with rudeness, as floor mat-y as that sounds.You needed this job.

Moving across the country, leaving behind (admittedly, a small amount of) friends, and paying off a collective ten years of medical training and education had left you broker, than you were willing to admit. Two-minute noodles had become your new five-star meals. The heels you were wearing were gorgeous. You haggled for $12 for them from an op shop; you had reattached the heel itself through superglue and determination alone.

Hence, the rackety bus you were now on. It was near comical. The broken air conditioning, which was heaving out pathetic warm puffs, dripped steadily onto the back of a man's jacket. When the driver took a corner too quickly, one of the doors swung open an inch only to slam close again when the bus straightened out. There were four speakers in the bus and there was only one that worked; it had been scratching out 'Careless Whisper' on a loop for thirty-seven minutes.

How many times would Geroge Michael never dance again? More importantly, how many times could you hear him sing about it before you banged your head against the glass and tried to give yourself an aneurysm through blunt force trauma?

You were lucky in some aspects; being a 'gifted child' had you speeding through courses in high school and graduating from tertiary education extremely early. Most specialists were in their early-mid thirties. You were still in your late twenties.

The demands of school, your previous residency, and various jobs meant that you didn’t leave many people behind. There was Bailey, who you would occasionally have coffee with; when you worked together and were desperate to waste hours at a stifling desk job, he would make riddles that you could never solve. And Ms Delon, your greying and wrinkled neighbour, who, every fortnight, would bring out her yellowed recipe book and teach you something new and pour you cup after cup of English tea. If it was relevant, you would have put your ability to make four different kinds of pie, seven cakes, nine pasta dishes, and one hell of a banana bread from scratch on your resume. The mailman that would slip you a postage stamp every time he stopped outside of your building (this one was odder than anything; you had never asked him to do, but smiling at him and receiving a 10-cent stamp with a photo of a furry kitten was nice, nonetheless).

You’re stumped for a moment, and wonder if you missed anyone; but no. Pathetically, the only friends you had left were an old coworker, a widower, and your mailman. God, you needed to get out more. Maybe the crazy alcoholic extroverts in high school were onto something. Or at least, on something.

Clubbing could wait until you had settled into your new job, however. You had been scrambling for a stable job and to pay off your debts. When the diagnostic position at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was advertised, you crossed your fingers and prayed to gods you didn't believe in, and applied.

You couldn't tell yet if it was a malevolent force that had twisted fate around. You were stuck working side by side with House for the foreseeable future. You grumble to yourself as you step off the bus and the cold night surrounds you. Of course, when House gets mentioned, even within the mental confines of your psyche, it begins to rain. Malevolent force indeed. It's not long before the droplets become torrential, and you make the decision to cover your 'oh-so-important' paperwork with your coat and sprint down the streets as fast as your heels will allow you.

By the time you reach your fading, cracking, and slightly mildew-smelling apartment, you look like a drowned rat. Hissing as you turn on the bright overhead lights, you sound like one too. The paperwork, clutched in your numb hands is pristine, save for a few crinkled edges and crumpled folders. You set it down, and lock the heavy deadbolt across your door.

Sighing, you kick off your heels and detangle yourself from your suffocating clothes. You grimace as you pad across your apartment, leaving a wet trail of footprints in your wake. Your apartment is still in the very early stages of moving in, but it’s become a ritual of sorts to turn on your kettle, reuse the one bowl you dug out from somewhere, and make chicken noodles.

You breathe the salty, artificial flavouring in, but, when you feel goosebumps across your chest and arms, you decide the noodles can cook for a while longer.

Connected to your bedroom, the bathroom door needs to be shouldered to open, and you almost want to yell out an apology to your neighbours when it screeches against the tiles. You don’t however. You’ve been sleeping here for a week now, and every night, without fail, there would be banging, crashing, and lots of moaning from the apartment next to you. The ritualistic orgies they must have been having meant that they could deal with your squeaky doors.

Your eyes skim across the bathroom. Your brain isn’t familiar with your housing yet. It’s like you except for the same tiles, the same paned windows and shining taps of where you left. Instead, there’s a spattering of dark flecks against the roof. You stubbornly advert your eyes from the mould. You’ll clean it tomorrow. Or the next day. Fine- whatever day you were able to fish a stepladder and bleach out of your arse.

The hot water burns away the evidence of the day. Your cheap makeup, vanilla perfume, sweat; everything is down the drain. You drag your hands down your face and hold your breath until your lungs begin to burn. Maybe you should have been more assertive in your interviews. Maybe if you had been funnier, nicer, prettier, smarter, perkier, ruder, or one of the million things you weren’t, House would have taken a liking to you. Maybe you should have been less willing to blatantly cop his abuse, now and every future Monday-Friday. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It fills your head, and you practice breathing in deeply. And breathing out. Repeat. Breathe in deeply. And out. Repeat.

The maybes don't disappear but they become quieter in your head. By the time you’re in the middle of an epic concert finale, near screaming “Guilty feet have gaaat no rhythm!”, the maybes are just static, background noise.

Stepping out of the shower, you wrap yourself in the lone, fluffy towel hung in your bathroom. The shower head drips behind you, matching your heartbeat steadily. You brush your teeth, and gag when you scrub your tongue. The warm water has left you tired. Sore. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow.

For now, you collapse onto your uncovered mattress, naked and still wet from your shower. Mountains of boxes surround you; the tape containing them hasn’t even been cut open yet. You tell yourself that unpacking can wait until tomorrow too, and you drift off into a restless sleep.

It’s filled with images of House in a wheelchair, wearing very provocative clothing. “Premium Cripple Hooker rates apply,” he whispers seductively to you. —--------- The next morning you curse yourself, and begin to pick up the heavy, wet pile of clothing by your front door, and eat a pathetic, slimy breakfast of your forgotten noodles. You’re determined that this weekend your apartment will look like the cover of some overpriced magazine or at the very least, be unpacked. But come Sunday night, you’ve only assembled one ikea coffee table and still have a third of your boxes remaining.

To be fair, the ikea table took the longest of those two chores; you had a packet of nails when you needed screws, dowels that splintered into pieces when you jammed them into the wood, and a hammer when you needed a screwdriver. An abrupt walk around your busy, dingy neighbour led you to a corner ‘mum and pops’ hardware store. By the fourth trip, when you needed a box of lightbulbs (because, in your excitement to have finally finished the table, you swung your hands up and your brand new screwdriver performed an acrobatics routine, perfectly sticking the landing in your overhead light), the Pop of the ‘mum and pops’ shop greeted you by name.

After the scarring ikea incident, your stomach was growling. Noodles couldn’t cut this kind of hunger any more; maybe your body was building a resistance to the starchy goodness. So, sliding on your shoes one more time and slipping your keys and wallet into your coat, you walked along the icy pathway. You stopped at the one place you knew so far, and raised your hands in defence when the bell chimed, announcing your arrival.

“I am NOT here to buy anything again. Well. At least for today.”

‘Pop’ let out a hearty laugh, clutching at his gut. He was a heavy, older man, and a smoker from the smell of it. You hoped you didn’t see him at work anytime soon. He sure saw you enough at his.

“Honey,” His Slavic accent was thick. The nickname wasn’t the same sneering word that some men yelled at you, but rather kind and endearing, as if he was chortling at his young grandaughter. “If you keep coming back, I’ll be able to retire soon. But,” He gestures at you, in big sweeping movements, ”You didn’t break another bulb? Or build another desk?”

“Thankfully, no. I need groceries, and I was hoping you’d know if there was store around here? I still haven’t learnt my way around yet.”

Pop looks around the store, empty aside from you. You supposed not many people ventured outside in these frigid weathers. He smiles, and you watch in amusement as his moustache tickles his cheeks. “I’ll show you. I have to have break now anyway. Otherwise,” His voice drops low, “The wife will murder me. Says I need to ‘take it easy’. Psh.”

He hangs his apron up, and places a sign on the locked door, saying he will be back within the hour. Together you walk down the winding and cracked pathways. He reveals his name isn’t Pop, but rather Josef. You laugh and tell him you might just keep calling him Pop. He laughs, and says “Why not? I already have four grandchildren who do.”

It’s easy to talk with him. Both of your breaths fan out in front of you, in plumes of warm air. You tell him about your new job and deep lines appear in his forehead. “So far away. Hard work too.” he says and you can’t help but nod. You can’t imagine Pop as a young man, or in his youth; he seems like the man designed to be a grandfather. Regardless, he tells you lots of things. His migration here, when he was younger than you. The years of taxi driving and late nights he did to buy his store and settle down with his bookkeeping wife. His beautiful, but busy children. You smile and nod along, and you quickly arrive to the small grocery store.

There’s not much to choose from but you get the essentials: milk, flour, bread, sugar, cereal, pasta, sauces, and spices. As a last-ditch attempt to appear as if you care about your nutrition, you grab some fruits and vegetables. The woman ringing you up, at the store's lone register, wishes you a good, warm day, and you thank her.

Pop waits for you outside, smoking a cigarette. When he sees you return, he quickly blows away the smoke and stamps the butt out on the ground. Sheepishly he says, “My wife wants me to quit.” He leaves it at that, and you don’t bother telling him the risks and the benefits of quitting. His wife sounds smart enough.

You’re sceptical when he offers to carry some of your groceries, but relent when he insists. Just like that, you walk back to his store and continue trading stories. When you tell him that yes, you will be fine and that yes, you’re strong enough, he hands you your remaining bags of groceries.

“Come by, anytime you need something, kid. The store’s quieter in winter, and I’m always there if you need a hand.”

You smile and try to ignore the tears that spring to your eyes. “Thanks, Pop. I appreciate it.”

He claps you on the shoulder, unlocks the door and shuffles back towards his counter as if he had never left.

You pack your groceries away in the quiet of your apartment. Thinly dicing some onions, garlic and carrots, the methodological chopping of your knife is all that is heard. When you’re finished cooking, and feasting on what tastes like heaven after weeks of two-minute noodles, you shuffle to your bed. It now has a sheet on it and a blanket, and you supposed that was an upgrade from the previous night.

You stared up at your ceiling for half an hour.

One hour.

Two.

By the third, you whip your blanket and send it flying into your wall, where it crumples to the floor.

No rest for the wicked. Or the anxious.

It’s not like you could prepare for your first day of work any more. You had your clothes hanging up. Your lunch was packed. But, your feet lead you back to the kitchen. You pop your tongue from the roof of your mouth and heave. Stress baking was the best alternative to laying in bed awake. At least it was somewhat productive. Okay, that may have been a lie. At least the sugar would make you feel better.

By the end of your so-called ‘productivity’, your kitchen looked like a bomb site. But you were satisfied with your creations. You begin to walk back to your room, but high pitched and near frantic moaning echoed through your walls. Jesus. Did they have to get it on right next your pillows?

You grab at your blanket and pillows where they sprawl across the floor, and huff, returning to lay on the rug in the lounge room. No couch yet. You had traded $35 dollars for your table, and your bank account was screaming gainst that, let alone a new, or even old, couch. You wriggle like a drowning worm and scooch until your head is under the table examining your handwork. There’s no jutting screws or splintering cracks. You're content with your examination and intend to crawl back out. But your blanket is too cozy and the pillow you clutch at, too soft. Against your will, you drift off to the warm smell of cinnamon and timber. —----- You bolt awake and slam your head against the table.

“Fuck!” You yell out, and clutch at the piercing pain in your forehead. For It’s more humiliating this time when you worm-wriggle out from the table. You turn back to the table, sitting up and massaging at your temple. “I should bring some termites home now. Just for you.”

You know you must not have slept long if you’re insulting your table, but you gingerly raise yourself anyway and peer at the clock hung high on the wall. Not even dawn yet. You were so nervous that your brain forced you awake, with ample time. You take a shower, letting cool water run across your face. Your hand wipes at the foggy mirror, and you decide that yes, you will wear more cheap makeup today. At least to cover the angry red line crossing over your forehead.

You lock the door on your way out and walk gently down your stairs, trying not to slip and eat ass on the sidewalk. You place a container outside of ‘Mom and Pop’s’, and scrawl out a message onto a note. ‘Thank you for all the help! Hope you like banana bread’. You sign your name next to a small smiley face.

The ride was uneventful and quiet. The driver did give you an odd look, but you thought it was fairly justified. You were bundled in your thick coat, and desperately balancing a plastic container, your binder of paperwork, and your bag across your arms. You let it all sprawl across the seat next to you when you sat down. There weren’t many commuters this early in the morning; the windows were fogged, and the streets still dark.

Your shift started at 7, but the commute was long. The sun is just rising when the drops your at the hospital’s stop, and you hop off, thanking the driver. Despite the empty streets you were cruising through a minute ago, the hospital is bustling. It never sleeps, it seems. You smile at the nurses you pass and beeline for the elevators. Your stomach twists in on itself, and you sigh, starting to walk towards the conference room. You reach it, but peer into House’s office. The light’s are off and it’s devoid of the snarky man.

You breathe a sigh of relief, and slip into the conference room. You tuck your bag under the sink and out of sight. It doesn’t have anything valuable, but you have a mean coffee mug in there that you would hate to get stolen. By 'mean' you meant it had a sticker on it and had survived more potential spills than you could count. Next, your container is set next to the small kitchenette and you debate if you should put a note on it, like you did Pop’s. But you decide against it. You’ll be able to tell the team in person and hopefully, the banana bread acts like an ice breaker of sort. No more awkward questions of your hobbies or your family, but simply sweet, bready goodness.

You scan the small kitchenette area but quickly come to the conclusion that you have nothing left to procrastinate with. To Cuddy it is.

You spin, and instantly scream, raising your binder over your head and ready to swing it down. House blinks at you, like you’re a startling bug crawling across his cane.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, lowering your binder and clutching at your chest. “Do you sneak up on all your new workers? Jesus.”

He shakes his head like a bird dusting off its feathers. “Oh, my apologies, I didn’t realise I had to walk into my meeting room with a belly dancing skirt on. Maybe I should. Help people hear me more.”

"I'm sure it would bring out your eyes."

Your eyes flick up to his. God they're blue. They're the paradoxal chilly sky on a sunny winter day. Maybe you were right about the skirt.

“Door?”, he says as he cranes his neck forward and peers at you.

“Huh?”

"God, are you actually deaf?" He snaps his figures in front of your face, and you startle, ripping your eyes away from his as he speaks slowly. “Did.You. Hit. Your. Head. With. A. Door?”

Your eyes widen and you scoff. “I'm not deaf. And how did you-”

Impatiently, he cuts across you. “Slight swelling. Redness, which your concealer doesn’t hide as well as you think it does. So was it a door you ran into or what? A pole?”

You chew your cheek. “...A table.”

“Ah,” he spins, and begins to limp away from you.

You stare at his back, puzzled. You decide you don't want to delve further in your embarrassing morning, or ponder his oddness; rather, you race after him. He doesn’t slow down, even when your shoes slap across the vinyl floor. Curse him and his height. Even with his cane, you jog slightly and reach him when he’s turning a corner.

“Um, look can I give you something?”

He doesn’t stop, but turns his head to you as he strides past the conference room. “Don’t say um. It makes me want to say no.”

“Oh, well, can I-”

“Don’t say oh either. Or well. Or- actually. It’s not the words making me want to say no. So no.”

You grit your teeth but try to cover it with a nod of your head. “Fine. I won’t ask then. I have paperwork to give you. From our interview.”

At that, he pauses and turns to face you. “And you think I would want that because..? Give it to Cuddy. Or don’t. Either way I won’t look at it.”

You blink. He just strides away from you and you huff at his retreating form. “Thanks, Doc.”

Cuddy is much more pleasant to visit. She doesn’t mention your forehead, even though you catch her eyes flicking up to it. She simply smiles at you and welcomes you into her office. You give her your paperwork and she thanks you. You think she is like a regal queen; kind but a ruler that demands respect. That is until you hand her House’s paperwork and she rolls her eyes and says “Arsehole. Did he give you a hard time about it?”

You just laugh. “No, he’s fine. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but it wasn’t too bad.”

She scoffs. “There isn’t a right side of the bed when it comes to House.”

When you leave Cuddy and return to the conference room, you find there are three people in there. They seem to be bickering about something, and you catch the words "No way in hell!" and "-can't cook for his life!". When you step into the room though, they fall silent and turn to you with quizzical eyes. You introduce yourself quickly. “Hi. This is my first day, I’ll be working with you all on diagnostics as a cardiologist.”

The team amazingly welcomes you with open arms. Quite literally. The beautiful, smiling woman sitting at the desk practically leaps from her chair and hugs you. Allison Cameron is the first to introduce herself to you and she pulls back from the hug slightly, to whisper conspiratorially to you. "Finally. I have been stuck with these boys for far too long."

You laugh, and find yourself doing so genuinely. Robert Chase is next and he walks over to shake your hand briefly. He too leans in to whisper, “I hope she’s not turning you against us already.”

Foreman introduces himself and has a firm grip as he shakes your hand. “It’s nice to meet you and get some fresh blood on the team. Have you met House yet?”

“Yep,” You pop the P, and slide into of the chairs across from Cameron and beside Chase.

Foreman sighs. “I hope he hasn’t scared you off. He can be…”

“An arsehole?” chimes Chase.

“Hey.” Cameron pins Chase with a stare. “He baked us banana bread today. Isn’t that showing us that he’s putting in an effort? Even if it’s just because we have a new hire.” She turns to you and her lips dip down slightly. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, or he’s trying to poison us.” Laughs Chase.

You blink, and are about to interject when Foreman speaks up. “C’mon Chase. Cameron’s right, it might be a good thing. Maybe if he’s able to bake banana bread, he’ll be able to take out all his anger in the kitchen rather than on us.”

Chase chuckles, and shakes his head half-heartedly. “At that rate, we’ll be getting tira misu and trifle every Wednesday.”

Foreman lets out a sigh and turns to you, moving the conversation along before you can correct them. "We have drinks and dinner tonight and most Mondays. It's easier to deal with the week- scratch that, it's easier to deal with House if you're nursing a hang over. It's like two negatives, they cancel out. Do you wanna join?"

You smile. "I'd love to. I'm not a big drinker, but I'd like to check out the food that's here. I'm still acclimating, I suppose."

Chase drags his eyes up and down you, settling on your face when he speaks. "Don't worry. We won't throw you in the deep end like House will."

You nod at him, and wonder if he's always so blatant in staring at people's tits, when the man of the hour walks in.

“Good morning,” says Cameron. You see Chase roll his eyes slightly, and Forman and him make fish-like kissy faces at each other. House’s eyes flick towards them and they stop in an instant like schoolboys caught throwing paper at each other.

“Morning.” He busies making himself a coffee and doesn’t offer anyone any. “I’m not going to bother with introductions. I think newbie has that covered. I will however, tell you all to put on your big-boy pants and start thinking. 24-year-old female. Drowsiness. Erratic behaviour when she is awake. No schizophrenia, depression or anything of the sorts.”

He sips from his fresh mug and replaces it with a whiteboard marker, which he uses to write the remainder of her symptoms up. Foreman offers up one explanation, but Cameron is quick to say it doesn’t fit all the symptoms. Chase offers another, but at that, House scoffs. “No. God no. What 24-year-old woman have you met with that?”

Chase shrugs. “She’d be the first. But it’s possible.”

House tuts. “Possible is not what I’m looking for. I want probable. Newbie,” He pins you with a stare. “Any ideas? Or did you hit your head too hard? Again?”

You flush and try to steady your breathing when all their eyes become trained on you. “Uh, it could-”

“What did I say about ‘uh’?”

The flush deepens and you feel embarrassment creep over your shoulders, even moreso when Cameron winces in sympathy. “It’s probable that it’s multiple conditions affecting her at once.” You spout off Foreman's idea, and another infection, and House keeps staring at you, as if he’s waiting for you to wither away under his gaze.

But Cameron nods before you crumble. “I mean, it’s more likely than everything else. And it would make sense for her sudden personality shifts and drowsiness.”

House finally looks away from you and sighs. “Fine. Fine. Foreman and Chase, get a MRI. Newbie, you can get a lumbar puncture, if you can manage that. Cameron, get every known substance that could cause that reaction in her, and test for it. Not just newbie’s idea.” When no one moves, he makes a chopping motion with his hand. “Go on then. I’ve got a soap to catch.”

Everyone’s quick to gather their things. Chase and Foreman practically dash out of the room, as if House’s presence burned them. As Cameron stands up she calls out. “And House?”

He’s half-scowling and turns back to face her from the conjoining office door. “What?”

She smiles, and you swear you can see a light dusting of pink on her cheeks. “Thank you for the banana bread. It’s good to know you are capable of caring, to some extent.”

Ohhhh. She’s got it bad. So bad. And for House, out of everyone? The thought makes you almost sick. Not because he was an unattractive. Hell, you'd go to bat that he handsome. But there was nothing romantic or even kind about his words. Now you know why Chase and Foreman had their mocking kiss contest.

House squints at her as she strides out the door and down the corridor, and you take that as your sign to beeline for the door. You practically scramble up and your foot is half way out the door when he says your last name. “Here. Now.”

You sigh, steeling yourself, and spin back around. “Yes, House?”

He looks perplexed. “Why do the ducklings think I made banana bread?”

You chuckle. “Why should I know? I’ve been with Cuddy all morning. Y’know, giving her your paperwork.”

He rolls his blue eyes and they return to stare at you. “I’m not sure if you understand the whole thing of ‘genius doctor’ or not, but I pick up on things others don’t. You smell like cinnamon. Your folder of paperwork had crumbs on it. You have flour on the side of your neck. You’ve been baking, and” He strides over, opening your tupperware container on the kitchenette’s counter. “From my team’s fantastic deduction skills, it’s banana bread.”

Your eyebrows draw closer in an instant. “You smelt me?!”

House scoffs. “That doesn’t matter. Why didn’t you tell them it was your banana bread? I’m assuming you wanted to make a good first impression, but that all goes to waste if they think I baked it. It makes me look bad, too. Sappy. Caring." He shivers. “I think I might gag.”

“I didn’t tell them,” You huff, “Because they thought that you making something for them meant you were finally being nice to them.”

His lips flatten and he shakes his head at the floor. “God, they really should have known it wasn’t me then.” He raises his head and peers at you. “So when are you going to break the news?”

“I’m not going to.”

He sarcastically nods along. “Ah yes. The best start to workplace friendships is with a lie.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “It’s banana bread. Not perjury.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he dips a hand into your container, breaking off a corner. He pops it in his mouth. “Well, it sure tastes like perju- oh my god.” His hand whips to his mouth and he slowly chews, and then groans.

Your breath catches in your throat. Broken tooth? Abscess in his gum? Severe allergy to bananas? “Are you okay? House?”

“What, in the name of Cuddy, did you put in this?” His tone makes it clear he’s not in pain and the tips of your ears go red.

“Look, if it’s that bad you don’t have to be rude abou-”

He shakes his head and spits out, “No, it’s good. The best banana bread I’ve had. And that’s saying a lot, seeing how it’s the Tuesday special in the cafeteria.”

There’s a beat of silence. You blink at each other from aross the room, as if you’re both processing his words. Your eyes betray you, because for a moment, it looks like he's blushing. But then he clears his throat, covering the container and stepping away from it. You track his movements, studying him. Was he lying to you, and trying to hide his repulsion of your baking skills? Was it all mockery?

House just raises an eyebrow. “Well? Get to it newbie.”

You breathe in and nod, turning around. Strange and awkward encounters with House would become your normal.

Again, when you’re halfway through the door he calls out your last name. “Get a copy of the results to me by the hour. And that recipe…Please.”

The flame spreads from your ears down to your cheeks and you nod as if it’s the only thing you know how to do.

Who knew that House’s weak spot was banana bread?

[writingduhh]

Drunk Ted Nivison (HC)

This is my first HC without a real ‘prompt’ so hopefully I got this right 😩

▷ Ted's cheeks flush a rosy hue when he's had a few drinks, making him even more adorable. You can't resist pinching his cheeks and teasing him about how cute he looks.

▷ When Ted gets a bit tipsy, he becomes even more affectionate than usual. He constantly pulls you into warm, tight hugs throughout the night whenever his arm isn’t already wrapped around your waist. He showers you with kisses, giggling all the while.

▷ Ted gets a little clumsy when he's drunk, which leads to adorable mishaps like spilling drinks or tripping over his own feet. You find his clumsiness rather endearing, always ready to help him.

“Watch out for that last step.” You advise, pointing out the hidden decline to your drunken boyfriend.

“Thank you babe but I got it.” He grins. As if on cue his foot met the corner of the step, causing him to fall the small distance to the ground.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“Ted! Are you ok?” You exclaim, rushing to his side in order to help him up.

“Yeah I’m ok. Just a bit dizzy. Hold on to me?” He softly asks, slinging his arm around your waist.

“Of course.”

(Another little after party scenario I thought of for this HC just bear with me plz I know someone out there will like it 😩)

“Ok, arms up.” You kindly command, looking down at where Ted sat on your shared bed. He gazed lovingly back at you, making your heart face.

“Yes ma’am/sir.” He agrees, standing up from the bed with his arms held above his head.

“No, Teddy, I can’t reach you up there.” You giggle, holding his pj shirt in your hands.

“Oh yeah, duh.” He grumbles, sitting back down with his arms up. Gently you pulled his shirt over his head before replacing it with a new one.

“Ok, now let’s get you into some pants.” You say, holding out his pj pants ready for him to step inside.

Smiling he rested his hands on your wrists, lifting his leg up into the pants. To your dismay he lost his balance falling flat onto his butt, pulling you down onto him. You both erupted in laughter, tears forming in your eyes.

▷ He's adamant about snapping spontaneous, candid photos together to seize the moment, resulting in a delightful collection of comical snapshots.

▷ He's always just a few drinks away from treating the entire party to a show of his karaoke skills. To the amusement of everyone in attendance, they loudly cheer him on.

“Guys look, a karaoke machine!” Ted exclaims to your group of friends.

“You should totally go up there!” One of your friends encouraged. Their response was followed up by agreement from the rest of the group, including yourself.

Happily he made his way up to the machine, Cueing up a familiar song. It was your favorite song.

“This song goes out to my beautiful partner, y/n.” He smirks, raising the microphone in your direction.

Your friends basically began screaming as he started his song, starting to gather an audience. By the end of the song the entire bar was watching, everyone cheering as he made his way back to the table where everyone praised him.

“That was amazing! I think you’re the new singer of my favorite song.” You smirk.

▷ He becomes a big softy, to you at least. Rather than his usual goofy antics, he's more focused on making sure you feel loved and safe. He'll often whisper sweet nothings into your ear, or making sure you’re feeling comfortable with the party around you.

▷ He becomes the ultimate dance partner, pulling his significant other onto the dance floor (or living room) for impromptu, goofy dance sessions. You share fits of laughter as you dance the night away.

“Ted, No! I cant dance!” You exclaim, dragging your feet as he pulled you onto the half filled dance floor.

“Cmon y/n, it’ll be fun. Here, I’ll help you.” He grins, holding out both his hands for you to grab.

Together you both began to dance and let loose, letting the music take control of your bodies. You and Ted’s enthusiastic dancing seemed to wear off as the once half filled dance floor was now packed with party goers.

▷ Ted becomes a chatterbox when he's tipsy, his words flowing freely as he becomes the life of the conversation. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he effortlessly keeps everyone engaged with his animated storytelling, quick wit, and a touch of humor. His tipsy chatter adds an undeniable liveliness to the gathering.

▷ He's a firm believer in late-night adventures, so he takes this opportunity to suggest going for a moonlit walk, stargazing, or even a spontaneous road trip (he’s not driving of course), wanting to create even more cherished memories together.

▷ He's also the type to surprise you with late-night snacks or their favorite comfort food, ensuring they're well taken care of and comfortable.

▷ Despite the alcohol, Ted remains incredibly considerate and respectful of your boundaries, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable with everything that's happening.

▷ After the party/gathering he becomes the ultimate cuddle bug. Ted insists on cuddling up with you on the couch or in bed. He becomes the designated "pillow talk" expert, sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings with you, having heart-to-heart conversations that strengthen your emotional connection. He absolutely refuses to fall asleep unless you’re in his arms or at the very least beside him.

