#the shuffle button is automatically stupid shuffle

[personshapedsplder]

I'm gonna shoot the Spotify app w a gun if it insists on putting on that stupid fake "shuffle" again. Put on normal shuffle or I SWEAR

[writeformesinpie]

Carnal Restraint 

Niragi x Fem!Reader 

Summary - The Beach is a dangerous place as you yourself well know. When you are saved by Niragi you realise you owe him. It’s time to make it up to him. 

Genre - Smut 

Warnings - Smut, attempted assault, attempted SA, sleazy non-main characters at the beginning, canon typical content (death, violence, blood, guns etc), explicit language, oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, just all the warnings. 

Word Count - 3.6K

Note - I wrote this after watching the first season and held onto it to edit then proceeded to forget about this one. I hope you enjoy it! Also, remember this is just a fantasy. You deserve better in real life <3

The Beach is not as glamorous as some make it out to be. It’s still part of the borderlands, after all. How grand can it really be?

“Hey baby, you want to come back up to my room?”

Boring.

You don’t bother to respond, flicking your wrist to shoo the faceless man away. Your eyes remain closed as you sit by the pool, sunbathing because protecting your skin isn’t a priority anymore, now is it? Survival is the only thing of worth out here. It should be devastating but there’s a freedom in having nothing. It brings out what’s important, shines on the values that matter.

The faceless man mutters a slur under his breath as he shuffles away. They are all faceless here. They drink. They fuck. They die.

Except for him.

Niragi’s not faceless. He’s here now. His laugh is unmistakable. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the murmurs that follow him are.

He’s the reason you still shave your legs (because let’s be serious, what’s the point in things like that now?). That’s right, the image of that face between your smooth legs, that pierced tongue feasting on you; it’s the only reason to keep beautifying yourself.

A smile flutters across your face. Everything else is still. You’ve seen him watching you, you could have him at any time, but it’s the chase that excites you. You want him to want you.

“What are you smiling about?”

Repressing a sigh, you ignore the second faceless man whose hand is lingering on your thigh. It takes a few more minutes before he gets bored and walks away.

You aren’t stupid, you know they whisper about you behind your back. Let them say what they like. You aren’t here to make friends. This is the easiest place to live. That’s all.

Drowsiness is your cue to head back to your room. The sun is a blessing and a curse. It’s hard to win endurance games with blistering skin. The sounds of people partying aren’t enough to keep you awake anymore. They can laugh, brawl and sing drunken songs, and you can sleep through it all. This place was engraving itself on your skin, becoming home.

Walking into the hotel, the drop in temperature is automatic as a few people run past you laughing on their way out to the pool, you press the elevator button and wait.

“Oh, look who we have here.” It’s the man from earlier. That one that called you a cunt. He has two men on either side of him, closer to you than you’d like. “A stuck up bitch that likes to walk around the place like she owns it.”

You ignore him, turning back to the elevator. Why bother giving him the satisfaction of a response?

“Are you ignoring me, bitch?”

How original. Why is everyone so tedious here?

“She’s ignoring us.”

It happens fast. His fist snakes out and pulls you back by your hair as the bell dings. The elevator door opens. You jab him in the gut and walk forward, followed by the three men. Six arms grabbing at your skin. Swallowing the urge to heave, you instead bite the hand clamped across your mouth. Spinning you bring your heel down on one of their toes.

He’s watching you, that smirk on his face that disappears as the elevator closes. Bastard. Niragi was the last person you wanted to see in this situation. And that smug look. What was that about?

“Shit! She bit me.”

“Hold her down!”

One of them slams your shoulder against the mirror at the back of the spacious elevator with enough force that it cracks. Pain sears up and down your arm as you curse under your breath.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” It’s the one from the pool. His friends snicker. “Do you want to come back to my room now?”

“Not even if you were the last man in the world,” you sputter with a soft laugh. That gets you a punch in your gut. You tumble over, crawling into a ball with a hiss.

“Not so tough now, are you?” He bends down close to your face. The elevator dings and opens as he grabs your face, pulling you up to your feet before pulling you against his lips. Hand on the back of your neck he walks you out of the elevator. “I’m going to be the last man to make you scream.”

“In disgust maybe. You’re not man enough to make me scream,” you say, elbowing his stomach with everything you have. It’s his turn to fall to the ground as the other two descend on you. Picking up one of the potted plants on the side of the elevator you throw it at one of the men and ignore the piece of shit screaming something behind you as you run to the stairway. Rounding the corner, you come face to face with Niragi.

“Who’s not man enough to make you scream?” His eyes glisten with amusement.

“I’m hard to please,” you say looking over your shoulder. The two friends are close behind you, the widening of their eyes comical as they see you standing with Niragi. His reputation is well known. They turn back the way they came quickly.

“Should we stop them?” He smirks, slipping the gun off his shoulder.

“Why bother?” You shrug, tongue sliding along your lips, your eyes locked with his. He picks up on the cue, pushing you back against the wall with his body.

“If I kill them will you give me a treat?”

“I’ll give you a chance,” you say, a smile tucking at the corner of your lips. “If you can make me scream, I’ll return the favour.”

“Yeehaw,” he whispers against your neck, his tongue gliding against your skin before he pulls back, turning the corner. You hear gunshots and the sound of bodies falling. Sneaking a peek around the wall the two men are sprawled across the floor, bullet wounds riddling their now lifeless bodies.

“Yeehaw,” you whisper as you follow him up the hall to the elevator where the creep from earlier is still sitting, begging Niragi to reconsider.

“Please, I didn’t realise you two were a thing. Of course I wouldn’t have touched her if I had known,” he says in a high pitched whimper. “Please. I won’t do it again.”

“I know,” he says before pulling the trigger, causing you to flinch. You thought he was going to play with him a little. He turns to you and motions towards the elevator before walking in.

A soft moan comes from the room as Niragi presses a button. Looking down at the man, his eyes flicker and you realise he’s still alive. From the soft wheeze of his struggling breath coming from deep within his chest, you assume Niragi shot him in the lung.

Before you can look at him for too long Niragi is in front of you, blocking your view, a smirk on his lips. He takes a step towards you, leaving no room to move, your back already up against the wall behind you. His fingers walk up your arms before finding their way into your hair. He pulls your head back and excitement pools between your legs, the previous touch of the man gurgling at your feet forgotten as Niragi’s lips claim yours.

You know it’s wrong. After everything you’ve heard about him, all the vile things he’s capable of. All the things you’ve seen with your own eyes–although not as bad as the claims made by others–do in fact give credence to those very claims. You know it’s wrong, but it’s also exciting. If this isn’t the place to indulge your darkest desires, you don’t know where is. You’re sick of being a good girl, sick of being in control, sick of always doing the right thing.

The ding of the elevator snaps you out of your reverie. His tongue slides across your neck one last time before he turns, leading the way. You take a gander behind you, the man struggles to reach out his hand towards you, eyes bulging before the doors close.

Following behind Niragi in silence you notice how quiet it is up on this floor. It’s rare not to see other people walking the halls here and there, because although the preference is the poolside, people don’t usually hang out there every minute of their day.

He stops to look at you before turning the knob. “Ladies first.” It feels like a dig but you enter the dark room anyway, feeling along the wall for the light.

The door closes and the room darkens, the only light faintly fluttering across the room coming from between the closed curtains. As you find the light switch his hands envelop your fingers, spreading your arms out, his chest against your back as he pins you flush against the wall. He chuckles before nibbling on your neck, his cock already hard against your arse. You hear something placed against the wall near the door, most likely the rifle.

He turns you, the dark outline of him seen through your unadjusted eyes briefly before he throws you over his shoulder. You let out a squeak, clutching desperately at his back as he walks you over to the other side of the room. He plops you down on the bed before you have a moment to gather your thoughts.

“You don’t waste time,” you joke as you bounce on the bed. Before you can add anything else you have to shield your eyes from the sudden intrusion of light as he spreads open the curtains.

“Of course. I want to play with my new toy.”

“Toy?”

He smirks, turning back to open the window, the light sounds of laughter and splashing can be heard from below.

“You looking for an audience?” Squeezing between the pillows you push your back against the headboard.

“Where are you going?” He slithers over and pulls you back down to the bottom of the bed. His hand slips under your shirt, the shock of his touch causing your back to arch. “You’re this sensitive yet you’re hard to please?”

Slapping away his hand you sit up, the noise from outside sounding closer than you’d like. “I’m just cold. Since you opened the window.”

“Then I better warm you up,” he says, a mischievous grin flashing across his face before his tongue dances along his bottom lip.

“You could just shut the window.”

“Shy, too? I wouldn’t have expected that from our earlier conversation,” he says, pushing you back down, his body hovering over yours. His hands push against your shoulders to keep you in place as his tongue glides down your stomach leaving a soft wet trail.

“Not shy. Just private.”

He smirks before his lips caress your hips, nibbling at the flesh. He pulls down your pants, leaving them around your ankles and chuckles at the floral print panties underneath.

“It’s laundry day,” you say, pushing against him. “And the window is still open.”

“You won’t notice it in a moment.” He lowers himself again to your hips kissing along that delicate line between your stomach and underwear.

He grabs your sides and pulls you closer, your legs now dangling off the edge of the bed. Slipping one ankle out of your pants, you slide your legs apart. He kneels between them in silence. Starting to regret stirring up this situation you hover on your elbows looking over your body at him.

“Lay down.” It’s a demand, his tone shocks you into submission, you lay back against the plush bedding. Thoughts scurry around your head with haste, accompanied with feelings of confusion and embarrassment parading to the front of the line.

Then you feel his tongue flicker across your pussy over the fabric of your ill advised choice of panties. He finds your clit and the power of his sucking, tongue swirling over the sensitive flesh, causes you to let out a gasp. The sensation feels both erotic and dirty.

The sensation of his moist tongue flush against you yet denied complete access by the cotton clinging to your flesh is new. His hair tickles your inner thigh, his tongue zigzagging across your sensitive thigh. Wanting more, no, needing more, your fingers start to pull at your underwear only to have him push you back. You try again but this time the pressure of his tongue stops. Assuming he’s about to slip off your panties you sink back against the pillows, but instead of pleasure a searing pain radiates up from the flesh of your skin.

“What the fuck?” you say as you jerk up, practically spitting the words, moving to rub at the red mark he left branded against your skin.

Thrusting his hands against your shoulders you’re slammed back against the bed. This bastard really just went there. He looks down at you, wagging his finger back and forth as you attempt to get up once more. “I’ll tell you when you can move. Feel free to scream all you want but stay still.”

Heat skips across your cheeks as you lie back down, your eyes on his as he takes your clit back into his mouth, his tongue moving circles across the soft flesh. Excitement pools in your lower abdomen, making it difficult to deny. You refuse to scream for this man. Biting your lip you lean back, closing your eyes.

You try to think of another time, attempting to avoid the pleasure the beast between your legs is eliciting, avoiding the way he flicks his tongue while smirking up at you. Why are your eyes open again? But damn if he isn’t fucking georgous. His curves, his bones, his skin. It’s exciting to watch someone so pretty do such dirty things to you.

Curling your toes and clenching your fists you refuse to believe that he can make you come without even getting your pants off completely, your jeans still hanging from your left foot. Think of the jeans, don’t think of his tongue and that piercing or what he’s capable of doing with that mouth when you’re finally naked. Your breath hitches. You're close. Turning to the side you bury your head, hands tight balls as you let the wave of your orgasm flow through you with a soft sigh.

Looking down at him, that smug smile still on his face, he finally pulls your panties down. His tongue laps up the crease of your thighs before taking a bite. “Are you ready to scream?”

“You think you can make–"

Your words are cut off by the sudden pressure of his fingers plunging into your pussy, his lips back on your clit as you throw your head back.

“You’re dripping for me, baby. It’s only a matter of time before I get you to scream.”

Frowning you try to remember why it was you couldn’t scream, why had you decided not to give in fully to the pleasure Niragi was so intent on providing. The reason escapes you as the cold piercing dances across your clit, a contrast to the warmth of his mouth. He’s right, you are dripping. The wet, sloppy sounds of his fingers deep in your cunt makes you want more.

There’s a dangerous hungry look in his eyes that promises a long night. Biting your tongue your fingers pull at his hair before digging into his back, your nails marking him as he finds your spot. He’s got you now and he knows it. His fingers stoke back and forth, caressing your g-spot with persistent precision as his tongue vibrates, the two movements working together in unison until he pulls out of you.

“What?”

Crawling up on your elbows, you frown at the absence of his heat. The slight breeze from the window brings attention to the beads of sweat lining your forehead and down the small of your back. Why the fuck did he stop?

The question is answered as he pulls towards him, “I want everyone to hear you whimper and moan.”

That brings you out of your temporary euphoria. “You wish.”

“I don’t need to wish. You’ll be screaming out for me in a few minutes.”

You scoff. Right as you start to turn away from him he grabs you up and flings you over towards the window, like a ragdoll he has you bent halfway out the window. He blocks your attempts to hit him, pinning your hips painfully against the window frame, your breasts on display for anyone who happens to be looking up from the pool only a few stories below.

“You bastard! Let me go before people see.”

“But baby, I want them to see,” he whispers into your ear, one hand cupping your breast and the other on your ass. He chuckles before licking up your neck. “If you don’t want them to notice then keep quiet.”

“I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

“No, you won’t. By the time we’re done you’ll be thanking me.”

“I very much doubt that,” you say between clenched teeth pushing back hard against his chest. He’s an impenetrable wall.

“Let’s time it and see how long it takes,” he says, bringing his wrist up to you, the Rolex showing 5:53. “I can guarantee that you’ll be screaming before six.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan.” The words resonate against your skin as his tongue flutters across the back of your neck. He massages your breasts, his cock hard against your entrance. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand.”

Gripping the side of the window ledge you bite your lip to hold back the gasp that threatens to escape as his thick cock thrusts into your slick pussy. The angle he has forced your body into enables his dick to pound against that special place, that magical spot that makes you weak in the knees. Fucker. A tear rolls down your cheek as he fills every inch of your pussy with himself, fitting perfectly within you, as if this is where he belongs.

Shuddering, you bite your lip harder as the sinful pleasure of his cock pummels into you over and over until you worry you're about to give in. The moans start as whispers before morphing into loud pants until ultimately they turn into desperate pleas. The heat is gushing through your body like lava on a rampage, unable to stop even with the strong wind blowing against your naked skin. The only thing holding you up as your knees buckle are his hands on your hips. Even your grip on the window loosens; you're complete putty in his hands.

The wanton purr that exits your lips is unfamiliar as his pace quickens, the tears coming down a little faster as he pounds into your g-spot repeatedly. Gulping with sudden abandon, the freshness of the air from this height almost unnoticed, you whine as he bites your ear lobe and neck, his tongue playful against the side of your head.

“You’re so tight.”

The words bounce around for a few moments before they form into something you understand, the bliss causing a delirious fog within your brain. The air up here is too sweet. It’s dizzying as you look down. You can see someone looking up at you but you can’t think why it matters anymore. Blood is pulsing throughout your body, the sound of your heartbeat loud enough that you don’t hear what he’s saying.

“Hmm?”

“I said it’s okay to let it out. Let go. Come for me." His voice is honey and you’re so very thirsty, but when you lean back for a taste he instead twists your hair around his fingers and snaps your head back.

Pleasure and pain erupt within. Shaking, you give into the ecstasy. The need within you is electrifying and inescapable, you allow the pleasure to ripple out, slink across your skin and crescendo from within. You try to ignore the crowd forming below but if you are honest with yourself, it only turns you on more. The intensity of your arousal skyrockets into something you can no longer control.

“Fuck! Oh, God!"

The words are not screams. They are loud, yes, but not screams. The friction is torturous, his pace beyond human comprehension. Howls of rabid pleasure fill the room and you want to tell whoever’s making the loud, guttural sounds to shut up when you realise it’s coming from you. Fuck. You’re like a fucking animal, teeth bared as his own bury into your neck again. It’s enchanted delirium and you’re drowning in it.

“Come for me, baby.”

That’s when the walls begin to crumble beneath you, your body splintering as the waves of fire sputter from within and erupt, every atom ignited in pure bliss. He continues to slide into you slower now but still touching that spot with meticulous skill. Your fire burns down to your bones yet somehow avoids him, only scorching you.

Your vision darkens and blurs as you ride out the final waves. High pitched ringing vibrates within your ears as you cling to the window frame, your legs wobbling as you turn back to him. It takes everything left in you to resist the urge to slap him. He’s holding up his watch, that smirk plastered across his face. 5:57.

“Well, looks like you screamed,” he whispers, pulling you into him, his lips claiming yours. He’s honey and you’re still thirsty. He pulls back, a look of impish delight flashing across his face as he pushes you down roughly to your knees. “You can thank me by returning the favour.”

[sie-rui]

Ok so what if we have a protective draken and hanma over their fem reader like she’s really quite and shy perhaps 🥺🥺

❀ OVERPROTECTIVE (2) | TOKYO REVENGERS

;; the boys are overprotective over their s/o

🥛 — ryuuguji draken ken, hanma shuuji

🧾 — female reader, second pov (you/your), cursing, fluff, violence, protectiveness, au - everyone lives / nobody dies, aged up characters (27), hints of toxicty, established relationship, headcanon

✉ — similar to an old work of mine so here we gooo. also, it wasn’t even on my masterlist for some reason (probably me forgetting to add it immediately) so had to search it up ksdkfja

🔖 — [ 1 | 2 ]

; RYUUGUJI KEN

↠ Draken, despite not appearing so, had always been a little tight in keeping those dear to him close. This includes you.

↠ Seeing that you were a little recluse; quiet whenever around anyone, especially a stranger, Draken’s protectiveness just spiked.

�� He would automatically have a hand on you when you’re in public, discreetly glancing at everyone from the corner of his eyes.

↠ He doesn’t like pushing you into any situations he knows isn’t good for you or you can’t handle. He would rather hold you tightly and keep you in place than throw you at water when you couldn’t swim.

“Just stay put. You don’t have to do anything, I’ll take care of it.”

↠ Perhaps it’s because he watched over the Sano siblings and his fellow members for too long but Draken unknowingly puts everything on his shoulder, unconsciously spoiling you.

↠ It’s like he just likes shielding you from everything at this point.

↠ Secretly likes it whenever you shuffle behind him, using his height to your advantage to slowly hide away.

↠ Draken would constantly check in with you. He loves hearing your voice, even if it’s over a phone call. Just to know that you’re alright.

↠ It is, indeed, quite noticeable how he tends to keep you away from Toman.

↠ Draken puts you first, not wanting to get you uncomfortable or in danger. Imagine everyone’s surprise when he took your side over Mikey’s.

; HANMA SHUUJI

↠ Hanma had always been a little loose, out of it, doing whatever he want and going wherever he wishes.

↠ With you, he still has these but considerably toned down in a greater amount.

↠ Hanma is keenly aware of what pushes your buttons, what are your limits; and though he does poke at it for fun on some days, on others, he would be treading lightly.

↠ You find earlier in the relationship that Hanma gets touchy. At first, this would get you red, squirming away as he tries to keep you in his arms—but you would slowly start to melt into it, knowing his habits.

↠ Despite his seemingly touch-starved actions, Hanma absolutely hates it when someone even grazes at you, knowing that you often flinch away in surprise.

“No one is allowed to touch you. They’ll stupidly be facing me.”