Opening the door of your apartment you let out a sigh of relief as you finally took of your cute but uncomfortable shoes. As you did this you felt arms sneak around your torso, making you smile.

“Y/n can we go cuddle and watch a movie?” He asks, placing a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Of course we can.”

Suddenly you were lifted off the ground, making you squeal. “Hey! Be careful please.”

“I’ll be careful, I’d never drop you.” He assures, holding you close until he collapsed onto the couch.

The next morning, he'll wake up with a hangover but a heart full of love and gratitude for you, thanking you for putting up with his drunken sweetness.

The sound of Ted groaning caught your attention from where you stood in the kitchen. Looking up you saw him standing in the doorway of your room, his large stature filling up most of the door frame.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you greet with a grin, carefully placing the fresh breakfast you've prepared on the table. You eagerly open your arms as you spot him making his way toward you.

“Morning.” His voice was muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms slung over you.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Hungover. I don’t even remember changing into my pjs.” He admits, letting out a small laugh.

“I helped you get into them last night, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course. It’s not something you haven’t seen already.” He smirked, placing a kiss on your cheek.

[480pfootage]

any thoughts about the bri-guy (brian thomas)?

hehe bri guy

i do have a lot of thoughts abot him... (under cut, extremely long tangent I apologize)

hmmm His mom wasn't in the picture while his dad was one of those paranoid doomsday preppers so he didn't have much of a childhood.. However with his dad being the way he is, he drilled into Bri's head at a young age how to handle guns, encode messages, some basic medical stuff, n other stuff like that. I think I mentioned it in another post but my Brian has ASPD and uh... growing up with the constant dread of everything being snatched away from you and the world ending combined with arduous 'training' kinda fucked him up in the head.. Around ten-ish he began to practice hunting animals with the neighborhood pets. Sooner or later though, he was found out (he may have preformed an impromptu surgey on the class pet lol) and got appointed a counselor at school.

During middle school he started to realize that he was exceptionally good at getting what he wanted. He could throw on a nice charm and even if things didn't go his way, he could steer it back to where he wanted....

High school was when he met Tim and Brian went onto college to major in psychology whilst rooming with him :3 Tim was the only one that Brian really really trusted back then, and the only one who knew of his diagnosis (which was a reason why he got so pissed when he found Tim's medical records because he thought that having trust in each other constituted to Tim having to tell him everything). And then marble hornets happened but you all know about that stuff.

OH before getting into the more pasta oriented stuffs just wanted to say that the operator and slendy aren't the same entities in my universe (if you wanna know more just ask!!). Either way, under the operator's sickness it was said in the mh comics (3.5) that his head was just filled with all these lines of codes and I interpret that as him being paranoid to the point that he had to encrypt anything he was saying as he thought he was going to get caught by someone.

OKAY pasta time. After mh happened, Tim had tried to escape the op and ended up somewhere up in wisconsin. He was at his breaking point then, he wanted his friends back, he didn't want to be on the run again. And then he met slender. At first he thought it was the operator and i don't want this Tim tangent to go on too long so uh... hehe ask if you'd want more but basically Tim made a deal with slendy to bring one of his friends back under the guise that he and said friend had to gather people for Him to feed on. He had asked for Jay, but that didn't work (Jay was already in Skully at this point) and so Brian was brought back from the ark.

hmm ok after that things get a bit fuzzy for me i can't remember what I planned out, but basically Brian, Tim, Kate, and Toby live in a cabin in the woods together working for slender. Brian doesn't consider himself human anymore, despite the fact that his heart was still beating, hell he didn't consider himself 'Brian Thomas' anymore. During the beginning stages of his revival he would always keep his stupid mask on and was extremely snappy. Brian is a very petty person and he holds grudges, so remembering the fact that Tim kept his medical records away from him, he continued to steal Tim's pills (and also Toby's whenever he came around and pissed him off). But those times are rarer now that he has gotten used to his.... situation.

Brian's the stalker type in their little operation. He gets the information for the gang and scopes the place out, not usually going in for the kill (that's Toby and Tim's jobs). Kills to him are something to relieve stress, whenever a victim is able to escape the others, he pursues them, the thrill of the chase is really what gets him going (it's a plus if he gets to hear them beg for their lives), he likes being in control of the situation. During missions like those he likes to make little snuff films, like I said he finds killing to be stress relief, and he edits it with his quirky little style (think the weird tta vidyas TT) accompanied with nature documentary type videos he takes himseslf.

I would talk about his relationship with Amos but this is getting a bit too long GRHGHRGHGAHGHAGH. OK. Next time I wil........

[n0bamak1s]

clueless - maki zenin x reader

request: “I was thinking Maki Zenin x Fem reader where y/n is really intimidated by Maki and has avoided her since they first met each other. Despite that, they both have feelings for each other and after a while Maki gets annoyed with y/n and confronts her to figure out why she keeps avoiding Maki. And then the reader accidentally confesses and says something like “how could I not feel intimidated by someone so hot!?”” - @wh0legrain

summary: it’s difficult for you to read maki’s intent when she tries to become more approachable to you, which throws of your plan of trying to avoid her at all costs. alternatively titled: maki zenin is terrible at flirting (genre: fluff, attempt at humor, idiots to lovers)

warnings: like one or two swear words, mentions of bruises/scrapes from training

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i honestly had so much fun with the dynamic between maki and reader here! i love the idea that maki would have no idea how to flirt lmao

“don’t look now, but she’s looking at you again.” panda, your current sparring partner, peered at her over your shoulder as you got into a fighting position. of course, out of curiosity you immediately turned around, and unluckily for your own ego, you made direct eye contact with maki. she seemed to have no intent of backing down from your impromptu staring contest, intense black eyes remaining on you, and had you not been so focused on trying to figure out what had caused this sudden interest in you, you’d have noticed the amused glint in her eyes.

did she really have no shame in being caught staring at you?

before giving yourself any more time to process her expression, you whipped your head back around to face panda. at least you were able to take note of the amusement on his face.

“i don’t get why she keeps glaring at me.” you huffed annoyedly, still feeling her gaze burn into the back of your head. shouldn’t she be busy sparring with inumaki? “if it’s about that one time i borrowed her uniform skirt because mine was in the wash, she should be more mad about inumaki and gojo taking it every time she’s on a mission to try it on.”

panda had a shocked expression on his face, as if to ask why the hell you knew about the boys prancing around in the girl’s skirts whenever the opportunity arose, but it was quickly wiped off to be replaced by a knowing sort of smile.

“no, i doubt that’s why.” his voice rang with the sing-songy sound of knowing something you didn’t, but you simply chose to raise an annoyed eyebrow at his annoying little game rather than question him.

even as you ran at him, fists raised defensively, you swore you could still feel a pair of sleek eyes trailing your movements. you slid to dodge panda’s swing at you, leaving a layer of dirt on the hem of your shorts. despite succeeding in avoiding sparring with maki, which admittedly sounded absolutely brutal, you felt extremely ungrateful for panda’s strength as he lifted you up by the wrist. somehow he managed to end up with you flipped onto your back, despite your best efforts to sweep his legs out from under him. if losing to a literal panda in a fight wasn’t embarrassing enough, it didn’t help that this was the moment maki had decided to suddenly start paying attention to you, a fact you became acutely aware of as she hovered over you, her figure shadowed by the sun behind you.

“you okay?” she cocked an eyebrow, extending a hand to pull you to your feet, making you suddenly conscious of how her legs were positioned on either side of you, so you laid beneath her. when you were unable to sputter out a response, she sighed softly, leaning down so she knelt with her knees resting on the dirt on either side of your thighs. a hand waves in front of your face, and makis brows furrow slightly. “did you hit your head or something because of that idiot?” she cocked a thumb at your sparring partner.

something about her sudden proximity seemed to shock you out of your distracted daze, making you push yourself up so you held yourself by palms flat on the ground. taking note of how close your face was to hers, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smirk, her lips parting slightly to show her teeth. you weren’t even sure if she was aware of the fact that she was smiling right now, or the effect she was having on your already embarrassed state as she leaned over you, her figure shadowing yours.

why was she so intent on making fun of you?

“i’m fine!” you managed to blurt out, pulling your knees close to you to escape the compromising position she’d put the both of you in.

her eyes remained playfully narrowed and her lips turned up, but as she opened her mouth to say something, you practically sprung up from the ground as if you weren’t bruised and tired from fighting, turning on your heel to go back to panda. you flashed an awkwardly apologetic smile, before shrouding yourself in panda’s shadow.

you found yourself grateful for the shadow panda cast on you, as it shielded your eyes from the sun, and the glare you knew was inevitably resting behind maki’s glasses.

the four of you remained sparring until the first glimpse of heavy gray clouds masqueraded the blistering sun. you helped panda up from where he’d laid on the ground, spotting out of the corner of your eye none other than gojo, who looked almost comical inspecting the state of the sky with his usual dopey smile while still adorning his iconic blindfold. had you not known any better, you’d say he looked like a complete idiot.

on the other hand, maki, who did know better, seemed to have no problem stating that he did, in fact, look like a complete idiot.

“so are you just gonna stand there all day, moron? or do you actually have something important to say for once.” maki crossed her arms over her chest, making her jacket taut over her muscles, catching your attention for the briefest of moments. you quickly averted your eyes back to gojo in hopes of not being caught staring as she had earlier, as if you were a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. though you couldn’t see gojos eyes, you could sense a sort of mischief from him as he smiled at you. was today just some weird holiday where people stared at you for no reason that no one had informed you about?

“you guys seem to have the sky on your side today.” gojo smiled widely as his gaze flickered between the four of you lined up in front of him. “since it seems to be about to rain, you guys can get off a little early today, just go clean up in the bathrooms if you need to.” he waved his hands at you all, in a motion that seemed to be shooing you away.

you begin to feel the beginnings of drizzling rain hitting the tip of your nose, and the top of your head, and take that as your cue to leave. letting out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in, you unzipped and shrugged off your hoodie, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned towards the heavy doors of the school building. you’d only gotten a couple steps closer than you’d been before you heard the familiar sound of your name, called from the less familiar source that was maki zenin.

“wait up!” she called, taking long strides to catch up to you. “if we’re cleaning up now, i’ll come with you and i can help you if you got scraped or anything.” her hand rubbed the back of her neck, and a soft smile cracked onto her lips, egging you on to respond.

you furrowed your brows slightly. she had never bothered to help you out like this before, so what made it different. “i think i’ll be fine.” you hoped your embarrassment at the idea of the situation didn’t show on your face.

“tch, it’s not like i’m planning to kill you in there or anything.” honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had been. “it’ll just be weird if we’re both patching ourselves up in silence when there’s clearly a more efficient way to do it.”

screw her for always being correct.

you nodded your head in agreement in a way that was comically defeated. she motioned for you to follow her, and so you trailed behind her like a lost puppy.

though you had no way to prove it, you could’ve sworn that gojo winked at you from underneath his blindfold as you passed him.

the two of you walked in silence that seemed comfortable for you, but maki seemed clearly impatient.

“i wanted to check on you and ask if you were alright.” she broke the silence, pulling off her rain stained glasses to wipe them on the edge of her shorts. “you seemed really frazzled earlier, so if you hit your head or something we can take you to shoko, i wouldn’t want you to get seriously hurt or something.”

you were somewhat surprised by her words, but feigned indifference as you smiled reassuringly. “i’m fine, was just kinda lost in my thoughts earlier. guess you kinda just caught me off guard.” you were telling the truth, so why did it feel as if you were lying straight through your teeth?

as she swung open the girls bathroom door, she gave you an incredulous look, as if she was trying to recall the events of the day that could have made you so tense. you hoisted yourself up to sit on the sink, leaning back with a sigh of relief from finally relaxing your muscles. maki grabbed the small first aid kit, positioning herself to stand between your legs,a position that was oddly reminiscent of when you’d been on the field earlier. she caught your wrist in your hand, causing you to jump slightly as her eyes scanned your forearm, riddled with some bruises from training, but nothing that really needed cleaning.

“what could i have possibly done to catch you off guard?” her words sounded concerned, but contrasted the teasing smile playing at her lips. under the fluorescent lights, you could make out the flush tinted on her cheeks from being outside all day, as if she’d been kissed by the sun herself.

suddenly you felt very shy, twiddling with your thumbs in your lap, and willing your eyes anywhere but where they’d meet maki’s. to her, your current flustered state was an amusing contrast to how you were when fighting curses, your usual confident and strong willed demeanor had been replaced with the attitude of a bashful school girl. still, you knew you’d have to be confrontational in this moment.

“please stop teasing me, maki.” you looked her dead in the eyes, wiping the amusement from her face, and swapping it with a mixture of shock and worry.

“i’m not making fun of you.” she shook her head, her already pink dusted cheeks turning more red. “what makes you think I am?”

you chucked humourlessly. “well if the glaring at me wasn’t enough, you seem to keep trying to embarrass me. if it’s because of that time i borrowed your skirt without telling you, i really am sorry, but stop trying to make fun of me.”

“when did you borrow my skirt? i always just assume it’s the boys being idiots. you can borrow my skirt anytime you want.” you wished you could be mad at her for her nonchalance. “besides, YOU’RE the one who’s always avoiding me, panda told me i should try to be more approachable, so i thought eye contact might help.” she shrugged exasperatedly, placing her hands flat on sink, resting on either side of your thighs.

“well, you don’t exactly have the most approachable face when you’re making ‘eye contact.’ you had me thinking you were plotting my downfall in your head or something.” she stifled a laugh at your overdramatization. “it was totally intimidating.”

“oh?” her smile was dopey, one that only you would be flustered by. “does that mean i make you nervous?” her voice was hushed as she tilted her head downwards toward you, looking satisfied with herself.

“well you’re gonna make anyone nervous if you’re sending them death glares one second and offering to clean their wounds the next.”

her only response was a laugh as she buried her face in her hands. it wasn’t a mean laugh, not one directed at you, more so just her laughing at what idiots the both of you were being.

“you really thought i hated you?” her words were spaced apart by involuntary giggles, her mouth was stretched into a wide grin, almost like one from gojo. “man, i thought i was so obvious!” she turned to hoist herself next to you on the sink, leaning her head on your shoulder as her whole body shook from laughter.

you said nothing in response, just processing if this moment was real. you’d hardly seen maki smile before today, let alone laugh.

“you mean to tell me you’ve spent all this time avoiding me because you thought i hated you?” admittedly, when she repeated it back to you after her outburst of laughter, it did sound rather ridiculous. but to be fair, she should’ve considered the possibility before her sorry attempt to be more approachable.

“it’s not my fault you scare the crap out of me, i mean, how could i not be intimidated by someone so hot!” your mouth moves faster than your brain, and she lifts her head from your shoulder, making you hyper aware of both your words and your sudden proximity to her face.

shit.

your eyes are wide as saucers as you stare at her, convinced that, like a dinosaur, if you don’t move, she won’t even notice you’re there. much to your dread, she smiles yet again (seriously, today alone make up a solid 90% of the times you’d ever seen her smile.)

“you’re such a dumbass, you know?” you can hear the laughter threatening to bubble up in her voice. you wish you could come up with a clever comeback, but you just stared back, moth gaping like a fish out of water. “the reason i was asking panda for advice was because i like you. in hindsight, i suppose he’s probably not the most reliable when it comes to relationship advice.”

“all you really got out of following his advice was making a fool out of me.” you looked down at your feet. “but i guess i kind of did that myself anyways.”

���don’t beat yourself up about it. it’s cute.” she leaned forward so she was in your peripheral, willing you to look at her. “plus if you weren’t such an idiot, i’d have to keep sending you ‘death glares’, as you like to call them, to get your attention.” she chuckled, and you lifted your hand to shove her playfully, before she caught your wrist effortlessly, tugging slightly so you could feel her breath fan on your face.

once again, your mouth moved before you had time to think. “maki...can i kiss you?” you’d taken note of how her eyes darted between your eyes and your lips.

it was her turn to be bashful now. she nodded slowly, her eyes half lidded, as she dared to close the small amount of distance between the both of you. without second thought, you press your lips to hers tenderly, letting your arms loop around her neck, hands meeting between her shoulder blades. her eyelashes tickle your face as they flutter closed, with her hands balancing her, palms flat on the sink counter. the pitter pattering sound of rain from outside echoed in you ears.

the kiss is messy and awkward, but in that moment, you felt on top of the world, smiling into it without a care in the world as your fingers played with the ends of her ponytail. you break away reluctantly for air, taking in the dopey smile on her face, and the way her hands reached to grab yours to hold in her own, rubbing small circles in the back of your hand with her calloused thumb. her breathing is soft and steady, clearly still readjusting after your kiss. wordlessly, she leans forward to rest her head on your shoulder, so you can feel her breath hit the crook of your neck, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“thank god you’re such an idiot.”

[jimilter]

riptide (m) | k.sj. | (1/2)

one | two

pairing:  kim seokjin x reader

rating:  m (18+)

genre:  angst | smut | established relationship!au

summary:  It takes a foolishly trivial incident to unravel how astonishingly little you and Seokjin actually understand each other. It has you questioning your relationship, and him? Well, he’s questioning his whole life.

warnings:  swearing + implied alcohol consumption + realistic relationship problems + mentions of insecurities, jealousy, complicated mental dispositions + emotional distress + sexual situations (unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talking, a bit of manhandling, fingering) + mentions of masturbation + a ton of miscommunication (refer to the summary smh)

word count: 12.3 k

note:  it’s FINALLY done, y’all! came up to be a monster of 25k words, so i decided to split it into two. i’ll drop the other part next week. this took a lot more time, energy and re-writing than i’d thought it would. i began writing this in january - it’s been five excruciating months! 😩 i really hope y'all will like this one~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

riptide (n) – a dangerous area of strongly moving water in the sea, where two or more currents meet.

Lady, running down to the riptide - Taken away to the dark side - I wanna be your left hand man.

The turn of events has been so fucking hilariously impossible that Seokjin has literally been rendered speechless. Which doesn't happen often, mind you. What can he do, he is just extremely witty—he always has something to say about everything, usually and preferably with impeccable comic timing. Especially when it comes to you. 

This, though. This completely baffling scenario, right in front of him, has him gaping like a goldfish with no words to say.

"Final call, Jin. Gawk at me for five more seconds and I walk out of here," you threaten, an elegant arm poised at your waist and gorgeously plump lips pressed into a thin line. "Say something?"

And Seokjin still cannot formulate a single word, because what the actual fuck? How can you even think that he could ever— 

"Alright." You catwalk out of his bedroom, leaving him blinking into space.

He jumps the next second, leaping after you. "Honey! How would—what—I can never—why do I even have to say—will you wait? You’re being so ridiculous, right now, I hope you know that!"

If he wasn't in such a fix, Seokjin would physically cringe at his speech. It was better when he was just gaping.

“Honey! Stop being so overdramatic, you’ve known me and you’ve known Jimin! For years! Stop acting like you seriously don’t know what happened, here!”

You don't stop, though, gliding down the stairs and hopping over the haphazardly tossed items in the living room as you exit out of the house.

And then you're gone. You're really gone, over something so fucking ridiculous, that Seokjin still has no words to say.

All he knows is that his girlfriend of five years has finally gone crazy enough to jump to conclusions of such high magnitude of stupidity.

And, that Park Jimin is a dead man.

It all begins on an unsuspecting Sunday morning, when the entire house is smelling of weed, stale booze and some worse fluids. 

Last night, Seokjin vacated his own bedroom for the boys to smoke up in at Jimin's request, because that is the only well ventilated room of the house. He spent the night in Yoongi's room with earplugs in, dead to all the chaos in the house—as he often does on party nights—to catch up on his beauty sleep. He cannot afford any unbecoming dark circles or, God forbid, breakouts.

And no, that's not a comedic moment, he really does need his face looking perfect this week for reasons outside of personal gratification too, because he has a shoot on Tuesday. He especially took a leave from his part-time job at the Mexican restaurant downtown where his girlfriend, you, work full-time, on a Tuesday—saying goodbye to all the amazing tips always forwarded to the cooks on Taco Tuesday—for this. Nothing would mess up his face.

Not to mention that one very important audition for a very gigantic project he's been looking forward to. They're yet to announce the date, but it would be this very month. He hasn't really told you much about it, planning a huge surprise for later when—if, actually, but he prefers to be unrealistically optimistic in every situation possible—he bags the coveted position, at the end. He hasn't really decided upon much, other than a long drive and a picnic date to one of those grasslands on the city's outskirts that you love so much. Oh, and bringing up the prospect of moving in together in an apartment with just the two of you. 

He's pretty certain you must not remember him raving about the opportunity, because it has been months since he did that. He then proceeded to be covert about all the mini auditions and trainings he underwent to prepare for the final audition, and he is confident you have not connected the dots.

But that is all a discussion for later — he doesn't even know when he would be auditioning. 

The crux of the whole matter is that he needs to keep looking as flawless as he can until that audition happens.

So he has slept like a baby, last night, while the rest of his friends have partied, including two out of three of his housemates—Hoseok and Jimin—along with Taehyung and Taehyung's girl. Namjoon had foregone attendance in lieu of the Halloween party, next weekend, that he knows he would definitely be forced to attend because Hoseok is hosting. Yoongi, his third and final housemate, escaped the house altogether to spend a night of music-making with Jungkook in his dorm.

So, in the morning, when Seokjin is moving around his kitchen that seems to have been hit by a tornado, checking the fridge and mentally praying that his baggie of smoothie ingredients is still in good shape—a scream echoes around the house.

Seokjin freezes. That sounded a lot like…you.

Immediately alert, he runs out of the kitchen and into the drawing room. Hoseok is hanging upside down on one of the couches, something that looks a lot like undigested white sauce pasta puddles on the ground, inches from his new, fiery red hair. Seokjin grimaces.

"Kim Seokjin!" your screech tears the silence.

Seokjin twists on his heels, looking up in the direction of his bedroom. It really is you. And you're in his bedroom—the room he did not occupy last night.

God only knows what kind of a scene you have walked in on. He hopes these idiots didn’t have an orgy up there, although he really can’t put it past them.

Not waiting another second, Seokjin rushes up the stairs and pushes through the doors to his bedroom. His mouth falls open on an audible gasp.

You stand next to his bed, dressed up elegantly in a navy dress that ends above your knees—which makes him wonder if you are here for an impromptu breakfast date—with one hand clutching his duvet that has uncovered what looks like…

…a head of long, dirty blonde hair.

Who the fuck?

In his bed?

"Hey, Honey!" Seokjin's voice is a squeak. "You… you here for a date?" he manages out of a suddenly parched throat.

You roll your eyes. "Uh huh. A fact you would've known if you looked at the texts I sent you last night." Your eyes are narrow at him. "This explains why you didn't, though. Busy night, Jin?" 

He balks at your words, at a loss. How could you even think it was him, when you know all about Park Jimin and his escapades?! 

Seokjin's blood boils. Fucking Jimin. There is going to be blood on Seokjin’s hands. 

In the midst of it, the blonde head shifts. 

Soon after, as you two watch, a pair of brown eyes with smudged makeup emerge from inside Seokjin's bed—and the audacity?! There’s makeup all over his covers! Jimin will pay for the dry cleaning. The face is followed by a whole, tiny woman of five-something feet who is, thankfully, covered in a shirt.

Seokjin is almost not breathing when the blonde starts to give him a dreamy smile, his gaze switching between her and you. And it’s extremely stupid, because he hasn’t seen this woman before, ever, in his entire life. But he catches the way your arms fall to your sides and those elegant, dainty fingers of yours ball up into fists as you look at the blondie’s face.

Fortunately, the girl recognises him at last before her grin could turn fully dopey, and with a squeak, jumps out of the bed. “You’re not—um. Hi. Sorry, I, uh. I’ll get going.”

And surprisingly, she does exactly that in less than a minute, leaving you to stare down at Seokjin.

“You know, it’s really unbecoming for a girlfriend to keep finding girls in her boyfriend’s bed every other week and not be given an explanation, ever.” Your tone is teasing, but your eyes are taunting. “You shouldn’t always be so dismissive, you know? What if I start getting ideas? I don’t think you even remember how to make up with your girlfriend, at this point, because I never fight.”

That is when Seokjin starts gawking. And literally doesn’t stop until you’ve left the house.

“I don’t get it,” Jackson says, stuffing cold noodles into his mouth and chewing on them without closing it. “Do you think he cheated on you, or do you not think he cheated on you?”

You look at your best friend with your face twisted up in disgust. You swear to God you would never have agreed to make friends with this guy on your mother’s insistence when the Wang family moved in next doors to you, had you known he’d turn out to be such a barbarian a decade later. Twelve-year-old Jackson had been such a decent kid—studious, elegant, well-mannered. What went wrong, along the way?

You exhale, shifting on your chair, very wary of any dried up fluids that you might come in contact with. “I know he did not cheat on me, Jax, the very notion is completely ridiculous.”

Jackson stops chewing and looks away from the WWE match playing on the TV to squint at you. “I’m…confused? Wait. What is the problem, then? What are you mad at him for?”

To be completely honest, you aren’t quite certain yourself.

But you do know that you don’t feel good. And that this feeling has been building up over a couple months, but you have only really acknowledged it head-on, today, in all five-something years of your relationship. Five years, seven months and eight days, to be exact, but that’s kinda besides the point.

You’ve had at least a few months’ worth of buildup that has gotten you to this point, you would admit. Especially after Seokjin had to cancel that visit to your hometown at the end of June, for your parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration because he had an important audition for a big-brand ad film. The cancellation was acceptable, but his offhand comment that, “thirty-five isn’t even that special, we’ll get them a huge gift for their fiftieth,” stayed with you longer than it should’ve. Things got okay-ish when you reminded yourself how Seokjin never really thought too hard about things he said, always being a humorous, unattached clown in every situation. But this morning's dismissal has pushed you over that edge. You straightaway goaded him, claiming he doesn’t remember how to make it up to you, and all you got in response was his shock and being called “ridiculous” and “overdramatic.” Fun.

You were most certainly joking, if a bit caustically, when you said what you did. He could have taken it as a joke and laughed it off. He could have taken it as a threat and comforted you, said it was Jimin that used his room, and maybe kissed you. You already knew what had happened when you saw the girl, anyway. But this was probably the third time this situation had happened, this month. 

Sure, you are understanding and really do know Jimin and what all he gets up to, but is that really supposed to be such a given? Asking your boyfriend to hug you close and kiss your forehead when you discover a girl in his bed just as you were about to cuddle the lump of sheets thinking it was him, is not too much to expect, is it?

Granted, Seokjin has never been extremely expressive, but still. It feels like he’s consciously trying to keep you at a distance, these past few months.

You don’t have the complete grasp of the storm of thoughts in your head yet, but you want to try and explain it to Jackson the best you can. 

“It was about respect, in a way, I guess,” you quietly mumble, and Jackson turns the TV off, now sitting cross legged on the couch to face your chair. He puts away his takeout container to frown at you, probably gleaning how serious this is for you. “He stood there, without saying a single word, expecting me to stop being mad. Almost willing me to stop being mad by making these big, incredulous eyes at me. Like it was that horrible of his girlfriend to demand for an explanation when she found a girl in his bedroom. It was just the two of us, I wasn’t making a scene in front of anybody. He just—ugh! He could’ve simply asked me to not be mad, said it was Jimin who spent the night in the room and maybe even laughed about it, or plotted Jimin’s murder—I would’ve joined in—but no. He acted like I was being stupid, told me not be ridiculous and dramatic. And that made me feel really stupid.”

Jackson winces. “And why do you think you were not being stupid?”

You exhale. “I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t actually accusing him of anything, and five years down the lane, he should know that now. I just wanted him to say it and not scold me when I tease-taunted him. He always expects me to know everything. And even though I always do, it gets tiring sometimes. These weird thoughts get to you — that maybe you’re being too understanding and he’s using that to his advantage, you know?” You look down at your lap, playing with your nails. “It’s just…um. I wanted him to coddle me, I guess. To treat this as something big because I was throwing a tantrum about it and, just, I don’t know—try to cajole me? Assuage me with his words, maybe? But he didn’t. Because he hasn’t done that in forever. Because I never need him to, because I always freaking understand everything!” A sob leaves you.