↠ He would be the kind of person who would hype you up to do something stupid but panics when you do get hurt.

↠ Hanma surprisingly encourages you all the time, he wants you to be happy no matter what you do. If you get insecure about it, especially if it involves a huge amount of people, Hanma would be beside you every step of the way.

↠ He doesn’t even realize how hard he’s holding until you start pushing him away.

↠ Would honestly prefer it if he could just coddle on you.

↠ Hanma would willingly get rid of anyone for you. Take this information with caution.

[ ko-fi: sielouu ]

[ tag list: @emergencyfoodpaimon | @primsonnn | @gommiswifey | @alllostone | @lazecchi | @manjiroarchiviste | @chibichab | @salsas-without-the-middle-s |  @dai-tsukki-desu​ |  asawa-ni-senju | m4tsuch1 | chixkadee |  gwynsapphire ]

[bunkerbucky]

Casual Sabotage *Bucky Barnes x Reader*

Reader is hit with sex pollen. Except she doesn't crave her boyfriend, Steve Rogers. No, it's his best friend, Bucky Barnes, that she wants inside of her. Bucky, in the beginning, is a good bro and refuses. But due to the fact she sucks his dick so good he kinda, sorta, loses that restraint and just fucks her regardless of who she belongs to.

Rating: Explicit [+18]

Warnings: Sex pollen= Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Rough blow-job, rough oral-sex, vaginal sex, praise kink, breeding kink, size kink- Bucky has a big dick in this lmao, choking and biting kink, infidelity; Reader cheats on Steve. 

TW: Dub-con- Reader is under sex pollen, so she actually cannot give consent and also because Bucky is so resistant in the beginning. It turns consensual on Bucky's part, he gives in to the temptation. But, obviously, reader is still influenced so... the lines are blurred.

Yourself and Bucky had searched the Hydra base from tippy-top to bottom. There was nothing out of the ordinary, which infuriated you a little. With the amount of recon work you both had to do, the long nights of watching the agents coming and going, you felt like you both deserved a small win, at least.

A long sigh escaped from your lips as Bucky's fingers typed furiously on the computers keyboard, a USB stick in hand just in case he found something exciting. Your arms were crossed over your chest, eyes scanning around the bases' security room, roaming the shelves and cabinets that held nothing of importance. A week of nothing, you wanted to cry.

"Hmm," Bucky low hum attracted your attention, "It says there's a basement to this building, we haven't checked that out." His steel eyes look over the screen and at you, you respond with a shrug of your shoulders. "We've got two hours before the cavalry arrives to pick us up, let's explore and see if we can obtain something to keep from Rogers from complainin'"

You giggle slightly at Bucky's comment, nodding in agreement with him. Steve would have a lot to say if you went back empty-handed, especially since he sent you both rather than himself. But you couldn't lie and say the thought of seeing Steve after so long didn't excite you. You had missed your boyfriend dearly, you weren't allowed on missions together since finally making things official. Work ethics and all that jazz.

Instead, you and Bucky had started to partner up, Steve didn't trust anyone but himself, and Bucky, to keep an eye out for you. Who better to watch over his best girl than his best friend, plus Bucky was your friend before you got with Steve.

"What if we go down there and there's a great, big monster waiting for us?" Sliding into the small elevator beside Barnes.

Bucky looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, "Then I'll be throwing you out as a distraction, so I can press the elevator door button to leave."

You both ended up laughing at his response, although when the doors finally did open and reveal a darkened basement layer... there was a moment of silence, you both side-eyeing one another at the lack of sound and movement.

Bucky stepped off first and the automatic lighting triggered him to pull his gun from its holster, his reflexes sharp and fast. You step off and follow Bucky down the hall towards double doors, the room through those doors was abandoned and huge. Desks with old computers, all smashed and out of use. Stacks of files and paper scattered on desks and the floor. Despite the mess, it all looks really promising, there had to be something amongst the chaos.

You both separate to cover more ground, you only had a limited time before you had to leave. You looked through paper and files, shuffling through stacks of meaningless bullshit. Hydra certainly kept a record of everything, including all the worthless crap. You wondered if they actually printed this stuff to lead you guys on wild goose chases like this, to make sure you were distracted with searching for something important amongst all their bullshit.

You ended up in the far back of the room, a small desk area had random empty vials littered across it. Files labelled in Russian, that you couldn't translate very well.

"Hey, Buck," You called over your shoulder as you lifted an empty vial, a cork tightly shoved in the top; curious. "Think I might've found something."

The vial itself was black, not black liquid, the vial was just black. It didn't feel weighted, it didn't feel like anything was moving inside of it. So, curiosity got the best of you because you yanked the cork off the vial. Black smoke puffed out and into your face causing you to inhale and go into a coughing fit. Waving your arms in front of your face, coughing at the inhalation of whatever was inside that vial.

It smelt like... old leather, peppermint toothpaste and...something else, like a deep musk. Odd.

"Hey, are you okay?" Bucky suddenly appeared at your side, a hand placed on your back and eyeing you with concern. He then grabbed the vial from your hand, it was clear and no longer black. "What happened?"

Your coughing had subsided, you felt fine. "I think there was some kind of smoke or whatever in there, I don't know. The black stuff just burst out, I was stupid-"

"Damn, right." Bucky looked mad, which was a given. "Hydra is known for making gas poisons, Y/N. That was a rookie move, never open strange vials." He didn't sound too mad at you, a little more concerned and worried.

You nodded, frowning when feeling the back of your neck sweating. You felt... hot. A sweat was taking over your body, your mouth was getting dry and your mind was going fuzzy. Bucky hadn't noticed, his eyes cast down to the Russian files on the desk, his hand flipping through the old pages and taking the information in with wide eyes. You briefly wondered if whatever is written in that file had anything to do with that vial.

"Fuck," Bucky muttered.

"What?" Your throat was scratchy, your breathing was becoming laboured and your palms were sweaty.

You didn't feel hot, though. You didn't feel sick either.

"Well, I'm guessing whatever was in that vial was... to put it plainly, sex pollen. It makes the patient unable to think of anything but sex, all they want and all they feel is lust. It's basically either used to breed or on prisoners- the pain of not getting off thoroughly enough can lead to the patient taking extreme measures: death." He shakes his head, you don't notice the horrified look In his eyes at the thought of maybe it being used on him when under Hydra's control. "You're likely fine, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure," You managed to gasp out, your thighs squeezing together and eyes closed, you wanted to feel embarrassed but you couldn't. "My head is spinning and, fuck, I need to get this off. I feel too hot, I'm burnin' up." Clawing at the collar of your own tact suit, your hands were shaking and you couldn't bring yourself to look at Bucky.

You wanted to look at him though. You knew he was standing close to you because you could smell him, he smelt like the black smoke did. He smelt delicious, intoxicating in the best way. God, you wanted him so badly. You needed him.

"It's going to be okay, Y/N. I promise, we'll get you back to Steve and he can-"

You shook your head and finally pulled the zipper down of your jacket, shrugging the bulletproof material off your shoulders.

"Need you." You managed to mumble out, lifting your gaze to Bucky, who was frowning and shaking his head. "Please, Buck. I need you! I can feel my skin crawling and-I'm in so much pain, please." Your voice a mix between a whine and beg.

"I can't- you're not thinking properly. Steve will be here soon and he can help you, he's your boyfriend, remember?"

You pulled the black, tight sleeved henley from your body and let it drop to the floor, it covered in sweat. You're standing in a sports bra and tact pants, chest heaving as you try to intake gulps of oxygen from your panting. Even with half your clothes off you still felt sweat bead and drip down your skin.

"I can't wait that long," You sniffled but no tears forming. "Please, I want you-I've always wanted you. You read the file, I'm going to die!"

Bucky continued to shake his head. "I won't do that Steve. It says that it took a couple of hours till that point, Steve'll be here soon and I'll explain to him what happened."

You groaned painfully, shaking your own head now. Not understanding why he couldn't just help you now. You were in immense pain and the throbbing heat in your core wasn't letting up.

You didn't want Steve to help you. You didn't need Steve to help you, it wasn't just because he wasn't here. You wanted Bucky. The smell of him, the heat radiating off his body when it was close to yours. You craved for him to touch you, to fuck you. You were sure the moment he touched you that the pain would ease, the flames that were consuming you would simmer down.

And you were certain that he wanted you too.

Taking the initiative you moved closer to Bucky, the short hairs on the back of your neck were drenched in sweat, you could feel it drip down your back. You placed a hand softly on his metal arm, the cool vibranium instantly cooling you down. Bucky let out a shaky breath and looked at you, eyebrows furrowing together as he took in your features. You were sure you could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted to help you. To touch you.

It was frustrating that he wasn't giving in. That he wasn't falling to his desires.

"I won't tell Steve, I promise." You whispered and pressed a kiss to his collar, inhaling his scent and shuddering when it filled your senses. He wasn't pushing you away, but he also wasn't giving in to touching you back. "It can be our little secret. I know you'll make me feel really good, he won't be able to help me like you can."

Her other hand trailed down his chest and stopped at his belt, Bucky was too busy telling her everything he had already been saying. Telling you how you love Steve and Steve loves you. It would break Steve's heart if he found out about this talk from you if he knew what you were saying to Buck. You didn't care, not right now anyway. You had always found Bucky attractive and before getting with Steve you had entertained the thought of Bucky, but he was just getting back his life. A relationship seemed too much for him, well that's what you thought.

You didn't settle for Steve, that was never the case. You love Steve, you know that. But, right now, here with Bucky, you knew that he'd be able to help you with this- more than Steve could. Steve was a peaceful lover, an attentive one. You needed this illness fucked out of you- at least, that's what your hazy brain was telling you.

Your hand slipped under his belt, a wide grin taking over your face at Bucky's shock, words choking out as you wrapped a hand around his dick. A sense of pride coming over you as he began to get hard in your hand, a few quick jerks as started to undo his pants with your free hand. Bucky was stunned into silence and compliance, unable to stop you just from the fact he hadn't been touched like this in a while.

He came to his senses when you noticed you get to your knees, his pants undone and pulled down his muscular thighs. Bucky slapped your hands away and tries to pull his pants back up, but you were putting up quite the fight. You roughly pushed him back, he ended up falling to the ground due to his pants restricting his movements. In the moments he fell down and was trying to figure out what happened, you had pulled down his boxers and gulped dryly at his semi-hard length.

"You're so big," You mumbled before wrapping your lips around the tip, a loud groan echoed through the room from Bucky.

You could feel him growing inside of your mouth as you tried to take more of him down, slobbering up his dick and licking around the shaft. Pulling off to run your tongue around the veins and down to his balls, gently suckling them into your mouth as you jerked his length till it was fully standing erect. You smirked to yourself at all of the noises Bucky was making, a hand being placed on your hair- which normally you hated Steve's hand in your hair, but you'd allow Bucky this time.

"Fuck my throat," spit was around your mouth and down your chin, "fuck my throat with your big cock."

Bucky's eyes were wide and lust-filled, there was still a hesitancy from him. A dilemma going on in that head of his, so you wrapped your lips around his cock again and started to slowly take him down. He was bigger than Steve, so much bigger, but that only spurred you on. You wanted him to roughly fuck your throat, you wanted to feel him at the back of your throat even after this.

You felt both his hands on your head... he started to push your head further down, the tip hit the back of your throat and you still hadn't taken all of him. He started to ease past your limitations, your eyes filled with tears as he stuffed your mouth impossibly full. Your lips stretched wide around his girth, he could feel your throat constrict around him and the slight gag you couldn't help because of how far he was down your throat.

"Fuck, so good." Bucky groaned lowly, eyes completely black and bottom lip trapped between his teeth. You knew your panties were soaking, a slickness collecting on your thighs as you rubbed them together, the flimsy material of your underwear was sticking to you and making you rub yourself just to alleviate the friction. "I'll deal with your pussy in second, right now I'm going to fill this hole up."

It was like Bucky snapped, the trepidation he was feeling before was long gone. It was now replaced with this new Bucky, and you loved him.

He wasn't merciful when he started to thrust in and out of your mouth, his balls were slapping against your chin harshly. The grip in your hair was harsh as he pushed and pulled your head to meet his hard thrusts, your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as he basically skull fucked you. Loud gagging sounds, your throat squeezing his cock as you fought for air, he only eased up when you looked like you were going to pass out. It was seconded worth of air before he repeated his onslaught, spit and cum was dribbling down your chin and onto your chest and sportsbra. Bucky kept his eyes on you, it made you shiver how he was looking at you.

Bucky didn't warn you when he was about to cum, instead, he held your head down, almost shoving his entire cock down your throat as loads of his cum spurted out and shot straight down your throat into your tummy. You hardly tasted his cum because of how far he was down your throat. He groaned as he came, swallowing thrusting his hips into your mouth as he milked his orgasm. He pulled you off his cock, it was still hard, thankfully.

He helped pull you to your feet then undressed you, roughly pulling the sports bra off your chest and yanking your pants down your legs. He ripped your panties to shreds and let the tattered pieces fall to the floor, his hungry gaze took in your shaking, naked form. Your thighs were glistening from your arousal and it was still leaking from your pussy, hardly any attention to it made you needy and wishing to be stuffed full.

"Turn around." The authority in his voice made you shiver.

You turned around and felt Bucky place a hand on your shoulder, bending you over the desk where you found the vial. The pieces of paper clinging to your sweaty skin and making you keen into his touch more. He kicked your feet further apart, a hand tickling the insides of your thighs and collecting your sweet juices. Expecting to feel fingers prodding around your entrance, instead, you felt a firm tongue lick from clit to fluttering hole, it dipping inside and collecting the juices wanting to leak out of you.

Your mouth fell open into a silent scream, his tongue was exploring so far into your pussy, his hands gripped your cheeks apart so he could push further inside of you. Tongue fucking you so roughly and expertly, your eyes almost went crossed out from the feeling. You didn't know you could be tongue fucked this good, but Bucky just lived to prove you wrong. The slurping sounds and moans from the man behind you, he lifted and bent your knee to rest on the table; opening you up further for his trained tongue.

"You're gonna have to let me have a taste of this everyday from now on, baby." Bucky groaned against your pussy, mouth closing around your clit as he sucked harshly, your mouths drowning out his own. "Taste so good," the tip of his tongue running figure eights on your engorged clit.

Bucky must've stayed between your legs for minutes, but it felt like hours. He pulled two back-to-back orgasms from you, only using his tongue. When he was done eating your pussy, he stood up and draped himself over your back, an arm wrapping around your neck as he breathed heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock nudge up against your pussy, sliding and coating himself in your juices.

"You ready for me?" You whined your response, trying to push yourself back against him but his arm tightened around your throat- not restricting your airflow. "Think your little pussy can take my dick, dolly?" You nodded in a rush, needing it inside of you otherwise you was going to die. "I've got you," The tip nudges against your entrance and began to push inside, the stretch was painful but welcoming. "Daddy's got you."

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the more he pushed his thick length in the more you moaned. He wasn't even half-way in when you started to babble about how he was too big for you, how he wouldn't fit inside of you. That only made Bucky want to prove you wrong, want to prove that you were made to take him. He started to thrust shallowly, rocking his length in and out of you, impaling you on him more whenever he pushed forward.

Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he stopped and remained inside of your tight, heat for a moment. Relishing in the way you were split open around his cock, your walls were spasming around him and he was having a hard time not cumming on the spot. You felt so tight, so warm and wet around him, suddenly envious that Steve got to have you all the time. But he was planning on ruining you, to make sure the next time you fucked Steve it wouldn't feel as good.

He was going to fuck you so hard, so deep that you'd be wishing Steve was this big.

"Hang on, baby." That was the only warning you got.

Bucky started to pummel inside of you, his thrusts were hard and fast, his cock was kissing your cervix. You really could only just lay there and take it, your mouth open as moans were ripped from you, eyes rolling back as he kept impaling his girth inside of you. He was hitting spots so deep you knew you'd be feeling him for days afterwards, you'd be walking with limp and sore, it was worth it.

The way he was fucking you, it was as if he had something to prove.

The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and groans right beside your ear. His arm around your neck, clenching and cutting your airflow off at times, had you cumming within seconds and he still didn't let up. He didn't stop and fucked you through your third orgasm.

Your mind was starting to come down from the pollen, the pain and fever you were feeling had gone. Replaced now with pleasure and pain, a mix you didn't think you were into but now couldn't get enough of. All you could think and feel was Bucky Barnes. This was no longer the effects of the pollen anymore, this was pure you and riding on the afterglow of Bucky fucking you like you needed.

"Harder." You mumbled through heavy pants, tilting your head to look at him over your shoulder.

A smirk crossed his features, metal arm holding your hip in a bruising grip. Complying with your order and snapping his hips hard into your heat, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back out and repeating. It causes your back to arch, pressing your pussy back against his thrusts with little mewls leaving your lips.

"Kiss me." You plead breathlessly.

Bucky doesn't falter with that demand either. Draping himself over your body again and pressing his plump lips against yours, the kiss is far more gentle than his thrusts, but it still has you moaning against him. He was kissing you like you was fragile, yet fucking you like you were some kind of sex toy that he was using just to jerk off into. It was making your head spin and your pussy needy for more.

"You gonna come again?" Bucky chuckled against your ear, you nodded sharply and cried in pleasure when he bit your shoulder, cumming on the spot when his teeth dug into your flesh. "Mm'good girl." He mumbled as he licked at the tender spot, you could feel his hips stuttering their pace.

"Cum in me." You grinned and he cursed lowly, eyes squeezing shut. "Want you to fill me up, daddy. Fuckin' fuck a baby into me, fill me up."

The arm around your neck was pulled away, hand splaying across your back as he started to thrust into you in tight, fast and hard thrusts. Using your body to seek his own pleasure now, you were biting your lip at the thought of him filling you up. Not even caring if he actually did knock you up, you needed his cum inside of you.

Bucky found his end after a few careful thrusts, warm ropes of his seed filling you up and then some, he filled you up so much that it started to seep out around his cock. He groaned at the mess he made inside of you, he carefully pulled out of your abused cunt to see your hole clenching, trying to keep his creamy load inside of yourself. He had to look away because if he kept staring he'd get hard again, he didn't think you could take another round or load.

You remained bent over the desk and trying to catch your breath, his human hand was rubbing comforting circles on your back. Before you or Bucky could say something a buzzing sound captured both of your attention, it was coming from Bucky's pant pocket. He left you to retrieve his phone, eyes scanning over the device for a moment before he looked at you.

"Steve is waiting at the extraction point for us," You nodded mutely and you both got dressed in mutual silence.

He helped you to look presentable, ignoring the fingerprint bruise on your hip and the obvious bite mark on your shoulder. You were unsure how to explain any of that to Steve, you were also unsure how to explain what happened to Bucky. Obviously, you had still had those feelings for him, right? Otherwise, you would have been able to wait for Steve, it was like all sense of self-control had left you and only Bucky remained in your mind.

As you both left the base in awkward silence, treking the five miles towards the extraction zone, you wondered if you would have craved for Bucky if you was with Steve. If after all this time it was Bucky and not Steve you wanted.

All you knew was that Bucky had ruined you. You could still feel the impression of him inside of you, the way he had so deliciously stretched you open and impaled you on him. The way he had roughly fucked your throat like it was nothing but a hole to get off into. He had fucked you, in more ways than one.

(Please, let me know what you think! I’m also taking requests too! Honestly, kinda wanna write a part 2 where Reader tries to have sex with Steve but fakes her orgasm just to go to Bucky... I’m a bad person, I just think Bucky would be better than Steve tbh lol~ Lilith)

[timextoxhajima]

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess

protip: links of BGM are linked~

{this is a work of fiction}

eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.

he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.

stupid hexagonal tables.

the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.

the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.

you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.

yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.

after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.

whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.

well, despite how good he mad-

"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.

"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"

"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.

"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."

"i think I'll go with 'or something'."

and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.

yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.

she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.

to: all students

from: the college union

title: dance union winter getaway

dear students,

every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.

this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.

if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.

regards,

the student union

staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.

fuck.

yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.

"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."

your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.

your blood begins to boil without reason.

why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.

your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.

yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.

you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.

"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"

"you went for that getaway last year-"

"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."

"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."

"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"

"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."

"i am always on edge."

"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"

"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."

yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."

you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.

"i don't have to."

"what?"

"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.

yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.

"about the winter getaway."

"i'll leave the two of you at it."

"what? no-"

"bye!"

"yujeong-"

she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.

you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.

eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.

"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."

a few students turn to stare.

"unless you want me to."

"stop it."

"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."

"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.

"having a conversation."

someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.

eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.

"stand down, kid."

"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.

"anyway-"

"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."

eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.

"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"

"eric-"

"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"

"eric-"

"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"

"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."

"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"

"will you shut the fuck up?"

"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."

your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.

"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."

you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.

you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.

"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"

the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.

it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.

the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.

which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.

the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?

eric son: i don't like to procrastinate

"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."

notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today

your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.

eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four

you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.

eric son: we can play truth or dare

the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.

the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.

acrylic paint.

picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.

She's just that type of girl

"what. in the world. are you doing here?"

eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.

"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"

"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.

"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.

your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."

"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"

"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."

a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"

eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."

with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."

but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.

"then what should i call you?"

"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.

"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"

you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.

the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.

because he's already debunked it.

She's just that type of girl

"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.

"don't fucking touch me-"

then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.

his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.

or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.

your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.

on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.

he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.

the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.

eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.

We should just calm down and fuck some time

then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.

"oh, we fucking should."

eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"

the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.

"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.

"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"

your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.

"no, we can't."

eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.

the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.

"why not?"

gulp.

"you don't happen to-"

"it's not a vibrator."

eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.

"perhaps a-"

"it's not a dildo either."

he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.

his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.

"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"

glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.

he pauses.

then he leans into your ear.

"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."

"curiosity kills the cat."

eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."

the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.

"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"

"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"

then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.

"fuck, eric-"

all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.

not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.

the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.

you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.

automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.

resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.

eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.

"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"

you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.

"fuck."

eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.

"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.

"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"

"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.

"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."

"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"

he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"

"surely it's not because it's pretty."

"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"

eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.

"eric-"

he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.

eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.

the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.

the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.

the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.

the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.

then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.

he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.

his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.

inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.

upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.

"thank god you rejected wooseok."

then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.

you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.

left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.

he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.

your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.

he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.

and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.

he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.

hickeys.

grip marks.

and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.

he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.

the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.

you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.

for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.

you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.

"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.

a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.

black.

the only color that was still relatively abundant.

then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.

the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.

fuck.

"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"

chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.

"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"

and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.

he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.

"don't move too much."

with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.

he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.

by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.

the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.

he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.

he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.

but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.

no.

now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.

not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.

his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.

you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.

by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.

cream on black.

eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.

"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS III | MATTHEW G. GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 2.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Closure - Taylor Swift

Demolition Lovers - My Chemical Romance

Bang the Doldrums - Fall Out Boy

It’s a cliché.

Your life, certainly.

And the saying, as it goes, that the show must go on.

You’re blindsided. You’re a little nauseated, and irritated. You’re looking at Matthew, you’re thinking no one’s told him what’s going on, either.

But the two of you make eye contact, for just a few seconds, then his eyes rake down your body, pausing to take you in. Your dress, black against your skin, tight against your body. You hold his gaze as it returns to your face — your lips, your cheekbones, your eyes.

And a mutual understanding is formed. Silently, through nothing but an exchange of looks.

“After you,” Matthew smiles, politely, holding his arm out in front of his torso.

“Wow,” you smile, your voice kind, formal, as you pass him by. “How professional of you.”

He can’t help but chuckle to himself. He looks down, shakes his head, and he puts his hands in his pockets. You can feel his eyes running over your skin like a laser, tracing the shape of your spine, and you nearly tip over in your heels.

Ramona goes to follow you, and Matthew’s aligns beside her, working up the urge to speak.

“[y/n] didn’t . . .” he whispers, pausing to lick his lips, point up ahead at you you trailing down the hall. “She didn’t agree to this, did she?” he asks Ramona.

“Look,” Ramona stops, turns to Matthew, holds her palm up to silence him. It works. He stops, his words, his footsteps, come to halt. “I don’t know the story, but . . . I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you. So . . . anything you want to . . . ask about or say to [y/n], then — then, you can say it to her yourself.”

And she quickly scurries away to catch up with you. She pauses, turns around, tells him, “I love Criminal Minds, by the way.” And she continues on her way.

Matthew laughs.

You’re already standing, set and center, ready to walk on stage on command. You look out at the crowd, each individual face. The bright lights. And you hate to be dramatic, but you’d give anything to not be here right now. Seriously, anything.

“Hey,” Ramona murmurs, walking up behind you. “You alright?”

“It’s too late for me to get out of this, isn’t it?” You ask.

“. . . a little bit,” she nods.

Matthew joins, taking his place behind the curtain, waiting to go on stage. You look over at him, let out a deep sigh.

“Okay,” you shrug, look forward. “Let’s do this, then.”

There’s an art to every interview. To being a polite, and attentive, and humble guest. For 30 minutes, for an hour, forever. It seems to be muscle memory for both you and Matthew. You flash your smiles, and they’re wide, they’re bright, they’re pretty, and completely, utterly inauthentic.

You put on a show for the crowd. You’re not an actress, but anyone who thinks you’re enjoying yourself has been fooled. And that’s enough for you.

You laugh along as questions bounce back and forth, the interviewer leaned over his desk as he speaks to the both you. There’s a gravitational pull that fights and fights to make you look at Matthew. It catches you once, and the two of you awkwardly avoid eye contact by averting your heads from one another.

Your eyes flicker over to the timer offstage, counting down the minutes until the interview was officially off air. It wasn’t until twenty minutes were left on the clock, that the questions became, a bit . . . pushy, to say the least.

“So, you and Matthew went to college together, is that right?”

“Yes,” you nodded, only looking to Matthew for a second of acknowledgement, before returning your glimmering smile to the host. “Yes, we did.”

“Were you two friends?” he asks. “Now, I don’t know why, but I see you both being in very different cliques,” he laughs, the audience joining.

You giggle, nodding, “Um, yeah, yes, I would say we were friends.”

“And what would you say, Matthew?”

“Eh, I’d say we were acquaintances,” he jokes, giving a shrug in response.

Everyone but you finds it funny. You cross your legs, passive aggressively, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Oh, so she was in with the cool crowd, is that what it was?”

“Hm . . .” Matthew hums. “Define cool?”

Your laugh is dry, quiet, drowned out by the laughter of the crowd. Your eyes are glued to your shoes, your feet swaying back and forth on your heel.

“But in all honesty . . .” Matthew adds. He leans over, puts his arm around you. It was the one thing to make you lose all sense of clairty, lose your solid ground. You shuffled in your seat, awkwardly, straining your face just to keep your smile in place. “If I could describe knowing [y/n] in college, in one, single word, it’d probably be . . .” he turns his head to you, slowly, “. . . exhausting.”

His voice comes out in a joking manner, and it prompts another uproar of laughter, which drowns in your ears as you gaze at Matthew. Your face is laced with a numb, distant kind of hurt.

Fifteen more minutes on the clock.

And you spend every one of them with a fire burning in your belly. Burning, and burning, until it filled your entire body.

Ramona runs up to you the second you step off stage, happy, beaming, “That went well! You were composed, funny, you handled his nosey ass questions with, like, no visible reaction.”

Continuing down the hallway, you focus on the steps ahead of you, counting down to the moment you return to the sanctuary of your dressing room.

“And the way you subtly promoted the show without being too pretentious, I mean, very well done. I — oh —“

She’s cut off by the door slamming in her face, as you disappear into the private room, leaving yourself to find peace. Stability.

“. . . I’m still proud of you!” Ramona shouts through the barrier. You sigh, close your eyes, rest your back against the cold wood. “I’m going to call you a car, I’ll be back!”

It’s not until you hear her retreating footsteps, that you take a seat at the vanity set to the side of the room. You put your head in your hands, unable to look at yourself in the mirror. Unable to do anything but sit, and feel.

Ramona weighs on your mind, and you can’t seem to shake the guilt of sending her away, so cold, so unfair. You huff, and rise to your feet. They’re swollen, and achey, from the pair of heels encapsulating them, but you push through. You march up to the door, and as soon as you swing it open, you walk down the hallway.

“Ro?” you call. “Ramona!”

And as if an invisible force knocked you back, jilted you in your steps, you stop. You turn your body, looking to the door at your left. It’s a magnetic attraction. You know he’s in there. Hell, you know he could walk out at any moment. But you stay, stuck in front of the barrier like a deer in headlights.

“No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “No . . . “

You walk away. You make the decision to walk away. But you only manage to make it a few feet . . . before you’re turning back around.

Your knuckles rasp on the wooden door, and you cross your arms as you await an answer. When Matthew comes to the door, the first thing you notice is that his tie has been removed, the top buttons of his shirt undone. Your breath catches in your throat, but only for a moment.

He exhales, “Haven’t we used all of our time for today?” he quips, tilting his head as he looks at you.

“I just want you to know that this is not . . . fair,” you tell him. “I have been polite and understanding, and you have been . . . a dick.”

He stands up straight, physically taken aback by your words, and the venom with which you speak them. “Have I?”

“Yes. You are being petty, and mean, and dragging this out for no, damn, reason, Matthew Gubler.”

“I didn’t know there was anything to drag out,” he shrugs. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he goes to close the door, right in your face. But you catch it with your elbow, force your way in.

You slam the door behind you, standing firm on your feet, firm in your anger. “No, no. You don’t get to treat me like this. Whatever is bothering you, whatever issue you have with me, that doesn’t give you the right to slam the door in my face, and disregard the fact that you have been an utter asshole!”

“Oh,” he backs away, snidely clicking his tongue at you. “We’re getting into a screaming match now?”

“What the fuck is your deal, Matthew?” you seeth. “You’re mad, you’re hurt, I get it —“

“I’m not mad, I’m not hurt. I’m . . . annoyed, more than anything.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, crossing your arms. “The way I see it, there’s two options, here. Either, you’re still mad, and you want to hurt me. Or, you want to fuck me so badly, you’re just making yourself look stupid!”

A lot has changed. Too many things to count on one hand.

But the way Matthew’s eyes darken . . .

The way the wire snaps.

It hasn’t changed, at all. His irises are still as dark and intense, as they always were when they were focused on you. Dreamy, and powerful. Almost, hypnotic.

It’s hard to tell exactly who kisses who, first.

So, we’ll call it a mutual decision.

Your bodies collide, fall in sync with one another almost automatically, as you hold his face in your hands. His skin feels different, covered by a layer of scruff. But his mouth tastes the same.

Addicting.

You drop your jaw, let his tongue slide between your lips. He moans into the kiss, and his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you closer. Closer. Until you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. You offer no resistance as he sweeps you off your feet, instead wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your back slams into the wall, and you gasp, tangle your hands in Matthew’s hair. It curls around your fingers, and he hums at the sensation of your fingertips grazing his scalp. His hands make their way underneath the hem of your dress, maneuvering up your thighs, onto your ass.

He pauses to put his forehead against yours, watch the drool drip down your lips. “You want it as badly as I do . . .” he whispers, heaving as his breath reels from the kiss.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t you?”

“You’re ruining it, jackass,” you spit.

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” he grins into another kiss, catching your bottom lip between his teeth. His hand wraps around the elastic band of your panties, tightly, and he uses minimal strength to rip the fabric apart. It pops against your leg, and you squeak out loud, causing Matthew to chuckle against your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs, bunching up around your waist, while your hands work quickly to undo Matthew’s belt. His stomach is flushed, and warm under the thin material of his shirt.

He grunts into his mouth as you free him from his boxers, stroke him in your palm with a familiar and steady rhythm. He could’ve fallen to his knees right then, right there. But he didn’t. Because, God, he’s going to fuck you if it was the last thing he ever does. He’s going to do it well, and he’s going to make it quick.

Pinning you to the wall, he spits on her fingers, covering them in his saliva and reaching down to touch you between your legs. You whimper into his mouth, pleading, begging for it.

Matthew pulls away from the kiss only to watch your face, to see your eyes roll back as he pushes into you. Again. For the first time in so long. Your entire body, just, relaxes, and you melt into each other, weak already.

His hips push forward, forcefully, until he’s buried inside of you, and you can’t help but let out a loud whine. He puts a hand over your mouth, his forehead against yours, and begins to move your bodies in this slow, steady rhythm. Your back is moving up and down against the wall, and your moans are aligning with every one that comes from Matthew’s mouth.

The two of you can’t keep your eyes off each other, as though neither of you can believe this is happening. That you’re here. With each other. Bonded. Chained. Like there was no amount of fate, or time, or distance that could keep you apart.

Matthew buries his face in your neck, trying to contain his high pitched groans. He absentmindedly starts to increase his pace, encouraged by the way your nails rake down his back. You rest your head back against the wall, you eyes screwed shut and your mouth wide open. His fingers slide between your lips, and muffle the loud squeaks that won’t seem to stop.

And you’re not sure if it’s him, the way he’s only gotten better, and manages to hit a golden spot inside of you with every thrust. Or, if it’s the fact that you haven’t gotten laid in a while. But when Matthew takes his hand away from his mouth, starts to rub your clit, you yelp.

“Shhh,” he cooes, but follows his soft order with a roll of his hips.

Your body is completely rested, dependent, on his. He cradles you in his arms as his hips contain to move, his fingers work tirelessly on your clit, and he moans in your ear.

You don’t have to tell him. He already knows. He remembers. How your thighs tighten around his waist when you’re close. How you mumble incoherently, and try to catch your breath but it only comes out at jumbled gasps. He feels you tighten around his cock, your nails digging into his back and your fingers pulling at his hair.

He supports you as your body crumbles from the pressure, releases it all in one big, intense rush of energy that leaves your body tense and on edge. You hold him close as you tremble, muffle your whimpers against his shoulder. Sliding out of you, he uses your inner thighs to bring himself there with you. You have to lay against the wall, as you watch him in a daze. Your vision blurry, blurry, until you focused on him.

Sweat beads on his forehead, soaking the hair on his face, and the collar of his shirt. He bites down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. And when he comes, his jaw drops, but no noise comes out. He’s silent, and beautiful, and his face scrunches up in the exact same way it always did. He makes a mess on your thighs, your stomach, and stares you in the eye while he does it.

Matthew lowers you to the ground, holding your hips as you plant your feet on the floor. You stare at each other for a moment, out of breath, and strangely calm, both of you fixing your clothes.

You advert your eyes, distracting yourself by correcting the wrinkles in your dress. You reach over, grab some tissues to wipe yourself off with. Silence fills the room, and it’s deafening.

Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s different. The past is still the past, you’re still you, Matthew’s still him. And the remnants of who you two used to be still hang in the air, haunting. Dangerous.

You push your hair out of your face, clear your throat as you toss the tissues into the trash, look Matthew in the face, “We done here?”

You move around him, heading to the door without looking back.

“[y/n],” he calls. You turn around, your hand on the door knob. Matthew steps towards you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You don’t have to treat me like, some situation that needs to be handled . . .” he purses his lips, “I’ll be alright.”

You sigh at him, at a loss for words. And you leave.

Ramona nearly collides into you as she rushes down the hall, exclaiming as she stops in her tracks. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” She catches a glimpse of Matthew’s door, her jaw dropping as she connects the dots. “I —“ she stutters. “Did you —?”

“Let’s go,” you command.

“But, I —“

“Let’s go.”

So you went. It felt cowardly, and . . . wrong. Wrong, simply because of Matthew. His broken voice. The memory of his eyes, and the sadness that glossed over them as you left.

After situating yourself in the backseat, you lock the car door. Out of some irrational fear . . . that, if given the chance, you’ll hop out. Rush back to Matthew, take him in your arms, and never let him go. Never is a long time, but not enough to make up for the years that have gone by.

You sigh to yourself, rub your tired eyes as the car begins to move, begins on its journey to take you home. “Actually . . .” you say to the driver., leaning forward. “Can you take me somewhere else, instead?”

You knock, forcefully, on the door in front of you, after trekking up the stairs to the luxury apartment. Out of breath, you huff, and add another tireless knock upon the door.

“It’s open!”

You furrow your eyebrows, walk in to see Claire and Roni sitting on the couch. They give you welcoming smiles, popping snacks into their mouth.

“Are you trying to wake the kid, dude?” Claire asks you, causing Roni to chuckle under her breath.

“Sorry, I . . .” you apologize. “I thought you guys were asleep.”

“We’re up,”Claire shrugs. “Want a snack? We’ve got those tropical gummies that you really like.”

You stare for a moment, inhale, exhale, look to Claire, “You knew I was coming . . .”

“Oh, yeah,” she nods. “We saw the interview. You were expected.”

“Ugh,” you groan, putting your face in your hands, out of nothing but pure exhaustion.

Claire sighs, sadly, knowing you so well, that it’s evident to her just how much your struggling. How, once again, your body is being weighed down by a heavy heart.

“You said you’re alright here, babe?” Roni whispers to her, and Claire responds with a gentle nod.

“We’re fine, mama,” she tells her, following her words with a soft kiss on the lips. “I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay,” and with that, Roni leaves the two best friends to themselves, occupying herself by going to check on Dorthy.

Claire pats the newly available spot beside her, and you shuffle your feet over the couch, plopping down with a hum of relief.

“Here,” Claire says, picking up a pack of gummies, handing them to you, “Have a snack.”

You take the packet, and tear it open, not hesitating to pop the candy in your mouth. You chew anxiously, obnoxiously.

Claire is patient. Of all things, Claire is kind. And she waits for you to process. Your feelings, your thoughts, your words, and when you finally, finally open your mouth to speak, she just smiles. It’s as though everything comes out in one breathe. A film made in one take. You use all your energy to rant and mumble and whine tonight’s events.

Even the dirty details. They’re important to the story.

“And I just left . . .” you trail off. “What else was I supposed to do?”

Claire looks at you for a long time. She goes to speak. She stops herself. She puts her finger to her lips, contemplating. Goes to speak again. Stops herself, again.

You furrow your eyebrows at her, “Is this like, charades or something?” you ask.

“No . . . I . . .” she stutters. “I . . . you fucked him?”

“It was, more mutual,” you shrug.

“So, now what?”

“I, I don’t know? I have no clue.”

“But you want to be with Matthew?”

“No . . . I . . . I don’t know.”

“Well, does he want to be with you?”

“I don’t know.”

“[y/n] . . .” she sighs. “Don’t you think . . . maybe, you and Matthew are a little too . . . big . . . for this?”