Jackson pats the place next to him. “C’mere, you dumdum, and stop hyperventilating,” he mumbles, hugging you to his side when you move to sit on the couch. “I don’t exactly understand how the relationship dynamics work, but from what you told me, I get that you wanted attention? Some loving? And instead you got disappointed looks because Jin expected you to be mature and rational about it — the way you always are — and that too with his fucking eyes and some low-key insult words? Is it something like that?”

Wow, Jackson really paraphrased all that amazingly. “Yes, actually. It’s exactly that.”

Jackson sighs. “Y’all have been together a long time, babe, so I guess it’s kind of a given that you’d get to a no-bullshit point. Which is why he hasn’t done that in forever, because y’all probably don’t need that kinda stuff between you anymore.”

“I get that, it’s how a relationship matures. But I’m pretty certain that it’s not supposed to make me feel like this,” you sound slightly muffled, having stuffed your face into Jackson’s hoodie-covered chest. “I feel—I feel like we got too comfortable and now he’s just started to take me for granted. And I also feel like I’m being too needy. Am I being needy and annoying? He’d hate me if I told him all this, won’t he? Half of the reason we’ve worked out so well is because we’re both career oriented and don’t waste time overthinking stupid shit.” You gasp. “Oh, no—would he leave me? He’s used to his girlfriend being mature, not needy—”

You are cut off when Jackson pulls you away by your shoulders, giving you a serious look. “Wait, wait, stop. What did you say? Not the needy part, you’re allowed to be needy once in all the damn three-sixty-five days y’all stay busy for. The…taking you for granted part. Pretty big of a thing to say, babe.”

You sigh. “We haven’t been on an actual date in months. Seokjin thinks there’s no need for that extra effort when we spend lunch breaks at work together, everyday. Outside of the restaurant, our meetings involve our entire flock of friends by default. It’s been three months since we slept together.” You sniff, hating having to impart such a private detail of your life. “So no, I don’t think it’s that big of a thing to say, at all.”

“Wow.” Jackson gives a slow whistle. “You’ve really been bottling up a lot in there, huh?”

You shrug. “I guess. It never made me feel underappreciated, though. Sure, I was irritated at some occasions and disappointed at others, but… Today I feel horrible, Jax.”

“Did you share anything with Byulyi?” he asks, referring to your flatmate and good friend since college.

You shake your head. “She already has a lot on her plate, right now. She got rejected by the photographer she wanted to intern with, so it’s back to freelancing for her.”

“Yeah, that must suck.” Jackson grimaces. Then he looks at you. “You need to take a break, hun. Sit back, today, and have tacos and beer with me. Reset your inner thoughts. Talk to Jin tomorrow. Although, I must say, it’s kinda depressing that you have to actually tell your boyfriend that he’s being a bad boyfriend. Isn’t that kind of shit supposed to be realized on your own?”

You purse your lips. “I guess, yeah. But…don’t say that he’s being a bad boyfriend, Jax. I don’t think he even realizes something is wrong.”

“And that…doesn’t make it worse?” At your raised eyebrows, he concedes with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, fine, in any case — maybe try to hint at it before you dive straight in with the kill? See if he reacts?”

“I don’t know, Jax. What if he doesn’t? He’s really not the best at taking hints and reading signs, or that kind of subtle stuff.”

“Then you can just say your shit. All I’m saying is, give him a chance to figure it out on his own. He’s probably really clueless why you reacted so big on something so small, this morning. If you drop hints, maybe he’ll feel it out.”

You nod, somewhat amazed at how sound Jackson’s advice seems. “How are you doing this, Jax? Being a love guru all of a sudden?”

Jackson scoffs. “I’m just tryna put myself in Seokjin’s shoes. If I was in the situation he’s in, this is what I’d like to happen — be given a window to figure out what’s wrong. You’ve been together a long time, hun. It really shouldn’t be that difficult for him.”

You shrug a shoulder. “I won’t be too sure about that. Why does it even matter if he can or cannot, though?”

Jackson seems to be mulling over something before he drops his chin to his chest. “Because you’re supposed to be partners, hun. If you can tell what’s up with him with a single glance, why can't he? Not being good at taking signs is not a good enough excuse. My gut says that he’d be able to, though. And that knowledge will make you feel infinitely better, trust me. It’ll be reassuring to learn that he really knows and understands you well, won’t it?”

You nod, slowly, but you still have your suspicions. Seokjin has just been the kind of guy whose emotional depth goes to a certain extent and then just — well, stops. There are things that he feels and realizes and sees, and there are things that he doesn’t. It isn’t even something he does, you believe. It’s just how he is. Certain feelings just don’t fall in his orbit. And you’ve never found there to be anything wrong with it when he’s been an immaculately amazing boyfriend and tended to every single one of your needs, always. Well, you have never actually needed emotional consoling, too, so you haven’t had the chance to audition him for that. You keep yourself too busy for all that unnecessary mental pressure. It comes as a surprise, but you have never cried on Seokjin’s shoulder in all these years of your togetherness. You’ve kept your head straight and chin up, even during your college exams. And so has Seokjin, because you’ve never seen him cry, either.

Lately, though, things have been kind of weird. The gradual transformation into your professional lives that began after college, has been drastic in the past few months. Seokjin has been constantly prioritizing his career over you, and you have been understanding about it because you agree with it — to an extent. Seokjin believes it all the way through, though, and you have known for a while that you would hit your limit at some point, and would try to bring him back to yourself. Today morning, it seems, you hit that limit. 

You felt dispensable. 

You hate this feeling.

To be very honest, you know you can get over this. You can give it some time, remind yourself of how much your Jin loves you, believe that he is eventually going to come back to you once he settles, and be understanding about the entire thing. 

You can — but you really don’t want to.

Something tells you that this feeling of getting too comfortable will only fester and take a worse form as time goes by. You can wait it out, sure, and hope you aren’t being a pushover as he works on building his career. You are building your career, too, after all, and at least some of it has been for each other. 

The thing is, your plans with Seokjin are long-term—marriage, kids, white-picket fence, and all that. And you believe that if you are sensing a problem now, you better deal with it now before it has the chance to change its form and affect you both when you are at a more responsible point in your life.

Mind made up, you look up at Jackson, immediately grimacing when he forwards a greasy hand to pick up a taco for you. “I don’t…I don’t like tacos. And may I exchange the beer for scotch?”

“You work at a Mexican restaurant, and you don’t like tacos,” Jackson deadpans.

“They mess up my skincare.”

“Oh, fuck off! Have a spinach smoothie with a drink, why don’t you?”

You purse your lips to hold back your laughter at his ire, your own worries forgotten in the moment as Jackson gets up to get you a glass of scotch and some healthier snacking alternative.

“You're a dead man.”

Jimin stops dead in his tracks, arms frozen in the act of putting a t-shirt on. He blinks at Seokjin with big round eyes. “Hyung?” he mumbles, a picture of unblemished innocence, especially when he covers his toned torso with the oversized t-shirt he was in the process of getting into. “What—what’d I do?”

Someone who doesn’t know better would never believe that this young, innocent, frazzled haired fairy-boy could ever do any wrong. But Seokjin knows better. “You chaotic womanizer,” Seokjin nearly hisses, "you've gotta learn to clean after yourself. Honey found a girl in my bed. A girl—in my bed.”

Jimin had the decency to drop the innocent act. “Oh. Oh.”

Seokjin raises a brow. “Oh? That’s it?”

"Yeah, well, I clarified to her that it was a one time thing when we got to it. She was obviously expecting something more if she didn't leave when I told her to. Disappointed but not surprised." Jimin is frowning when he comes to sit down on the couch next to Seokjin. “Sorry you two had to see that. You clarified to Honey noona that I’d been the occupant of the room, though, right?” 

“I—what?” Seokjin scoffs. “Why would I even need to do that? She knows that already, obviously. She’s been seeing you for over five years, or have you forgotten?”

Jimin squints. “I mean…okay, fair point, I guess. Why’re you so worked up, then? Did something else happen, too? Where’s she, now?” Jimin looks around the living room as if looking for you.

Seokjin sighs. “Well, I couldn't really get much out before she was storming out of the damn house, altogether.”

Jimin blinks. “Storming out? Why? She… um, was she mad?"

Seokjin opens his mouth – and then shuts it. Was she mad, indeed. "I don't know. She looked kinda mad, yes. But maybe she was in a hurry?" 

"Why would she be mad? Did you try to call her? Text her? It's unlike her to react so big on something so small." Jimin bites down on his lip, looking lost in thought. 

Seokjin shakes his head. "She didn't pick up or text back."

“There’s definitely got to be an underlying reason for her being like this. Are you sure you guys haven’t been fighting, hyung?” 

Seokjin sighs. “Yes, Jimin, I’m absolutely certain that there hasn’t been any fighting of any sorts between the two of us before today.” He pauses. “Well, she was slightly irritated that I didn’t check her texts last night, but she knows I go to bed at eleven on days leading up to a shoot, so that one’s on her.”

Jimin looks genuinely concerned, which, in turn, makes Seokjin concerned. Jimin isn't the type to stress over stuff if he can help it. Sure, he cares about the boys and would always be down to do whatever he can for them, but his throwing-caution-to-the-wind way of life causes him to not take most of the things in life seriously.

You’ve been like an older sister to the boys ever since Seokjin started dating you and introduced you to them. They all have their ways of showing their respect and affection to you. Well, maybe not Jungkook because he can’t get over getting unnecessarily intimidated by Seokjin enough to relax around you. 

Jimin, especially, always seems to be affected by any tension in Seokjin’s relationship. Everyone can see how it upsets his entire life when you two are fighting, although he’d never admit to it. He doesn’t need to, because it’s pretty obvious when he becomes a cranky six-year-old who hates the world. 

Right now, he has a guilty frown on his face. "I should've seen to it that Suzette left before I went to shower," he mumbles as if talking to himself. “Shouldn’t have trusted her to leave just because I told her to.” He looks up at Seokjin with troubled eyes. "I'm sorry, hyung."

Seokjin can not believe himself when he shakes his head at Jimin's apology—this little demon causes so much chaos in all their lives that any apology coming from him should be justified and welcome. But this one isn't really on him. "It's not entirely your fault."

Jimin's demeanor changes a bit and the attitude Seokjin is used to witnessing makes an appearance. "Right? That's what I was thinking, too!" Jimin exclaims, some of the concern on his face lifting. "You have to talk to Honey noona and make things right, though, hyung. She’s the only womanly touch in our man cave. We’d all be barbarians without her.” Jimin looks very wary and kind of nervous.

“It’s funny you would crave her ‘womanly’ presence when she’s rushed off because of a woman that you brought home.” Seokjin scrunches his nose. "And I said it isn't entirely on you, because it is partially on you, Park Jimin. You borrowed my room to smoke up in. Why couldn't you take your Suzy back to your own room?"

"Suzette," Jimin corrects under his breath while shaking his head. "Yeah, I should've, but… your room just felt like a better choice during the high," he finishes in a mumble, dragging a hand down his face. “Hyung,” Jimin says with a pout on his lips, “the last time you two fought was two years ago, remember? On your birthday? When Hobi hyung dumped cake in noona’s hair and she had her first shoot for that bigshot magazine, the next day?”

Seokjin nods with a sigh. “She yelled at me for having stupid friends, and I yelled at her for caring more about the shoot that having a good time on my birthday. Yes, I remember.”

“And then she didn’t visit us for a whole week. Please don’t let that happen, again.” Jimin looks up at Seokjin with big, round eyes. “I can’t take that kind of unrest in my life."

Seokjin briefly wonders, if Jimin’s nightly conquests were to see this side of him, would they run in the opposite direction or be more attracted to him? Jimin definitely needs someone in his life that would bring out this side in him and stay to provide him the emotional comfort he requires when he gets like this. 

“I will try not to, Jiminie, but…” Seokjin shuts his eyes. “I seriously do not understand her actions from the morning,” he finishes in a mumble.

“Maybe she’s—maybe she’s worried about something else? Some other aspect of her life?” Jimin suggests with wide eyes. “And she’s just projecting onto you.”

“As sound as the explanation is, I am literally involved in ninety percent of the aspects in her life,” Seokjin says with a twist to his lips. “I would know if something was wrong anywhere.”

“That’s cocky of you to say,” Jimin snarkily comments with narrowed eyes. At Seokjin’s raised eyebrows, he amends, “That’s cocky of you to say, hyung-nim.”

Seokjin scoffs, but then he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s true. We work at the same restaurant, we’re scouted by the same agency. Even her agent is best friends with mine—she gossips a ton about how Honey passes up so many opportunities and pisses her agent off. Her friends are, well—” Seokjin stops short when it hits him. “Wang. Wang could know something!”

Jimin is looking at him skeptically when Seokjin meets the younger’s eyes. “I just think you should have a simple talk with noona first before digging around.”

That is sensible advice. Seokjin nods as he pulls his phone out.

“Just find out what’s been troubling her, hyung. You two are rational people, I’m sure you’ll work it out.” Jimin pauses to scratch the back of his head. “Just please don’t let this be another fight like that one?”

“Don’t worry,” Seokjin finally says with a pat on Jimin’s shoulder as he finishes sending off another text to you, “this one is nothing like that fight.”

Turns out, this fight really is not like that one. Or any other fights Seokjin has ever had with you, in fact, because you’re giving him the silent treatment. 

You’ve never given him the silent treatment. 

Not even when you were students and didn’t have a load of time on your hands and used to waste precious sleep hours arguing over stupid shit that would probably resolve itself if you just slept on it and looked back at it with a fresh state of mind. Not even then did you forego talking.

Needless to say, Seokjin is distressed.

You drive to the house to pick him up at your usual time, the next morning, after not having responded to any of his calls or texts for the entire day. Seokjin is aghast as he gets into the car.

“Honey! What is going on? Why didn’t you—where have you been?”

You simply start the engine and take off. “Busy,” you murmur after a while.

Soekjin’s head is close to exploding. “Busy? Doing what?”

Your face remains stoic as you weave through the morning traffic. Seokjin looks at you. You’re dressed up in your waitressing outfit that consists of a shirt, skirt and tights, and being who you are, Seokjin can proudly say that you would stand out to be the most well dressed server in the field. You’re always pristine and tidy — no accidents happen to you at the job ever. No spillage of drinks or ketchups, no soiled hands being wiped down on your skirt. Nothing even ruins your manicure. 

It is something that Seokjin has always tried to keep up with, this cleanliness streak of yours. Because he has always assumed you would expect it out of him, too. You were attracted to the cover model version of him, after all. It is quite natural that you would have those kinds of expectations. And Seokjin has always been more than happy to deliver. It has become a part of him, in fact. He doesn't even chew with his mouth open even when he's among the boys, anymore.

It has, somewhat, made him practical and less emotional in life, too, but he doesn't really think of it as a bad thing. You have always been practical in life – the most ambitious girl he has ever met, someone that has always prioritized her career and goals over everything else. Seokjin has admired that since college, and has tried to show you that he has similar priorities even if he has had to work on thinking from his mind more than his heart.

But when you are already by his side, what does he even need his heart for, anymore, when it's already yours?

Now, looking at you sitting with a morose expression on your face as you give him the cold shoulder, Seokjin is just as much in love with you as he was when he first met you.

“Stuff,” you say with a shrug, after some extended silence. “You should know about that, right? Your schedule’s always busier than mine and I never complain.”

Your sharp words have him reeling. Whatever do you even mean by that? “Uhm, okay. Fair enough. But… did you really not have the time to respond to a single text?”

“It gets impossible sometimes, Jin, you know how it is.”

Seokjin frowns. He does know that, but he doesn’t feel okay. Something is very off with you. It is as if you’re saying something else and expecting him to discern a different meaning out of it. 

He doesn’t understand why, though. You, of all people, should know how terrible he is at decoding signs.

He sighs.

Seokjin, after his conversation with Jimin yesterday, had decided to ask you about the morning’s incident, head on, whenever you called him back. But you didn’t, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to talk to you, so he decides to bring it up, now. “What—what happened yesterday morning, babe? You got really mad and stormed off, and… I mean, you’ve got to know the girl had been Jimin’s companion for the night, right? You know him, how he is!”

You say nothing, hands tightening a bit on the steering wheel. Seokjin looks down at his own hands.

“You know I was only surprised at your words because we really do not have the time to be discussing silly things." He shuts his heart down when it tries to tell him to go soft. He knows it isn't something you would appreciate. "After five years, you know what I’m capable of right? You can never start getting ideas, because that would be insane and stupid. I’m already so supremely occupied as it is between two jobs, when would I even have the time to cheat, right?” he jokes, snorting to himself.

You’re still quiet, but your tongue comes out to moisten your lips. It is a nervous tick of yours which Seokjin recognizes very well, because with your skincare and scheduled regular application of lip balms, your lips never need the extra moisture.

He frowns. Was he too straightforward? But this is exactly how you communicate with him! “Hey, is everything okay, babe?”

You exhale, noisily. “Everything’s fine, Jin,” you finally say with a roll of your eyes. “And you’re right. I know you wouldn’t cheat. You don’t have the time to chat me up, how are you gonna pick someone new to impress, huh?” 

Your snort sounds lacking in humor, but Seokjin still gives a couple of stilted chuckles. Even so, he's still somewhat relieved. “Right. Just so we’re certain, that was a joke, right? I mean, it would be really ridiculous of you to think that I would—”

“Yes, Jin!” you cut him off with a deep frown. “If I wanted to talk to you about something, or accuse you, or confront you — I’d do that without you having to prompt me. Stop obsessing over yesterday and stop trying to explain yourself. I know it was Jimin’s doing.”

Seokjin feels immensely relaxed at the conviction with which you say the last sentence, certainly, but something is still off. “Why were you ignoring me, then?”

“I just didn’t have anything to say to you.” You stop at a red light, the last one before you reach the restaurant, and turn to look at Seokjin with really vacant eyes. He doesn’t like your stare one bit. “We’ve been together five years, babe. If neither of us have got anything of significance to say, I’d rather not text too much, if that’s okay with you? I’ve got a busy schedule to work around, too, you know?”

Seokjin wants to remind you that both of you had something of significance to say after you left his place in anger, but chooses to just roll with whatever you’re playing at. Maybe he's thinking too much. He nods. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Great,” you breathe out, somehow looking disappointed along with the preexisting sorrowful expression you had on your face.

You really do not have a concrete explanation for why you acted the way you did with Seokjin, this morning. 

You were supposed to hint at being mad, not blatantly try to give him a taste of his own medicine. It could turn out to be a good thing if he eventually starts to miss you and reaches out, sure, but playing mind games never feels right to you. But when he started to joke about not having time to cheat, and something just turned off in you. He really could’ve seriously reassured you of his love. That would’ve been actually comforting. But no. He chose to joke about that, too. You didn’t feel like putting in all that energy anymore, after that.

Now, you sit down in the break room to check your phone during your ten minutes’ rest break. A text message floats at the top of your notifications.

Jax 🚽 Hey How’d it go?

With an exhale, you decide to call him back. Your fingers are too tired to type, and Jackson is sure to launch off into a rampage of texts the moment you tell him you’ve tried to turn the tables on Seokjin.

Seokjin is in the kitchen, his usual rest break not being for another hour, so you don’t have to worry about him walking in.

“Hey!” Jackson jovially greets you as soon as he picks the phone. “Did you get my text?”

“I did, yes,” you respond in a calm voice. “I’ve been looping milkshake mugs through my fingers since eight am, they needed some rest, so I decided to call.”

“Yeah, no, it’s cool. I was in a really boring class, anyway. So. How'd it go?"

You pull in your lip between your teeth. "I… I kinda ended up telling him I am a busy person too and that we shouldn’t text that much."

You hear silence instead of the outburst you'd expected. 

"Jax?"

"Are you actually gonna try to play a mind game with the dumbest human being you know on earth?" Jackson so very eloquently asks, his interpretation making you pinch the bridge of your nose. “He’s never even gonna figure it out!”

“I know how it sounds, okay?” You exhale. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“Okay, alright, one thing at a time. So, no coddling?"

"Not a single soft word. Just more expectations of me understanding, and claiming that anything but that would be stupid of me. He acts like I'm supposed to know everything about him and everyone in his group of friends," you mutter in irritation. “As if those dumbasses know the first thing about themselves.”

You realize you're being a bit harsh, because his friends – basically your younger brothers, at this point – are a bunch of clueless idiots that love, adore and respect you. You shouldn't be badmouthing them, Seokjin’s growing callousness towards you isn't their doing. It's his own. 

You sigh. You really miss how things used to be when you were in college.

“Uh, I think we need to rewind a bit. What happened? What triggered this?”

It makes you smile a little when Jackson asks that. At least your best knows you’re not wholly clinically insane. “Well… I drove him to work. He…" your brows lower at the recollection, "he was the first to bring up yesterday morning. And yet again, he gave me the same you've got to know this and that crap, and then he tried to assure me in the dumbest possible way. Do you know what he said, Jax, do you?”

“Um, do I wanna know?”

“He said, and I quote, he doesn’t have the time to cheat. Jackson Wang, are you hearing this? He really straight up said he was too busy to cheat on me and so I should rest assured! Who says that?!”

“He must’ve meant it as a joke—”

“Yeah, he said that, too, and then very immaculately added that it’d be ridiculous of me to think otherwise. I have lost count of how many times the words ridiculous and stupid came up.”

“Goddammit.”

“Goddammit is right,” you mumble, morosely resting your head on your palm.

“What did he say, by the way? When you told him to text less?”

You give a wry chuckle. "Well, he said it sounded alright to him."

"Son of a bitch. You – you two are messed up, man. Messed up bad. Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't? You don't wanna text less because you're busy, you want him to dote on you because you miss him!" Jackson sounds beyond frustrated. "And it doesn't fucking sound alright to him! It sounds scary, it sounds confusing, it sounds like something you would never say to him!" He groans. "But none of you would say that shit to each other! You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess."

You reel from the onslaught of his harsh words, eyes widened and breath stuttering. Jackson isn't usually the type to pay so much attention to your relationship problems. But this time, you guess, he has garnered the depth of your unhappiness and thus has gotten so involved.

You realize he is right. Nothing good can come out of any turned tables, because Seokjin is, anyways, not even going to be able to work out the problem by himself. He may even go around talking to his friends about how you were being cold with him and not giving him any time, and still not realize he has been doing the same to you. He is thick like that. 

When his friends tell you tales of his compassion, you're unable to relate. You've never seen that side of him. He has probably grown up from that emotionally overwhelmed high school graduate who had made friends on a whim, the night of his graduation.

You certainly don't appreciate the emotional abstinence, though, and would very much rather prefer if he would open up a bit more. It would help you be more open with him, without fearing him calling you "stupid" in response.

But it’s still alright, you accept him with that thick brain of his, because he’s still only ever going to be the only one for you.

"How are you two gonna get around to having a proper chat if you just keep building more walls between you both?" Jackson asks after the long pause from your end, this time softer. “I’m sorry, babe, I was wrong. Giving him signs and making him realize shit won’t work. It was stupid of me to suggest that. It’s probably why you ended up being so caustic with him.

“No, no, it was all me, Jax. I could’ve chosen to not listen to you, but my ego got in the way, I guess. It’s not exactly easy, telling your boyfriend you’re feeling neglected. I mean, what if he laughs in my face and tells me I’m being paranoid? What if he thinks I have no regard for his career — or mine — because my priorities don’t align with his?” You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as your insecurities attack you.

“Hey, no. None of that is gonna happen if you really share with him what you’ve been feeling. No hints, no sarcasm, you’re gonna have to tell him point blank. Allow yourself to be raw. He’s the love of your life. You don’t have to protect yourself from him, right?”

You sigh. “Yeah, I know. You’re absolutely right, Jax. But I really have no idea how to even approach him, at this point. He’s either too busy with shoots, or with the guys, or some meeting. I cannot do this on call, because that always leads to misunderstandings.” You bite down on your lower lip, contemplating. “But I’ll figure something out.”

"Yes, you will. You always do. So, that’s good then. In the meanwhile, can you at least clean up this latest pile of poop? The talking less thingy is gonna make you two more distant, hun."

You scrunch your nose at his metaphor, but then your shoulders slump. "I don't know, Jackson. The way he so impassively agreed to it would make me sound really stupid if I take it back. And given what he keeps saying, he really doesn’t want me to sound stupid."

Jackson gives a snort at that. “Hah, funny. But listen. At the end of the day, he’s your boyfriend. You're gonna have to really decide if you're trying to get your boyfriend to give you more love, or if you're fighting a battle of egos and would like to bend him to you."

You bite your lip. “You make me sound manipulative.”

“You yourself confessed you let your ego come into this, one time. Don’t let that happen again. I’m trying to make you realize that complicated problems can have simple solutions, too. If only you’d communicate. Just talk to him soon, please, and make him understand why you’re hurt. Don’t carry on with this stupid cold war, okay? You gotta figure out exactly what you want, first.”

“You know what I want, Jax. You’re literally the only person that does, actually,” you remind him with a sigh.

“Oh, he is, isn’t he?”

You freeze, eyes bulging at the familiar voice. “I’ll… I’ll call you back,” you mumble before you disconnect the call and turn to look over your shoulder at Seokjin’s unreadable face. He stands with his arms crossed, still in his uniform but without the apron. “Jin… what—uh…”

“What am I doing here?” he scoffs, lips curling in distaste as he stares you down. “Well, I was going to the loo when I saw you sitting here. You looked upset, so I thought I’d check in on you on my way back.” He clicks his tongue, a dry chuckle tumbling out. “But apparently, you’ve got other people doing it for you, already.”

You wince, shutting your eyes. The one time he was finally going to give you some much needed attention — you sent a bad message his way. 

“So. Good to know there actually is someone who knows what you want. Would’ve been easier if it were me, though, given how I stand to be the one that is to deliver.” Seokjin sounds pissed off, and despite your irritation, you really want to make him understand.

You rub at your forehead. “Stop talking like that, Jin, it was just Jackson.”

“Wang?” He seems to seethe more, for some reason. “Of course, it’s fucking Wang!”

You frown, standing up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Seokjin looks at you incredulously. “You—do you not see how this looks? You have problems with me, Honey, but you choose to discuss them with him? Who’s he, your therapist?”

“He’s my best friend, Jin, someone I trust,” you grit out.

Seokjin seems to take it the wrong way, his agitated expressions slowly fading into a blank stare. “Oh. You trust him, as opposed to…” He trails off with a shrug, but the implication is as obvious as it can be.

“Jin—”

He raises a hand up, palm facing you as he looks away. “If you need some time apart, you should tell me in plain words. You know I’m not good at reading signs.”

Seokjin gives you a blank stare before turning around to leave the area. You stand rooted to your place, jaw dropped and eyes wide.

Some time apart? Has he lost his mind? 

He really is a huge freaking idiot who cannot pause to think what implications his words have. He seriously doesn’t recognize what all his “don’t be ridiculous/overdramatic/stupid” speeches do to you. You realize you should really make him understand. This has gone on for way too long.

But maybe you should take some time to yourself to cool off before that. You don’t want to say the wrong thing in your rage and complicate things further.

You sigh to yourself as you slump back into the bench you were sat on before.

You’d set out to tell your boyfriend you were feeling neglected, but you ended up making him think you want to be apart. How the heck did you get here?

You belatedly recall Jackson's words.

Why the hell can you not just say shit you really mean and actually want to instead of saying shit you don't?

You’re choosing to be evasive and fucking plastic instead of honest, and falling deeper into your mess.

Your usually dumbheaded best friend was right on this one, you realize. You should’ve just talked like a normal human being instead of letting Seokjin’s words get to you and get pissy in retaliation.

You give a weary sigh. 

Seokjin is grateful for the sudden busyness he’s got on his schedule, or he would explode from all the pent up frustration you have been causing him. 

He realized he wasn’t as upset with you as he was irritated, right after he walked away from you on Monday. He dropped you a text with some excuse of needing to stay back so that he wasn’t forced to ride with you in the car again, and later took the bus home. 

You had told Jackson Wang about what was troubling you, but not him. It made Seokjin feel upset, incompetent and more than a little insecure. Seokjin absolutely hates feeling insecure. Especially about you. You’re the singular most precious entity in his life — not that you are an entity, per se — and anything that seeks to threaten your position in his life or his position in yours, makes him lose his shit.