You tilt your head, “Big?”

“Old!” Claire shouts. “Old! You’re old! You’re too old for this!”

“Wha —“ you stutter. “I —“

“Look,” she pauses, turns her body to you, and takes your hands in her grasp. “I was here before Matthew, I was here after Matthew. So . . . I’m, I’m telling you, as the person who watched it happen once . . . don’t drag yourself through hell again. If Matthew’s the one, if he’s who you’ve been waiting for, if it’s always been him, then go. Run to him. He’s here.”

And for no reason at all, you could’ve cried. Tears brim your eyes, and you have to blink them away. “Um . . .” you reply. “Can I crash here tonight.”

Claire sighs, rests her chin on her hand. “Of course.”

“Cool . . . can I borrow some pajamas?”

“Yes.”

You nod, rise from the couch, prepared to walk yourself to the guest room. You turn, nervously, back to Claire and she looks up at you. “Do you, um, do you have any underwear I can borrow, too?”

She purses her lips at you.

“Okay, yeah, nevermind, I’ll go commando.”

So you slept without any underwear. And you forced yourself not to dream of him. Not to allow yourself to be haunted by memories, by pain.

But when you closed your eyes, he was all you could see. The way he looked, and talked, and smelled fifteen years ago. The way you slept beside him for the very last time, and had convinced yourself it would not be the last time.

It would not be the last time.

He made you laugh so hard in your dream that you woke up, and your heart broke as you awake in a dark and empty room. You reach over, turn on the bedside lamp, and rub your tired eyes. You only managed to sleep until three in the morning. And Matthew, and Claire’s words, were the first thing on your mind.

He wasn’t hard to find.

You have your strings. And you, sneakily, tiredly, in a haze of exhaustion, pull all of them. It’s insane, and as you drag yourself out of bed, you ask yourself what you’re doing. Why you’re doing it. What is the point?

But it’s him. And he’s here. And he won’t be for much longer, and he’s only ten minutes away.

The car is able to pick you up and get you to the hotel in under twenty minutes. You’re dressed in a pair of sweats and a cozy sweatshirt, well aware of how crazy you look, well aware of how crazy you’re behaving. And unable to stop yourself.

You march into the building, your feet moving on autopilot to guide you to the elevator, up to the ninth floor. You catch your breath as you move up each level, and lose it again the moment the doors open. You push yourself forward, follow the arrows to his room.

You round the corner, and he calls out, “Hey!”

You smile. Matthew happy to see you.

No.

Not you.

You step back, stopped in your tracks as the girl giggles in his face, holds onto his waist.

“Surprise!” she exclaims, the two of them standing outside his hotel door.

“What are you doing here? I was going to pick you up,” he says.

“Call me impatient, but I couldn’t wait to see you,” she places a soft kiss to his lips, smiles at Matthew. He smiles back.

But that smiles quickly fades when he turns his head, sees you standing there. Matthew is not happy to see you.

“[y/n] . . .”

TAGLIST:

@muffin-cup

@pinkdiamond1016

@spencersbed

@safertokiss

@calm-and-doctor

@spencerreid-mgg

@reidsconverse

@reidemandweep

[alecxaheart]

Someone's Someone | Bang Chan Oneshot (1)

✎ Genre : CEO AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff

✎ Pairings : Bang Chan X Reader

✎ Word Count : 3.5k words

✎ Synopsis : We all just wanna be someone's someone that we can't live without. At this time, Chan was looking for his. And unexpectedly, he was already tied down to someone.

✎ Warnings : Explicit Language

✎. . . I actually just played my songs on shuffle then Monsta X's Someone's Someone played so.. yeah, I'm inspired. Also, this is my first post in tumblr btw. :)

✎ Parts : 1 , 2

The relaxing sounds of nature enveloped him as a whole. His shoulders less tense and eyes closed as he sat on the cooled sand, facing the burning star and calm waters ahead. Seagulls could be heard in the distance as they caught themselves a dinner to eat. The refreshing cool wind hit his body, slightly making him shiver for a second. Waves, created by the sea and wind, kisses the shore repeatedly. For once, he was far away from worries, stress, fears and regrets. Just him, contented with the company of nature.

As he fluttered his eyes open, he was met with a stunning view of the sun meeting the ocean. The ocean reflecting the sun's visuals as well as the sky above it. Even though the reflection was blurry, it's still pleasing to the eye. Just perfectly imperfect.

However in his opinion, it wasn't stunning as it seems. This secret escapade paradise of his doesn't quite appeal to him yet. A missing piece that could be anywhere on this wide world. That thought kind of bothers him every time.

Sighing, he figured that it was time to go back. He slipped onto his slippers and headed out of his escapade paradise with a head hung low. Hopping on an enormous boulder that happened to break the wired fence and fixated there, having easier access to and from the place than climbing over the fence.

With a last glance towards his escapade, he knew he'll be coming back and that next time will be the scenery he's been looking for, hopefully.

Frustrated with the task at hand, Chan ran his fingers through his blonde locks as he leaned back on his chair and head facing upwards toward the ceiling. Taking a brief break from a whole 6 hours straight of writing and staring at the monitor. Followed by him grabbing his coffee and taking a sip, eyes boring on the monitor. He was just half finished with his paperworks at the time of nightfall, which made him more in distress and felt crammed.

His eyes then wandered around his office, landing onto the view of the opposite building of his company in the end. Where he could see the workers of the Marketing Department bidding their goodbyes to one another, closing the lights and exiting the room. Oh, how much he too wanted to leave and rest right at this moment. Although his belief of 'getting things done before going into slumber' is preventing him to do so (even though he already got a lot of things done). With a sigh, he faced back in front of his monitor and papers, determined to get everything done before tomorrow starts.

" Sunbae-nim, aren't you coming with us? We're having dinner at the Chicken & Barbecue restaurant just a block away from here. " Seungmin asked, grabbing his suitcase below his desk. You leaned back on your chair while stretching your cramping arms and a yawn escaping your mouth.

" As much as I want to, Seungmin, I can't, " You started, rubbing your temples to ease your aching head. " Because our new boss literally gave me 5 thick documents to finish before tomorrow morning without any mercy. And that's just bullshit. I don't even think I'm halfway through it! " Seungmin replied with a chuckle to your short rant, an amused expression written on his soft face. You were having another small mental breakdown as you stared at your unfinished pile of work, feeling your soul escape your body.

" I think you're overreacting. "

" Well, what if I am?! "

Laughing, Seungmin leans his side on your cubicle, looking over at your messy desk filled with sticky notes, papers and pens. " I don't think it's that much. You're lucky that your boss isn't here to hear any of your complaints, " He muttered as he took a peek at one of your documents. You scoffed, not my fault that I'm not as good as you.

" Hear what? "

Frantically, you immediately hide yourself behind your cubicle and pretend that you were focusing on your work. On the other hand, Seungmin casually brushed his navy blue coat with his palms and lifted himself off from the cubicle. Making it all seem like nothing happened.

" Oh, it's nothing, Ms. Ka- " Seungmin paused as he met the owner of the voice who wasn't the person they were expecting to be there. " M-Mr. Bang?! " He stuttered, eyes widened at the blonde headed CEO. Seeing in the corner of your eyes, Seungmin bowed ninety degrees at him as a sign of respect. Even with his heated glare on you, you continued your work like no CEO even entered. Thanks to your cute height, for sure you wouldn't be spotted.

" What are you doing here? Working hours are done. "

Seungmin stood straight and scratched the back of his head. Curiosity slowly arose in you as seconds passed - since you've never met a CEO called by your colleague as ' Mr. Bang ' - although as much as possible, you didn't let go out of hand and kept your focus on the documents silently. The least thing you wanted to happen to you right now is get caught by one of the company's CEO. " I was about to head out, Mr. Bang, " Finding an excuse, he pulled up his sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch. " Uhm.. Yeah, I'm late for dinner. Sorry, Mr. Bang, I have to leave right now. Have an great night! "

With a last bow to the CEO, Seungmin dashed his way out of the building, leaving you alone with your work. The blonde head noticed how the room was still lit up despite it being unoccupied, which he thought. Heading to the switches, everything around you darkened. The only source of light you had was the monitor, and Chan caught it in the corner of his eye.

" Is someone still there? " His voice, catching a bit of foreign accent with it, echoed in the hushed area.

Baffled as he approached that light with a few slow strides, you freaked out mentally. Swiftly but silently, you left your chair and hid yourself underneath the desk next to yours. As he neared your cubicle, you held your breath, slowly starting to feel lightheaded. You don't know what are the consequences if you get caught after working hours since you're still kind of new - got hired just 5 months ago. Dumb you overthink random shit first before even going to the thing called 'common sense' and the rules you heard just goes in one ear then out on the other.

The moment Chan was about to reach your cubicle and take a glance to his right, the sound of marimba playing a soft tune echoed in the room. Stopping in his tracks, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and grabbed it, swiping to the right to answer the call. You let out a hushed yet shaky sigh of relief, your shoulders less tense than a while ago. In your mind played a chant, thanking whoever was your savior.

Chan narrowed his eyes at the back of your cubicle while his phone is still pressed against his ear, listening to the person on the other line's complaints. " I'm on my way. Don't do anything stupid, " Not too soon you hear heels clacking against the polished marble tiles, the noise fainting as he left the room.

It took you a good couple of seconds to get out of your hiding spot (since you had to catch your breath and calm your heart down from the thrill), slightly shaking your whole body first before heading back to your seat and continuing your pile of work. Mentally groaning at yourself.

Oh. My. Gosh. These. Eyebags.

Is the first thing you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The cause of it appearing badly because you obviously lacked sleep. All due to the time allotted for slumber was consumed by finishing your 5 thick documents that will be passed this morning. You could've cared less if today wasn't a work day, which fortunately for you it was still work day and these damn documents aren't gonna pass themselves to your boss this instant.

Fumbling around in your bag, you found your makeup kit and started fixing yourself. A little bit of touch ups here and there, just a little to look like it's still more natural than a lot to look like a plastic doll barbie.

Once satisfied, you smiled sweetly at yourself just to start your day nicely and exit your household. While walking on your way to the train station, incoherent mumbling leaves your mouth. A train of thoughts clouding you about your worries if you've left something important behind. In all honesty despite of your current good looks, you look stupid or crazy for talking to yourself in public. Well, at least you aren't as worse as someone yelling nonsense.

" I have all my files, identification card, phone, wallet, pocket knife 'cause anything could happen, keys- " you paused as soon as you misplaced your shoes at the edge of the last stair, falling forward. Luckily for you, you caught yourself and regained your balance. Wide eyed, you saw a kid, a giddy smile plastered on his face as he saw your commotion with a lollipop in hand. You felt embarrassed but laughed it off anyway, a light tint of pink decorating your cheeks.

You rushed towards the gates as soon as you realized the time with the card in between your fingers. Three beeps emitted from the machine when the gates opened after you placed the card on the scanner. With a few more strides, you caught up to your train ride as it was about to leave. You sighed in relief and sat down on a vacant bench, head automatically leaning back on the window. Your eyes boring at the ceiling while taking steady breaths after your short marathon on the way.

On the other hand, across you sat Chan. His right leg crossed over the other while scrolling through his phone. He wore a button up shirt, the first two still unbuttoned revealing more of his chest. His navy blue tie hung loose around his neck while his coat is still folded around his arm. His slacks were the same color as his tie and coat and wore black pointed shoes to finish the statement of his overall clothing. Blonde hair locks were scattered around his face but still managed to look stunning and attractive.

You haven't noticed his presence, so did he to you, and the fact that you both don't know each others' appearance even though you go to the same company just adds to the reason for you two's ignorance to one another's existence.

You got yourself to go back to slumber comfortably in your current position although you know when you wake up, you'll be greeted by your neck aching. Hopefully you don't miss your stop while gaining more sleep. The train swaying you lightly from time to time that you found quite relaxing, like a cradle rocking back and forth lightly to put a baby to sleep.

A child was running around the train with a joyful smile, giggling. He only stopped in his tracks when he reached in between you and Chan. His eyes glowed like there were stars decorated around his chocolate brown pupil when he eyed you two. Looking around, he spotted a roll of red thread underneath your bench and grabbed it. He thought it was just right.

With you being the closest, he starts to tie the thread around your pinky finger. You were too tired to even feel his small cold fingers run around your fingers nor the string tighten around it. Once done, he smiled to himself, his dimples appearing on either side of his cheeks and eyes forming into small crescents.

He left your side and skipped over in front of Chan, who was now too deep in thought as he gazed outside the window and his phone tucked in his pocket. Holding the other end of the thread, he wrapped it around Chan's thumb. Chan's body shook in surprise as he felt cold fingers ghosting above his hand and averted his attention to the child. He saw him knotting the red string tightly, strange that he barely even feels the string tightened around his thumb. " What are you doing? " he questioned although the child only responded with a bright smile, followed by a giggle.

The child turned and ran away from him, more giggles leaving his lips. Chan stood up and tried to chase him. But stopped as soon as he saw the child in the distance, dissolving into little particles in thin air and completely vanished in his sight. In disbelief, he rubbed his eyes and looked for the child around his area. Thinking that he was out of his mind, he sighed in defeat. There's no way anyone could do that in reality. It's either I'm insane or living in a fantasy or a chosen one blessed to see ghosts. Maybe, all of the above.

Chan looked down on his thumb, following where the other end lead to. Then, he spotted your sleeping beauty state, the other end attached to your pinky finger. With the sun rising in the horizon, a ray of gold-like light shines through the window, casting a shadow on you. And he thought you looked mesmerizing like that, peaceful and lovely. At least he wasn't tied up with a bitch or a hag.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as the sun shined upon you. Squinting at its brightness, you raised a hand above your eyes to see more, only finding a red string wrapped around your pinky finger. You examined it, wondering what prank is anyone even planning and why did it have to involve you out of all people. Before anything stupid could happen, you attempted to loose the knot, ignoring the curiosity for a while of where the other end was. Looping and tugging it, even tried to chomp on it with your teeth, but all attempts failed. Well, that's until you gave up, untying it was impossible, unbelievably there's a knot that couldn't be untied. Sounded like marriage when you think about it, but there's the annulment and divorce ruining the picture.

Tearing your gaze at the string, you caught a pair of bewitching dark brown eyes staring back at you. In that particular moment, everything just froze in place. Time has stopped just for the two of you, you thought.

You felt your heart melting, probably from the warmth emitting in your body or from the warmth his eyes give off as you saw little sparks decorating the pupil. Unfamiliar light feathers tickling the insides of your stomach is what you felt other than the heat and that thawing heart of yours. Your mind knew it well that you shouldn't feel this way towards someone who you just met but your body and heart reacted so differently. There's just something about him that made you feel so exposed and vulnerable in his eyes that you couldn't come up with a possible answer to your 'why's.

Both of you didn't notice how seconds turned into minutes, too lost into one another's orbs. That was until the train stopped, causing Chan to break the eye contact and lose his balance. Before his hands made contact on the metal floor, he took a step forward in order to regain his balance which he successfully did. A small chuckle left your lips, eyes turning into crescents as you saw the commotion. He narrowed his eyes at you as the train was back in motion.

Chan fixed his clothes first before asking, " Who are you? ". Grabbing the pole next to him to prevent him from falling again on the next stop.

" Shouldn't I be asking you that as well? " You replied with a gummy smile, which quickly faded when you remembered what's the problem.

" What is this on my finger and why is it connected to yours? What kind of trickery is anyone pulling? Why am I involved in this? " You kept firing questions at him while he stayed there unbothered. Unlike you who did some more attempts to remove the thread, silly you even tried aggressively shaking your hand in hopes of making it a little loose. But no prevail happened once again.

" Just get rid of it. I didn't want this too, you know. " Chan taps his foot impatiently as he eyed your useless attempts.

" I am trying! " You exaggerated. Deciding to bring out the best tool you have for the situation in hand, your hands fumbling in your bag. Once you felt the cool metal on your fingertips, you brought it out and flipped it open.

Chan's eyes widened at the sight of the pocket knife in your palms. " You carry that on a daily basis? Are you insane? "

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. " It's not insane when it's used for self-defense purposes. I'm too nice to be the murderer you're assuming, " You replied, head throbbing as things aren't going well with the charming blonde.

He responded just before the blade and thread were in contact, starting with a scoff. " Yeah sure, nice. Anyone can wear that façade anywhere. "

" You know what, " You started as you withdrew the pocket knife back and glared at him afterwards, pissed off. " You deal with this shit yourself, I'm done with my part and I could care less about this red thread anyway. You look like you don't need any of my help 'cause you look fancier than me and it seems like you're not taking any gratitude towards my kindness. Damn these crazy rich people. " You threw the tool towards his direction and looked away from him, arms crossed. Chan instinctively caught it without getting any cuts despite the fact it's closed, his eyes burning through your figure in fury.

" If I actually got wounded instead from your little stunt, I would've sued you this instant, " He growled, only to be ignored by you.

Irritated by your sudden change of attitude, Chan flipped it open and skillfully ran the blade through the string. Only for it to just fall through like the string never existed, ghost-like perhaps. " It's not cutting, what the hell, " Chan muttered under his breath as he tried a few more times again.

"It's just a string, how could a- " You spoke as you turned your head back to his direction, only to be cutted off as you witnessed the unusual. Mouth a little bit agape in disbelief. The thread didn't fall apart even while the blade was just sitting in between of it on air. Maybe that explains why you could barely even feel the thread wrapped securely around your finger. You could tell that this stunning blonde head was just as puzzled as you were.

" Sir, if you're having any problems that includes this woman, we can sort it out. Just withdraw the knife first please, " a man suddenly blurted out, his voice a little bit shaky. That's when you realized the commotion you both have caused, everyone around you two took steps back away. All had fear in their eyes.

" Wait, you don't see the thread we're trying to cut? " Chan questioned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. At that, he was more misunderstood.

" There's no thread..? " With that, it got the two of us surprised. Is the crazy one here them, who couldn't see this string, or us, who could?

Chan tried to explain our situation thoroughly but when he was about to speak up, out of the blue, a voice spoke in the speakers. " Please mind the gap, " You immediately grabbed his arm, carried his belongings and dragged him out of the train. Leaving its passengers confused as they eyed us. They might be thinking that you two are idiots.

The doors just shut a second later when you two got out. You felt a bit suffocated for an unknown reason, your hand reaching for your chest where you could feel your heart beating. Panting, you shoved Chan's belongings into his chest. " Are you alright? " He asked as he tried to place a hand on your back, the least thing he could do to comfort you.

But his hand only stopped in mid-air when you took your last deep breath, replying. " Let's just part ways here, " Saying those words felt a bit disheartening at some point, yet you chose to disregard it.

You walked forwards, while Chan stayed in his position, wearing his coat and fixing his tie. Although, something stopped you. As in you couldn't go forwards as much as you force to. Well when you did force yourself, it only tugged Chan towards you. Turning around, he was already eyeing you. " What was that for?! "

Glaring at the thread, you thought out loud, " Is this string telling me, it can only stretch itself approximately at 7 meters?! "

Continue

[gureishi]

Wow...the prompts? They're all good. Can you write something angst for Jumin and a female MC, with number 11? I don't mind NSFW. Congrats on 100. You deserve them all and more! 💜😌

TruUUEE. You are too good to me as always. Thank you for saying so ♡

And thank you for this wonderful prompt, and giving me an excuse to write about vulnerable Jumin—my favorite Jumin!

This “ficlet” sprawled into an absolute monstrosity because I got carried away with tearful Jumin and then it got sexy and...oh dear.

eleven: i could only be myself with you around

JuminXReader, E (oral sex, fingering), words: 3887

Warning: NSFW (eventually, I swear)~ Don’t proceed if you don’t wanna read smut <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

When he comes home, his eyes are dark.

You look up from your book; you’re incredibly comfortable on the couch, a blanket tucked around your legs, a cup of tea beside you. There’s a fire in the fireplace and the room is finally just the temperature you like it. You were feeling sleepy.

You’re not feeling so sleepy anymore.

He shuts the door, too hard, and his posture is stiff as crosses the living room with a few purposeful strides. 

“Hi, honey,” you say, and your voice comes out reedy and thin, because you know something is wrong.

He looms over you, and you don’t feel scared—never scared, not of him—but you can’t help but look down, fidgeting with the fringe on the blanket. He kisses your forehead and it feels cursory; you feel a little pang of annoyance. He still hasn’t said anything to you.

Briefly, his hand lingers on the top of your head, and momentarily, you’re comforted—this is a habit. But then he moves away, walking with that same fast, stilted pace. He’s still wearing his shoes.

“Jumin,” you say to his back. He hesitates, and you suppose you’ve taken him by surprise—he’s honey or darling more than he’s Jumin, and you know your voice sounds strange. But he is strange tonight; you’ve waited up for him, and on an ordinary day his eyes would light up, his face splitting into the warm, soft smile he reserves just for you. You feel its absence like a tug behind your ribcage.

“I need a moment,” he says at last, and his voice is oddly high-pitched, like he hasn’t caught his breath.

You kick the blanket off your knees, upsetting your book as you stand.

“What’s…”

He disappears into the bedroom, shuts the door.

“…wrong,” you finish, lamely.

What?

Suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so cozy; the off-white (“winter wood,” Jumin says it’s called) walls feel bare and too far apart and the ceiling feels too high and the perfectly-arranged furniture seems cold and uninviting. You trace his footsteps, silent in your stockinged feet.

You’ve only lived in this new house together a few months, and the excitement hasn’t quite worn off. Most days when you’re home before he is, he arrives in a hurry and sweeps you into his arms, dipping you low and kissing you earnestly. There have been days he’s come home tired, of course, or worried—and on those days, you’ve put on a record and shared a bottle of wine, hands intertwined under one of your many soft white throw blankets.

Today, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Honey…?” You linger at the door, press your ear against it. Nothing. “You’re worrying me,” you say. You hear shuffling, the familiar sound of him removing his jacket, laying it on the pile for the dry cleaner. “I’m coming in,” you tell him, louder—because it is your bedroom, too, and your heart is in your throat. 

Silence. You push open the door.

He hasn’t turned on any lights, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Your husband is sitting on the edge of the bed, his jacket off, his head bent, his face in his hands. He’s still wearing his stupid shoes.

You want to bend over him and kiss the very top of his head, tickle his sensitive sides till he smiles. But everything about him says stay away: the angle of his head and the rigidness of his shoulders. The way his sleeves are still buttoned as if he isn’t in his own home.

You take a hesitant step toward him and at least he doesn’t stop you.

“Darling, will you please talk to me?” you say. He looks so small to you then: vulnerable and afraid.

For a moment, he’s quiet, and you think that he may continue to ignore you. Then you notice that his broad, muscular shoulders are shaking. It’s barely perceptible, but you see it.

“I cannot be with you right now,” he says at last, his voice muffled by his hands. “If I am with you I will cry.”

That does it. Throwing caution to the wind, you leap onto the bed, jarring him a little. He peers up at you out of the corner of his eye and you’re shocked to see that it is, in fact, slightly red-rimmed.

“Then you should cry,” you say. “It’s what I’m here for.”

He hesitates, and you watch him do battle with himself for a moment, torn between instinct and impulse, old habits and new routines. You wait, letting him decide.

At last, the side of him that has been gradually unfurling since the day you met him wins. He raises his head from his hands and reaches for you, holding his arms out like the lonely child you know he once was.

And you are relived, because this is the man you married.

With perhaps slightly too much enthusiasm, you crawl into his lap, draping your legs to one side and wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s taken time for him to adjust to this kind of full-body contact—it’s as alien to him as it natural to you. Still, he rests his head against the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his lips brush your skin, making you squirm. “I would never want to make you worry.”

You play with the back of his collar with your fingertips. “Sometimes I will worry, because I love you,” you say. “Just please don’t hide from me.”

He tilts his head so he can—finally—look at you properly. His steely gray eyes are glazed over and you know this look, though you haven’t seen it in a long time.

“Tell me what you’ve been holding back all day,” you say, as he reaches up with a long finger to brush the hair off your forehead—another familiar gesture, which soothes you.

He adjusts a little so he’s cradling you, one arm over your shoulders, the other under your legs. He leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. He’s stalling for time, but you don’t mind—his chest is warm and solid through his perfectly-pressed shirt and you take the opportunity to bathe yourself in his warm woody scent. He’s working so much lately, more than usual, and sometimes when you’re home alone in the evening you spritz his cologne in the air so you feel less lonely. You don’t tell him this.

“May I ask you a question, my love?” he says. He still has that closed-off look in his eyes but he sounds more like himself, deep and warm and wonderful.

“Of course.”

“When you met me, was I…” He clears his throat, awkwardly fiddles with his cufflinks. You gently separate his hands, remove the cufflinks. Unbutton the sleeves. “Was I…not a good person?”

You drop the cufflink. It falls to the floor with a jarring clink. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but that wasn’t it. You bend over, reaching for the little piece of metal; he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Please tell me what you think.”

No, you almost respond automatically. No, I thought you were wonderful. But the look in his eyes begs a more thoughtful answer than that. With practiced fingers, you roll up one of his shirt sleeves. You run one finger up his forearm, from his wrist to his elbow, tracing the tense muscles there.

“When I met you, I thought you were frighteningly smart and stunningly beautiful,” you say. You roll up his other sleeve, carefully folding the silky smooth fabric. “I’d never met anyone like you before. I was impressed by you, and I also thought you looked like you needed a gentle slap on the face and then a really good, tight hug. Does that…make sense?”

You tug his perfectly-tucked shirt out of his pants. You can’t stand him looking too put-together at home. He can do that everywhere else; home is for comfort.

“It…does,” he says slowly. “But I think perhaps you were the only one with that opinion of me.”

You look into his face and are startled to see tears at the corners of his eyes. You’re not sure you’ve seen him cry since your wedding day.

“Will you tell me what happened today?” you ask, wiping away the tears with your fingertips. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath—he is breathing in your scent just as you did his, you think.

“In truth, it was nothing of note.” He goes for his sleeves again, realizes you’ve rolled them up. Instead, he settles his hands at your waist, threading his fingers through your belt loops. “I had lunch with a…former colleague. He is the president of a Chinese company, and I haven’t spoken to him in several years.”

Ah. “And you felt like the version of you he was expecting to see and the person you are now aren’t the same?”

Jumin actually laughs at that, his eyes growing wide. There’s a little of his usual ardor behind them now.

“You, my dear, know me far better than I know myself.”

“I know I do.”

You kiss his eyebrow and he covers both your hips with his big hands. You trail kisses down the side of his face, kiss away the last of the tears that have formed at the inner corners of his eyes.

“I felt as though he was speaking to a man who no longer exists,” Jumin says, closing his eyes; you kiss his eyelashes. “I felt the urge to tell him so. I felt angry. And then I felt…” He trails off.

“Grief?” you offer. You continue your trajectory, feathering kisses down the bridge of his nose. You kiss his cupid’s bow and he groans, low in his throat, barely audible.

“How strange,” he says. “Why should I feel grief for myself?”

“It’s normal to grieve the ways in which parts of you disappear over time,” you say. You lift a hand to his neck, undo his tie. It slips easily through your fingers; you’ve done this so many times before.

He exhales heavily, and it’s sad and relieved and needy all at once.

“And then I felt afraid,” he says. “Because I knew I would come home to you and feel the things I had been trying not to feel all day. Because that, my darling, is what you do to me.”

“Sounds like your feelings scared us both a little bit today,” you say. His tie is off; you toss it aside. It joins the stray cufflink on the floor.

“Feelings can be very frightening,” he says. He’s been still this whole time; suddenly, he springs to action as if he’s been waiting for his moment to pounce. His hands skim over your sides, grasp your shoulders, turning you firmly so you’re twisted in his lap—nose-to-nose with him.

“I would like to take a warm shower,” he says. His gaze is unwavering and you melt a little. “I would like you to join me,” he adds.

He doesn’t phrase it like a question, but you know it is. It always is, with him—his eyes ask for your acquiesce and his hands on your shoulders are tentative, waiting for your answer.

“Take me there,” you say. He lifts you easily, carries you in his arms as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. His knitted eyebrows say otherwise—he’s holding himself back, his hand clenching at your shirt as if it’s taking all his patience not to tear it off.

He sets you down gently on your feet on the cool, clear tiles of the master bathroom. He’s gone in an instant: dimming the light, turning on the shower. It’s such a huge shower—you were shocked the first time you saw the designs. It has three faucets and a marble bench for sitting, or shaving your legs, or…other activities.

“Do you want to undress me or do you want to watch?” you ask him, playfully striking a pose—knowing he loves the choice, loves to feel he has you in the palm of his hand.

He looks you up and down, pupils huge, hair delightfully disheveled—for Jumin, anyway—one stray lock hanging over his eyes.

“I want to watch,” he says, and there’s none of the coldness in his voice now, only chocolatey depth and unbidden desire.

So you undress for him, to the rainforest rushing sound of the shower’s many faucets, turning as you lift your shirt over your head, wriggling out of your pants slowly, revealing just a strip of skin at a time. You give him a cheeky glance of the lacy strap of your underwear, of your hips, of your ass, which (you know because you check in the massive mirror hanging over the door) is framed adorably by your gauzy thong.

“I am running out of patience,” he says—growls—and you feel a hot, wonderful flush creeping up the back of your neck.

“Then come get me,” you say.

So he does, crossing the large bathroom and unhooking your bra in one smooth motion. He tears it from you and throws it to the ground. He spins you to face him and his dark eyes are simmering, his grip on your shoulders tight—but still restrained, not painful. Never painful.

“Do you want to know what image I couldn’t get out of my mind on the drive to work this morning?” he whispers, and you shiver.

“I do.”

He slides your thong down your legs, planting searing kisses over your hips, your thighs, your calves, your ankles. He’s kneeling at your feet now and the sight of him there, his beautiful head bent, almost drives you mad.

“I’ll show you,” he says. Then he’s on his feet again and he’s unbuttoning his shirt—with much more patience than he claims to have—slowly, scrupulously, as if to torture you both.

“Now I’m impatient,” you say, and you go for his belt. He laughs as you struggle to unhook it and the laugh turns to a low moan as your hands graze his erection, straining against his fitted vicuña pants. You deal with the buckle and make quick work of the pants, draping them over the sink—you don’t care what Jumin says, these pants are much too expensive to throw in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Now you’re the one kneeling before him, and he does a double-take as he sees the position you’re in. Even now, after all this time, after getting married, after moving into your custom-built home, he blushes. It’s this—his unexpected innocence, his charming traditionalism—that never fails to bewitch you.

“I will if you want me to,” you say, slipping his Swiss cotton underwear over his hipbones with adoring hands. He stands absolutely still, but you feel his hips trembling.

“I want you to,” he whispers. So you take him in your mouth—just the tip at first, moving your tongue in a circle, running a hand down his length. He moans again, low, breathy. You feel his muscles stretch as he reaches up, grabs onto the top of the glass shower door.

You slide his cock further into your mouth, one hand still at the base, and he mutters something you don’t understand. You breathe in and out slowly, creating suction as you pull away and then take him deeper. It stirs something in you—the cold tiles on your bare knees, the power you feel in having him at your mercy. He exhales, low and slow, and you feel stimulated and little and somehow totally in control.

With one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging. Your eyelids flutter shut and you feel your hips and pelvis moving along with your lips as you slide him in and out—your own body already feeling hot and tingly, craving friction.

He mutters again and you can’t quite hear him. You run your tongue along his length, and his body shudders. He tries again. “I-if you continue like this, I won’t be able to…”

You let him slip from your lips.

“Do you want to come right now?” you ask and he groans.

“Yes, but I—” You slide your tongue all the way around his tip and he stumbles over his words. “Of course, but you…I want—”

You take him all the way into your mouth again and he stops speaking, letting out a low growl, tensing as he grips the door. He’s close, and you want to make him come, want to do it like this, him a twitching, shaking mess looming above you—you at his feet with the power to break him.

You round your lips, suction harder, pull him deeper, and his hips give a telltale jerk. Ah-ha. Your own body feels floaty and loose—you can barely feel the floor under your knees now. He tries to warn you in a throaty voice and you ignore him, raking your fingernails over his ass. He comes, rocking into your mouth, and you open your eyes to take him in—he looks ravished, all restraint dissolved, all presence of patience demolished as he shuts his eyes and unabashedly shakes against you. You swallow everything, so hopelessly turned on by his unbridled pleasure.

He pulls himself out of your mouth with a groan and reaches for you, tousling your hair with a shaky hand.

“You look so beautiful right now,” you tell him, and he does—perfect hair unkempt, muscular shoulders glimmering with sweat.

“I still haven’t shown you my fantasy,” he pants, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s scooped you up again. You squeal as he slings you over his shoulder, and you feel warm water hit your back as he lifts you into the shower. He sets you down tenderly on the marble bench, and it’s slick and just the perfect temperature, already warmed by the water and steam.

“Open your legs,” he murmurs, and you do, feeling a clenching inside, your swollen clit demanding attention.

Jumin turns away from you and you whine in dissatisfaction. He laughs, low and wonderful; the water runs in rivulets over his toned back. He’s back in an instant, the detachable shower head in his hand, and you cannot help the little whimper that tears from your throat.

“I wonder what will happen if I use this to stimulate you…” he says, his deep voice trailing off seductively. Your thighs twitch in anticipation.

“I–I would also—” He runs a finger over your already-sensitive clit and you hiss. “—l-like to know that,” you manage to choke out.

He twists the knob on the shower head so the water flows gently, tapering toward the middle. He runs it over you from a distance and it’s warm and lovely; he moves it closer and closer until you yelp, feeling the water pressure at your core. It shakes you.

“Good?” he murmurs and you nod, shutting your eyes against the glaze of heat you feel building from within. “More?” You nod again and the water changes; it’s more tapered, stronger. You squirm, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth bench beneath you. He sees what you need and suddenly his warm, slick fingers meet yours, entwining with them. He moves the faucet in a dainty circle and you feel like your eyes are going to roll back in your head. “More?”

You gasp a “yes” and the pressure ramps up again and you writhe, feeling like you will explode. You feel another, new sensation and your eyes shoot open—it’s his finger, slipping over your clit and then inside you. You cry out.

“Too much?”

“N-no, I…no…please…” You’re babbling, but he knows what to do. He moves the faucet closer, the pressure on your clit intensifying and the heat you feel nearly blinding you. Then his finger moves inside you and your back arches and you’re slipping, slipping, and you feel him move closer and you throw out your other arm and brace yourself on his chest.

“How does that feel?” he whispers, and you know he’s doing this on purpose, know he’s trying to make you talk to hear the sweet sounds you’ll make, know he’s aware how the multitasking makes your head spin.

“I—I…it…ummm…Jumin!” you manage, gasping as he curls his finger inside of you, flicking the thin, hard stream from the faucet over you again and again and…

“Tell me how it makes you feel,” he commands, and you stammer, gasping for air, and he curls his finger again, hitting your g-spot as the stream of water stills, focused directly on your tender, throbbing clit.

“Ah—!” is all you manage before you fall apart, your back hitting the shower wall as you come hard and fast, the ice cold heat at your core tearing you to pieces. Through the haze, you think you cry out again, and his finger moves incessantly within you and the water makes you see bright shards of white through your closed eyelids.

You gasp, coming down slowly, trembling all over. You squint your eyes open and his face is so close to yours, his eyes full of awe and lust and adoration. He slips his finger out and diverts the faucet away from you. You catch your breath, head swimming.

“So,” you say finally, when you have enough breath to speak. “You fantasied about making me come with the shower faucet?”

“Yes, of course,” he responds, tilting his head quizzically, the water from the main faucet cascading over his shoulders as he stands up straight. “Is that so strange?”

You laugh. “It’s not,” you say. He offers you a hand and you stand too, slipping and sliding until you find purchase on the grippy strips lining the bottom of the tub.

“Now,” he says in a businesslike tone. “Would you like to wash off, get dry, and then have sex in the bed?”

Your face breaks into a grin because that’s so very Jumin and god, you love him for it.

“Yes,” you say, and you reach for the soap, pouring a fragrant stream of it onto your hand. “But can I ask you a question first?”

“Anything, my love.” He adjusts the second faucet so it’s more accessible for you.

“Earlier, when you said you couldn’t be around me…”

“Ah,” he says—and his serious expression is somewhat offset by the way the water glues his hair to the sides of his head, somehow silly and sexy at the same time. “I meant that I’m able to keep up a façade as long as I’m not around you. As soon as you’re by my side, I feel.” 

You press up against his back, letting the soap spill through your fingers. You kiss the smooth, warm skin there and he sighs contentedly.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and you almost can’t hear him over the rushing water. “Thank you for allowing me to feel.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Tiny baby first attempt at a taglist~ Please let me know if you’d like to be added! DM me and I’ll add you so you’ll be tagged in any mysme writings. ♡

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06

[krabstick32]

Hi! I love your writing so much!!! May I please request a self indulgent giyuu fic where the reader has some self esteem issues, like having long hair to cover most of her face and is plus size but has a good heart! Thank you that would make my life!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wardrobe Malfunction

Requested by: anon

Pairing: Giyuu x Reader

Synopsis: Dress up was supposed to be fun. Your clothes say otherwise.

Tags/warnings: This work does have slight implications of self-esteem issues and body dysmorphia/body dysmorphic disorder. I’d like to say that this is not meant to offend anyone, and also to apologize for any faulty interpretations.

A/N: To the anon who requested this: i’m so glad you like my writing 🥺💖 bUT I AM SO SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG WITH YOUR REQUEST :(((((( I feel terrible for taking an actual month to finish this, and i’m not even 100% satisfied with it :(( As an explanation though, I was working on something entirely different for you. It was a modern high school au, 5+1 sort of fic, which was almost finished but for some reason felt wrong...so I thought up of a new idea aka this. 

Anyway, i hope the wait was worth it anon, and i hope ya’ll enjoy it too!!

Blood Demon Arts were a complicated skill set that special demons possess. Some use it for fighting, some for catching humans, yet some were just downright weird.

A fight with a low-level demon teaches you that.

Barely five minutes into the fight, and you were already sheathing your Nichirin Blade back in its scabbard. You were fine, if not a little uncomfortable from the weird slime-like substance that came from the demon coating your uniform. The fight wasn’t difficult, but the demon was a little perverted. It didn’t even try to fight all that seriously, and instead kept trying to sneak glances under your skirt.

There were only minor scrapes around your skin—though now, you wish you could say the same for your clothes, because it starts melting.