So it was understandable that he jumped to unfairly disproportionate magnitudes of conclusions that day. When he thought about it, later, he could easily tell that you are just mad at him and not actually contemplating leaving him, not even for a little while. Not that he’d just sit back and have you do that so easily.

Seokjin also hates overthinking, but that is all he did for the entirety of his Monday. 

Monday, though, was the last time he had time to overthink. Life got exponentially busier after that.

Immediately after his shoot on Tuesday, he received his agent’s call and was informed of his jam packed schedule for the remainder of the week. He was pulled into two separate magazine ad shoots on Wednesday, a perfume ad film drank up all of his Thursday, and today, a hair product ad film needed him to report to a sunrise point in the city at the ass-crack of dawn. The sky was still dark when he rode across the city with his agent at nearly four in the morning. 

And now, the afternoon sun beats down on his car as he drives back alone, his agent staying back to tend to some business. Stopping at a red light, he reaches for his spinach smoothie with one hand and his phone with the other. Ugh, he feels beyond tired.

Blearily, he looks down at the device around a yawn, fingers habitually reaching for your chat.

He took a week off from the restaurant and dropped you a text, late Tuesday evening, informing you of the same.

Honey✨❤👸 Hm, kay. Good luck x

Unsurprisingly, that stands to be your last message in his inbox. It’s been four days.

Sighing, he swipes a hand down his tired face and exits out of the message app. He went to bed at nine o’clock, last night, and owing to the way he has trained his body to sleep on command, he did manage to get a sleep of nearly six hours, too. But it was fitful and plagued with nightmares featuring you. 

Knowing he doesn't have to be at the restaurant until Monday and that his next gig isn’t until Wednesday, he cannot wait to get back home and drink his weight in alcohol before he sleeps his way through the weekend.

Just as he has moved past the intersection, his phone rings. 

Honey✨❤👸 calling...

He nearly spits the smoothie he just sipped at.

Coughing, he roughly jostles the plastic cup back in the holder and pulls up to a side of the road to pick up the call. “Hey,” he breathes into the phone, embarrassed at his desperation.

“Jin. Um, hi.” You sound awkward, as if you…have been compelled to call him due to some reason.

He is immediately worried. “Honey? Is everything okay, do you need something?”

He hates himself for being so concerned when you have been neglecting him for so many days – yet again, despite your spat at the restaurant – instead of finally talking to him about what’s bothering you, but he can’t help it. At the end of the day, you are the love of his life. 

“Yes, yes, I’m okay. It’s just, um. Can you pick me up from the restaurant?” you sound nervous.

But, Seokjin realizes, I was right. You do need something. He clears his throat. “Uh, okay, I guess,” he agrees before stopping short when he realizes the time. “Wait, it’s barely even two. Why are you leaving?” he asks, confused and a little concerned. You work your shift till five every day and till eight on weekends.

“Tomorrow is Halloween, Jin. We’re closing for the weekend, remember?”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open on a gasp. He really had forgotten. “Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there in five, wait up.”

He swerves the car into the lane and takes off in the direction of the restaurant. 

He laughs at himself. He has been so caught up in work that he literally forgot Halloween. He wonders if this is what actual adulting is.

He is stopping before the restaurant within three minutes of your phone call, eyes immediately spotting your delicate figure standing on the sidewalk with your hands crossed against your chest.

You step down from the curb when you spot his car, and walk towards him. He watches your elegant legs as they beautifully fall in a straight line. Even when exiting your job as a waitress, you’re every bit the elegant model he met in college. Your hips sway tantalizingly, and something akin to longing swirls in his chest.

He composes himself quickly when you cross the car to get into the passenger’s seat. You awkwardly clear your throat as Seokjin busies himself with starting the vehicle, unsure if he should initiate conversation.

“Um, sorry about this. You were probably getting ready for shoot,” you finally say. “Byulyi dropped me off today. She wasn’t picking her phone up. I was trying to get a cab for half an hour. And the bus stop’s really far—”

“Hey, stop. It’s okay. You should’ve called me sooner.” Seokjin catches your apprehensive gaze on his oversized hoodie when he chances a glance at you. He sighs. “I was returning home from shoot, actually.”

He feels you stiffen, and he feels even more mentally drained at this. You used to be updated with his schedule to the tee — just short of having an actual copy of the calendar his agent carries on him. And the same goes for him with your schedule. This feels so wrong.

You are quiet for a while, your hands fidgeting in his peripheral vision.

“How—how was it?” you finally say, voice coming out like a croak.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “The usual. Blinding, tiring, exhaustive. I did okay, I guess.”

He feels your gaze snap up to drill holes into his skull. Your eyes are wide when he checks. “Okay? Since when do you do anything less than amazing at shoots, babe?”

He feels endeared at your casual use of a pet name. “I had to get up at three in the morning and go through a skincare routine. Then drive across the entire city to get to the location, because they wanted to capture actual sunrise. I was more tired than excited by the time they rolled cameras, so.” He shrugs. “Can’t really say I gave my best today.”

You nod at his admission. 

Seokjin almost jumps when his phone rings, again.

Jiminie calling...

He feels you shift in your seat. His mouth sours at the reminder of that Sue girl that started off this entire tussle between you and him. Fucking Jimin and his conquests. What happened to the shy and more than a little glum looking freshman he let into his living space, three years ago?

Your hand suddenly reaches forth to accept the call, putting it on loudspeaker, immediately. Seokjin gapes at you, momentarily looking away from the road. 

“Uh…hyung?” Jimin’s confused voice echoes in the car. 

Seokjin snaps out of his daze when you gesture towards the device. “Wh—Jimin, hi, what’s — what’s up?” he stumbles his way through a haphazard greeting.

“Hyung, I needed a favor. Are you on your way back from the shoot, right now?” Jimin asks, and Seokjin sees you freeze in your seat.

He feels a perverse sense of satisfaction. Yes, take that! Park Jmin knows of my schedule better than you do! This is what you get for ghosting me! “I was, yeah. What is it?”

“Oh, great! I kinda need your help, hyung. My tire gave out. Could you pick me up from the Kappa hall?”

Seokjin scowls. “Yah! Who am I, your butler? Hop on a damn bus!”

He notices you pursing your lips, no doubt finding his agitation humorous — you always do. 

“Hyu~ng,” Jimin whines. “I would take the bus, but the next one leaves in forty-five minutes and I need to be back within an hour!”

“What? Why?”

“I started on my sem project really late, hyung, and now I gotta spend any time I can spare at the rehearsal hall. I’m meeting a choreographer here in an hour. Please help me out!” Jimin is still whining, and maybe his reasoning is kind of alright, but—

Seokjin is tired to his bones. He literally cannot drive all the way down to your apartment and then drive back to the university campus to pick Jimin up.

He sighs, wearily. “Jimin… I’m really tired.” 

“And I’m really desperate, hyung! Dancing is tough! And the subject I've chosen, tougher. I haven't done ballet since first semester, Freshman year! I have to work my butt off and be done in under two months."

Seokjin exhales, feeling beyond exhausted. But then your finger is tapping on the screen and the call has been muted. Seokjin’s surprised eyes fly up to meet yours. You look conflicted, biting down on your lower lip as you shake your head with a frown.

“You should go home and rest, Jin. Leave the car with me, I’ll pick him up.”

“Hyung? Say something?”

Seokjin blinks. “You…”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll pick him up, yeah. He’ll drop me off and drive back to your place.”

“Hyung?! Did you put me on mute, or what? I can't hear a thing!”

“Tell him you’ll be there in ten!” you say, unmuting the call.

“I’m in the car, the network must have glitched. I’ll, uh… be there in ten?” Seokjin nervously finishes off, looking at you in question. You give him a nod, blinking slowly. “Wait up, okay?”

“Oh my God, thank you so much, hyung!” Jimin practically squeals through the phone. “I’ll be in the ice cream shop across the building. I love you, hyung-nim!”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and disconnects the call. He looks at you from the corner of his eyes as he takes a right, now moving in the direction of his apartment instead of yours. “You sure about this? Jimin, um, knows. About our…” Seokjin doesn’t want to call it the f-word, because he would like to believe that you two aren’t actually fighting. “You being upset, I mean,” he settles for the easier alternative. “He might ask questions.”

You give a small huff of wry laugh. “I can handle it, Seokjin. I’ve known Jimin for almost three years now.”

Seokjin doesn’t like it when you address him by his full name. And so, his lips remain pursed for the remainder of the ride, only parting to tell you to “drive safe and text me when you finally get home,” and then he walks inside his apartment without looking back.

He hears his car come to life and then speed away. He shuts his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter. Gathering his emotional as well as physical bearings, he opens the refrigerator to rummage through some leftovers to munch on while he breaks out a six pack of Budweiser. 

Before his fried rice has even reheated, Seokjin groans at the sight of an all too jovial Hoseok entering the kitchen with a glint in his eyes. “No, Hobi. Not now.”

“What? I didn’t say a word, hyung!”

Seokjin winces, shutting his eyes just as the microwave beeps. “I don’t have enough energy to deal with your general aura, right now,” he mumbles, extracting the piping hot glass bowl. He leans down to open one of the compartments beneath the kitchen table to get to the beer that he’s been dreaming of for nearly an hour, now. “I’m dead on my feet and—woah!” Seokjin gasps, cutting himself off.

Hoseok hops into the kitchen, coming around to stand behind Seokjin. “So you found ’em,” he says around a chuckle.

“Found ’em? This is you?” Seokjin whips his head around to glare at Hoseok up from his crouch. “Why is my liquor closet resembling a liquor shop, Hobi? Why do we have all this—” he turns around to read the labels, cursing under his breath. “Why do we have,” he pauses to count, “five bottles of Tequila and eight bottles of Vodka?”

Hoseok frowns in concern. “Eight? There should be ten, hyung, check again.”

Seokjin actually gasps, this time. “What the hell, Jung Hoseok? Explain yourself before I start throwing hands!”

Hoseok smacks a palm against his forehead, taking Seokjin by surprise, yet again. “Tonight’s the Halloween party, hyung! Did you actually forget?”

Seokjin screws his eyes shut, letting his head roll back with a frustrated whine. “No~o, don’t tell me it's tonight. Halloween’s tomorrow, right? Why is the party tonight?”

“Yes, hyung, Halloween in tomorrow, which is why it would be stupid to hold the party when Halloween is ending.”

Seokjin finds the logic to be very severely flawed, but his energy is draining out fast and he cannot keep up with this quarrel. There’s no point, anyway. He’s known about this party for nearly a month. And Hoseok isn’t going to postpone a whole party just because Seokjin is tired.

“You look tired, hyung. You should rest. Recharge yourself before the party, okay? There’s plenty of time.” Hoseok pats Seokjin on the shoulder with a kind smile.

“I’m not even in the mood to party, Hobi,” Seokjin mutters, reaching behind all the glass bottles to extract his pack of cans. 

Hoseok scowls at Seokjin. “Because you’re upset about your fight, I realize that. All the more reason to party, hyung! Take your mind off it for some time, why don’t you? You don’t even have to dress up, come as yourself.”

“I’d rather just drink myself to sleep and not wake up for the next twenty four hours.”

Hoseok blocks his path as Seokjin moves to exit the kitchen. “Is Honey coming?”

Seokjin sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, Hobi. Did you invite her?”

“No, hyung, because you said you would.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue. He completely forgot. “Then she isn’t coming.”

Without listening to his protests, Seokjin trudges upstairs with his food and beer. He will be forced to come down for at least a couple shots, he is certain, so he better make as much of the time he has on his hands as he can.

These days, it seems to be becoming a pattern for you to do things without really understanding why you do them. 

You nibble at your bottom lip as you recall how gaunt and pale Seokjin had looked when you sat in the car. You had been really self-centered as it is, not really keeping in touch with him for four days, and then reaching out when you needed help. You couldn’t bear to think, on top of everything, that he had driven you home despite his extreme exhaustion while you sat back selfishly and let him drive around the city to pick Jimin up when he looked like a ghost.

You shake your head at yourself as Jimin jogs down the road to enter the car, ten seconds after you texted him. 

His gaze is slightly hesitant when he meets your eyes, even though his smile is nothing but genuine. “Hello, noona. How come you are…” he trails off, gesturing around the two of you.

You start the car, shrugging one shoulder. “Seokjin came to pick me up. Now you’re gonna drop me off.”

Jimin gives you a huge smile, before his eyebrows suddenly lower. You look away, veering onto the road. “Wait. Were you in the car with him when I called?”

You chuckle. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles around a small laugh.

You hum to yourself as you drive, distracting yourself from the thoughts that keep encircling your head. Seokjin is your boyfriend, no matter how mad you might be at him — you love him and care about him. Which is why you have tried to help him out. Not to mention, you felt slightly guilty, as it is, about calling him to pick you up. Why is your gesture of goodwill bothering you, then?

This is what you do for people you care about. Seokjin would do the same.

Your train of thoughts suddenly comes to a screeching halt.

Would he? Would he, really?

“You okay, noona?”

You jolt back from your thoughts, wide eyes turning to look at Jimin. “Wha—yes, yeah, I'm fine.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You’re gripping the wheel really hard.”

You look at your tightly clenched fists, and immediately ease them. “Oh, uh. Sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Understandably,” Jimin mutters, looking out of the side window when you turn to look at him.

You purse your lips and press down on the accelerator. 

A few beats of silence pass between you two before Jimin clears his throat. “Can I say something?” he asks you in a soft voice, looking nothing like the seductive persona he puts forth to get ladies falling in his bed. 

You exhale. “Sure.”

“You, um. You are not just hyung’s girlfriend, you know?” he says slowly.

You scoff. “Of course, I do. I am also the very best server my restaurant has ever seen and the best struggling model you’ll ever meet, on the side.”

Jimin snorts, before giggling with his eyes closed. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You do. But you do not want to face it. You want to be selfish, for once. You do absolutely know that you have been ignoring all the boys in your anger at Seokjin, but you absolutely do not wish to do anything about it. Not until you’ve resolved this tense air between you and Seokjin.

“You are also a part of our little family,” Jimin quietly finishes.

You suck your lips in at that. The word “family'' really gets to you. 

He’s right, isn’t he? 

All eight of you — well, nine, now, with the addition of Taehyung’s girlfriend — have been a family since the day you met these guys.

You smile as the memories start to filter in.

You had had a giant crush on Seokjin since the very first time you saw him in your Freshman year. Well, having a crush on the guy wasn’t that unheard of given how handsome he was. It also helped matters that he modelled for the cover page of your university’s journal within his first month in college. What surprised you was his reciprocated interest when you both finally got to know each other, thanks to Byulyi. Your current roommate was majoring in photography back then, and somehow roped the two of you into modelling for her portfolio. Seokjin asked you out during the sixth month of your Freshman year.

You recall being introduced to Yoongi in your Sophomore year, when he entered your college as a Music major. You found him laid back, calm but really sassy, and fun to be around. The three of you often hung out together, and you took immense pleasure in singling Seokjin out with the two of your sarcastic back and forths.

In your senior year, Hoseok transferred to your college as a Sophomore, and Taehyung and Jimin entered as Freshmen. 

Hoseok was literally the most lively person you’d ever met in your life. There wasn’t a single moment of boredom next to him. He was easily given the responsibility of planning all your outings and parties, henceforth — a position he still holds with full competence.

Taehyung was usually found to be lost in his head more often than not in his initial college days. He was confused about his major for two entire semesters. With inputs from the group, when he eventually picked Art, he eased into college life. After that, he came out to be one of the weirdest and unwittingly funny guys in the group. You still don’t get how he was the first amongst all the boys to find him a girl.

Jimin was a really quiet and reserved individual, at first. He very rarely interacted with you all, choosing to stay holed up in his dorm room, instead, that Taehyung had forced him to share with him. You suspected he was recovering from a recent heartbreak. It became evident when he started dating someone within a week of getting into college, only to confess it was a rebound when he got dumped. The whoring around that began after the whole debacle is yet to cease, though. Obviously. 

Hoseok comes from a really well-off family, and had brought along with him the four-bedroom apartment he currently resides in with Yoongi, Jimin and your boyfriend. His uncle gave it away to him, rent-free of course, and he proposed to share it with the rest of the guys. Seokjin and Yoongi were immediately on board, more than eager to leave the chaotic dorm life behind. Taehyung, contrarily, decided he wanted to get the whole college experience and refused to quit the dorms. Jimin, then, left the dorm he shared with Taehyung to move in with the elders.

You met Jungkook immediately after your graduation on the boy’s eighteenth birthday. He instantly struck you as a smart kid, really good at singing as well as art. Yoongi disclosed he wanted to be a music major in your college, and you tried to encourage Jungkook about it, but the guy could hardly even look at you. It was cute but also hilarious how much he was scared of Seokjin, and by principle, you.

You believe that is still true. Now that you think about it, you're pretty sure you haven’t seen Jungkook ever actually relax around the two of you.

“Noona?”

You blink, coming back to the present as Jimin calls out to you. You take a deep breath, the memories hitting you with tender emotions. All these people are really precious to you, aren’t they? The bunch of you really are a family, aren’t you?

A sad smile swims up to your face. You miss the boys.

When he calls again, you turn to look at Jimin, questioningly. 

“Please don’t be mad at hyung,” he slowly says, looking down at his lap. In this moment, he looks quite unlike the Jimin you are used to and reminds you of, instead, the one you’d first met. “He might lack tact, sometimes, but he really loves you a lot. You’re his whole world. Whatever it is that you are angry about, you should tell him about it. I don’t think he would be able to figure it out by himself.”

This, you agree with. “I’ll try, Jiminie.”

“We all miss you. Especially Hobi hyung and I,” he says with a lopsided excuse of a smile. 

You resist the urge to fluff his hair. Jimin and Hoseok have been like the younger brothers you never had. You miss them, too. 

He suddenly chuckles. "And Yoongi hyung hides it well, but I think he's the one that misses you the most. No one helps him roast Jin hyung quite like you do."

You roll your eyes. "Of course not. It's a waste for Yoongi to even try to find a better partner at roasting Jin."

You spot your apartment building and pull up to it. 

“I’ll try to talk to Jin as soon as I can, Jimin, I promise. Don't worry so much about it,” you say as you step out, patting the boy once on his head. "I miss you all, too."

You give a small wave and faint smile to him as he drives away.

tagging: @shrimpmsg​

note: so! a lil bit of backstory and the infamous halloween party - how we feelin’ so far? the next part is ~12k words, too, and i’ll post it next wednesday, wait around~ 😘💕

SECOND PART OUT NOW: read here!

© jimilter | 2021

[awkward-and-indecisive]

The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn’t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.�� Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT IT?!

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE!!!

Tags - @agirlwithdemonblood | @eevvvaa | @msmarvelouswinchester | @waynes-multiverse | @deanwithscissors | @jay-and-dean | @stitchintimefan

[irrelevantwriter]

Unspoken

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, public sex, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mild choking, mention of bodily fluids, shitty exes, petty Rio (yaaaass)

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: Part 6. Feelings were shared. Where does that leave you and Rio? A dinner with your ex? A car in a dark parking lot? 

A/N: The last part is here! Though as I said yesterday I am definitely not calling this the end. I have lots of ideas for Rio and I’ve thought about adding to this in the future as inspiration hits. I’ve also thought about developing a Rio x OFC fic and/or something for Beth x Rio. I’ve had a lot of fun writing and exploring his character so I’m nowhere near close to done. And I also need to shoutout the ladies from the discord for this part. They suggested it and I ran with it (as I do). So big thank you to @woahitslucyylu, @whatupitshuff, and @fvckthisbxtchup! You inspired this. Be proud of yourselves. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 5 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

He sighed, turning off the engine and checking his phone one last time for messages. The restaurant lot was full, patrons shuffling in and out of the newest establishment in downtown Detroit. It was in a historic building that had obviously recently been renovated, though efforts had been made to keep its old world charm. The restaurant was a place he’d yet to visit and this impromptu pop-up offered the perfect opportunity for him to do so.

Rio exited his vehicle into the cool air of the night. It wasn’t frigid, but it was enough for those outside to don a jacket. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the entrance, noting the stylish fashions of most of the restaurant's occupants. He didn’t worry about the supposed dress code. Wearing black often gave him an air of sophistication, even with the tattoo splashed across his throat. It was a duality he’d mastered over the years. The tattoo kept him grounded to his roots. His nature. His business. The wardrobe kept him aligned with the civilian world. People would often eye his throat warily, suspicion clear in their gaze. But one look at the clean lines of his pressed shirt and somehow they’d come to the conclusion that he’d made a mistake as a young kid. Got involved in the wrong crowd. Hadn’t gotten around to getting the hideous atrocity on his neck removed. They believed what they wanted to believe.

Cowards.

He smiled at the passing elderly couple as he held the door open for them, their smiles making their eyes crinkle at the edges. They probably thought he worked there. He stepped through the threshold, taking in the dim lighting and soothing melody of jazz that filtered through the space. His eyes scanned the open area with practiced diligence until he found what he was looking for amongst the black booths that ran the length of the right wall. They were high and designed for privacy, but he could spot your face anywhere.

The hostess greeted him and he politely gestured to the booth you sat at, easing by the podium as she took a moment to trail her eyes along his body. He smirked at the blatant attempt at flirtation, not bothering to return the sentiment. Instead, he weaved through the aisles of tables as he made his way towards you.

Your brow was tensed, your lips pursed. The discomfort showed on your features, all the way down to your stiffened shoulders. He watched as you took a sip from your wine, nodding along to whatever the person across from you had said. When he came into view, your eyes widened, almost comically so. He grinned, finding your shock amusing. It was the exact reaction he was going for.

“Hey mama, sorry I’m late.” He announced as he made it to the table. He ignored the couple sitting with you and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, feeling you sway into it despite your obvious surprise.

“Uh...h-hi.” You choked out, shifting over so that he could slip in next to you.

He shed his jacket as he sat down, pulling you close once he’d gotten comfortable. You let him maneuver you, still trying to understand why he was there. He could see the slight panic in your eyes, as if he were here for business purposes, crashing a dinner as a strategic move. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

His eyes finally met Paul’s, your ex, and then slid over to his fiancé’s at his left. They both looked just as stunned as you, except for the displeasure that radiated from Paul’s gaze and onto him. His fiancé, Erica, he thought her name was, looked intrigued; curious about his arrival.

“Sup, man…” Rio greeted, extending his hand for Paul to take. He let it hang in the air for a moment, eyes trying to remain unflinching against his. After only a second, the man broke eye contact. He reluctantly took Rio’s hand and shook it, his palm sweaty and warm.

“Who is this?” Erica questioned after she realized no one was going to introduce him.

“Oh, um...sorry. This is Rio.” You replied shakily, looking at him as if trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

He noticed your nervousness and rested his left hand on your bare knee, gently squeezing in silent reassurance. He felt you relax immediately, your body uncoiling beside his and once again seeking out his touch.

“Nice to meet you.” Rio smoothly directed to Erica, taking her offered hand. She smiled back in return, her lips painted a vivid pink. It was a harsh shade and one that made her look like she’d been playing dress-up. He knew from the comments you’d made to him that Erica was not the woman you’d caught Paul with during your marriage. It’d been someone different. Someone from his firm. But you’d quickly pieced together that there had been many throughout the years. All slightly younger and the exact opposite to you in appearance.

Rio let his eyes covertly take in the woman across from him. She wasn’t unattractive. But she also wasn’t someone he’d ever think about leaving you for.  

“You’ve met Paul. And this is Erica.” You stated, hand gesturing to the uncomfortable-looking couple across the table.

Rio nodded in their direction, Paul’s stare still unmoving. He sat straight and rigidly, the arm that sat around Erica’s shoulders now taut and awkward looking. He found satisfaction in that. He let his own arm rest comfortably across your shoulders, his fingers dancing along your upper arm in soothing patterns. He felt you shiver in response.

“We didn’t know you were coming.” Erica said with a smile, giggling for whatever reason.

“Oh yeah, last minute change of plans.” He propped his chin into his hand and met your eyes, seeing the relief in them.

You’d told him about the dinner three nights ago when he’d been at your house. He was in your bed, lounging against the headboard after he’d fucked you on the stairs. And then once again on the dining table. You were checking your phone, mumbling curses to yourself when he’d asked you what was wrong. You’d complained about your ex and how he was now suggesting a dinner alone with you and his fiancé to “talk some things over”. The whole thing seemed innocuous enough to him, but you’d insisted Paul had an ulterior motive, which according to you, never meant anything good. You’d been worried ever since. Anxious about having dinner alone with them and dreading the reason he wanted to meet.

Rio had funneled the information out, not giving it much thought because your ex was none of his business. But something had struck him the night before when you’d called. He’d been going over some of his books, mind completely focused on numbers, when his phone rang. You were in the bathtub, voice tinged with ease and alcohol. Just wanted to hear your voice, you’d said. And for some unknown reason, that sliver of vulnerability made his chest feel tight. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

The newest development in your situation was slow-going. After that night in his car and the semi-proclamation of feelings, you’d both taken cues from the other, waiting for someone to speak up and declare...something. None of that had happened though. What had happened was amazing sex on the regular and sporadic outings to dine. He preferred not to call them dates because they really hadn’t been. They were usually moments right after a round of rigorous sex when neither of you had eaten. It was usually a decision agreed upon mutually and without fanfare. Just two people who were hungry and accompanying the other. The barest of human needs. Just like the sex. It was satiation.

But even he knew that there was an underlying current of unsaid words. Which is why your tipsy admission had startled him. For so long you’d both denied what was so obvious. It was practically a subconscious act now. And he realized, as long as he let you dictate the speed, you’d come to him. As long as he didn’t push or ask for more, you’d show up. And you had. So now, so was he.

“Something to drink?” The waiter asked, interrupting the tense moment.

“Vodka on the rocks, please.” Rio replied, the waiter nodding and disappearing into the fray.

“So, Rio…” Paul finally spoke up, clearing his throat as he straightened his tie. It seemed he’d found his voice. “I take it you don’t actually deal with home plumbing.” He said the sentence snidely and with a poignant glance in your direction. “So what is it that you do?” He finished, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

He could feel you tense up beside him.

“I own a couple of businesses.”

“What kind of businesses?” Paul retorted, an eyebrow raised in doubt.

“The kind that do business.”

A moment of silence stretched out as Paul took in the nonanswer. Rio could see the wheels working in his head, see him weighing the pros and cons of arguing with him on the matter. The man opened his mouth, more than likely to continue to probe, but Erica beat him to the punch.

“How’d you guys meet?” She implored with an excited gleam, clearly hoping for a magical meet-cute moment that had never happened.

“Bar bathroom.” Rio said with a smug smile, enjoying the sputtered cough you expelled.

“He means outside of a bar bathroom. We sorta ran into each other.” You hastily lied, biting into your lip when his arm shifted off your shoulders and under the table, landing on your knee once again. He let his palm glide over the swatch of skin afforded to him by your dress, feeling your thighs clench together the higher he got.

“That’s adorable.” Eric chimed in, a genuine smile plastered on her pink lips. The same couldn’t be said for Paul, who looked as if he’d tasted something bitter.

Rio snickered because nothing about what either of you had been doing in the time since you’d met was adorable. It was the exact opposite. And he thrived off of it.

He turned his attention on you, hovering close to your ear, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh as he ignored the other diners at the table. “You good, mama?” He rasped, knowing what the action did to you.

Your eyes weren’t on him. They were shifting anxiously between Paul and Erica, concerned with the proximity of his lips and hand. Of course, they couldn’t see his arm disappearing beneath your dress, but they did notice the intimacy of the moment. Erica’s eyes looked on in admiration while Paul’s darted to anywhere but the two of you.

“Yeah.” You breathlessly replied, your own hand coming to rest on his. You squeezed and then set your gaze on his, reassuring him.

“You sure?”

His eyes flicked to your mouth, the flesh wet from both your lipstick and your tongue. He licked his own as he got lost in thoughts of tasting you.

You nodded, your eyes following the movements of his tongue, seemingly just as entranced as he was.  

The moment was shattered with the waiter bringing Rio’s drink and taking food orders. It was for the better. He couldn’t very well fuck you on the table, though he’d save that fantasy for nights when he couldn’t have you.