Maybe that demon wasn’t as low-level as you thought because the corps uniform was made to withstand damage from low-level demons, but this odd liquid was enough to let parts of it disintegrate and expose your skin. Fortunately, it didn’t sting, burn or give your skin rashes—only melt off the fabric that covered your decency.

That was your last spare uniform too, because you’ve been sent to a lot of dangerous missions lately. This was the only one you had at home, but thankfully, you’ve placed a quick request for a few new ones to be sent to you.

You were lucky to have been able to beat it, so once you quickly lopped of the stupid demon’s head, you panicked and whistled for your bird to bring in kakushi. You didn’t know if this was Oyakata-sama’s foresight’s work, but you were grateful that three female kakushi pushed through the treeline, and quickly rushed to you once they noticed your predicament. One of them took care of the demon’s remains while the other two moved to you and wrapped you securely in a blanket, protecting your dignity and easing your panic.

Even if you were pretty much healthy and good to go, the girls—Chiyo, Tsune, and Hatsuko were great company as they escorted you back—ushered you to one of the many rooms in the butterfly estate. You argued that you weren’t injured and that you didn’t want to burden the butterfly nurses and the kakushi, but the girls told you that the estate wasn’t too busy, and that there was plenty of room for you.

The room was standard with a cot, a bedside table, and a few chairs for visitors, where a spare set of clothes for you was folded over. You were fine, but you were still grateful for the short time you could use for rest and for the girl’s thoughtfulness. Spending the time worrying about what you wear on your next mission would be a waste, so you lie down and try to close your eyes instead, to calm down your nerves.

The sound of shuffling doors brings you out of your light nap just in time to see a head of jet-black hair pop in.

A smile makes its way across your face as you watch your boyfriend slide the door close as quietly as possible. Giyuu looked good—clothes the same, hair unruly with the bare thread of his hair tie attempting to keep it tame—but what was new was the small package under his arm.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks when he sees you sitting up, and takes a seat on the nearest chair. Your smile sweetens when he looks back up, feeling your heart beat a little faster as his eyes soften out of its usual steely, and impassive gaze.

Dragging your mind out of its haze, you wave off his concern and reply, “Oh, this is just a formality—I’m fine.” Well, physically you were, but you’re reminded that all is not well when he glances around the room only to find the folded tatters of what remains of your previous clothing sitting innocently on the bedside table. “Wish I could say the same about my uniform though.”

“This should solve that.” Giyuu hands you the mysterious package and it gives you a moment to notice how nicely it was wrapped.

Lightly, you run your fingers over the black ink your name was written in, on a small tag attached to the white twine wrapping around brown packing paper. The twine intersects in a small tied ribbon right at the middle, and is sealed with a piece of wax stamped with the corps’ insignia. “Ah, is that why you’re here?”

“No, I was on my way to see you when I heard you were here. That—” He gestures with his chin “—I just brought in from the kakushi.”

You choose to ignore the way your cheeks flush when he mentions his intentions and instead show surprise. With how busy the kakushi were, you were pleasantly surprised that it took them only four days to make your uniform. “Oh, thanks, that was fast of them.”

“It’s your uniform right? I can wait outside so you can try it on.”

Already flustered from his previous responses, you try to answer, “Ah, yeah, yes. Thanks, I’ll just—um, yeah.” Only to sound like a bumbling idiot. Eloquent as always.

Embarrassed by your mess of a mouth, you look down at your hands and feel your hair come to cover your heated face. Looking at him in the eye right now would reduce you to a pile of flaming ashes, so you’re grateful your long hair has saved you yet again from his piercing stare.

Before Giyuu leaves though, you hear a light chuckle until he’s gone and you’re left with the sound of the door sliding back shut and the thought of how unfair it is that he can easily get you to smile and then flustered at the next second.

The moment you let the uniform unfold, something tells you that there was something…wrong. For one, there were too many holes in it—one on each shoulder, and an entire chunk around the stomach. The fabric felt silkier than what you previously had—even the skirt was much, much shorter than what you remember requesting for.

But a quick double check on the wrapping paper confirms that this was your uniform, so you try it on. It’s been a while since you’ve ordered a new one, maybe you just…weren’t used to it? Or maybe there were new rules in place?

If it wasn’t already bad when you first looked at it, it was even worse when you were wearing it.

How is this even supposed to protect me?

The only thing covered was your chest (not even counting the skin in the middle!), your forearms, and half your thighs. The uniform was too revealing and boy, did you want to crawl in a hole right now. You felt exposed—too exposed. You've rarely felt good in your own body, and now was no exception.

Just the thought of somebody else seeing you like this? What would they think?

A pit forms in your stomach, and something black and slimy wraps around your shoulders and around your neck. You feel constricted, like you couldn’t move or breathe, and your nails were digging in too hard into the clammy skin of your palms.

You weren’t like Mitsuri or Shinobu. You didn’t have a great figure like the love pillar, or a petite frame like the insect pillar. Instead, you found yourself staring into a mirror more often than you’d like, only to feel disappointed in your oversized body. In fact, you’re extremely lucky to have gone this far without a demon catching up to you given how slow you feel your body makes you.

You shouldn’t be crying over this—it was childish to throw a fit over something like this, but you feel horrible.

A knock from the door interrupts your thoughts and Giyuu’s voice carries over through the wooden door.

“(F/N), are you okay? Should I get Shinobu?”

No, he can’t see me like this.

Quickly, you scramble back to the bed where you placed your hospital clothes, and yank the stupid uniform you requested off your body and shove it under the bed. “Ah, no! I-I’m fine, I’m just changing again!”

You slip the button through the last opening and walk towards the door to let Giyuu back in.

Maybe I should send him back?

You could say that you were feeling sleepy or that you weren’t feeling too good, but he came all this way and… or maybe he was here to see someone else? You were his girlfriend, but that didn’t mean he was automatically here for your company.

You were too far gone in your own fears that you completely forgot that you were the reason why he was even here in the first place.

Hopefully, he leaves without question. Your hair will hide your face so he shouldn’t notice how it was burning or how there were small drops of tears in your eyes. But this was Giyuu, the Water Pillar, one of the strongest demon slayers in the entire corps, and your boyfriend. Nothing gets past him, especially if it concerns you.

He doesn’t even get through the threshold before he notices. “He—(F/N), what’s wrong?”

“...It’s nothing,” You say, angling your face away from you. I just feel tired all of a sudden. How about we see each other tomorrow? If you’re free of course. I know how busy you can get.” And you rarely saw each other too. It was a shame your issues just had to swoop right in.

“It’s fine with me if that’s what you really want, but are you sure it’s nothing?”

You feel warm fingers caress your chin before his hand moves back up to cup your cheek, and that’s when your walls chip and break. You lean into his touch and peek through your bangs to see a soft look in his eyes—a look you only ever saw on the rare chances you catch him looking at you or when he had a plate of freshly-cooked salmon daikon.

“You can tell me anything if you want to, I’ll listen.”

Of course you knew you could tell him anything, but actually telling him about something so stupid had you fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “I know this will sound stupid, but my uniform is wrong.”

“The uniform?”

Further hunching in on yourself, your body starts sweating, and you feel like your tears were about to spill over. “It looks terrible. There was no fabric around my entire stomach, it only covered half my things and—! Ugh, I know, I know it’s really childish of me to be complaining so much about it but I didn’t feel comfortable in it at all. I hate it—” and i hate my body “—It doesn’t look right on me, I’m too big for it.”

You breathe out a small sigh and look down at the floor. Melting through the floorboards sounded nice. “Maybe it’s just my fault—if I was thinner or prettier it would probably fit me better. I don’t know…I thought it would be similar to what I had before.”

“...Look at me,” Giyuu says after a while, and takes your hands when you don’t seem to reply any time soon. “Do you trust me?”

Immediately, you look up to him and answer with no hesitation. “With my life.”

“Then I hope you’ll believe me when I say that it's not your fault.” His lips curl slightly upward when your gaze moves from the floor to him. He’s glad that he caught your attention, because he wants you to see how much he means the words he’s about to say.

“I don’t care if you’re thinner, or prettier or about anything else. As long as you’re happy, healthy, and alive, it’s more than enough.” Giyuu places his forehead against yours, and for a moment, you forget why you’re worrying so much.

“To me, You’re the kindest, prettiest, most perfect person in my eyes, and I hope you see yourself the way I do. You have a heart of gold, and you’re plenty perfect just the way you are. You don’t need to change for anything or anyone.”

Giyuu wasn’t really good with words, and he knew that. In fact, at the moment you were seeking comfort, he was in over his head. He thought he was being redundant and talking himself in circles, so he did panic a little when the tears started slipping from your eyes. Panic changed into relief though when you wrap your arms around his torso.

You were well-aware that he wasn’t good with words, so you were caught off-guard by the reassurances he was giving you. You never knew how much you needed to hear those from him, to be reminded that he liked you just as you are.

As easily frazzled you were with a somewhat constant need for reassurance, you’ve gotten used to the fact that receiving verbal assurance from him would be rare if not nonexistent. So you’ve gotten used to his quiet support. He was always there when you needed him, and tried to comfort you the best way he knew how. You appreciated it, and even came around to care for his silent quirks, but hearing him say how much you meant to him, was incredibly comforting, and

“If you hate your uniform, I've heard that Shinobu had problems with hers too at first so I'm sure we can ask Shinobu what she did with hers. I can even place a request for a new one for you.”

Giyuu was never very good with words, but he always made it up with his actions.

“That would be nice.”

BONUS:

You really appreciated that Giyuu was with you the entire time your horrible uniform was alive on this earth. As promised, he helped you handle the uniform issue, and came with you to Shinobu’s office (who was more than willing to hand you the oil and matches).

“Oh? (F/N)-chan? Tomioka-san?” She greets when she ushers you two in her office. “I haven’t seen you two in a while! I’m surprised Tomioka-san is here with you though. I thought he avoided social interaction?.”

Giyuu grumbles at her teasing, but you know these two were friends, even if both of them didn’t want to admit it. “I’m still here.”

You squeeze your boyfriend’s hand, before smiling sheepishly at Shinobu. “It’s been a busy few weeks. We should catch up sometime, but that’s not really why we’re here.”

The Insect Pillar tilts her head in curiosity, and asks, “Oh? Then how can I be of service?”

“Well, you see, all of my uniforms were ruined from my past missions, so I requested for a new one, but um…” Giyuu handed you the clothes you’ve placed back in the wrapping paper which you bring out and let unfold to show Shinobu how it was clearly not your style.

Air seems to freeze over as the seconds tick by with your ‘uniform’ hanging from your hands.

Giyuu was standing behind you, so you couldn’t exactly see his reactions, but you could see how Shinobu’s ever-present smile turned sinister, and looked like she was ready to stab someone with her sword.

“I think they got my size wrong. Giyuu told me that you mentioned having the same problem before, so I was hoping you could tell me how you got yours fixed.”

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Shinobu’s smile stays eerily plastered on her face, “Oh, it’s simple! You can just burn yours. Don’t worry, I burned mine too and I lent the oil and matches to Kanao and Aoi, so you don’t have to feel bad—I’m more than willing to lend you the oil and matches I used. How about I join you two to go to the kakushi? I have a vague idea of who the tailor might be.”

As per Giyuu’s words, It wasn’t your fault. One of the kakushi in charge of making the uniforms was too blame and decided to take some… creative liberties with yours.

When Giyuu saw the scraps of cloth Maeda-san—or scum-glasses as everyone promptly nicknamed him— back in Shinobu’s office, you thought his face didn’t change or move an inch. Shinobu wanted to laugh, because unlike typical Giyuu fashion, everyone who saw him the entire day could see the pulsing vein on his temple that seemed like it would pop any minute. It was clear that he was pissed off, as he handed you the oil to douse the clothes in and gave a readily lit match, but she found it a little sweet that he was a bit more transparent when it came to you.

After the fabric was reduced to ashes in front of Maeda-san, a new agreement was made about your uniform, and as a temporary solution, Giyuu lent you a few of his spare uniforms for you to wear on duty. You had plenty of kimonos and hakamas to wear, but you primarily wore those for training and didn't particularly provide the same protection the corp’s issued uniform did.

It was a little tight around your chest and your hips, and a bit too long for your arms and legs, but you could still move around comfortably without busting a button, so you took it gratefully, and wore it for the week your uniform was being made.

He was with you when your new uniform arrived. The two of you were eating snacks on the Water Estate’s engawa when a kakushi—in a nice surprise it was Tsune—dropped by with a new package, similar to the one Giyuu handed you before. You thanked them and hurriedly went in one of the empty rooms to change, leaving Giyuu to drink his tea alone as he waits for your return

“Giyuu!” You call as you join him back on the engawa. He turns only to be blinded when he sees you smiling to high heaven. “Look, it’s perfect! They got the measurements right this time.”

The uniform you wore right now was just like your old one, and he could see that it clearly made you happy. You even  twirl in place, gleefully modeling your new skirt and uniform blouse to him.

“I’m grateful you lent me your uniform, but I;m more used to wearing skirts.” Laughing lightly, you look down at your clothes, carefully running your fingers across the fabric. “I’m so glad this one’s perfect!”

Without an ounce of shame or hesitation, Giyuu tilts his head towards you and says, “You’re the one who’s perfect.”

Oh my god, your heart is going to explode.

Looking down at your tabi socks, you let your hair fall over your face, if only to hide the red flush on your skin. “Giyuu, are you sweet talking me right now?”

“No, I’m being honest.” From the sound of his voice, he was being one hundred percent, and a quick look on his face confirms it, even if there was a little mischievous glint in his eyes. He knew you were getting flustered and in extension, knew what he was doing to you.

You sit down at your previous spot right beside him before taking your teacup from where you placed it on the tray to hide the small smile on your lips. “Okay, okay, you can stop now, you’ve made your point.”

“But I’m serious, you look perfect.” Giyuu leans over, wrapping an arm around your waist and places a soft kiss on your cheek. He tugs you closer to lean against him and  watches how your skin changes into a deeper red. It makes him think that he should voice his thoughts about you more often.

“Ah, Giyuu! Stop it!” You giggle, but ultimately return the favor, peppering his face in kisses and smiling at him in a way that makes his heart beat faster.

He may have been a little sad that you won’t be wearing his clothes anytime soon now, but seeing you comfortable and smiling…

Well, that was more than enough for him.

A/N: A gentle reminder to those who reached the end: please know that you are a beautiful and wonderful person. You are loved, you are valued, and have people who care for you, okay?

A huge thank you for reading! online classes are being a little pain, so even if I really missed writing (and reading) fanfics, I might be a little rusty :(( hopefully ya’ll enjoyed it 🥺

Again, to the anon who requested this, i am so so sorry that it took me this long. i hope you still liked it tho 🥺🥺 (i also might post that modern hs au i was talking about earlier, so keep your eyes peeled for that <3)

[hongnanglen-arina]

The Ulzzang Project - Part 1 | Jeon Wonwoo

Read part 2  

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Genre: Fluff, crack (maybe explicit content in the next chapters)

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: none

Words: 2.6k

A/N: Hello there! Here’s part 1 of my mini series of you and Wonwoo, the next ulzzang stars hahaha :3 I’d be happy to know your thoughts about it. I’m already working on part 2. I might spice it up in the upcoming chapters. If you don’t like that, scream at me and I will stop hehet. So, have fun! And as always, please remember that English isn’t my first language so excuse my grammar ♡

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You sat in Wonwoo’s apartment. It was one of those Saturday nights where you two would order greasy food, have competitive game sessions and cuddle together on his couch or in his huge bed. You’ve known each other ever since your mothers went to driving school together. Both got married to their significant other and soon you two were born, making them joke that you two should end up together when you get older. That didn’t happen obviously. Instead you grew up like siblings, spending nearly all of your free time together, fighting over stupid little things but always making up quickly after. Even studying together, entering the same university and sharing the same group of friends. You two were kind of inseparable. 

“Wait, why is the bucket of fried chicken already empty???” You shot a shocked look at the boy beside you who wasn’t paying attention to you but bobbed his head to the music of the band in the youtube video which was playing on his tv screen, licking his fingers clean to get another slice of pizza. Before taking a bite, he gave you a rather emotionless answer, his face dead ass serious. “Dunno. Maybe we ate it?”

You scoffed at his words. Oh Jeon Wonwoo.

More laughing, more jamming to music and more teasing until you were full, halfway lying on the floor while you talked about the new annoying professor at uni that scolded Dokyeom on his very first day and was on bad terms with him from that day on. 

After a while you cleaned up and started to play Dead or Alive to ‘relieve some stress’. You two had mastered this game for years now, resulting in you and Wonwoo winning and loosing the same amount of times. While you stick to one character, he switched to different ones but even though you two were always close, you would never grow tired of this game and those competitions with him. 

When he left for using the bathroom, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through Instagram, stopping at a specific post of a couple who uploaded a suggestive photo of them without revealing much of their person. You cocked your head to the side and Wonwoo noticed it when he came back. “What are you looking at, y/n?” He sat down beside you and you showed him your phone. “Look, they aren’t doing much and the photo has quite a bad quality - maybe on purpose - but it is still good that I understand why people push the like button. Effortless aesthetic.” 

Wonwoo made an annoyed grimace at your words and you raised an eyebrow. “What?” “Anyone can do that.” “Why do you think that?” Your best friend thought for a moment and pulled out his own phone, unlocking it and going through some apps until he held it in front of the two of you. Before you could ask what he was doing, he got closer to you and took a photo. You noticed that the room was silent. Only some faint noises from outside the window could be heard when he showed the photo to you. It was a photo of you two next to each other but other people wouldn’t recognize you two. The photo showed only your lips, chin, neck and a little bit of your shirt. You looked up at him and saw his grin. Wonwoo moved a little so that it seemed like he was going to kiss you. Slightly panicking, you automatically covered your face, asking him what the hell he was doing when you heard the shutter of his phone once again, signalizing that he took another photo.

The room was quiet when you removed your hands, a soft blush on your cheeks when he turned the screen, giving you a better look of the new photo. Wonwoo used a filter that gave your photo a nice vintage look. Blinking, you were kind of impressed. If you didn’t know better, you would say that it was a photo of a famous ulzzang couple from Instagram. Noticing Wonwoo’s pleased smirk, you hit his chest. “Yah, what was that all about, huh?? You can’t just-“ “I’m going to open a new account. I’m curious how many followers and likes we can get in a month.” 

You had a hard time to follow, squinting your eyes and opening your mouth like a fish without saying anything. He tapped on his phone happily, completely ignoring your confused state. “W-wait, what did you say? What do you mean? A new account? Followers? What?” You tried to have a better look on his screen but he turned around, chuckling a little so that his round glasses slid down the bridge of his nose a bit in the process. “Jeon Wonwoo! Answer!” 

Fighting you off his shoulders, he took his sweet time to do whatever he was doing on his phone and you whined, asking for answers but not getting one at all. Sighing, you gave up after a while, giving his broad back a death glare as you turned around and took your own phone, opening the previous app and pouting while scrolling through the already seen posts. You were facing the other direction, sitting back against back. Hearing Wonwoo chuckle from time to time or giving a thinking noise, he always got your attention but since he never explained what he was doing, you took some selfies, sticking out your tongue and pointing at the boy behind you. After editing it a little more, you uploaded it on your Instagram site with the single word ‘idiot’ and tagged him. Giggling to yourself, you didn’t notice the shuffling noises and the warmth behind you disappearing when Wonwoo literally shoved his phone in your face. Your groan got stuck in your throat when you finally got your answer.