Everyone kept the conversion polite and vague, choosing to stay away from certain topics. It was rigid and uncomfortable for everyone involved, unsurprisingly so. The subject transitioned to the kids, upcoming events and appointments being the main points. The food arrived and Rio busied himself with eating an exquisite dinner. The food was delicious and he had a fleeting thought about investing into something like this. He owned the bar and had arrangements with other small businesses, but he’d been hesitant to enter the restaurant realm. It was tricky. There were always new places offering something no other eatery could. He’d have to get with the owner, Joel Pinet. Rio knew him from around the neighborhood. His own bar was only a couple of blocks away and he’d met Joel on more than one occasion, the man a regular in his establishment.

“What’d you mean you won’t be here this summer?”

Your question brought him back to the moment, the irritation in your voice making him alert. His dark eyes settled on Paul as he twirled his fork in his pasta. The action annoyed Rio.

“Erica and I are going to Europe over the summer.”

“He promised to take me.” She chimed in, giddy and blissfully unaware of the anger mounting between the exes.

Your narrowed gaze bounced between the two, your irritation palpable. You were stiff as your spine straightened against the booth. “What about the kids? The summer is when they have time with you. They look forward to it.”

Paul raised his hand in a placating gesture and Rio noticed how your lips pinched together in response, as if physically restraining yourself from saying something. You were a better person than he was. The man across from him was barely that, and barely one that deserved your attention, much less the wasted love of a ruined marriage.

“I’ll make it up to them. But we’ve had this trip planned for months.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?”

“Because I knew how you’d react.”

“Yeah, because the summer is your time, Paul.”

Paul sighed, as if frustrated with your reasonable argument. “So we’ll switch. You’ve had to have my help with alternating weekends when stuff comes up.”

“For work. Not a trip to fucking Europe.” You seethed, voice low but spewing with venom.

Rio only looked on, silently admiring your ability to not beat the guy’s ass. He deserved it. He was a piece of shit husband and an even bigger piece of shit father.

“The kids will be fine. We’ll be gone for a few weeks and then they can come stay with us for the remainder of the summer.” He brushed off your concerns, seeing no real issue with forgoing time with his children to peruse foreign streets.

Rio scoffed at the boldness. The action didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say?” Paul directed at him, his chest posturing in a show of male dominance.

Rio laughed lowly, amused by the man’s antics. How you’d ever ended up with someone like that was a mystery to him. After seeing your determination, your fire, Rio had been enthralled. He’d recognized something raw inside of you. Something that matched him. Outwardly, you appeared to be opposites. Strangers from two different worlds. But inside you were more alike than either of you really understood. There was something waiting to be uncaged within you. Waiting for a reason to be unleashed. He was going to get you there. Because you deserved to see your potential, even if the bitch of a man across from you didn’t.

“Nah man...you clearly got the situation under control.” Rio taunted, the sarcasm dripping from his words. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, two sets of eyes watching the bird at his throat move. It was his own alpha display. His own performance of just who king dick was. And it wasn’t your ex.  

When it was clear that Paul wasn’t going to rise to the occasion, Rio drained the last of his drink and turned to face you. He lowered his lips to your ear and spoke so only you could hear.

“You ready to go, darlin’?”

“Yeah.” You said with a sharp nod of your head, chin held high in reproach towards the man opposite you.

Rio stood, grabbing his jacket and helping you slide out of your seat. His eyes never wavered from Paul’s as he did. You smoothed out your dress, clutching your purse and not bothering to acknowledge the couple at all. He dug into his pocket for his wallet and made a show of grabbing a few crisp hundred dollar bills. He pulled out two and threw them on the table.

“Dinner’s on me. Keep the change, yeah?” He offered with a smirk, letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. He led you away, keeping his touch secured to you as you stepped into the night.

You released a sigh immediately and then inhaled, eyes closing as if centering yourself. He watched you closely, wondering if he’d see tears in your eyes when you opened them. Instead, he saw amusement. A laugh erupted from your throat, your chest shaking as the volume grew with each passing second. He only watched, entertained by the sound. For the first time that evening, he let his eyes trail along your body. Your dress was black and velvet, hitting just below the knee. There was a small slit up the side, exposing the smooth flesh of your thigh. A tie was cinched around your waist, accentuating your figure, while short sleeves helped stave off the chill in the air. The entirety of you was elegant...captivating, and far too striking to be meeting up with your ex-husband for dinner.

Your laughter died down when you noticed his gaze. You stepped towards him, holding your purse in front of you so that your cleavage pulled his focus. He licked his lips and waited as you crowded his space, your perfume swirling into a fog around him. He studied your face, noting the tiny details he often overlooked. You were beautiful, a fact that never went unnoticed by him, but sometimes he forgot just how much. And he wondered if you’d always been this attractive or if it was just the blinding haze of attraction that made him think so. Either way, he didn’t really care. It didn’t change how much he ached to fuck you.

“How’d you know where I’d be?”

“I got my ways.” He offered, taking in the way your lashes fluttered at him. It was a familiar tell. One he’d come to associate with you flat on your back and gazing up at him, usually with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, sobering for a second so that he could read the honesty across your features. There was that vulnerability again. And his chest tightened just as it had the previous night.

“No problem.”

You took a step back and waited as he began to follow you to your car. You’d parked along the side of the building and he noted how full the lot still was. You halted once you noticed his SUV next to your car, stopping at the bumper and turning to face him.

“Your car?” You asked, nodding in the direction of the black G Wagon.

He wordlessly nodded, once again using the moment to appreciate the way your dress hugged your frame. He appraised your black heels and the deep red polish that adorned your toes, remembering that last time he’d seen you they’d been a light pink. He waited and watched as you walked to the passenger side of his car, fitting yourself in the space between the two vehicles.

“How tinted are your windows?” You asked, the innocence in your words making him suspicious. “Like no one can see in kind of tinted?”

You stared at him as you waited for his reply, biting your bottom lip in a way that could only be described as seductive.

“Yeah, why?”

You grinned, pleased with his answer. His face remained expressionless as you looked around the lot, the area void of other people. You slowly reached under your dress, careful not to expose yourself. Your hands disappeared under the skirt and then reappeared a second later, a scrap of dark green lace trailing down your legs. Your gaze stayed on him as you stepped out of the underwear and dangled them on your fingers, a proud grin making its way onto your lips. You flung the panties in his direction and he caught them against his chest.

“Open the door.” You softly demanded, gesturing to the rear passenger seat.

Rio let your words hang in the air, taking satisfaction in seeing you begin to squirm. There was doubt in your eyes, like perhaps he’d turn you down. You hadn’t caught on to the fact that he could do no such thing.

He took mercy on you, figuring you’d had enough unease for the night and found the key in his jacket pocket, hitting the button. The lights of the car flashed as the vehicle unlocked itself. You sent him a playful smile as you got in without another word, the door closing behind you with a resounding echo. He chuckled and shook his head, biting his lip as he pocketed your panties and walked to the other side of the vehicle. He got in, sliding in next to you and discarding his jacket along the way. He seated himself in the middle and you immediately straddled his lap. His hands found their way under your dress, skimming the soft planes of your thighs.

“So that’s what it takes, huh?” He whispered against your lips, leaning into your touch that ran along the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Me being a dick to your ex. That’s what it takes.” He supplied, hands gliding further under your dress until they began massaging your ass. You moaned at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as you ground down onto his crotch.

“Takes a little more than that.” You insisted, your hips rocking against his in a sensual rhythm.

“Let me see.” He gruffly commanded, chin angling to the hem of your dress that was bunched around your thighs.

You stilled your hips and did as he requested, lifting the fabric and exposing your bare slit to his hungry eyes. He could see the evidence of your arousal, even in the dark. Your pussy glistened in the muted light of the night, swollen and needy for him like aloe to a scathing burn. He reached forward and ran his index finger along your opening, making you jump at the contact. He instantly became drenched in you, the clear stickiness coating his finger. Your hips searched for a firmer hand, wordlessly begging him to slip past your lips.

“You seem plenty wet for me already, ma.” He taunted, letting his finger press against your clit. You gasped and bit your lip, nails digging into the tops of his shoulders.

“Rio...please,” You pleaded, chasing his touch every time it disappeared from your body.

His dick twitched at the sound of his name falling from your parted lips. It was something you’d only recently started doing, using his name in bed. He was addicted to the sound of it. You always said it with desperation and longing, usually while clinging to him in trembling pleasure.

“What do you need?”

You gripped his wrist and directed his finger into your waiting walls in response. He was  overcome with heat and slick immediately. You both released moans that signaled just what it did to you to be so intimately joined.

“That what you need, baby?” He added another finger while his thumb continued to massage your clit. He could feel you clench around him, nipping at your chin as your moans turned to whimpers.

“More.”

“Let me see all of you.” He ordered, his free hand pulling at the neckline of your dress.

You dutifully obeyed, pulling your arms out of the garment and slipping it down to rest around your waist. The same shade of green that had adorned your lower half also encased your breasts, the lace affording him glimpses of your hardened nipples. He curled his fingers inside of you in reciprocation, reaching up to mouth at your neck. Your hands held him to you, running along his scalp and sending bolts of electricity straight to his dick. He shifted his hips in search of friction, feeling the warmth from between your thighs calling to him.

“Feel good?”

“Yes…” You breathed, unclasping your bra and hurriedly pulling the lace away. He followed your lead and trailed wet kisses across your flesh, his tongue reaching out to taste you. You pushed your chest into him in return.

“You can take more, right mama?” He urged, not bothering to wait for your answer. He added another finger, his movements speeding up as he reached that sweet spot deep within.

“Fuck, fuck…” You cursed, riding his fingers while he sucked at your nipple.

He worked your body like a fine-tuned car, hitting each switch with expert precision. He could read your face, gauge the tension in your limbs the further he brought you to the edge. His guilty pleasure was watching you cum, watching you uninhibited and practically blessing his very existence. He knew if he flicked his wrist more to the left and pressed down on your clit at the same time that you’d call out his name. He knew if he bit down on your breast he’d be rewarded with your pussy fluttering around him. He knew if he told you how good you looked, how good you felt, you’d cum...and hard.

“You look so good like this. Like you belong to me.” He praised. You gasped, throwing your head back, and he knew you were close. “Who gets you like this? Who makes you feel this good?”

“You do.”

“That’s right. No one else.” He affirmed, thrusting his fingers as rapidly as he could at that angle. The muscles in your thighs twitched as you came, tightening around his fingers in a way that made him long for it to be his dick instead. He let you ride out the ecstasy, your body rocking into the stiffness pressed along his zipper. Your head was thrown back, your mouth agape as a litany of cries and moans filtered through the air. He could make out the rasp of his name amongst the sounds. He could feel the surge of moisture as it slid down his hand. You were enraptured; a victim to his touch.

He waited until your body had stilled, the aftershocks having long passed, before he slipped from your clutches. He caught your hooded gaze and slowly took his slickened fingers into his mouth, your essence exploding onto his tongue. He savored you, taking in the way your chest expanded with each breath. Your fingers curled into his shirt and dragged along his chest, your hips dropping down to grind into him. He barely had enough time to remove his fingers before you were pulling his lips to yours. Your tongue coaxed his into your mouth and he could taste the remnants of the wine you’d drank. The alcohol mixed with you, creating an erotic elixir, one that had him intoxicated. He hissed against your lips, bucking his hips when you unzipped his pants and licked your palm in a show of lustful desire.

“I need you. Inside.” You panted between kisses, situating your pussy over him as you stroked his throbbing flesh.

Rio slid his hand up between your breasts and grasped your neck, feeling your pulse jump. He tilted your chin towards him and ensured your eyes were nowhere else but on him.

“Put me in. Go slow.” He squeezed his fingers around your throat as you moved, angling the head of his cock along your folds. You released a shaky breath as you eased him into you, gaze not wavering. He rested against the seat as he took in the view, licking his lips. He tsked and maneuvered your chin back in position when your eyes began to close, the fullness of him stretching you tight.

“Keep going, mama. All of it.”

You held his forearm, the one still attached to your neck, as you bottomed out, your ass finally meeting his thighs. Your pussy sucked him, walls gripping him with an unforgiving strength. You both remained still, relishing the myriad of sensations that assaulted your restless bodies.

“Touch yourself.”

You worked your hands over his arm, cupping your breasts at his request. Your movements mirrored his, matching the force and pressure of how he usually touched you. He was transfixed by you. Utterly lost in the way your body begged for him and still wanted more. He respected your greediness. Could understand the need for more once a craving had been satisfied. It was the business he was in. He was an expert on the matter. And he’d deliver for you.

His left hand dug into the flesh of your ass in a show of impatience. You caught on and started to move, leaning down to nibble at his throat. Your pace was languid, almost lazy as you swiveled your hips. Each down thrust had you rubbing your clit along his pelvic bone, triggering your pussy to spasm.

“Rio...”

There was a warning in your tone. He could hear it clearly as you bounced on his cock, the plea almost drowned out by the slapping of bodies.

“Shit, already?” He asked, somewhat surprised at the rate at which your body was responding to him. He let both of his hands fall to your ass, directing you forward so that he could thrust. You whimpered into his ear as his hips pushed up and into you, hitting deep. You clamped down around him, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

“Right there. Don’t stop.” You gasped, face buried into his neck as he slapped your ass. The hit made you convulse. So he did it again.

The closing in of your walls made him double his efforts. He secured his arm around your waist and held you steady. He kept your pussy at his desired angle as he fucked you, hearing that hitch in your breath that let him know you were on the cusp of orgasm.

“M’gonna cum.” You slurred, primal lust making the words run together. His dick swelled inside of you, his balls tightening with every desperate breath you expelled. He could feel that familiar tingle at the base of his spine start to expand, signaling to him what was coming next. He worked his hand between your bodies, gathering moisture and ravaging your clit. You jerked in surprise, yelping when his touch didn’t retreat or ease up.

“Too much.”

“Nah, you take it, ma. You take it and you cum for me.” Rio provoked, forcing you to abide by his commands.

Seconds later you were doing as he said once again, cumming on his cock with a force that made him grit his teeth. Your body shuddered as barely intelligible words floated from your lips. You nuzzled further into him while he continued to chase his own release. He dug his fingers into your hips and thrust, the rapid speed making the car sway. He could already tell the windows were fogged up, the stench of sex permeating the air. You were boneless as you sat astride him, your soft moans of residual pleasure going straight to his dick, luring him off the edge.

“Fuck,” He growled, feeling the eletric shocks of climax start to claim him. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of your neck, teeth biting down into the otherwise unblemished skin. He held you firm as he emptied his cum and filled you, rivulets already beginning to spill from your connected bodies. His chest moved with the rapid beats of his heart as the entire moment culminated into a drug-level euphoria.

Minutes ticked by as you both struggled to catch your breath and calm your racing hearts. Rio felt you ghost a kiss along his jaw; a low, satisfied laugh making him smirk.

“You think anyone heard us?” You asked, beginning to shift in his arms.

Beyond the fogged windows, the lot was still without people. But who knew who’d walked by in the meantime. The SUV wasn’t necessarily equipped to withhold sound, though it could cause a bullet to ricochet.

“Probably.” He let you sit up, eyes falling to your still naked chest. You both seemed to have an affinity for fucking in public spaces.

You eased forward to kiss him, the action much more intimate than it’d been moments ago. Your fingers trailed along his jaw and combed through his facial hair, a gesture he secretly loved. His own hands skimmed your back, eliciting shivers that radiated down your body.

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” You whispered once you’d pulled away, eyes imploring him to understand what you meant.

He did. He knew what this kind of gesture meant. He’d been truthful in confessing his want for you. It was a selfish need. Something that grew because you’d continuously denied him. And then it’d shattered before it’d even had a chance to become anything. And during that time he’d admitted to himself that he was willing to compromise. To follow your rules. And as a boss who ran his own shit by his own decree, it was difficult to come to terms with. But he’d done it. Why? Because something told him it’d be worth it. Whether for the great sex or the companionship.

Time would tell.

He ran his finger along your cheek, observing the way you fell into the touch. “You didn’t have to.” He assured you, meaning every word.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me, darlin’.”

“Well, thank you again.” You smiled, pressing your chest to his.

“Call it even.” He joked, gesturing to the state of your bodies still twisted around each other.

“Let’s get some pizza.” You suggested suddenly, pulling the sleeves of your dress back up, sans bra.

He laughed at both your words and the fact that you were getting dressed with his dick still sheathed inside you. “You hungry?”

“I didn’t get to finish my dinner.” You reminded him, retying the tassel around your waist. His hands sluggishly skimmed your thighs, stopping to squeeze whenever you suddenly straightened. “Oh, what about that food truck you took me to last week? The one with the fried mac and cheese?”

Rio took in your enthusiasm, finding it endearing. He didn’t have to use words to figure out where your head was at in all this. It was written on your face. In your voice. Beaming from your eyes and seeping from your pores. And like so many other things between you, it would go unsaid. For now. Because that’s just how it was. And maybe it was fucked up. But it didn’t invalidate any of the chemistry between you. Words just...weren’t needed. And that was sort of how it had always been.

“I got you.” He assured, patting your ass as he did. You beamed at him, not knowing that his words ran much deeper than a meal.

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl​

@thebookisbtr​

@beardburnsupersoldiers​

@nina-nkl​

@gemini0410​

[bestiesenpai]

ashnikko demidevil inspired blurbs

I just took lines from ashnikkos demidevil album and made little blurbs with whatever gave me inspo :) femme reader sometimes gender neutral in some spots, everyone is 18+

Content warnings: yandere-ness, stalking, mentions of heat(but not a/b/o), dubcon, master title(?), light angst? But it’s well deserved, blood

I don’t need a man I need a puppy, allergic to you every time you touch me -

Babysitting your friend's new puppy hybrid wasn’t a task you’d originally wanted. She had gotten him fairly recently, only to jet away to an impromptu vacation, leaving you the sole caretaker of the very large hybrid.

The only problem was you were allergic to dogs. Nothing terrible, but if he stayed around you too long, you’d start to get hives. And he understood that, politely keeping his distance as he roamed around your home.

“Getou, I’m home!” You announced after a long day of work, throwing open the front door only to be assaulted by a harsh musk in the air.

“Master!” Within moments of you kicking the door closed you were pounced on by the giant puppy that had been staying with you for a while. Your back hit the door hard but that wasn’t what you were focused on.

“G-Getou! What’re you doing?!” Your face was aflame not only from embarrassment but from the strong waves of heat rolling off his body. Getou had slid to his knees on the floor and shamelessly shoved his face into the crotch of your pants, his nose bumping right at your slit through your clothes.

“Master please...help…” He whined pitifully, rutting his hips against your leg. It was almost comical, the way he was hunched over you trying desperately to get stimulation to his leaking cock dangling between his legs.

Muddling through the murky memories of what your friend had told you about Getou, it took a few minutes to remember that she had mentioned something about him possibly going into heat.

“Are you…” It only took a glance down at his sweaty body covered only in a t-shirt to affirm that he was indeed in heat. He whined again, nearly sobbing as the harsh material of your bottoms rubbed against his sensitive cock. “What do I need to do?” The question made Getou’s head fly up, and the usual smirk on his face was gone, replaced with glassy eyes and quivering lips.

“I-I know you don’t like dogs but- but could you please just touch me?” Rubbing his face against your hip, Getou looked at you again. His hair and the fur on his ears was frizzy no doubt from sweat and his lips looked like he’d been biting them.

“Scoot back, puppy.” Placing a hand on his forehead, you gently pushed him back. The heat on Getou’s face was scalding, washing over him in a bright blush. Begrudgingly letting you go, Getou sat back on his knees, shoulders hunched but still managing to take up a good amount of space.

“Please help.” Balling up the edges of his shirt, Getou tucked the fabric under his chin and presented himself to you. His skin had a pale red flush, chest heaving and abs tight from trying to contain himself. Your eyes were drawn to his cock, leaking a generous amount of precum down the thick shaft.

“Puppy.” You said the word softly, and a warmth settled between your legs at seeing him look at you from under his lashes. The intense pheromones in the air were triggering your allergies and there was only one surefire way of getting rid of them.

“Master!” Getou choked out as another gush of precum rolled down his cock and his tail thumped against the ground as he writhed a little in agony. “Hurry, please!”

“Let’s go to the bedroom, puppy, it’ll be easier to help you there.” You’d thought about taking him to the couch, but the bed would be more comfortable in the long run.

And you didn’t need to utter the phrase twice. Getou leaped from the ground, his long tail swishing excitedly as he grabbed your wrist and ran to the bedroom. Pushing you onto the bed, he stripped himself in an instant.

“I-I’ll try not to be too rough, master.” He mumbled, climbing over you just as you’d started shrugging off your jacket. Nearly crushed by his entire body weight, Getou made sure to slide his cock right against your clothed cunt, rutting hard against you as soon as he could. “Unless you want it like that.”

I don’t need a man I need a rabbit, I need a new toy just to cleanse my palate -

Get a bunny hybrid, they said. It’ll be fun, they insisted. Bunnies are so cute and nice, they repeated over and over. Well yours surely wasn’t.

“Gojo! Get over here!” You were at your boiling point. All day Gojo had been causing mischief, leaving food out, popping out from behind corners and furniture and scaring you, pulling on your hair and clothes, asking never ending questions.

“Yes?” The lanky bunny hybrid with long white ears waltzed into the kitchen, not wearing his trademark dark glasses and leaving his bright blue eyes on display.

“What the fuck is this?” Glaring harshly at him, you pointed to the floury mess smeared on the kitchen counters and wall. It looked like he’d attempted to make some kind of dough but had given up halfway.

“Wasn’t me.” Gojo shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Then who could it be, because it wasn’t me and we���re the only ones here.” Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you glowered at his careless expression and slouched body. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here presented with the mess he’d undoubtedly made.

“Dunno.” He shrugged again, scratching behind his ear and avoiding eye contact with you.

“Gojo, clean it up.” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you took a deep breath.

“I didn’t do it!” Stamping his feet, Gojo shook his head and his ears flopped side to side.

“I’m not playing these games anymore! Just do what I ask for once!” It was a constant back and forth with the two of you, and while you had plenty of sweet moments to outweigh the bad, sometimes it wasn’t enough.

“(Y/N), c’mon!” Gojo whined and threw his head back. Staring at each other for a few minutes, your blood pressure only rose the longer he remained immobile.

“One.” You drew the word out, and Gojo’s head snapped to attention. Waiting a breath, he didn’t move any further.

“Two.” Saying it even slower this time, you could just barely see the twitch of his little puffball tail.

“Th-”

“Alright, I’ll clean it up!” Shooting over to the counter, Gojo huffed and puffed. “Even though it totally wasn’t me.”

“Whatever, the kitchen better be sparkling before I go to sleep.” Leaving the mess behind, you avoided Gojo for the rest of the day and didn’t see him as you got ready for bed. Checking the kitchen one last time, it was indeed back in pristine condition.

Going to sleep without saying goodnight to the pouty bunny you’d seen sulking in his room, you went to sleep alone. More often than not Gojo would sleep in bed with you, but whenever the two of you were snippy with each other he would sleep alone.

A hot, wet tongue between your legs roused you from sleep. You were absolutely sweating beneath the blankets that were drawn up to your chin and there was a Gojo sized lump underneath them.

“G-gojo…” Breathing deeply to try and push the sleepy fog from your mind, his name ended in a high whine as his tongue flicked against your clit. Wrapping his lips around it, Gojo sucked on the bud, keeping your legs spread out across his shoulders.

He got you to cum fairly quickly, having aroused you enough in sleep that when you awoke you were already on the brink. Squeezing his head between your thighs as you came on his tongue, you shuddered at the deep groan he let out.

“Ya know (Y/N),” He started, voice muffled by the blankets before he threw them off and sat up, “I’ve been thinkin’.” Settling between your legs, Gojo kept your ankles on his shoulders as he leaned over.

“Ab-about what?” Your mind was dizzy with pleasure, eyes only just able to focus on Gojo’s face above you. Even though this was the first time you two were doing something like this it still felt natural. Something you’d have to talk about in the morning, but natural nonetheless.

“You’re always so fucking snippy all the time-”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t finished! You’re snippy all the time and you always get on my back for the stupidest shit.” He giggled at the glare you gave him, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “But I’ve found the perfect solution to that!”

There wasn’t a chance to question him on what he meant. Gojo lined up his cock and pushed into your cunt, easily sliding in and bottoming out in one go. You hadn’t gotten a chance to look at it properly, but you knew it was easily the biggest you’d ever had.

“This is your solution?” You half panted, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s shoulders and whimpering as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

“Yeah.” He was breathless as well, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and lightly slapped his hips against yours. “I figure what better way to change your attitude than to fuck it out of you.” Grabbing onto your ankles, Gojo leaned nearly chest to chest with you.

His forehead brushed against yours, his snowy white hair tickling you. He did a few experimental half thrusts, getting the feel for the angle he was in and making any minor adjustments.

“And luckily for you, (Y/N), I’m a rabbit.” Immediately, Gojo picked up the pace of his hips, jackhammering into you at an insane speed and quite possibly bruising your hips in the process.

“Gojo!” Your voice caught in your throat at the sudden change, your body being folded in half and crushed into the mattress.

Gojo smirked at your shocked expression, dropping one hand to rub your clit. You let out a sharp cry, jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine. Your walls clamped down on him in an instant, making the drag of his cock just a fraction slower.

“I can go all night if I have to.”

Make your man call me daddy -

Was Itadori a little nervous? That went without saying, yes, he was very nervous. This was the first time he’d worn lingerie in public, hidden under his clothes but with the possibility of someone seeing if he bent over the wrong way.

He kept tugging down his hoodie and pulling up his pants, making sure no one saw the lacy thong he’d put on. He had on a bra as well, a lacy little number that was truly just a few tiny pieces of fabric sewn together.

Not to mention the prostate massager currently buried snugly in his ass, vibrating at random with varying intensities. Itadori almost regretted purchasing it as another powerful vibration went through him and nearly made him fall over in the street. But he didn’t want to let you down, so he endured the torture.

“I’m back.” Practically crawling through the threshold of the door, Itadori was nearly in tears at being back in the safety of your shared apartment. He had barely managed to complete all the tasks you’d given him, the little white plastic bag in his fingers crumpled to death with how strong his grip was.

“In here.” You called out from the bedroom and Itadori followed the sound until he got to you. Lounging at the foot of the bed, you looked nearly innocent with your legs crossed and foot swinging daintily.

Itadori didn’t speak as he entered the room, hovering by the doorway for a moment before fully entering and standing in front of you, head down and looking at your sock clad feet.

“How was it, baby?” Your question made him flinch and a hot burning washed over his face.

“I- it was- something.” He sighed, glancing up to see your quizzical expression for a fleeting moment.

“Did you keep it on like I told you to?”

“Of course!” Itadori nodded immediately, already grasping the hem of his hoodie and pulling it off to reveal the bra underneath, the fabric stretched tight against the barrel of his chest.

“Look at your nipples, they’re so cute.” You cooed, reaching up to press your finger onto one. It was perfectly perky, pebbled from the stimulation of rubbing against lace. Itadori shivered and leaned into your touch, biting his lip to stem any too loud moans.

Taking your hand away, your eyes flicked down to his pants and he quickly removed those as well.

“Oh baby, you shoulda told me you came! You made such a big mess!” It wasn’t surprising in the slightest to see the absolute mess of sticky cum smeared across Itadori’s cock, the thong he had on and his thighs.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want the fun to end.” He pouted, fully kicking off his pants and tossing them to the side with his hoodie.

“I bet the toy felt real nice, huh?” Sparing him a lecture, you reached out and swiped your finger through the cum coating the tip of Itadoris cock. He jolted at the contact, letting out a high whine and pressing his thighs together.

“Y-yeah, it did.” He managed to answer, somehow staying steady on his feet through the near overstimulation he was in. Gathering a bit of cum on your fingers, you presented it to him and Itadori obediently bent down, taking them in his mouth and sucking them clean.

“Good boy.” You grinned, running your free hand through his hair and letting him nuzzle into you. “Go pick out which toy you want next, you deserve a reward.” Freeing your fingers, Itadori bolted to the dresser drawer where you kept the toys.

“I choose this one.” In his hands was his favorite toy, a strap-on you’d bought together at a local sex shop.

“Alright, lay on the bed.” Taking the toy from him, you watched him lay down just like you’d taught him: face down in the pillows with his ass presented high in the air. Running a hand over his ass, you smiled down at him. “You’re being such a good boy today, baby.”