Taking his phone out of his hand, you took a better look. It was a seemingly new Instagram account with one content, zero followers and zero following. Your eyes widen when you click on the only photo in this account. It was you two. The photo from before. You were covering your face while the photo was cut, only showing Wonwoo’s grin against your hands. Your eyes travel lower, silently reading through the hashtags he had added. #cutecouple #shy #ulzzangcouple #saturdaynight and 18 more. It didn’t take long until the first stranger liked your photo and you blinked in disbelief. That’s when you noticed the user icon. It was the sunflower you got Wonwoo when he moved into his apartment. The very first day. You remembered the moment when he stopped you in his door and took a photo of you. Although he cut it, you could still see your hands holding the flowers plus a part of your white dress from that day.

Another notification. Another 3 likes. You turned to Wonwoo, who was awaiting your opinion. Pointing at his phone and the still open app, you asked “Are you serious?” “Totally.” His short remark wasn’t convincing enough and the way Wonwoo continued talking showed you that he understood. “It’s like a little experiment. We take some photos together, upload it and wait. As I said, I’m curious how famous our little site can become. We can delete and close it after a month if you want.”

He watched your face patiently until you met his gaze. “Okay. Fine for me. But I have a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Are we going to upload cute photos only or.. uhm… other photos also?”

“What do you mean with other photos?”

Oh Jeon Wonwoo don’t play dumb, you thought to yourself but lifted your arm, pulling your collar down a bit to reveal more of your neck and collarbone. “This.”

“Sexy?” Wonwoo smirked at you and you rolled your eyes, giving him a hard push so that he rolled onto his back, laughing at your reaction. 

You pouted and crossed your arms in front of your chest in an attempt to distract yourself from the blush on your face. You have seen it often enough. Accounts like that. And you would lie if you say you didn’t like them. Many of them showed their strongly edited faces but some didn’t show their faces at all and you guessed your site would be like the latter. If you are going to include more revealing or suggestive photos, you would care less if no one could see who it actually was. 

That’s how you agreed.

The whole night the two of you brainstormed. You collected ideas for your next photos and had lots of fun with it. Even lying in his bed together, giggling about the most common couple poses and making gagging noises when looking them up. At around 3 am you yawned and Wonwoo put his phone and glasses on the little night stand, opening his arms for you to crawl in as you always did. You just loved to sleep in his arms. It was some kind of habit since you were little. You loved his scent and his warmth and sometimes you even found yourself at your own home unable to fall asleep because he wasn’t there. 

The warm and bright sun woke Wonwoo up. He wanted to turn around and get some more sleep but decided to open one eye instead, noticing that you weren’t there anymore. So he stretched his limbs in all directions and put on his glasses. After grabbing his phone and getting out of bed, he waddled to the living room and found you in the small kitchen corner, humming a song he knew while preparing breakfast - or according to the time on the clock, lunch.

He was about to join you when he stopped in his tracks and unlocked his phone, quickly taking a photo before putting it away again. 

“What is my baby making?”

Facing him, you shot him your infamous death glare. “Baby? Really?”

Wonwoo laughed at your unamused voice and joined you, stopping right behind your small form and looking over your shoulder. “Do you know how I like my omelette?” Snorting loudly, you threatened him with your balled first that he quickly ran to the dining table and took his seat. Like the good and obedient boy that he could be. Sometimes. 

He was silent while you added your finishing touches to the late breakfast but when you started to set everything on the table Wonwoo was waiting at, he took another photo, a smile plastered on his face. "What did I do to deserve you, hm?"

You were about to take the first bite of omelette when you stopped in your tracks, fork just inches away from your lips. "Okay, what's going on, Wonwoo? You are super strange today?"

"Is that a surprise to you?"

"Not really... but today you're super super strange so tell me."

He grinned at you and took a sip of the orange juice. "I'm just happy to be with my baby, that's it."

"There!" You pointed at him with your fork. "What is that all about, huh? Since when am I your baby?? Did I miss out on something last night or what??"

The dark haired boy in front of you chuckled as you tried to squeeze an answer out of him, with no success. Slowly worry crept up your spine. "Wait.. I didn't do anything to you, right? Or, I didn't say anything uh... strange, right? I know we had alcohol but... Wonwoo, tell me." 

You saw him wiggle with his eye brow at you. "What do you wish did happen between us?"

"Yah! Jeon Wonwoo, I- .... I saw you naked more than one hundred times! I know all your secrets! I know you better than you know yourself! I.... I am just not your baby!"

He leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest while watching you pout. "Chill. I'm just trying to get into the mood."

"For what?"

"For sexy photos."

"For what?!"

"For s-"

"I heard you!!"

"Then why are you asking?"

The piece of omelette had fallen down from your fork a long time ago and you weren't sure what was more important in this very moment. The only thing that you were sure about was the fact that your cheeks were burning like fire. "I... why the heck do you want sexy photos?!"

"You wanted sexy photos for our experiment and here I am. The bestest friend that has ever existed is willing to take some with you. Shouldn't you feel all giddy or so?"

"Says who?" You mirrored him, crossing your arms as well, trying to remember your exact words from the day before. You thought you did ask about more revealing photos but it was just a question about the content of your shared Instagram, your little experiment or how Wonwoo had called it. You just wanted to be sure. Never have you imagined to take some with him a day later, today.

"Forget it. I'm not going to do that."

"Now I'm sad."

Snorting, you rolled your eyes, sure he said it only to sound funny. 

—

You sat with your friends from uni, poking your lunch with your chopsticks in such boredom that you were more than sure nothing could grab your attention nor lighten up the mood. But you were wrong. Seungkwan hit your shoulder and you were ready to start a fight when he showed you his cellphone screen. "Y/n, what do you think? Yesterday I started a couple Instagram with my girlfriend. It was something I've been thinking about for a while but yeah. How do you find our first post? Pretty nice, huh? We already got 217 likes!"

One chopstick fell out of your hand in surprise but you quickly nodded at your friend. Your own site was a secret. There was no way you would ever tell your friends about it especially if - one day - you would really post less child friendly content. No way. Also, where was Wonwoo?

"W-wow, 217 likes after a day is pretty impressive!"

"To be exact, it's been 20 hours and..... 32 minutes."

"Whatever."

When Seungkwan turned around to the other friends to show them his site, you secretly opened your own with Wonwoo, scrolling through the amount of likes you got until now. That's when you saw the 2 new posts. A photo of you standing in front of the stove, dressed in an oversized white shirt from Wonwoo, bare legs and one from when you set down the food in front of him. Both photos from that morning. Your own face couldn't be seen but they were edited similar like the first post. 

Your eyes flew over the texts Wonwoo had added to each of them.

G'morning baby.

My baby is the best.

Looking around, you quickly made sure that your friends didn't notice what you were doing and you tried to get rid of the warm layer that was covering your cheeks. He wrote baby.

Then you remembered the real reason you opened the app. You wanted to see how many likes you got until now. The newest of the food had 7. The one of you cooking breakfast had 38. And the first one from last saturday had 305 likes. Although you had more than your friend, you wanted the gap to be bigger.

Without noticing, your competitive personality came out. You didn't want to lose to Seungkwan and his girlfriend. Opening Kakao Talk, you wrote Wonwoo a message with a lot of cute shouting emoticons you once bought.

[Y/n] We need more photos - today. I'll be at your place at 7. It's urgent.

⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅

This gif is literally Wonwoo right before he came up with his genius idea lol

[out-of-jams]

One Chance || myg

(Amazing, incredibly badass banner made by @kimtaehyunq​ )

↠ One Chance ↞ Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project.

And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings/Genre: College!au. Music producer!Yoongi x Singer!Reader. Fluff. Explicit language. Some angst. Mentions of alcohol. s2l. Oneshot.

A/n: Hey all you cool cats and kittens. Hope you’re all staying safe out there! I wasn’t intending to write this, but I had no other choice.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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Min Yoongi.

The name stared up at you in size twelve font, black letters printed onto the white sheeted paper. Every other word on the page blurred around the edges as you tried to place a face to the name. You weren’t good with names, never had been. So with a sigh, you leaned to the side and mumbled to the girl sitting next to you in class.

“Hey, who’s Min Yoongi?”

She--Mira? Mina? something like that--glanced up from her portfolio opened up on the desk and shot you a disbelieving look. You couldn’t blame her, not really. It was nearing the end of the semester and your vocal class had worked with the music production class multiple times throughout the course of the year. Neither class was very big, so you probably should have known the names of all twenty students. Total. Ten in each class.

But hey, in your defense you’d had a lot on your plate, seeing as how you were about to graduate from university and all. Which was a pretty big deal, so memorizing the names of people you only saw a few times ever-so-often wasn’t high up on your list of priorities.

But Min Yoongi.

You recognized him the moment you saw the soft outline of his profile through the glass window of the studio door a day later. He had his attention trained on whatever was on his laptop screen, pale hand sliding across the mousepad. His dark brows were pinched in concentration and you could see the tip of his tongue digging into the side of his cheek.

Even though the overly-bright lights in the room were on, the guy still somehow managed to blend in with the slate grey walls. Hell, his icy blond hair was the only color to stand out amongst all the black clothing. The oversized hoodie and black joggers he wore looked comfortable, and had you glancing down at your own outfit self-consciously. Had the sweater, skirt and high heeled boots combo been too much? Should you have dressed down a little?

Whatever. It was too late now.

Watching him through the door made you feel like some kind of stalking creep, but you couldn’t help it.

You’d seen him around campus a few times and recognized him from whenever your classes joined together and was a little disappointed at yourself for not recognizing his name. Even though you'd never spoken a word to him before, you were a little apprehensive about being partnered together. Min Yoongi had a reputation, and not a very good one. Sure, he was talented at what he did, producing music, to the point where a lot of people in the music department called him a genius. But he was known for being standoffish. Rude. And could cut someone down with a few words from his naturally pouty lips.

You didn’t like to judge a book by its cover, or by the rumors that circulated about them. However, that did nothing for the intimidating aura that bled from the man like cologne the second you stepped foot into the room.

He didn’t even pause in whatever he was doing to spare you a glance. Just announced in a dry, rumbling voice, “You’re late.”

“Uh.” You hesitated halfway into the room, the door swinging shut behind you automatically. Two seconds in and he already hated you. Great. “Sorry. I got lost.”

That made him look up and watch as you pulled the only other rolling chair back from the desk and plopped down. God, his eyes were just as daunting as the rest of him: onyx in color and cat-like in shape, they were bottomless as he blinked at you lazily. And he slowly raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“You got lost.” Yoongi repeated slowly. So sarcastically that you didn’t even hear a question mark at the end of it. “Aren’t you about to graduate? How are you still getting lost on campus?”

Your mouth opened and closed, embarrassed heat blossoming across your cheeks. You were blushing hard and you knew it, but that sure as hell didn’t mean that you had to acknowledge it. So you just sniffed and dug through your backpack for an excuse to break eye contact. “I haven’t been in here before.”

It was true. In a way. The hall of studios that you were in now were for the senior music production students. There was a completely different area for each year, but each student had their own assigned as theirs for the semester. So you weren’t lying when you said you hadn’t been to his exact studio before.

Which he seemed to catch on to, if the way Yoongi’s second eyebrow raised to join the first told you anything. But he let it go and turned back to shut his laptop, which you could now see was opened to a music production app. You weren’t very schooled on how to operate it, but even you could tell that he seemed to be very far into whatever it was he was making.

Though you didn’t get a good enough look at it before he closed it.

“Even though we have a month to do this, we should figure out what kind of song we’re making now instead of later.” Yoongi stated in that gruff voice of his and clicked a few things on his laptop. “Since you’re the one singing, you’ll be setting the tone--”

“Wait.” You interrupted.

Yoongi stopped whatever it was he was about to say to give you a blank look, the corners of his lips turned down. “What?”

Clearing your throat, you continued on despite the way his expression tried to cow you into shutting up. “How’re we splitting this up?”

A valid question. Not every person who created music worked in the same way. Some liked to do things a completely different way than somebody else might’ve. Last time you’d worked with one of the students from the music production class, the two of you had butted heads the whole way. He hadn’t wanted to hear your input at all, and you weren’t about to be shoved off to the side like some kind of un-opinionated mouthpiece again.

Yoongi made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a hum. “I normally make the track and leave the lyrics up to the singer unless they need help.”

He looked at you from out of the corner of his eye as he clicked a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him to bring the giant monitor above the control panel to life. “Can you write?”

“Yes.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about it.

“Good. You’ll take care of that then.” Yoongi slid a blank yellow notepad into the empty space on the control panel between you. “Though we’ll need to do the melody before that.”

The next time the two of you met was almost a week later. It’d been sometime late in the afternoon when you both finally had time in your schedules. Because for some stupid reason, even though both of your classes were combined to work on the project, it had to be done outside of class.

Ugh.

As if you didn’t already have enough things to stress over. Like say, securing a job for after graduation.

During the first meeting between the two of you, you’d already decided on what kind of song you wanted to make. Something upbeat, but not over the top, though not boring either. You weren’t a huge fan of sounding like every other music artist out there and apparently Yoongi had felt the same. So it’d been easy to come up with.

He’d texted over a few ideas for the concept and you’d been pleasantly surprised at how serious he took it. At how complex and layered the ideas he’d come up with were. They were a lot better than anything you could have ever dreamed up and you were beyond astonished.

Especially when he met you outside of his studio door, blond hair was secured back off his forehead by a white headband,  and greeted you with, “I finished the track.”

“Already?” Shock was clear in your voice and you watched open mouthed as he unlocked the door and held it open for you to follow him inside. The lights flickered on overhead, but you were too busy staring at his back to notice. “That was quick, holy shit.”

Yoongi shrugged off your awe and wiggled the mouse to bring his computer to life. “It was no big deal. And now we can work on the melody.”

Still gaping at the blond, you shuffled forward to drop your bag next to your chair. “Okay. Um. Where should we start?”

Pulling out his chair, he sat down and lazily dragged the mouse over to open up his production software. “Listen to it first and let me know if you want to make any changes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You plopped down into your own chair and watched as he pressed play.

The music that poured from the expensive speakers started off slowly until it tapered off into what you assumed would be the first chorus. And you found yourself unconsciously tapping your fingers against your thigh when the bridge finally hit, you had to bite your lip to contain an excited smile. The moment it ended, you twisted in your chair to see that he was already looking at you. Though he kept his face blank, you could literally see question lingering behind those cat-like eyes of his.

“Mm.” You hummed, nodding your head and trying your damnedest to keep the grin from your face.

When you failed to say anything more, Yoongi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Mm.” You finally let the smile touch your lips. “I really liked it. It’s good.”

“Yeah?” He reached out to stop the track from replaying on a loop. “Any changes?”

“Nah. I like it just the way it is.”

“Alright.” Was what he responded with, but you could tell that he was pleased beneath that hard exterior of his. “The melody then.”

“The melody.” You agreed.

Min Yoongi was extremely anal when it came to anything he attached his name to.

That was probably why he had so many music companies vying for his attention. Not only did he produce nothing short of perfect tracks, but he’d even made some cash on the side selling some of them. Or so you’d heard through the grapevine.

Which was exactly why you were left staring at the blank notebook settled across your crossed legs. The pen in your hand had yet to put ink to the blank pages hours after you’d gotten home. All because some guy intimidated the hell out of you.

Most of the songs you wrote were fine. But that was the problem.  

Min Yoongi didn’t do fine. And you had no doubt in your mind that he’d tear your work to absolute shreds should you present him something lackluster. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so quick to jump the gun and tell him you’d be fine writing by yourself.

It was way too late now.

“How long are you going to stare like that?”

Snapping out of your self-degrading thoughts, you turned to look over your shoulder. Jennie, your ever present roommate, was standing behind the couch shoving spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth. By the lack of makeup on her face and the messy bun her long black hair was thrown up into, she was more than likely about to go to bed.

“Stare like what?” You asked with a poorly concealed pout, pulling out your earbuds that’d been playing the track on a constant loop.

“Like you’re constipated or something.” Jennie waved her spoon at you before dipping it back into the bowl to scoop up more soggy cereal. “Project really giving you that much trouble?”

She didn’t necessarily know exactly what was going on with you, not exactly. Sure, she knew that you were partners with Yoongi and had been spending a lot of time with the man for the project. But she didn’t know just how much pressure you were under. Self-inflicted or not.

“These lyrics are kicking my ass.” Groaning, you leaned to the side until you were sprawled out on the couch.

“Why?” Jennie rested her arms against the back of it, bowl of milk and cereal hovering over you dangerously. “They don’t normally.”

She had a point. It wasn’t usually so difficult to write a damn song, but you also didn’t usually have a perfectionist genius as a partner. Instead of saying that though, you just threw your arms over your face. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this, ‘ya know? I should drop out while I still can.”

“O-kay.” You could hear her exasperated eye roll. “Don’t stress so much about it. You know, whenever you’re done being overdramatic.”

Jennie successfully dodged the couch pillow you chucked after fleeing footsteps. A buzz from your phone had you reaching for it blindly and the text on the screen had you burying your face into the cushions.

Min Yoongi: you free tomorrow?

Y/n: yeah. Same time?

His response came in not even five seconds later.

Min Yoongi: works for me

“So, see you tomorrow?” The question left your lips as you packed your stuff back into your bag. You still hadn’t been able to come up with any lyrics. At least none good enough to show your partner. So while you’d both been in the studio, you’d busied yourself trying to write and Yoongi had been doing whatever it was that he did.

He’d just powered down the computer he’d been working on and shook his head without looking at you. “I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

“Oh, really?” That came as a surprise. The fact that there was something or someone out there that could force the Min Yoongi to ditch working on a song. “What kind of plans?”

Ever since you’d showed up with food two weeks ago, he’d been a little more amicable towards you. Not as closed off. Which, of course, only led to you bringing some with you every day. Maybe food being the way to a man’s heart really applied to every man. Nonetheless, with the way the two of you would banter back and forth without heat made you hope that it wasn’t just you who considered him a friend.

Yoongi paused, only for a moment, but he paused all the same in throwing his bag over his shoulder before he answered. “I...have a show.”

“A show?” Your eyebrows raised in surprise as you stood up. That was the last thing you would have expected to leave his mouth. “What kind of show?”

“It’s not the type of show you’d want to watch.” He headed for the door and you scrambled to follow after him.

Leaning against the wall while he locked up the door, you folded your arms across your chest. “Why? You a stripper or something?”

Yoongi didn’t even spare you a look, just pocketed his keys and started down the hallway, apparently assuming that you’d follow. “You saying I wouldn’t be a good stripper?”

He’d assumed correctly. Your legs raced to catch up. “I never said that. You insinuated that all by yourself.”

An amused scoff passed his lips, but that was all you got in response. You weren’t about to letter the matter drop though. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A stripper.”

A pause. And then Yoongi met your sparkling gaze and shook his head with a huffing laugh. “No, I’m not a stripper.”

“Well, if your show isn’t anything rated NC-18, then can I go?”

“Why would you want to go?”

His question had you sending him a hesitant look. “Because we’re friends, aren't we?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “If I say no, will you stop asking?”

You pretended to think for a minute before clicking your tongue. “Nope.”