“Thank you.” Itadori replied, mouth muffled by the pillows as he tried to make eye contact with you. Quirking your head to the side, you gave him a silent look and he flushed, ears tinging a deep rouge. Licking his lips, Itadori looked away for a moment before shuffling a bit to make better eye contact with you. “Thank you, daddy.”

You don’t ever cross my mind, what’s a sheep to a tiger? -

It was laughable that he thought he was being so secretive, like you couldn’t tell you were being stalked when all you could feel were his eyes watching you at all times.

You’d already changed the locks after you caught him following you home.

Your curtains were always drawn closed, but that didn’t stop him from lurking outside, his shadow a constant presence outside your bedroom and bathroom windows.

You couldn’t even count the amount of unknown phone numbers you’d had to block in the past month alone along with deleting voicemails that only had slightly shaky breathing on the other side.

As far as stalkers went, Okkotsu Yuta wasn’t that great. You’d only briefly met him once at a meeting with other sorcerers and he had appeared weak and spineless before you, barely able to make eye contact despite his vast power.

“Fuck, you again?” You groan, seeing Yuta waiting by your door as you waltzed back from a run to the convenience store.

“H-hello.” His voice is just as meek as ever. You’ve seen him be confident and assured before when he didn’t know you were in the room, but as soon as he saw you it was like he became a totally different person and lost even the will to speak.

“Get a fucking job.” Not in the mood to entertain him, you slid closer to your front door. You weren’t scared about possibly having to get physical with him, you could surely hold your own against a grown man who actively stepped back as you got closer.

Worrying his lip and wringing his hands together, Yutas eyes darted everywhere, from the small plastic bag in your hand to your outfit and finally settling atop your head. His breathing was loud and unsteady and there was a light blush coating his cheeks.

“Are you just going to keep standing there like a loser?” Glaring at him, you sneered as his blush got deeper and there was a subtle squeeze in his thighs. “What do you even want? Gonna try to give me more flowers?”

“No.” Yuta answered immediately, the bitter memory of you stomping on the bouquet he bought you fresh in his mind.

“Then what? What does a little sheep like you want?” Crossing your arms, you tapped your foot impatiently.

“I-I just-” Blinking rapidly, there were a million thoughts going through Yutas head. He couldn’t find the words and his mouth was running dry. He nearly collapsed seeing you sigh and shake your head, about to fish out your keys and walk right past him. “W-wait!”

“What?”

“Do you- I just have to know, (Y/N), do you ever think about me like how I think about you?” Yuta looked so hopeful it was morphing into sick desperation in his features. His brows were knitted together so tightly that you knew there’d be lingering wrinkles there.

“Okkotsu.” Saying his name firmly and squaring your shoulders, you stared right into his eyes with a fierce look on your face. This was the first time you were ever making eye contact and to say it made you sick to your stomach was an understatement.

“Yes?” He whispered, licking his lips nervously.

“I have never thought about you in that way.” His smile fell as you spoke, and you could see his heart break behind his eyes. “In fact, any time I think of you I get sick. You disgust me.”

“Darling-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t call me that.” You snapped, pushing him back as he tried to reach out and touch you. “Get the hell away from me and leave me alone, you’re pathetic and gross.”

“I love you! I love you so much, please!” Falling to his knees, Yuta reached his hands out to you, hoping you’d take them and soothe his soul from the pain you’d just inflicted.

“I’d rather be swallowed by a curse than have you as a lover.” The scornful look you sent Yuta made him physically wither away, flinching at the red hot anger brewing just beneath the surface. “Besides, I’m pretty sure people in love don’t stalk each other.”

“Darling...please…” There were tears dripping down his face that just made him look worse. Scoffing one last time at him, you shoved your key into the lock and swung open your front door.

“Okkotsu, if I ever see you in this neighborhood again, I’ll kill you myself. Rika be damned.” With those parting words, you slammed the door closed and locked it swiftly, immediately heading to the cabinet where you kept your alcohol. You surely needed a drink or three after dealing with the headache that was Okkotsu Yuta.

Just as you took the first sip, a ding sounded on your phone, an indication of a text.

“Oh brother.” Rolling your eyes, you already knew who it was from.

(Unknown number): I’ll never give up on you, I’ll love you until the very end

Blocked, deleted. Time for another drink.

I’m crazy but you like that -

Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do. Breaking up with your boyfriend was the right thing to do.

But why did it feel like the worst decision you’d ever made?

He was brash, controlling over every part of your life, demanding your undivided attention at all times. He claimed he only wanted what was best for you, but the final straw in your relationship came when you caught him installing a hidden camera in your bedroom. He was far too casual when he said the last one had broken.

So you had no choice but to break it off. Sukuna had taken it well at the time, calmly and silently grabbing the things he had over at your place and leaving with only a curt goodbye. And since then, you hadn’t seen him.

Emphasis being on seen.

His presence was still very much felt in your life. There was mail addressed to him showing up at your place. You’d get random unknown numbers calling you throughout the week, sometimes with voices you didn’t recognize trying to ask you questions and other times it was silent on the other line until whoever called hung up.

But all the strange occurrences were beginning to add up and it was starting to feel like Sukuna had never left in the first place. All the times you came home to a tidy front entryway when you knew you’d left in shambles before heading to work. The way your shower products seemed to diminish quicker even though you hadn’t changed your routine. And sometimes, you woke up in the middle of the night to a shadow just outside your window, darting away just before you could properly get up.

Changing the locks on your front door and adding locks on all the windows you could had given you much needed peace of mind. The strange things inside your house had stopped. There wasn’t anything you needed to purposefully ignore now. You could sit up a little straighter, breathe a little easier.

Waking up in the middle of the night to go pee, your mind was far away from reality. Thoughts of Sukuna were the last things on your mind, clouded with sleep and just ready to melt under the covers again.

Returning to your bedroom, however, you noticed a figure sitting on the bed that wasn’t there before. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it was Sukuna. Floundering back against the wall, a scream caught in your throat.

“The bed’s getting cold, angel. Come lie back down.” Sukuna said, a deranged smile on his face. His eyes were wide, drinking in your shaking form wildly.

“W-what’re you doing here?” You whispered, clutching the doorframe as you stumbled to it.

“I had to see my baby, I’ve been missing you.” Breathing hard through his nose, Sukuna patted the bed. “Come here, lemme look at you. It’s been a while since we’ve been face to face.”

“N...no. No!” Shaking your head, your own pupils were blown wide in fear. You watched every miniscule movement Sukuna made, from his breathing to how his fingers twitched. “Get out of here before I call the cops!”

“Aw, call the cops? But, how will you do that? Your phone is broken.”

“What?” Following Sukunas pointing finger, you gasped when you saw your phone smashed to bits on the floor by his feet.

“Now c’mere.” Patting the bed a little harder, Sukuna’s smile wavered. “You know I don’t like asking twice.”

“Sukuna please- please just leave.” There were hot tears burning your lash line, begging to be blinked away, but you refused to close your eyes. The smile on Sukuna’s face fell and rose again rapidly as whatever thoughts he had swirled in his head.

“(Y/N), I don’t think you understand.” Laughing under his breath, Sukuna stood up and stalked over to you.

“Don’t touch me!” You finally screamed but it was too late to try and fight him off. Sukuna grabbed your upper arm tightly and dragged you away from the door and to the bed. “Let me go, Sukuna! You’re crazy!”

“Crazy? Ha!” He barked, flopping back onto the bed and forcing you to straddle his lap. Slapping a hand onto your ass, Sukuna grabbed your jaw and tilted your face toward him. “If being in love with you makes me crazy, then so be it.” Staring at your face, Sukuna had a softer smile now. It was still unsettling, especially close up, and the way his eyes barely blinked had you on edge. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it at least a little bit.”

Wanna see me switch, get psycho like they say I am-

Your new boyfriend Nanami said he was just a salaryman, and why wouldn’t you believe him? He wore freshly pressed business suits everyday, sometimes carried around a briefcase, had the usual 9 to 5 schedule and always grumbled if he ever had to work overtime. Occasionally he met you for lunch and there he’d demand to talk about anything other than the work he did.

He never gave you the impression that he was anything but that, anything other than what he said he was. Whenever the two of you went out on dates, he was either getting off work or wore long sleeves.

This was the first time you were going to go over to his place for a date. Your relationship was starting to progress more romantically and while he’d seen the outside of your home after dropping you off from a date, this was the first time either of you would be in such a closed intimate setting.

His apartment was in a much more luxurious building than you’d first imagined. There was a doorman that had let you in, someone waiting at the front desk and even the elevator was luxurious with rich dark wood.

“Nanami, I’m here!” You called as you approached the door. Raising your fist to knock, you were surprised to see it cracked open, and there were loud noises just inside. Taking a moment to see if anyone had noticed your announcement, you took a chance and pushed open the door.

The entryway was beautifully decorated with Nanami’s shoes lined up neatly by the door. Just looking at the hallway, you could tell he had hired someone to decorate for him.

“Nanami?” You called again, hovering by the door. Whatever sound was in the other room paused for a moment, only to resume again in a more fervent way. “H-hello?” Sneaking down the hall, you came to the entryway to the lounge room and nearly collapsed.

The bloody, unconscious body was what you noticed first, followed by the blood stains speckled about the hardwood floor and reaching the walls. You saw Nanami second, standing over the body in what was once a plain white t-shirt now stained crimson. Third were the tattoos crawling up his arms, rich blacks and reds embedded into his flesh.

“You’re here early. How’d you get in?” Nanami asked in his usual monotone voice, only slightly breathless as he looked you over. He seemed unfazed by your sudden appearance, happy even, a small smile ticking up on the side of his mouth.

“The- the door was open.” You didn’t know where to look. You couldn’t possibly look Nanami in the eye, not with the way he looked so calm while standing over a body you were pretty sure was going cold. There was dark blood on his hands, nearly mixing in with his tattoos.

“Silly me, must not have pushed it closed all the way.” Chuckling to himself, Nanami straightened up and stepped over the body, taking a few steps over to you only to stop when he saw you scurry back. “(Y/N), don’t act like that.” He sighed like he was talking to a child.

“Tell me what’s going on.” You said, voice shaking more than you would have liked.

“Just doing a bit of overtime, that’s it.” Nanami shrugged indifferently, taking another step toward you.

“I thought you said you were a salaryman. What kind of overtime is this?” As he took more steps toward you, you stepped back until you hit the wall.

“I am a salaryman.”

“For the yakuza or something?!” It was a shot in the dark, really. You had no reason to believe he was in a gang other than the familiar tattoos that you’d seen on the news and the blood everywhere.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confirmed it with a straight face and you could tell he wasn’t lying. Nanami wasn’t one to lie or pull punches. Lifting up his hand, Nanami almost cupped your cheek but stopped short when he remembered the blood on his hands. “Let me go clean up, and we can talk about this more.”

As soon as he turned around, you fumbled to get your phone out of your pocket. There was no way you would be staying in this place any longer with him. Not only were you pretty sure he just killed someone, you had no idea what he could do to you.

“You wouldn’t be trying to call anyone, would you?” Nanami asked, turning on his heels by the body. Dropping your phone to the ground as soon as you were caught, you cursed under your breath as he faced you squarely.

“I like you a lot, (Y/N). Don’t mess this up. I’d hate to show you how deranged I can truly be.” The ghost of a smile graced his face and Nanami walked back over to you and grabbed your phone, immediately coating it in sticky blood. “Go wait in the den down the hall, I’ll be by in a moment.”

Slowly dragging your feet to the room in question, you waiting just inside for Nanami to arrive. The den was cozy, a plush warm toned loveseat facing a stone fireplace and a TV. This room, like the others, was undoubtedly decorated by a professional.

“Sorry to make you wait.” Nanami’s voice made you jump as he entered, walking past you and into the room. Sitting down on the loveseat in a fresh shirt and pants and clean skin, Nanami let out a pleased hum.

“Nanami…” Worrying your lip, you didn’t know what to do. You knew you should leave, but there wasn’t a chance in hell that your weak knees would make any sort of movement akin to an escape.

“Don’t be shy, (Y/N).” Spreading his legs, Nanami pat his thigh invitingly. “Come sit on my lap, a pretty little kitty like you deserves the best seat in the house.”

[aliasimagines]

Miraculous: Tales of Kick-Ass

requested by a lovely anon 💕

Dave Lizewski x fem!reader (miraculous au)

warnings: cursing.

word count: 1814

a/n: Dave has a kwami!! Cause if we are going with Miraculous au, we are doing it properly.

“I am here again, live ,with New York’s favourite superhero battling against his archnemesis in the background. But do not worry! I just saw Hit Girl arrive at the scene and they seem to have everything under control.” the reporter, Lizzie Blonde, says through the tv in Atomic Comics. You are not sure when all of this has started, when New York turned into a battlefield for superheros and supervillains. New York used to be normal. Alright, scratch that, New York was always one crazy place. 

Not that you mind particularly, you were always a fan of superheroes and comics and to see them, in your city? That was beyond exciting. Not to mention your major crush on kick-Ass.

You took a sip from your milkshake and looked around the comic store. Dave should be here by now. Not that you are surprised he is not here. He is always late nowadays. Marty and Todd fanboyed next to you about hit Girl as you kept looking at your phone and the door, waiting for your best friend to give any sign of him.

In the tv the superhero pair just took out the Motherfucker’s minions.  You sigh a bit worried. What if Dave got in trouble? What if he is in that part of the city where the fight is going on? It’s only a few blocks away and if he got hurt it would explain why he is not responding to your messages..

You hesitantly stood up and walked outside the shop. You heard a loud crash in the distance. You bit your lip, debating whether you should go and look for Dave or not. You heard a loud cheer coming from outside, the heros probably won. Again.

You finally decided to go and look for Dave, so you started speed walking toward the street you saw in the news. Maybe you will not only find Dave but see Kick-Ass too! 

Of course Dave is more important but.. You saw a green figure flash from one of the rooftops. You gasped, Kick-Ass jumped on a building, only a few meters away from you. 

The hero seemed to notice you and waved his hand at you. 

You almost fainted, but went to grab your phone to take a picture of him but by the time you looked up he was long gone. You looked around confused but quickly remembered why you came. You started running again, when from an alleyway someone ran into you.

“AAA”

“AAAA” 

“Oh my god y/n!”

“Dave! What are you doing here?” you grasp your chest, hoping your heart won’t fall out of its place.

“I could ask the same!”

“I was worried about you! So I came looking and..Are you alright?” you carefully touch his cheek where a small cut is, slightly bleeding.  The boy slightly brushes your hand away and tries to hide the light pink flash on his cheek.

“I’m fine, I was on my way to Atomic’s when the fight started and I figured I would be safer here.” he lied effortlessly. You nodded.

“I’m glad you are okay.” you say, before remembering what happened a few seconds ago. “Oh my gosh, Dave! I was walking on the street looking for you and you will never believe what happened! Kick-Ass, The Kick-Ass saw me and waved! Ahh! It was so awesome!”

Dave laughed softly, “I bet it was. Let’s go back to Atomic’s, okay?”

 You guys spend most of your afternoon there, talking about the fight and the superhero duo.

“..so in conclusion, I love Hit Girl and she is so awesome. But Kick-Ass? Gosh, he is so hot!” you gesture with your hands. Dave clears his throat and lifts his drink to his lips. Marty rolls his eyes at you.

“You can’t even see his face!” he throws his hand in the air. Dave and Todd start laughing.

“Hey, man, leave the girl alone.” Dave says, slightly nudging your side. “But really y/n, Kick-Ass could be a nerd like me, for all you know.”

“That would be some Peter Parker shit.” you say grabbing a french fry. “But, I don’t really care for his looks, like.. The idea of him? You know? Like  he is a motherducking hero for Stan Lee's sake!"

" That's kinda.. I don't know. Shallow? Having a crush on someone you don't even know? " Dave says and barely noticeably tucks a small piece of pizza in his pocket. Before you can say anything Todd beats you to it. 

"Well that's rich coming from the guy who was practically drooling over Scarlet Witch in The Ultimates." 

"That's a completely different thing." 

Todd opens his mouth to respond when the harsh sound of the news channel floods the comic shop. You all turn to the tv and see that New York is once again under attack. Dave furrows his eyebrows. 

"Twice?" he asks himself. Before he jumps up from the booth you all are sitting at. 

"I just uhm… I just remembered I have to rush home to help my dad!" 

"Yo dude, what the heck?" yells Todd after your best friend. 

"Sorry, guys I have to run!" and with that Dave is out the door, leaving all his friends including you, confused and kinda upset. He finds the first alleyway and soon his kwami flies out of his pocket. 

"Dave? What's going on? We never have to fight twice a day." the little kwami, Kai says. His name is not actually Kai but as he is a lost kwami he never learned what his name is so Dave was the one to give him the name Kai. 

"I don't know, little dude but we better check it out." 

There wasn't anything big, Chris Damico just couldn't take the fact that he lost again and angrily tried to strike at the innocent citizens of New York in hopes of destroying Kick-Ass too. Instead he ended up getting his.. Well getting his ass kicked. 

Dave didn't change back just yet, instead he jumped from rooftop to rooftop to get home. It got pretty late so it would be stupid to go back to Atomic Comics as you guys probably left. He felt bad for bailing on you again. He hated leaving you. Even if he could play superhero and save people. The look on your face every time he rushed away to a fight? Ugh, he hates it. 

Dave jumps down to an alleyway to transform back when a girl turns into the alley. Wait. It's not just a girl, it's you! 

Dave tries to jump behind trash bags to hide but you already saw him. 

"Kick-Ass?" he hears your voice. He sighs and comes out of his impromptu hiding spot. 

"Haha, guilty as charged."

"Oh my gosh, we met earlier! You waved at me, do you remember? Ah, of course you don't, you meet so many people every day." you would have kept on rambling if it wasn't for Dave. He tried his hardest not to giggle at your fangirling, that he knows oh so well and said. 

" I actually do remember you y/-, random citizen! " 

Fuck! Dave curses himself. He almost said your name! Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

You did seem to hear anything but the fact that your superhero crush remembered you from earlier. You felt your cheeks heating up a bit. 

"You.. You do? Gosh, really? That's so awesome, you are like… ahgh you are so awesome."

"You think so?" Kick-Ass asks, smiling. "Well, you seem like a pretty awesome girl, too. What is a pretty, awesome girl like you doing out this late?" 

Dave feels weird talking to you like this, cause you don't know he is actually your best friend but… Dave also finds that a bit helpful? He could never compliment you as Dave, not like this. He would end up blushing and dying from embarrassment. But Kick-Ass? He is a cool dude, who has no problem flirting with the ladies. 

"Oh, well I was hanging with my friends at Atomic Comics." 

"So you like superheros?" he asks, leaning against a wall in a 'cool way'. 

"Oh, yeah."you nod, gulping."I love them." 

You slowly mingled in conversation. Dave softly flirted with you every once in a while and you always responded with a sweet smile and some nice comeback. Both of you were so in the conversation, you didn't even bother to pay attention to your surroundings. Dave for example, didn't even hear the beeping, the warning that he would transfer back from Kick-Ass to Dave Lizewski. When he realized what was going on it was already too late. His kwami fell tiredly into his hands. 

"Oh shit, oh no, oh shit, shit.. Aah." Dave looked around for help, any help but it was worthless. You already saw him transform. You know. 

Dave slowly, terrified of your reaction, gazed over to you. 

But you just stared at him.

"Look, n/n-"

"This is some Peter Parker shit." you whispered,still starring. But then you snapped out of it. "What the actual fuck, Dave?" 

"I know, I know, I am so sorry y/n! I couldn't tell you and fuck! I am so sorry for flirting with you, it's just I could never have the confidence to do that as Dave and- Ah, I just ruined our friendship and I think I should just leave.." he turned around and tried to walk away but you grabbed his hand and pulled him back. You quickly pressed your lips against his. Dave barely had time to react, he froze. Was this really happening? Is this a dream? 

" You are a real asshole, Dave. "you say after pulling away." You are lucky I love you. "

"You what?" Dave asks with his eyes wide open. "I thought you had a 'major crush' on Kick-Ass." 

"Well, yeah, but I like you better." you say with a small smile. Before Dave can say anything you spot the tired kwami in his hand. "Dave, what the fuck is that?" 

"Oh shit." he pulls out a small snack from his pocket and gives it to Kai who starts munching on it immediately. "He is Kai. He is my kwami, he is basically the source of my powers." 

"Uhm, hi." you wave at the small creature. 

The kwami looks up at you and then at Dave. 

"This is wrooong." 

"Shut up, little dude." he turns to you, scratching his back with his free hand. "So, uhm can I walk you home… as not your best friend?" 

You shake your head with a laugh. 

"I want nothing more." you take his hand and you two walk with huge smiles on both of your faces. 

Maybe this was an accident, but at the end of the day Kick-Ass defeated his enemy, saved New York twice, but it was Dave Lizewski who ended up getting the girl.

Here's how I imagined Kai, his kwami (i am no digital artist, i know it look horrible 😂😂) :

taglist: @sethcohenluvr @your-hispanichufflepuff

[mr-moose-man]

I kinda want to make one of those comic series where there’s an actual plot to the comic but there’s also the ask blog aspect to it where Y/N attempts to be Peter’s impromptu therapist. You got character interactions, funny stuff, some coping mechanisms. Good shit all around 

that would take so much time but thoughts?

[akillysheel]

INFECTED.  ( PROLOGUE )

Summary:  When Leylan goes up in flames, it gives Simon Krit the mental fortitude to cut ties with his abusive father, seemingly for good.  However, when they reunite some time later it goes about as well as you’d expect.

Warnings:  Emotional manipulation, mental abuse, some mentions of self-harm/suicide.

A/N:  Simon is the other side of the Kip/Basil coin that I’m keen to explore.  He’s my favourite of this little cluster of my cast and I felt inspired to write something proper for him first!

Simon slides his closet door closed before huddling in its darkest corner.  He’s a large man, six foot three and lined with a flattering layer of muscle, but he feels as small as a mouse as he hides amongst his coats and dress pants, a kitchen knife clutched tightly in one trembling hand.

He’s never been a particularly patient man.  Waiting for a radio broadcast to provide him with further guidance is as painful as waiting in traffic when he’s already running late.  Still, he isn’t about to take his chances in the chaos that’s unfolding in the streets.  In a twisted way, he’s lucky that this entire debacle started on a Saturday, when he and the children he teaches are at home.  Some of them may be little snot-nosed brats as far as he’s concerned, but he hopes that they’re all safe and sound;  that he’ll see them all on Monday when this unprecedented mayhem blows over.  He’ll even forgive Marcel for forgetting his homework for the thirteenth time.  This might be about the only valid excuse he’s ever had to skip an assignment.

Something crashes outside, cutting the thought clean in two.  It takes Simon a moment to realise that it’s the sound of a rowboat hitting the pavement, wood splintering upon impact.  He doesn’t want to think about the wet splat sound that accompanied it.  He refuses to believe that there was a person in there.

The radio on his bedside table crackles so suddenly that it prompts the grip on his weapon to tighten, black knuckles turning white with strain.  His pulse flits across his tongue like lightning, temples thrumming with the dull ache of adrenaline as he tunes in, desperate for advice.  Even through the door, the crackled demand is clear  -  and disappointing.

                     This is a public service announcement for the civilians of Leylan.                                                   Do not leave your homes. Barricade yourself in the most secure place available and await further instructions.

That’s it?  The thought starts small but it echoes.  It bounces off the walls of his skull and grows five times its size with every timed ricochet, until it’s the only thing he can hear.  It feels as if nettles are growing inside of his heart, chest prickling with anxiety.  He’s always known that he’s alone in the world, but this time it feels different  -  as if he’s truly its only occupant.  A helpless thing in a crumbling timeline;  a tiny ember of light in a world that’s quickly drowning.

From deep within his memory, he hears his old university counsellor speak.

                                  And what do you do when you feel helpless, Mr. Krit?                                                                                                   Drink a lot?                                                                                                                 No.                                                                   Make jokes until I feel better?                                                                                                    No, Simon.                                                                             …I guess I garden, doc.

Something tells him that gardening won’t be an option in the foreseeable future.  If they haven’t already been trampled by the beasts unleashing havoc outside, he can see his loyal plants’ health taking an impromptu nosedive.  A shame, too, for he’s been cultivating these same flowerbeds for decades now.

He’s jolted from his thoughts by a steady vibration.  It takes longer than it should for him to realise that it’s his phone.  The idea of someone calling now is ridiculous, borderline comical, and he raises the device with what can only be described as an annoyed smile.

The name on the display makes it fade.

                INCOMING  CALL  ➡  DAD.

Simon groans audibly.  He’s been dodging this man’s calls as often as he can ever since he made his way to university  -  and that was three-hundred-and-something years ago.  The decline button has never looked quite so big and blue before.  Pretty.

It wasn't as if avoiding him was a joyful endeavour, either.  Simon remembers the attempts to pull away from his father like most do their first brush with public speaking, or a really bad dentist appointment.  Despite the way the man had belittled him for his entire childhood, he still felt intense remorse for leaving the cantankerous bastard behind.  Guilt had followed him around like a greedy shadow.  In the end, it had chewed him up and spit him out directly into the university counsellor's office.  He still doesn’t dare to think what might have become of him had she not been there to help him work through his murky childhood.

His thumb hovers over the decline button, his lower lip drawn pensively beneath a sharp canine.  It’s astounding what a mind can tune out when faced with a greater threat.  He tries not to think about what it means to be more afraid of a phone call from his father than he is impending doom.

Just press it, his mind urges.  Just press it and be done with it.

But he can’t.  Even now, even when he’s been told by friends and doctors and past lovers that it’s okay to let go of the people that hurt him, he can’t help but sympathise with his old man.  He’s all alone.  It may very well be his own fault, but it doesn’t change it.

With a frustrated huff, Simon clicks ‘ACCEPT’ just before the tone dies.

“Dad?”

“Oh, thank Florence.”  He actually sounds a little relieved to hear his voice.  “I thought you might be–”

“I’m okay,”  he assures, uncertain why he feels such a responsibility to do so.  It isn't as if he's ever taken that much interest in him before.  "Are you?"

"Of course."

There's an awkward silence.  It's something that Simon is all too accustomed to, for his dad has never had much to say to him unless he's criticising his life choices.  Whatever he’d wanted to do, it was never enough to satisfy him.  The line crackles ominously.  There's a muffled scream on the other end that chills Simon to his core.

"Son."

Simon grits his teeth.  Here it comes.

"Please come home."

“Uh... huh?“

Well…  that was unexpected.  It shows in his prolonged silence, words evading him.  It’s all he wanted to hear, four hundred years ago.  Now, he’s torn between bittersweet relief and haughty chagrin.

A large hand strokes through his beard thoughtfully, the bristled texture providing some comfort.  It’s always been a way to ground himself in the moment.  There’s always time to think.  It doesn’t pay to be reckless or unwise.

“I don't think that’s a good idea,”  he admits belatedly.  “The radio said–”

“I’m alone out here, damn it.  You abandoned me.”  That all too familiar venom rears its ugly head and Simon can’t stop himself from flinching.  He abhors that such a reaction is still ingrained into him.  He’ll probably take it with him to the grave.  “Don’t you care about that?  At least act as if you do, you rotten child.”

Simon bites back a sharp retort, his tongue pressed flat against the roof of his mouth until he feels it’s safe to try again.  He’s over six-hundred years old and has long since outgrown the ‘child’ title, but his father enjoys spitting it at him all the same.  It never fails to get under his skin.

“It’s not that I don’t care, dad,”  he attempts, hating the way his voice quavers with a vengeance.  It makes him feel as if all the progress he’s made is for nothing--  as if the Universe is indifferent to the good habits he’s fostered.  He should be mad, should be scathing and harsh, but something stops him every time.  His temper is ugly;  the last thing he needs to do is to stoke that fire, even if it’s righteous.  “It’s that it’s not safe out there.  I don’t want to get myself killed trying to reach you.  It’s safer to wait.  I can come see you when all this settles down, okay?”

It’s a sensible response.  At least, that’s what he thinks  -  but Senior Krit thinks otherwise.  He hears that notorious tch, the one he pushes out between his teeth with enough force to spit, and knows then and there that attempting to reason with him further is out of the question.  He’s angry now, and he’s about to suffer the ramifications of his temper regardless of whether it’s deserved or not.

Why don’t you just hang up? I don’t know.  I guess I’m too weak.

“So what you’re saying is I’m not worth the hassle.”  He pauses to scoff bitterly.  Simon pinches the space between his eyes, the beginnings of a headache forming.  He already knows that refuting what he’d said would only make him angrier.  I should’ve hit decline.  Why didn’t I just hit decline?  “Damn it, Simon!  I hope I DIE in this mess!  Then you’ll realise you’ve squandered me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it, boy.  I mean it.  Maybe I’ll go outside right now!  Maybe I’ll–”

“Dad, don’t.”

He resents the knot his stomach has become.  His heart is back to pounding, fresh fear flooding his veins like oil in a bay.  It’s hard to breathe.  The closet walls seem closer than before.  All he can think about is this stupid, bitter old man trundling spitefully outside, waiting for death to barrel into him with the force of a train.  The more gruesome his demise, the better a lesson it serves.  He’s quite certain that even his tombstone will spit vitriol at him.  Here lies Cyrus Krit, the spoiled and the squandered.

Simon tunes in and out of his detestable tirade, a black void consuming his thoughts whole.  He’s heard it all before, but it still hurts;  it hurts even more to realise that, even after everything, he’d still held out hope that his father would change.  

    It’s a pointless affair, Mr. Krit.  Your father will never alter his ways.  He does not care to.                                           Never sounds a little harsh, eh doc?

“... ungrateful, that’s what you are…  a spoilt child…  abandoning your father…  useless, worthless idiot…  if your mother heard about this… ”

Simon’s jaw squares with visible frustration, his head hitting the back of the closet with a quiet thunk.  The phone is lowered from his ear.  Instead, he listens to the carnage outside.  Things are growing worse.  People are hysterical;  stalls are being torn up and knocked over;  neighbours are beating down one another’s doors in an attempt to gain entry to somewhere safe.  How perverse is it that such tragedy is favourable to listening to his father talk?

                    This is a public service announcement for the civilians of Leylan.                                                   Do not leave your homes. Barricade yourself in the most secure place available and await further instructions.

His head spins.  His mind reels.  Everything’s so loud, yet it’s fading out, as if he’s floating further and further from his body.  Nobody’s coming to help.  That thought replaces everything, casting panic and heartbreak out like house guests that have overstayed their welcome.  This is a fruitless fight, his mind states calmly.  Your frustration is purposeless.

Gently, Simon retrieves his phone and holds it close to his ear again.  In a cold, monotonous voice:  “I’m hanging up now.”

It’s satisfying to hear Cyrus’ insipid little rant suddenly stagger to a halt.  It’s as if his words trip over themselves.  The image of him babbling helplessly to himself would fill Simon with righteous pleasure, if he had the capacity to feel anything over the cloying numbness that’s overtaken his him body.  Maybe it’s better this way;  better to be made of unfeeling brick when the world around you is imploding.

“No, d-don’t–”

“Bye, Cyrus.”

Click.

For just a moment, the world is silent.  The bedlam outside fizzles out, and the sound of his phone being slid gently to the other end of the closet is the only noise that fills the space.  Then CRACK it goes as he suddenly lifts his foot and digs the heel of his boot into the screen.  It splinters immediately, tiny shards of glass leaping free.  They remind him very much of himself: shattered but still accounted for.

By the time he stops stamping on it, his phone is little more than dust;  slabs of plastic and mismatched wires scattered haphazardly across the floor, screen ground down to a fine powder.  With renewed focus, Simon pushes open the door and stands up, turning his radio off and laying it face down on the dresser.  The updates he’s been holding out for aren’t going to help him, and he’s surprisingly okay with that.  Just like everything he’s had to do in his adult life, he’ll have to face this mess alone.

With purpose, he draws his curtains closed before perching on the end of his bed.  Scrick scrick scrick goes his beard, fingers rubbing thoughtfully as he considers what to do next with a clarity he’s never experienced before.  It hits him like a train, that he’s never needed Cyrus to do anything for him.  He’s on his own, the same as he’s always been  -  and that is a liberty, not a curse.

I have enough food for about three weeks if I’m sensible.  Power’s not an issue, especially not with the lights being off.  I should go downstairs and collect all my knives from the kitchen.  That thin, fibreglass fishing rod from the cupboard, too.  I can snap it in half and sharpen its point.

Something thumps against the glass of his bedroom window, and Simon stiffens.  It persists for a few moments before it slides down its length, the sound squeaky and slow.  Whatever is out there squeals with displeasure and scuttles away on all fours, its clumsy footfalls harsh against the solar panels on his roof before they grow distant.  The man lets out a short exhale of relief, hands raising until he can dig the heels of them into his eyes.

The windows won’t be a problem so long as they’re closed.  The reinforcements have held firm for generations.  There’s no way they can suddenly be broken now.

He decides then and there that his first point of call is weaponry.  He doubts he can do much to an iju when push comes to shove.  All he knows of them, he knows from campfire tales and little comments Cyrus made in order to scare him into behaving when he was young, nothing concrete.  Still, he gets the impression that hurting--  or even slaying--  one is going to require something with a little more edge than his knuckles have.

He glances over them with a deep breath, eyes following the white tattooed letters on each knuckle loyally.  A N G E R, they spell.  ANGER, he’ll likely always feel.  There’s always been a lot for him to be angry about:  never knowing his mother;  his father’s abuse;  having to babysit some truly rotten kids throughout his teaching career;  his girlfriend of four years cheating on him;  the loneliness that inevitably came with age.  The end of the world is just the cherry on top of his already-smouldering cake.  Why not, right?  The thing’s already singed to hell!

“... fuck me,”  he mutters numbly, standing up and dragging himself to the kitchen.

[libradusk]

Morning Embers | Rex

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Summary: The morning after your unexpected ‘activities’ on Felucia leads both you and Rex towards a string of confessions you should have stumbled down long ago.

Warnings/Content: AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), smutty soft sex, admission of feeeeeelings and morning-after anxieties, a much more subby Rex than in the previous chapter (I mean...)

a/n: This is set during the events of “Bounty Hunters” from season 2 of TCW, except instead of fighting pirates the reader and Rex end up boning down.

Follow up chapter to this

It's the morning sun that first leads you to stir. It slips its finger-like rays through the cave’s mouth to rake across your marked skin, and play across your face until your lashes flutter open and force you to squint against the light. The rest of your body soon follows in whirring to life in a cascade of sensation, starting with the ache rooted across your muscles and ending with the solid warmth and weight of the second body currently entwined and draped across your own.

The trooper curled around you groans at the light’s intrusion, the sound vibrating down the slope of your shoulder from where his face nestles in the crook of your neck. You shiver at the feeling, it's a welcome distraction to the cramp brewing in your legs and the tenderness throbbing at the apex of your thighs.

You grimace slightly as you attempt to stretch out your limbs as best you can from where they remain trapped beneath the entanglement of Rex’s body. There’s a sizeable pool of slickness smeared across your inner thighs that has long-since gathered and cooled there following your ‘activities’ the evening before. It serves as another reminder of the line you had finally crossed alongside the Captain beside you, a prelude to the mark he had branded onto your heart that would neither fade nor be washed away, unlike the more physical reminders he had littered your body with.

But despite the discomfort and the aching and the little comfort your flimsy nest of clothing provided, you’re content, happy if not completely wrecked in a wonderful way.

You can’t help but smile to yourself as you turn to glance at Rex snoring lightly against your shoulder. For the first time since your impromptu landing, and possibly even before that, he seems peaceful, comfortable even despite sharing the same unforgivably hard surface of the cave floor, and no doubt sporting an arm that is devoid of feeling from where you’ve been laying on it all night. You risk the chance to ghost your fingers over the slope of his back, marvelling in the warmth of his skin even in the chill of the morning air. He’s no longer as furnace-hot as he had been at the peak of his lust-induced delirium, and you wonder if you had succeeded in fucking out the last of whatever toxin it was that had made a temporary home in his body.

The outside world begins to stir alongside you now, though you find it difficult to focus on the chimes of birdsong whistling through the morning air as your fingertips idly trace the indents your nails left behind on his shoulder blades, and the constellations of faint scars that you had failed to focus on before.

Your mind begins to drift and spiral before you can stop it.

Things were bound to change between you now.

Despite how much you had enjoyed your night with the trooper, it hadn’t exactly been with the Rex you had known for so long now. Granted you could look at it as a necessity for helping someone you cared for so deeply, as well as it scratching the itch that desperately needed sating between you both, but you still stung with the knowledge that when he awakened, you would no doubt be forced into an uncomfortable conversation, one that could only end with the two of you figuring out how to function as colleagues for long enough to survive the journey back to the others without getting yourselves dismissed for inappropriately fraternising before finally severing whatever it was that had built up ever since you had met him.

And that realisation hurt. You would happily spend the rest of your days trapped against the cold floor if it meant that reality would never unfold at your feet.

At least you could enjoy these last few stolen moments for a little while longer before they were locked away from you forever.

But as Rex subconsciously tightens himself around you once you place a soft kiss to his sleep-furrowed brow, you realise that it's never going to be that simple. Your chest aches with a newfound guilt that you know his own will mirror when he awakens.

You’re not entirely sure how long you lay there counting the steady rise and fall of his chest and daring to run your hand down the length of Rex’s back before he finally stirs awake, but it seems much too short all the same once his sleepy gaze locks with your own and causes the lump in your throat to constrict further. His vision appears honeyed and blurry as he releases an arm from you to paw at his eyes with the back of his fist, a yawn tapering off into a disgruntled grunt as he scowls at the morning light now spilling around the shield of your body and pouring through the entirety of the cave. Rex wears an expression that would be more befitting of a man hungover from a night at 79’s, rather than one who had just engaged in a night of toxin-induced fucking. The scene is almost too domestic in its nature, the contrasting softness of his expression and the painful emotions staining your thoughts only twisting your heartache further until it wrings your stomach between its claws with a sickening force.

Before you can spiral further into your misery however, he’s blinking the remainders of sleep from his eyes and focusing them directly on you.

You swear you can pinpoint the exact moment the realisation hits him as his pupils contract.

“Good morning, Captain.”

You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to say it. Even when you’re all but wilting under his gaze, your brain apparently can’t resist the urge to tease him, though your voice quivers despite its lightness, betraying what little attempt to save face your mind has scrambled for.

Rex remains frozen, and in any other setting you would find his expression comical. His eyes dart between your face and the way you absentmindedly worry your lip between your teeth, to down to where the two of you are tangled like lovers and sticky with a mixture of fluids. Another beat passes before his entire body catches up with his mind and attempts to curl in on itself in clear mortification. This time a bitter laugh tears itself from your throat as you shuffle away from him and catch the way he subtly attempts to flex the blood back into his dead arm.

“Oh, fuck.”

His expression is hidden as the expletive leaves him in a strained sigh, the shame coating his words like a clear, thick poison despite the hands smothering his face.

You bite down harder on your lip at the way his cursing muffles into frustrated gibberish as his body attempts to sink back into the unforgiving surface of the floor. His face remains hidden by the shutter of his fingers, though the flush colouring the tips of his ears red is a clear indication of what he looks like behind his hands. He lets out what you think is a cross between a sigh and a shout of frustration into his palms, tone raising in what you rationalise to be the finale of his self-deprecation. There’s a smidgen of comfort to be found in the way he has completely forsaken the stoic demeanour befitting for a Captain in the simple hope that the ground beneath him would mercifully open up to claim him.

You almost have the urge to pat him on the shoulder in a sign of solidarity until you catch yourself and cringe at the thought. Instead, you focus your attention on picking at a loose thread poking out of the seam of the uniform crumpled beneath you and attempting to formulate an excuse you could supply to the others to explain the various stains tarnishing the fabric.

Rex takes another moment to himself before clearing his throat and folding his hands atop his chest as he turns to address you properly.

“I’m sorry.” His words are simple and exhaled within a sigh, yet the crease etched deep in his brow speaks volumes in place of them. “I shouldn’t have - I wasn’t… kriff, I’m so sorry for everything.”

His face is painted in layers of shame and you have to fight back the urge to kiss away the guilt lining his forehead and mouth.

“I’m as much at fault in this as you are, maybe even more so.” Your voice comes out much smaller than you intend it to, almost getting lost in the shadows of the cave itself. Rex’s eyes wander from yours after you finish speaking, expression shifting into something unreadable, and for a horrible moment you fear you’ve said the wrong thing.

His fingers flex instinctively against each other, nervously - you note. You had seen them do this countless times before battle and meetings alike, though you weren't sure if he ever noticed this habit himself. The pair of brown eyes before you remain glossed over in thought even as you attempt to desperately search them for some semblance of a response.

“...No. I never meant for it to, you know, happen like… this, between us I mean.” The last word leaves him in another exasperated sigh that has him gripping the bridge of his nose in frustration. His tone holds a familiar discipline now, but his thoughts seem to spill out in a jumbled heap that reflect the state of his current head-space.

It takes a moment for the words to fully sink in, but as soon as they do, your pulse is back to hammering in your ears the same way it had yesterday when you had returned to stumble upon his naked form.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” The words jump from your mouth before you have a chance of reeling your thoughts back, and you hope to the stars that he doesn’t pick up on the swell of hopefulness buttering your shock.

You aren’t stupid, you can guess what it is he’s attempting to voice, anxious as he is, but you can’t trust that you’re not dreaming until the words fall from his lips themselves.

Rex breathes out deeply from his nose. For a brief moment, his eyes threaten to wander down to where the sunlight settles warmly over your naked chest before they firmly lock on to your own. An involuntary shiver passes through you at their intensity. The way he stares at you makes you feel more naked than what even your own bare body can reflect - though the urge to run away and hide has long since died. There was no point in attempting to hide yourself away at this point, especially considering you had all but implored him to expose the layers of his own vulnerability in front of you.

“I’ve wanted this, wanted more than just this I mean, for a long time now.”

A smile somehow manages to tug at the corner of your mouth despite the way your pulse has skyrocketed in your ears at his confession, the noise whiting out to a pleasantly shocked buzz as you let the words sink in and wrap around your heart. In the very back of your mind, you register the faint sting of a pinch against your upper arm. It's one that you don’t even realise you have bestowed upon yourself until your shoulder shifts uncomfortably with the pressure, but also reassures you all the same that, no - this is not a dream.

In a heartbeat, Rex has melted from a disgraced, morose soldier to a flustered mess of a man. He rubs at the back of his neck in a way that's almost cliché, but also so endearing that you can’t look away from the sight of him.

“‘Suppose there's no use in hiding it now is there? Not now I’ve gone and made a royal kriffing mess of everything, that is. Guess I’m the same old di’kut I’ve always been” He punctuates the statement with a bitter chuckle and a faux smirk that doesn’t meet his eyes. You frown, an uncomfortable weight settling itself in your gut once more.

“...Rex, I’ve wanted this too, you know. I just didn’t hedge my bets on it taking the effects of an alien toxin to force me to confront it.” Not the most eloquent way of putting it, but you attempt to match his embarrassed smirk with a smile of your own, hoping that the intention behind your statement reaches him all the same. “The only di’kut you’re guilty of being is an oblivious di’kut.”

That gets a grin out of him, one that stretches until the corners of his eyes are crinkling with mirth. Happiness blooms within you at the sight, and your body finally allows itself to relax for the first time since awakening that morning.

Where before there had been a burning heat stretched between you, now there is a comfortable marigold warmth twinkling across your skin as Rex leans forward to catch your lips with his own. This kiss is gentle, almost hesitant in how soft it is. You can feel the tickle of laughter bubble in your throat as your smiles meld together.

“I’ve made a real mess of you.” Rex murmurs the words half-apologetically against your lips as he ghosts a touch over the love-bites decorating your neck. The trail of his fingertips threads goosebumps across your flesh as he dips them towards your collarbone - itself painted with bruised hues that could rival the vividness of a night sky.

He sounds almost proud, feigning an apology through the way he dances butterfly kisses over your marked skin before drifting them back towards your face. You roll your eyes at him before sweeping him into a deep kiss that steals the breath from his lungs and has him keening into the hand you have cupped around his jaw, effectively silencing him with the sound of his own groan.

You remain like this for a while longer, lazily locked in an embrace that has you glowing from the inside out with a steadily creeping heat, both breaking apart only momentarily each time to mouth over the expanse of the other’s skin, hands caressing and exploring as though you hadn’t spent the better part of yesterday grasping onto each others bodies as though they were the only things that grounded you both. Rex’s broad hands rub apologetic little circles across the bruising peppering your hips and wrists, brow twitching each time your reflexive squirming forces his eyes to crack open to face up to his misdoings. You swallow his concerns behind kisses before they can leap from his lips, curling around him a little tighter each time.

He doesn’t fight you - finally content to give in to the affection dripping from every single one of your touches and allow it to wash over him.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

I love you.

The words slip off his tongue easily, as though they were always meant to be spoken against your lips. You find yourself smiling into the kiss once again, teeth scraping slightly against the plush velvet of his mouth just enough so that he knows you’ve translated it - you’ve spent adequate time around him and his brothers to pick up an inkling of mando’a, it proves to be enough to allow you to stumble through his words with a dizzy heart.

He freezes suddenly, and it dawns on you then that these words were not meant to reach your ears just yet. But he no longer needs to speak them for their intention to be known, to be felt by you in the way he holds you close as though you are the most valuable treasure across all the moons and stars. Your body sings as you press back against him with more fever than before, determined to have him feel the depth of your own adoration through the press of your lips alone.

I love you, I love you, I love you. I fear I have always loved you.

You kiss the mantra across his jawline, delighting in the way his heartbeat hammers in a crescendo with your ministrations as you flatten your tongue against his pulse. That all too familiar flicker of warmth begins to bloom deep in your stomach, snapping into something stickier once again as a particular scrape of your teeth sends a rumble echoing through his chest. The urge to pull him even closer prevails, and you resort to throwing your thigh over one of his own to tug him harder against you. The heat of his cock grazes against you as you straddle him. It weeps and twitches with the contact and succeeds in pulling a groan from you both even as your lips and tongues continue to mesh together.

Despite the ever rising fever of the situation, there is no animalistic urge driving the force of both of you this time. Instead you find yourself lazily dragging your hips over his, the movement slow and resonating with teasing affection and a desire to truly feel every part of him underneath you. Though you can feel his thighs shaking as they remain caged beneath the weight of your body, Rex remains largely still, the small cues his body whispers to you being the only indicators of his aching desire to be joined with you once more.

He’s being so good, but you can’t help but want to tease him a little more, to stretch this moment out even further behind each smile that twists into your kisses. A frown pulls halfheartedly at his brow and you trace it lightly with the tip of a fingertip in mock-comfort. Yet still he submits to your wiles, continuing to surrender himself to your mercy even as your core grinds wetly down against his arousal. It's only when the tip of it grazes over the slick seam of your opening that his hips finally betray his composure. They canter upwards with a jolt that has him hissing through his teeth and has you feeling the wettest you’re positive you’ve ever been in your life.

It's an impossible task to not revel in the sight of him twisting beneath you, blown ochre peering up through his lashes to stare up at you pleadingly as his hands sit patiently atop your hips. Your smile threatens to wobble into a smirk as Rex lets out a whine that edges on being pathetic. He’s so responsive to every touch, even the ghosting of your nails as you run them down and over the expanse of his chest with a feather-light caress. 

You map out the crossfire of scars stitched across the skin there in the way you had longed to do the night before, circling each one lovingly as you sit back against the cushion of his abs. He moans openly now, emotion thick in his throat as you continue to lavish attention over the marks decorating his body, the sound betraying what little discipline he had left to hide behind. His hands drag themselves in an electrifying path down your thighs, fingers just barely brushing over the bone of your knees. Despite the lust swimming in his stare, his entire focus is trained on you as he silently begs for you to emancipate him with some form of relief.

Your touch wanders down towards the dip of his hips behind you, coming to rest just short of the base of his throbbing cock, and you delight in the way he twitches and writhes even further as you deny him once again. At last, the trooper throws his head back in defeat, practically growling with frustrated arousal yet never breaking eye contact with you, his face twisted with a tortured anguish of the most delicious degree.

“Please.” He mouths the words to you, voice stolen by a shuddering breath that falls from him in ragged pants. You cock an eyebrow, heart pounding all the while as you lean forward to tower over the quivering mess of a man you had sculpted with your teasing. Your palms press smoothly into the ground beneath Rex’s head as you support yourself to glance over him. The sensation is almost icy against the clamminess of your palms, but it's easy to ignore the cutting feeling as your lips brush just barely against his own with the proximity of your faces.

“What is it you want from me, cyare?”

Rex groans at the sound of his mother tongue on your lips, panting harder as his resolve crumbles to dust at last and forces him to jerk upwards to cup your face with a clammy palm. Your lower half sits slick and eager against the muscles of his abdomen and you know he can tell that you’re just as desperate for him as he is for you. But even still, you refuse to back down, not until you’ve succeeded in winding him just that last little inch further.

His thumb swipes over the apple of your cheek and you tilt your head to steal the tip of it past the part of your lips, tongue dashing across the pad of it just slightly, but enough to leave him reeling once more and tighten the fist his spare hand now has fisted in the mess of uniform beneath his hips.

“Please-” his voice is strained and gravelly as his words finally find purchase in the hazy air between you. “Need you, need you so badly.”

The way his groans wrap so delightfully around his whine of your name is all it takes for you to put an abrupt end to your foreplay. You grant him one last fleeting kiss before pulling backwards from his face, savouring the way his eyes snap open wide with shock and the way his upper body all but catapults upwards on his forearms when your hand reaches behind to finally grasp hold of his weeping cock. He barely has time to choke down on his words as you rise to angle your hips before you sink down and split yourself open across his lap.

Your eyes roll backwards behind closed lids at the stretch of him. He’s impossibly hot and pulsating within you as your hips settle flush together, his pelvis pushed directly against your clit with the angle. It dawns on you then, amidst the haze of sensuality clouding your thoughts, that you’ll likely never quite get used to the incredible size and strength of him, and that thought excites you more than you thought it possibly could.

You sigh deeply as you give an experimental buck of your hips, the sound tapering off into a moan at the creeping pleasure that licks up your spine from the shallow movement alone. The calloused palm of a hand laces itself with your own, and your eyes crack open to see Rex staring up at you with utter reverence. The borderline slack-jawed expression he sports as gazes over your body promises to turn you bashful with the sincerity of its emotion, of all things.

“You’re beautiful.” His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it and it threatens to sap the final dregs of your bravado from your bones, your dominance faltering to fold in on itself. You counter his praise with another roll of your pelvis, only to whimper as he hits up inside you so perfectly that stars flash behind your vision. Your hands splay out against his chest as you work yourself into a sloppy rhythm, pleasure dictating the pace of your hips. Rex’s free hand slips down your body until the pad of his thumb can swipe against your clit in firm strokes, his ministrations still managing to drag a sob from your throat despite the slight quiver in his wrist.

“Fuck, Rex!” Your words are as broken as the shuddering movement of your hips and Rex’s other hand unfurls itself from your own to support your body as you bounce on his cock. “If you keep - if you keep doing that…”

He’s thrusting up into you now in return, grinding against your cunt so perfectly that you can feel your toes curl. His thighs slap against your own in a way that’s almost obscene, but it's difficult to focus on the sound amidst the way his hands work you in tandem: rubbing tight little circles against your clit with one while the other firmly pulls you down in time with his thrusts.

“It’s ok.” He whispers hoarsely to you, concentration strangling around the pent up affection in his tone. “Let me take care of you - take care of you the way I want to forever.”

The force of your orgasm knocks your head back and drops your mouth open into a silent scream. It ripples through you, catching the breath in your lungs and causing you to flutter around Rex even as you still above him. The increased sensation has him gasping and lunging forwards off of the ground. He pulls you against his chest and holds you tight as his hips stutter up into you harder. The newfound angle catches the both of you off guard and has you warbling his name with a sob, wound tight and shaking through the waves of white-hot pleasure bottoming out within your belly, completely and utterly overstimulated as you chase the light few drops of your release.

Rex follows soon after, yelling out as your walls milk him for everything he has until you slump forward against him. A plea of your name fades into a groan that you echo in time as he releases inside you, his abdomen flexing as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and delight in the way his breath fans across your skin and tingles over your frazzled nerves.

Your limbs buzz with fatigue as you drop your full weight against him, completely sated but exhausted once more. A mewl of a moan shivers from you as Rex shifts beneath you to support your boneless weight and pull you closer within his arms. His breathing has evened out much faster than you thought it capable of, yet he’s currently still clinging to you as though you’ll disappear if he relaxes in full for even a moment. His head rests lightly against your own as you hazily latch on to the exposed stretch of skin next to where your face is situated, slowly but possessively marking his collarbone in a way that has him shivering and tightening his hold on you even further. Your lips and teeth pair to stain him with a wordless contract that mirrors the one that decorates your own décolleté.

You are mine and I am yours.

The sun casts warmly into the entity of the cave now and you know that soon you’ll need to begin your journey back to Obi-Wan and the others, or at the very least contact them with the reassurance that you are both still alive. But alas, your mind is foggy with the lull of your afterglow, and as Rex begins to massage the aching expanse of your back and hips you find your thoughts occupied solely on the Captain once again. You smile, love-sick and dopey and so grateful that he can’t see your expression from where you’ve melted against his neck.

Though the rumbling chuckle that sounds throughout his chest and the twitch of his jaw against the crown of your head makes you realise that he most certainly felt it.

Surely the Jedi could bear to wait a few extra hours at least.

You certainly needed the time to formulate a stream of excuses for the state of you both, if nothing else.

[nobodycallsmerae]

40 followed by 37 for Bbrae!!! Fluuuuuuuffffffffff

Imma be honest, this is one of my personal favs now.  ___ His clothes looked ragged,  his hair messy, his breath was coming out in urgent huffs, and he could barely hold on to the plastic bags in his hands.  ‘Dude…’ Dick raised an eyebrow, getting the bags from the shapeshifter’s light grasp. ‘We sent you to bring the take-out… not go fight King Kong. What happened?’ ‘The kids, they ambushed me!’ Gar exclaimed, a traumatized look in his eyes. ‘I will never forget the look in Mar'i's eyes when she took that cone from me.’ He shivered. Dick and Kory Grayson were visiting Gar and Raven in their recent trip to Jump City. As their trip was kind of impromptu, Dick insisted on just getting some take-out food for later. The shapeshifter had agreed to retrieve their food, and then even thought of getting ice-cream for Jake and Mar’i Grayson, to get more brownie points as their “cool uncle”. But he never expected to practically be mauled in his front yard by two toddlers when he’d announce that he’d got ice-cream for them. He should probably keep in mind that the kids had the blood of Nightwing and Starfire coursing through them. ‘Man, they really are half aliens… no normal toddlers can do this.’ Gar pointed at his devilish profile. ‘Well… they are my kids.’ Dick proudly puffed his chest.

‘Oh, you’re here.’ A calm voice was heard from the doorways. ‘What happ-’ ‘What are you doing here!?’ Gar exclaimed as he saw his wife walking up to them, Kory behind her. ‘You can’t just come here like that! What if you hurt yourself!! You can trip, you can fall, you ca-’ ‘Relax, Gar, I’m fine.’ Raven deadpanned. ‘You don’t have to wor-’ ‘Oh, no, young lady, you’re going to your room, right now!’ Gar walked up to her, cutting her off again. ‘You have to take care of yourself, Rae! You have to rest and not do anything and-’ The rest of the shapeshifter’s blabberings were muffled as he led his wife to their room. ‘They’re so adorable!’ Kory squealed, taking a seat beside her husband. ‘I wish you’d been so worried when I was pregnant.’ ‘Hey! I was a nervous wreck!!’ Dick exclaimed, looking low-key offended. ‘And you were the one who told me not to worry so much!!’ ‘I did,’ Kory sighed. ‘But Garfield’s just being so cute.’ Dick pouted and Kory laughed at the sight of her husband.  ‘Aww.. don’t worry dear,’ Kory cooed. ‘You’re really cute too.’  Back in Gar and Raven’s room, Gar was blabbering effortlessly while Raven was sitting on the bed. ‘You have to be more careful, Rae! How many times have I told you, tell me if you need anything, and don’t go anywhere alone-’ ‘K-Kory was with me!’ Raven meekly replied. ‘Gosh, Gar, I’m pregnant, I don’t have a broken leg-’ ‘Don’t say anything like that!!’ Her green-skinned husband exclaimed. ‘And what if she wasn’t! You should be more careful and-’ Gar suddenly stopped and exhaled, and rubbed his face with his hands. He silently walked towards their bed and plopped beside Raven. ‘I’m sorry...’ He sighed. ‘For being such a worry-wart?’ Raven turned to look at him. She chuckled lightly as he pouted by her response. ‘It’s okay…’ She chuckled, stroking his cheek. ‘It’s just that…’ Gar began, nervously. ‘Now that Dick and Kory are here… with Mar’i and Jake… it-it’s finally hitting me, ya’know? That soon, there’s going to be one more human being with us.. T-that we’re gonna become.. p-parents.’ ‘I know…’ Raven gave him a soft smile. ‘You’re gonna be a dad…’ ‘You’re gonna be a mom.’ ‘And I feel we’re gonna do great…’ She said.  ‘I..’ Gar debated whether to say it or not, but looking at the loving look Raven was giving him, he sighed. ‘I’m… really scared, Rae. Will they like me..? What if they d-’ ‘They’re gonna love you, darling.’ Raven held both of his hands in hers. ‘You’ll be the best father. I can assure you that. And… I’m scared too… so at least we’re on the same page here.’ She chuckled. The green-skinned man closed his eyes, feeling the love and warmth surrounding him. ‘Thank you, Rae… for always being here with me.. and for me.’ He smiled. ‘And now for..’ He gently stroked her slightly large belly and kissed it. ‘Thank you, Gar… for loving me…’ Raven brought his face closer to hers, and rested her forehead against him.  ‘And this here, this moment, there’s no one in the world I’d rather be with.’ She caressed his face and kissed him passionately, their words making both of them slightly teary.  ‘Well, I gotta get going.. Dick and Kor are probably waiting..’ Gar announced after a few moments of comfortable silence. ‘You need anything?’ ‘Nah,’ Raven smiled. ‘I just wanted to see my husband.’ After giving her a soft peck on the lips, and after making sure she was comfortable, Gar headed out of their room with a smile. Outside, Dick regarded him with a cheeky grin. ‘Hey Gar!!’ He exclaimed. ‘I almost forgot, I got something for you!’ ‘Aww dude, you didn’t have to..’ Gar smiled, but as he saw the thing his friend was holding out to him, he slightly furrowed his eyebrows. 'Umm... a garbage bag?' Gar asked.  'No, it's a bag filled with dirty clothes.' Dick smirked. But by the look his friend was giving him, he exclaimed, 'Not mine! The kid's.' '...Why are you giving this to me?' 'Oh you have to wash them.' Dick smiled slyly. 'What the- Why??' Gar's eyes opened wide and he looked at the man in front of him with disbelief. 'You wanna be a good father or

not?' The former leader asked in his most no-nonsense voice. 'Yes, I wanna...' The to-be-dad replied. 'But why do I need to wash-' 'Then you have to know how to wash clothes properly!!' Dick exclaimed, cutting him off. 'They aren't like regular clothes, they're softer and fragile. You don't want the baby getting skin allergies or rashes, do you now? So go and wash them as carefully as you can! Do you understand?!' 'Yes sir!' Gar saluted his friend as an impulse and comically ran towards the laundry room. Kory, who'd been listening to the whole conversation from the shadows floated beside her husband with a chuckle. 'Those were Jake's old clothes, weren't they?' She asked with a giggle. 'Yup.' The man answered with a cheshire's grin. 'Then why'd you give him to wash them?' The alien asked. 'Jake doesn't even wear them anymore... And you've never washed any of our kid's clothes, mister.' 'Okay, dear, sheesh,' Dick raised his hands in surrender, laughing. 'Firstly, he's my friend, I have the right to tease him. Mercilessly.' He muttered the last word with a mischievous grin, which made his wife raise an eye-brow. 'And second,' Dick Grayson smiled proudly. 'I just want to give Gar a warm welcome to fatherhood.' ____ If you've read my fics, you'd know that I'm kinda infamous for my endings 😂😎 

[Send me a prompt!!]

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

feel like i’m drowning (johnny suh)

Summary: You’ve always had a love/hate relationship with your roommates older brother Johnny, and when he comes to visit the worse for wear, things aren’t any different.

A/n: Commission, I hope you like it!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: oral (f. receiving), teasing, vaginal fingering, some dirty talk, some possessive behavior, it’s honestly pretty soft for what it is, alcohol tw

Word Count: 5216

It takes a month before what you feared would happen when you moved in with your best friend actually happens.

You love her to death, you’ve been friends since middle school and when she’d gone to college and you’d taken a year off “to explore things” (much to your parents’ chagrin), you’d missed her terribly. So when you finally join her on campus and she has her own place, a house nearby that is falling apart but has three bedrooms and a big kitchen, you’re both excited to see each other.

The honeymoon period can only last so long, however, and you’re well aware of that because for all the wonderful things about your best friend Leah, she has one incredible, fatal flaw.

Her older brother, Johnny Suh.

You’d first met him when you were 15 and he was 17 and you remember how wide your eyes had gotten when he blasted past you on his skateboard, how your face had screwed up in disgust when he’d sat down on the curb and lit a cigarette.

“That’s gross,” you’d said snootily.

He laughed and looked up at you. “Nice to meet you too, princess.”

You’d hated him ever since, carrying around his stupid skateboard all the time and the eternal pack of cigarettes in his t-shirt pocket and his stupid smirk and the way his bangs falling into his face made your heart race just a little.

“Y/n-ah,” Leah says in a sing song voice and you roll your eyes, knowing something is coming.

“What do you want?”

She pouts at you, batting her brown eyes. “Who says I want something?”

“You only call me Y/n-ah when you want something, Leah. You don’t even speak that much Korean?”

“My parents want me to learn, I’m trying!” She insists. “Listen, so...I’m going to head over to Jae’s tonight but I have the slightest problem.”

“I don’t have any condoms,” you say, deadpan, and she smacks your shoulder with the heel of your hand.

“Not that!” She screeches, and then flushes. “I have those. Anyway, so my brother is coming in tonight and I need you to be here to let him in -”

You stop dead, having been washing the dishes, and you almost drop a mug onto the floor. “Johnny is coming?”

“Yeah? I only have one brother?”

“And you want me to let him in?”

“Come on, Y/n, you don’t still have a crush on him, do you?” Leah bumps you with her hip and you sputter.

“I’ve never had a--” You pause and take a deep breath. “Fine, what do I get if I stay and let him in.”

Leah gives you a big smile and blinks innocently at you. “My eternal love and gratitude?”

You give her a withering look. 

She huffs, her smile fading. “Fine, I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

You keep staring, unblinking.

“Fine, a month!”

You grin. “Would have done it for two weeks. You’re terrible at negotiating.”

The rest of the day goes by much faster than you want it to, and part of you wants to take it all back when she gets all dressed up and heads out to her boyfriend’s for the night.

You don’t even know why you’re so nervous, he’s just your best friend’s stupid brother who thinks he’s so fucking cool but he’s not even that cute and-

There is a knock on the door while you’re internally raging on the couch.

“There’s a doorbell, you idiot,” you mutter, but your palms are sweating when you jerk the door open. 

He’s rolling luggage behind him with a backpack slung over one shoulder, bangs hanging in his face like always.

“Hey-” He looks down at you and blinks, comically, as if he wasn’t expecting to see you. “Oh. Is that you, princess?”

“Y/n,” you correct.

He nods, still staring, and you huff out a breath and grab the handle of his luggage, ignoring the zing through your hand when your fingers brush his.

You roll it into the guest bedroom and you don’t even realize he’s following you until you turn around and bump into his chest.

“Slow down, princess,” he murmurs, taking your shoulders in his hands and your mouth goes dry.

You let out a long breath through your nostrils and push past him.

“Not gonna give me the tour?” He calls, and you feel like screaming.

“You’re grown, explore on your own,” you shoot back, slamming the door of your room and ignoring his laughter.

You focus on your studies, having an essay due the following morning, so it’s a few hours before you take out your earbuds and stretch, hearing a banging around in the kitchen.

Your curiosity outweighs your frustration with him and you pad your way into the kitchen, now dressed in a pair of yoga shorts and a camisole.

Johnny is reaching in the top cabinet for the bottle of tequila Leah always keeps there for impromptu parties or breakups with her on again off again boyfriend, and you cross your arms, tsking.

Johnny pulls it down and looks at you, smiling a bit sheepishly. “Leah never changes.”

“Neither do you. Must be a family trait.” You sit down at the kitchen table.

Johnny shrugs. “You might be right.”

There’s something about the way he says it, flat and listless, that makes you frown.

“Is something...is something wrong?” You find yourself asking.

He shrugs again, brings two shot glasses over to the table, fills his own and then looks at you with the lip of the bottle poised over your glass.

You nod almost imperceptibly and he pours one for you as well. When he sits down you raise your eyebrows at him.

“You didn’t even get the limes? What the fuck?”

He laughs and watches you head to the fridge and bring out a container of lime wedges to sit between you.

You throw back your shot before sticking the lime wedge in your mouth and biting down, making a face.

Johnny watches you, just a hint of a smile on his mouth. 

You scrunch your nose. “What?”

“You grew up cute, princess.”

You cough a little on the tequila. “Shut up and take your shot, you coward.”

He does, shooting it back and then making a face.

You push the bowl of limes toward him and he rolls his eyes and bites down on one.

“Oh. That is better.”

You scoff. “Told you.”

The alcohol burns in the back of your throat, already making your head feel a bit lighter. You aren’t much of a drinker, so it doesn’t take much.

He doesn’t talk much, and that’s unusual, you remember as a kid hanging on every word he said even though you’d disagreed with most of it and brattily told him as much.

“Did something happen back home?” You ask after he takes another shot and you decline one. You tilt your head, concerned.

“Ah, nothing to be concerned with, princess.” When you frown, he looks up and gives you a weak smile. “Nothing to do with Leah.”

You bristle just a little. “I didn’t say I was asking because of Leah.”

“Yeah, well, I figured. You’ve never liked me much, yeah?”

His tone is all flat again, so unlike the teasing lilt he always had, and it just makes you frown harder.

“Didn’t say that,” you insist, stubbornly.

“Didn’t have to,” he says with a chuckle, pouring a third shot for himself and hovering the bottle over your shot glass again.

You don’t know why you nod, you don’t even like tequila, but something about the look on his face, that wry chuckle, makes you cheer him with your shot glass before biting down on the wedge of lime.

He keeps staring at you, propping his chin in his hand, and it’s making your face feel more flushed than the alcohol is.

“So what’s been going on with you?” You ask, to make conversation, and he shrugs again, looking down at his hands. He’s twisting a ring around his index finger.

“Lot of different shit, really,” he starts, and you wonder if he’s finally tipsy enough to tell you what’s wrong. Instead, he looks up at you, eyes trailing along the line of your neck. “You really did grow up while I was away, huh?”

“Don’t be weird,” you mumble.

Johnny laughs, reaches out to grab the bottom of your chair and scoot you closer to him. You squeak when your knee bumps his.

Of course he’s wearing ripped jeans, when is he ever not wearing ripped jeans, and your bare skin against his makes your head feel light on your shoulders.

“It’s true,” he insists. “You always were a pretty princess, but you’re something else, now.”

“You’re not even that much older than me.” You tilt your chin up defiantly.

“I’m still your oppa,” he murmurs, and his face is close, too close, so you clear your throat and pour you each another shot.

It’s another two shots before you’re well and truly drunk and bold, going so far as to prop your legs up on his lap, settling back in the kitchen chair comfortably. 

His fingers light along your ankle, trailing up to the back of your knee and back down again casually, as if it wasn’t making your heart beat faster. To your credit, you don’t react, just watch him with half lidded eyes.

“Your skin is so soft,” he mumbles, words slurred around the edges.

You can’t deny that when you were younger, you’d thought about this, imagined what his hands would feel like on your skin, his deep voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, even as you hated yourself for it. 

Instead of an insult or a witty comeback, you find yourself thanking him for the compliment.

He looks up at you, surprised, and your breath catches in your throat when he lifts one of your legs to his mouth, planting a soft kiss just on the inside of your ankle bone.

“Johnny,” you breathe.

“Mmm?” He smiles against your skin and you wonder if it’s possible for all the blood to rush to your genitals at once.

“Do you want to see my bedroom?”

He looks surprised only for a moment before nodding, and you manage not to stumble when you stand. Your hand feels so small in his when you lead him to your room, and you crawl onto the bed and then turn to look at him with a pout.

He makes a show of looking around, glancing up at the fairy lights stretching across your ceiling. “A room fit for a princess.”

“Shut up and come here,” you say, and you don’t even care that it comes out like a whine.

Johnny laughs and crawls into bed with you and you twist to face him. He loses his smile when you place your palms on his chest.

“Princess...Y/n,” he starts, but you silence him by pressing your mouth to his.

He makes this sound into your mouth, something between a groan and a growl and it makes you clutch at his t-shirt, press your tongue into his mouth.

He kisses you back at first, his hand going to the back of your head and he tastes like tequila and tobacco and all your teenage wildest dreams but then he’s tugging your hair, his other hand on your shoulder to move back from you.

“Y/n, you’re drunk,” he says firmly, running his tongue along his lower lip.

“M’not,” you lie, trying to press in closer to him but his hands are tight on your shoulders, not allowing you to get closer like you want to. You pout. “I want you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, and drops a chaste kiss on your forehead before climbing out of your bed even as you protest. “I need some air.”

Anger rises up in you, you’re tipsy and needy and your skin feels hot all over and your head is starting to pound. You throw a pillow at him that he barely ducks.

“Fine! Get out! I don’t need another mistake, anyway,” you spit out and he blinks once, twice, face looking wounded.

“Ha. Okay, then.”

You’ve buried your face in the pillow but you hear how low his voice sounds, how the door closes softly behind him.

You wake up to the sound of Leah yelling.

“Fucking shit, Johnny, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing sitting in the dark with a bottle of tequila like some kind of --wait is that my fucking tequila?!”

You wince and head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth, your head aching. You remember taking the third shot with Johnny and then bits and pieces and you’re mortified by what you do remember, the way he’d pushed you away.

By the time you head into the kitchen for a much needed glass of water, Leah has retreated to her room. You gulp down half the glass and you can’t help stepping into the living room, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Johnny is sitting on the couch, not in the dark anymore since Leah had flipped on the light, a nearly empty bottle of tequila nestled between his thighs. 

You wrinkle your nose. “You drink all that by yourself?”

Johnny blinks up at you, eyes glassy, before sneering.  “What do you care?” 

You let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk and I shouldn’t have been...anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you didn’t make a mistake.” His tone isn’t raised, just low and flat like it was last night.

You sit down hesitantly on the couch next to him, perched on the edge of the cushion.

“I didn’t mean that.”

Johnny snorts, not looking at you, eyes fixed forward on the television which is turned off. “Yeah, you did.”

“I didn’t,” you insist, and take his hand, squeezing it so that he looks at you. “I’m sorry,” you say again, softly.

“S’okay,” he mumbles, eyes on your mouth. “Wanted to kiss you for so long.”

You manage not to choke on air, but it’s a near thing. “You...you what?”

He drops his forehead to your shoulder as if he’s tired, and you wonder if he’s been up all night. 

“Always thought you were the prettiest princess,” he mumbles against your shoulder and your heart skips a beat.

Your fingers thread through his hair, longer than it had been a couple of years ago when you’d last seen him. “You should get some sleep.”

“Mmm.” You’re not sure if that’s an agreement or not until he shifts on the couch, placing his head in your lap.

You let out a sound, not in protest, exactly, more in surprise, and he frowns when you move your hand from his hair, looking up at you with hazy eyes and taking your hand to put it back.

It’s cute, you have to admit, he’s cute, and he’s breathing slow and even in moments when you start running your fingers through his hair.

Leah raises an eyebrow when she comes through the living room. “So are you not over your crush on my brother yet?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, flipping on the television and putting the volume on low.

Leah perches on the arm of the couch. “He’s been having a rough time lately,” she says softly. “I’m glad you were here for him.”

You feel a pang of guilt rocket through you at her words. “He didn’t say anything about having a hard time.”

Leah nods. “You know Johnny, he doesn’t like talking about his feelings. I think he just thought things would be different for him in Los Angeles but he’s not getting as much traction with his music as he wanted and he was dating this girl….didn’t end well.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly, feeling like scum for how you’d acted last night.

“He’s probably just homesick, it’s why he wanted to come and see me.” Leah ruffles her brother’s hair. “Dumbass,” she says fondly. Johnny barely stirs.

After sitting and chatting for another few moments, Leah heads back out to her boyfriend’s and you stay still, unwilling to get up and disturb him. After you’ve watched two hours of a Snapped marathon, he stirs and sits up, groaning and rubbing his hands over his face.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and you stop him from getting up with one hand on his chest.

“Stay here.” You return in a few moments with a plate of toast and a big glass of water and he looks at you as if you’re the sun.

“Thank you. Bless you.”

You watch him devour the toast and gulp down the water.

“So,” you start, and then trail off, not sure how to approach the subject.

“So?” He doesn’t look up from his plate, mouth full of toast.

You huff out a breath. “So, I’m sorry about last night, but to my credit you didn’t tell me that you were going through something.”

Johnny scoffs. “What would that have accomplished?”

“I would have been nicer!” You hit his shoulder with the heel of your hand. 

“Would have been nicer, she says, and then hits me.” He rubs his shoulder dramatically. “Highly suspect.”

You pout but you smile nonetheless. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Johnny looks at you, head tilted slightly. “Yeah? Not like we’ve ever been friends, princess.”

You shrug. “I’m older and wiser now. And over my high school crush.”

Johnny’s eyes widen and you wince at your slipup. “You had a crush on me?”

“Oh, god, shut up. Tell me what’s going on with you.” Your cheeks feel hot and you cross your legs under you on the couch.

Johnny’s grin fades just slightly. “All right, fine, but we’re coming back to that,” he warns, and you scoff.

“Leah said that you were homesick.”

Johnny shrugs. “I guess. I had these big plans, big dreams, and it just….it feels like everything’s falling apart. It’s like I”m drowning, barely keeping my head above water.  Like I was better off here, skipping classes to go to the skatepark and flirting with you.”

You ignore his last comment. “No one has it all together after a few months, Johnny. I certainly don’t. I took a year off to find myself and it’s not like I even know who I am yet.” You laugh. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

Johnny smiles. “Thank you for saying that, it makes me feel better.”

“That’s what I’m here for, to throw myself at my high school crush and then make him feel better about his quarter life crisis,” you say dryly.

Johnny grins, eyes lighting up as he leans toward you. You’re close to the same height so his face is close to yours again and again, it makes your heart speed up. He just looks at you for a long moment and you’re so sure he’s going to kiss you until he stands up.

“Hold that thought,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

You sit there with your mouth open for a moment as he heads out to the porch.

“Johnny fucking Suh,” you mutter. Instead of waiting for him, after a couple of moments you storm out to the porch.

He leans against the rail of the porch, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, those fucking bangs falling in his face again.

“Johnny fucking Suh,” you repeat, to him this time, and he smirks around the cigarette before taking it out and blowing smoke from his nostrils.

“Can’t say that’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

“What’s your deal? You pushed me away when I kissed you last night but then you told me I was pretty and now you…” you trail off. “What do you even want?”

Johnny tilts his head, smoking, as if he’s thinking. “Hadn’t thought about it that much.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted.

“You haven’t--”

He tosses his cigarette, steps closer, and thumbs at your bottom lip. 

“Want to kiss you while you’re sober,” he murmurs, leaning forward, and you tilt your chin up just slightly. Instead of kissing you, though, he slips his thumb between your teeth and you bite down gently.

He chuckles low in his throat. “Okay, princess. Point taken.”

Johnny takes your face in one hand, squeezing tight so that your mouth opens and slides his tongue in your mouth, making you whine. It’s maybe the dirtiest kiss you’ve ever had, not much style, just wet and aggressive and it makes your skin tingle all over.

You find yourself wondering if he kisses like this, what else is in store, and your arms go around his neck, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Y/n,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“What?” You gasp out, pouting a little as you back off.

“You gotta let me shower first, I smell like tequila and depression.”

You’re surprised into a laugh, and step backwards, feeling only a little embarrassed at your needy behavior. “Fair enough.”

You don’t start to feel awkward until you’re in your room, naked under your covers and wondering if that was just an excuse to get away from you, if he wouldn’t show up after all, until you hear a faint knock on the door.

“Come in,” you call, holding the covers up to your neck just in case it’s Leah and trying to brace yourself for disappointment if it is.

It’s Johnny after all, no more ripped jeans but instead gray sweats and a white tanktop, hair damp and slicked back, no more bangs in his face.

It’s different, somehow, seeing him stripped bare like this, and you worry your lip between your teeth, feeling exposed even under the covers.

“Change your mind already?” He teases, but he steps inside and closes the door anyway.

“Lock it,” you say, hiding your face under the covers when he raises an eyebrow at you.

You keep your face hidden until you feel him sit down on the bed beside you.

“You gonna tell me about this crush you had on me?”

“Oh, fuck, no,” you groan.

Johnny tugs down the covers and then takes in a sharp breath. “Oh, princess, you were expecting me after all.”

“Who else would I be expecting?” You mutter, hiding your face with your hands.

He laughs, taking your hands in his and leaning down to kiss you, softly this time, none of the aggression from earlier.

When you try to slide your tongue into his mouth, he pulls away and you groan in frustration.

“Ah-ah, gotta tell me about that crush first,” he teases.

You struggle into a sitting position, moving the covers to reveal your breasts, and his eyes flick downward, tongue darting out to wet his lips, but then back up to your face as if unbothered.

“I couldn’t stand you, but I thought you were hot,” you admit with a sigh. “Kinda wanted you to hold my hand and kiss me and stuff.”

“I thought you were into those jock types. Like that one guy, whatshisface?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” You’re sitting there with your tits out and he’s talking about some old high school boyfriend of yours?

Johnny scrunches his nose. “That guy you dated junior year. The big one.”

You roll your eyes. “What, were you jealous?”

“Yeah, a little.” Johnny looks down at your breasts again, takes them in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your nipples, and you gasp.

“Johnny.”

“Hmm?” He’s focused on your breasts, on how your nipples peak under his hands.

“Shut up and fuck me already.”

His eyes dart to your face, just a hint of a smirk on his face. “Orders from the princess?”

You huff out a breath but he tears the sheets off you, kisses down your hipbone and you lose any breath you’d had to complain.

It’s a combination of the way his mouth feels on your clit and the low moan he lets out against you that makes you cry out, and you bite the back of your hand to muffle the sound.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moan, threading your fingers through his damp hair, and he makes that low groan/growl sound that has your hips bucking up to meet his mouth as he latches his lips around your clit. He works his tongue against you, side to side, he’s good at this, he’s had tons of practice, you’re sure, but holy fuck. You’re not one of those girls that finds it easy to get off, even by yourself, but you’re so close it feels like your clit is swollen beneath his mouth, heat flooding through your body.

Just as you’re about to cum he moves his tongue from your clit to slide inside your pussy, lapping you up like you’re some exquisite meal, and you let out a whimper and a frustrated sigh, clenching your thighs around his head.

You hear him chuckle as he nips at your inner thigh, making you yelp quietly. You’re sure there will be a mark there, and the idea makes you feel hot all over again before he slides two long fingers inside you, curling up, and latches his full mouth around your clit again, sending you over the edge in just those two motions. You bite down hard on the back of your hand to not alert Leah that her older brother is face deep in your pussy, rolling your hips up to meet his face.

You tug on his hair, impatient, your pussy clenching around nothing, and he slides up your body, his mouth and chin shiny with your slick. He kisses you just like on the porch, rough and dirty, moans into your mouth.

“You taste so sweet, princess,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you feel him hard against your hip, bigger than you’d imagined.

You twist away from him, digging in your bedside drawer and bringing out a selection of various condoms.

Johnny raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh, fuck you, it’s college, I’m prepared.”

“Hmm,” is his only response, but he doesn’t waste time, tugging down his sweats and your eyes widen only slightly at how thick he is, redder toward the head, bobbing against his abdomen.

He applies the condom but doesn’t slide inside you like you expect, instead working three fingers in your pussy, stretching you, making you gasp for air.

“You’re so tight, princess. Haven’t used these condoms much, yeah?”

“Oh fuck off, that’s not how it works and you know it,” you gasp out, and he laughs, loud and open. 

He takes one of your thighs in his hands and moves you so that he’s between your thighs and your knees come up instinctively, your pussy aching to have him inside you.

His eyes are darting between your sex and your face and you bite your lip.

“Johnny, what the fuck are you waiting for, come on,” you whine, but he keeps looking down at you with dark eyes.

“Don’t want you to have used them much,” he mumbles, so low you’re not sure if you’ve heard him, and you blink.

“Are you...are you being serious?”

He shrugs, kneading your thigh with one hand.

A moment of inspiration hits and you sigh. “Well, if you’re not gonna fuck me, let me up so I can go and find someone who will. It’s a big campus, there’s lots of jocks from the lacrosse team-”

Johnny makes that growl/groan sound again and your heart speeds up.

“Real cute, Y/n.” He leans down to kiss you, nipping at your lower lip as he finally pushes inside you, and you’re glad he’s kissing you because your cry definitely wouldn’t have been quiet otherwise.

He feels so hot and hard inside you, you can feel him pulsing and you lift your legs up with your hands below your knees so that he can fuck you deeper and he groans loud against your mouth. Apparently he doesn’t have the same worries about Leah finding out, because he’s making all kinds of noise as he fucks you hard and deep, looking down at where the two of you connect.

“Grip me so tight, princess, so hot and wet, fuck…”

“Johnny, please,” you whine, and you’re not even sure what you’re asking for but he gives it to you anyway, shifting to fuck you harder, hitting this spot inside you that you can barely reach with your fingers and it makes black spots bloom behind your eyelids.

“Every time Leah posted a picture with you I thought about you,” he babbles, never slowing. “Every time she mentioned you I remembered how you looked with your hair falling out of that ponytail you always hand it in, nibbling on your thumbnail and sassing me left and right.”

“Johnny,” you breathe, and then you’re vaulted into another orgasm and he kisses you hard and dirty again but there’s something oddly passionate in it. He grunts into your mouth when he spills into the condom and you breathe hard against his neck until he rolls off you.

“So you had a crush on me too, huh?” You ask, propping yourself up on one elbow.

Johnny groans and laughs at the same time and covers his face with his hands.

“Shut up.”

You can’t stop smiling, and you give him fifteen minutes before you start kissing along his ribs, down to his hipbone, sucking a mark there as he gasps.

When you take him into your mouth, he groans so loud that Leah bangs on the wall.

“Gross!” She yells, and you manage to keep it together, laughing only a little around him before going back to your task.

Later that day when the two of you come up for air, she wrinkles her nose at you both but smiles, and you figure that’s her way of giving her blessing.

You all end up at the campus quad and Johnny is skating when the lacrosse player that you’d hooked up with a few months ago comes up behind you and hugs you from behind.

“Hey!” You greet him brightly, hugging him back and then backing away, about to tell him that you’re seeing someone new.

Before you can though, you feel a kiss on your shoulder, a hand snaking around your waist.

“Hey!” Johnny says brightly. “I’m Johnny, Y/n’s boyfriend.”

“So salty,” Leah says with a snort when the lacrosse player walks off.

“I’m not salty,” Johnny pouts. “Not even the jealous type.”

“Oh word? Lemme go ask him if he wants to take me out tomorrow night, then-”

Johnny bites down on your shoulder gently. “You better fucking not.”

You laugh and you’re not even mad when he lights a cigarette, sitting down on the curb and looking up at you like you hung the moon.

“Do you feel better, now?” You ask, the next night as you’re both sitting on the porch and watching the sunset. “Less like you’re drowning?”

Johnny leans over and kisses your shoulder, open mouthed. “Yeah, feel like I learned how to swim, thanks to you.”