He looked over at you, feline eyes squinting in contemplation. As much as Min Yoongi liked to act like he came across as aloof, he was a lot easier to read than he probably thought. And he must have found whatever it was he was looking for, because his thoughtful pout turned into a careless shrug.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Sweet.” You grinned up at him and finally let him go on his merry way.

It was difficult to find a parking spot. You’d had to loop around the block at least ten times before you were finally able to squeeze your car into a space between two giant SUVs. The spot wasn’t exactly close to where you were supposed to meet Yoongi, but it was the best you could do.

When he’d texted you the address, you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little apprehensive at first. It was located on the outskirts of downtown where you’d never been before. Because the further out you went from the center of the city, the more dangerous it got.

Y/n: I’m here.

You sent the text off to Yoongi and cut the car engine. Throwing a glance at the clock on the dash, you silently thanked yourself for leaving a bit early in order to get there in time. The sun had long gone down and the moon had taken its place, so the streets were dark. Only lit up by the street lamps and lights that bled from apartment windows. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, the corner store half a block down was the only one still open.

You had about six blocks to walk and was just about to get out of your car when your phone started vibrating in your hand.

“Hello?” You answered the call, voice pitched with barely concealed amusement.

“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice was even deeper over the phone, if that were possible. And you could hear the sounds of cars driving past him in the background.

You rolled your eyes even though he wasn’t there to see it. “I told you that I’m here.”

He sighed into the phone and you just knew that he was making a face. “Where is ‘here’ exactly?”

“Like, parked a few blocks away.” You popped your car door open, turning back to the passenger seat to grab your bag. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Stay where you are.” Yoongi demanded and you raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come get you.”

“You don’t have to.” You huffed a laugh. “I have two legs, ‘ya know.”

“Really? Never noticed.” In the background, voices blended in with the sound of cars. “This neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. So just tell me where you are so I can make sure you don’t get stabbed or something.”

“‘Stabbed or something?’” It was difficult to hide your amusement now, but you obeyed and got back inside your car anyway, letting him know what street you were on. “My knight in shining armor, you say the most romantic things.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. You knew he did. “Nevermind. Maybe I’ll just let you get stabbed while I make my escape.”

The bark of laughter that left you was impossible to contain. “I could run faster than you and you know it. So try me.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Yeah okay. You wouldn't--”

A click told you that yes, he would. And you were left staring down at your phone with open mouthed disbelief. How dare he? You were just about to call him back and tell him as much, when a knock on your car window had you jumping with a small shriek.

Yoongi stood right outside your door with his fist still raised and a gummy grin on his pouty lips. You just stuck your tongue out at him childishly and grabbed your bag before slipping out of your car. “You’re a bully.”

He slid his hands into the pockets of his dark colored jeans and shrugged. “Would a bully walk all the way over here to make sure you don’t get robbed?”

Now it was your turn to shrug, taking him in and pretending not to see his onyx eyes slide down your body. Yoongi was dressed casually like usual. With a plain white t-shirt and a black zip up jacket thrown over it, he pulled it off like he’d just stepped off a magazine cover. How in the hell he always managed to do that was a mystery to you. And you knew you didn’t compare to him, even with your high-waisted white joggers and grey crop top.

Whatever. It wasn’t like it was bright enough outside to matter anyway.

“That sounds exactly like something a robber would say.” You flicked your hair over your shoulder and took off down the cracked sidewalk, making sure to lock your car behind you.

“Not like there’d be much to steal.” Yoongi’s voice caught up to you right as he did, walking side by side with the occasional brushing of his shoulder against yours.

You responded to his playful jab by lightly smacking his arm. “Careful there. Keep saying such poetic words and you’ll make me fall in love with you, Min Yoongi.”

He went quiet, but you could feel him looking at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze was a weight that burned through you, a light shining through the night.

The rest of the walk passed by pretty quickly, especially when nobody jumped out of an alleyway to rob you at knifepoint. Whether or not that was because of the man walking at your side, or something else, it didn’t matter. Not when the building you were headed to for the night popped up in the distance.

It looked like any other building on the street, with rough brick siding and a glowing red and green sign advertising the bar. Situated on the corner, you were just about to head inside when Yoongi’s hand caught your arm.

“It’s this way.” He answered your confused look by tugging you gently down the alleyway right next to the bar.

“But I thought it was inside.” You glanced back behind you before looking back towards the dead ended alley.

Yoongi dropped his hand from your arm. “It is.”

“Ah, makes sense.” You nodded sarcastically, successfully drawing a smile from your escort.

“Be patient and you’ll see.”

True to his word, you saw what he meant when he came to a stop outside of a side door. There weren’t any signs or anything indicated what it led to, but you could take a guess as Yoongi pulled it open and gestured for you to enter first.

It was dark inside and you had to squint in the dim lighting in order to see anything. You were in what appeared to be some kind of entrance that reminded you of one of the speakeasies downtown. Though there wasn’t a soul in sight, just a staircase at the end of the short hall. Unless you counted the loud base of music pounding through your feet and straight to your bones. The door slammed shut behind Yoongi and then he was taking the lead towards the stairs.

The further down you went, the louder the music got until it was all you could hear. And once you got to the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room, you found out why. Bodies were packed wall-to-wall, some moving to the music pouring from the speakers and others nodding their heads with drinks in their hands. Red and purple lights made the room seem bigger than it actually was, made it easier to lose yourself in the crowd.

Yoongi had taken you to an underground club. Which just made you all the more curious about just what kind of show he was going to be performing in.

“Want a drink?” Yoongi’s voice, even though spoken directly in your ear, was barely distinguishable from the lyrics bleeding through the room.

You simply nodded, taking care not to bash your head into his nose from where he was leaning over for you to hear him. He said something you couldn’t hear, words lost to the crowd. But you assumed he wanted you to follow him when he started to merge himself into the throngs of people. Just when you thought that you’d have to try and fight your way through to keep up with him, he was reaching back to grab your hand.

Wrapped his slender fingers around yours without sparing you a second look.

He was just trying to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowd. Yeah, that was it. There was no other reason for it, so therefore your heart had no reason to speed up. To thump in time with the bass as you followed behind him. Especially when the warmth from his palm slid into yours.

“What do you want?” Yoongi turned back to speak in your ear. Shit, you hadn’t even realized that you’d already reached the packed bar. So you forced yourself to focus on the two bartenders running around behind it, rather than the hand still in yours.

“Tequila.” You answered. Yoongi raised both eyebrows in surprise before turning back to the bar. With his eyes no longer on you, it made breathing a whole lot easier. And you turned your attention away from Yoongi’s slim back and towards the stage.

It was all the way on the other side of the room and you watched as a guy walked across it with a mic in his hands. The music was lowered and his voice cracked to life through the speakers. Whatever announcement he was making went in one ear and out the other because Yoongi turned back around with a plastic cup extended out towards you. His other hand was empty and you sent him a questioning look.

Whether or not he knew what you were silently asking, or was just making a general announcement, he answered your question. “I have to perform soon.”

You made an ‘o’ with your mouth and accepted the drink with a smile in thanks. “You still haven’t told me what you’re gonna be doing.”

You had to stand on your tippy-toes in order for Yoongi to hear you, which didn’t go unnoticed by him if the amused gleam in his eyes was anything to go by. “You’ll see.”

Which was exactly how you found yourself with another drink in your hands and your back leaning against the bar. If you were being completely honest, you hadn’t been sure what to expect. A lot of different things had popped into your mind about what kind of shows your partner liked to put on. Some ranging from completely ridiculous, to weird, to funny.

But none of them had been this.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things. A talented producer, a deep thinker, a musical genius.

Never would you have thought to add “rapper” to the list. You should have known, was a little surprised at yourself for not being able to guess. Like all other things Min Yoongi, he was incredibly good at it. Took to the stage like a natural. And you were completely awestruck, unable to look away the whole time he was up on that stage, letting words flow from his lips like some kind of poetic river.

Calm, yet bubbling over with the effortless way he captured the attention of everyone in the room. The track he rapped over was fast paced, but he had no trouble keeping up and keeping the crowd engaged at the same time. He performed three songs, but it wasn’t enough. And judging by the one last look at the crowd Yoongi took before exiting the stage, it wasn’t enough for him either.

Whoever took his place didn’t have one ounce of your attention. And maybe that was rude or whatever, but you didn’t care. Not when you caught sight of his blond head making its way towards you. He got stopped multiple times along the way by people congratulating him with pats on the back or short conversations.

By the time Yoongi finally made his way back to your side, your second drink was extended out to him with a grin on your face. You’d barely even taken a sip from it, so it was completely full and beginning to sweat water. “That was amazing!”

The performer on stage was loud, but you could tell that Yoongi heard you by the smile he tried and failed to hide behind the rim of the plastic cup. But you weren’t going to leave it at that, grabbing a hold of his shoulders and squeezing to make sure you got your point across. “Like, incredibly amazing! Why didn’t you tell me you could rap like that?”

“You never asked.” He shrugged. Yoongi wasn’t the type of person to feed off of compliments, you knew that. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate them. The way his onyx colored eyes glittered told as much. And when he tilted the plastic cup back and drained the contents, the confidence that flowed beneath his skin gave it away too. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Where are we going?”

“Patience, young padawan.”

A snort of amusement from the passenger side of your car had you throwing Yoongi a wink. He completely ignored you in favor of thumbing through the playlist on your phone. It was hooked up to the radio via bluetooth and ever since you’d left the underground club, he’d been focused on silently judging you for your music choices.

When Yoongi had suggested bailing on the club, he hadn’t really had a particular place in mind. Which you’d soon figured out the moment you stepped out the door. He’d taken the subway to the place, so you’d all but shoved him into your car before he had a chance to say no.

“You really have Ariana Grande on here?” He wiggled your phone in your peripheral and you would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t too busy merging off the freeway.

“What’s wrong with Ari?” You huffed in mock offense.

“Nothing.”

“I can literally hear the judgement in your voice.”

“Maybe you should focus on the road then.”

Now you really did roll your eyes. Though the bark of laughter that accompanied it showed your lack of annoyance. “I would if we weren’t already here.”

Yoongi looked up from your phone just as you were putting the car into park. His eyes squinted into the dark with a furrow of his eyebrows. “We’re at the beach?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ and turned off your car, quickly hopping out before you could fall victim to his flatline stare.

The scent of sea salt lingered in the semi-humid air and you paused for a moment to inhale deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of the ocean, and when the passenger side door opened and closed, you rounded the car to wave Yoongi along. He caught up to you right as your shoe hit the wooden planks of the boardwalk. You’d had to park way back in one of the lots far away from the beach for whatever godforsaken reason.

Shopfronts, closed and shuttered by metal grates due to the late hour, greeted you as you walked down the path. And Yoongi’s presence at your side was calming. Hell, everything about that man was. Never would you have thought that about him, not at first. Not with the rocky way your friendship had started.

Neither would you have expected the warmth that bloomed in your chest everytime he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. Or flashed you one of his patented gummy smiles. He’d somehow wormed a place into your heart with that sarcastic wit of his. No, the last thing you would have expected from your final project was this.

But you didn’t mind. Even if he didn’t feel the same way, only looked at you like a friend, you didn’t mind. Because you’d take anything he offered you. And if a friendship was all he was willing to give, that was okay too.

“Where are we going exactly?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you glanced up at him to see that he was already looking at you.

“Do we need to have a destination?” You shot back with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “It’s all in the journey.”

He rolled his eyes skyward as if silently asking why me, but let a smile touch his lips anyway “And this journey leads to the beach I’m guessing?”

“Maybe.” You dragged out the syllables, nudging your shoulder with his playfully. “Don’t tell me you don’t like the beach.”

“Who doesn’t like the beach?”

“That’s exactly what I’m--whoa.” Your feet came to a halt right as you stepped out from between two shops, where the boardwalk met the beach. Yoongi stopped at your side, but you didn’t even notice.

Because you were too busy staring at the apparent concert that was being held further down the beach. Apparently the loud music you’d heard from the parking lot wasn’t from one of the many speakers placed throughout the boardwalk. Well, that would explain the lack of parking at least.

Even from where the two of you stood, you could tell that the crowd was huge. They took up a big chunk of the beach, bodies nothing but a dark mass in the distance as they danced to the music from the stage. You couldn’t tell who it was, not that far away. But the multicolored lights flashed into the sky like a beacon.

“I wonder who’s performing.” Yoongi’s mumble had you bending down to unlace your shoes. “What’re you doing?”

“You wanna know who’s performing?” Slipping off your socks, you threw both those and your shoes into your bag. Once it was closed up, you sent Yoongi a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s go find out.”

He didn’t move, just gave you a look before realization dawned on his face. “You want to sneak in.”

It was a statement, not a question, but you nodded your head anyway. “Come on, when will you ever have the chance to do something like this again. Don’t tell me you’re scared we’ll get caught.”

Yoongi scoffed, but leaned down to slip off his shoes in an uncharacteristic move. You knew he wasn’t much of a partier and didn’t do things like this very often. So the fact that he was caving to your suggestion had your mind whirling. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“At what?”

A smirk was thrown your way as he stood back up, but that was all the answer you got. After all the time you’ve spent with the man, you’d like to consider yourself a Yoongi Whisperer. So that smirk probably meant something along the lines of: I’m surprised that you’re a super awesome badass.

Or something.

“Just come on.” You grabbed his hand without thinking, dragging him behind you onto the sand. When he failed to complain, you took that as a greenlight to continue doing so.

When his fingers linked themselves with yours, it took all you had to not falter in your steps. To pretend like you weren’t affected by such a thoughtless action. To calm the rapid beating of your heart.

The closer you got to the concert, the louder the music got, until you could hear the roar of the crowd over the artist on stage. It was EDM, or at least sounded like it. Of course, as soon as you got closer, you spotted your first hurdle. One you’d been unable to see from far away.

A chain link fence stood between the two of you and a night of fun. It had your shoulders deflating before you even realized it, and you turned to the blond at your side. “Should we climb it or something?”

Biting your lip, you eyed just how far up it was. Even if the two of you managed to climb it, there was no way that you wouldn’t be spotted by security. And being arrested was the last thing on your to-do list.

“Or.” Yoongi crossed over to the fence and wrapped his hands along the bottom of it. With a quick glance around to make sure that no one was looking, he lifted it up and back, bending it backwards with just enough space left at the bottom for someone to squeeze underneath.

There was no way that he would have been strong enough on his own to lift it, and a closer look had you snorting a laugh. Apparently the two of you weren’t the only ones who’d had the idea to sneak in.

“You going?” He questioned and you started forward before a smartass remark could leave his mouth.

The sand was cool beneath your body as you shimmied underneath the space between the fence and the ground. And once you were on the other side, you crouched down and grabbed the fence from Yoongi to pull back towards your side. “I’m surprised that you’re going along with this, to be honest. Don’t you hate music like this?”

He grunted as he crawled across the sand towards you. “You wanted to.”

“So?” Your voice was soft, but he was still able to hear you over the pounding bass. The fence dropped from your fingers once he was on your side, but you didn’t move, just stared up at him as he stood.

“So.” Yoongi started, extending a hand down to help you up. “Are you coming?”

His answer had warmth blossoming in your chest and a tiny smile blooming on your face. Had you reaching out to let him help you up off the sand. He didn’t let go while you brushed yourself off, but he did guide the both of you towards the writhing crowd, if only to avoid being spotted by security.

It was a good thing that Yoongi was a slim man, because it made slipping through the numerous dancing bodies closer towards the stage a whole lot easier. You’d made it to about the middle when he stopped and tugged you closer to join him in a pocket of space between two different groups of people. The scent of marijuana mixed in with sea salt from the ocean in a cocktail that usually accompanied things like that.

“Dance with me.” You spoke into Yoongi’s ear, ignoring the excited flush you felt at being so close to him.

“I can’t dance.” He stated, despite the hand he slipped around your waist and pressed into your back. Whether or not to move you out of the range of the group of girls dancing wildly behind you, or something else, you didn’t know.

Chest to chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. “Mm. I don’t believe you. Everyone can dance.”

“That’s a lie.” Yoongi’s lips were titled up at the corners and his gaze on you was soft. Gentle.

The flashing lights on the stage flickered through his dark colored eyes. Turned those once pools of onyx into a glittering galaxy that you couldn’t look away from. That hypnotized you like the beat that pulsed beneath your skin and drowned your ears.

“That’s not true.” Your mumble was lost to the crowd. Buried somewhere underneath the music as he moved closer. And the butterflies nestled deep in your gut fluttered their wings when his other hand cupped the side of your face.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours and his breath fanned across your cheek. That was the only warning you got before his mouth was on yours. His lips were soft and he tasted like the strawberry chapstick he liked to wear. And the kiss, like everything Min Yoongi, was slow. Not in a lazy way. More like he was taking the time to savor it. To remember what your hair felt like as he slid his hand into it.

Or the way you involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip. How your fingers found their way into the short hairs at the nape of his neck when you pulled him closer. How he’d had to hold back a laugh at the way you were standing on your tippy-toes in order to reach him.

You probably wouldn’t have pulled away and neither would he, if it weren’t for the rain that suddenly tore from the sky like an opened dam. Drenching anything and everything around it faster than you could blink. It had you forcing yourself away from the magnetizing pull of Yoongi’s lips to give him an eye crinkling smile.

“What was that for?” You didn’t care if you were getting wet.

Neither did he apparently, because he ran a thumb over the lips he’d just kissed, sending shivers down your spine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No. Break it down for me.”

He met your imploring gaze almost bashfully, eyes squinting from the rain. “I’ve liked you since practically the beginning of the semester.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Yoongi shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t know how.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you let out a small laugh. “I can’t believe you, Min Yoongi.”

He opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off by a loud clap of thunder. Both of you glanced up at the dark sky at the same time.

Everyone around you was either ignoring the torrential downpour or shrieking and attempting to use anything to shield themselves from getting wet. Once the sound of thunder echoed a streak of lightning, you knew what was about to happen next and turned to meet Yoongi’s eyes. He, like everyone else, was drenched and his blond hair stuck to the damp skin of his face. It had you grinning at the pout on his mouth and you leaned forward to press your lips to his one final time before pulling away.

“We should get out of here before everyone else decides to do the same.” You had to shout to be heard over both the rain and the noise from everything else. It was only a matter of time before the concert got either canceled or postponed due to the thunderstorm and you didn’t want to be caught in the middle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Yoongi wiped water from his eyes and grabbed your hand to start navigating the hell out of there.

And as your eyes trained themselves to his slim back and your fingers interlocked themselves with his, you smiled. The lyrics that you’d been struggling so hard to write came to life beneath the fire in your chest. You had no one but the man in front of you to thank for the inspiration.

Min Yoongi was a lot of things.

A musical genius, a poet, a light in a sea of darkness.

Min Yoongi was nothing if not beautiful.

[jaeminscoffee]

Promises

Pairing -  Wong Lucas x reader

Genre- Fluff, smut

Warning- Fingering, praise kink. That’s about it

Summary- Balance of mutual love and understanding is what keeps a relationship tact for long time. Lucky for you, you have the most caring boyfriend who never rushes anything. So for your 5th anniversary, you gift him something special that will stay in his mind for a long time.

This particular oneshot was requested!

Requests open ♡

Lucas was stuck in office even for your 5th anniversary to a point where he had to facetime you that morning because he wasn't able to wake up next to you to give you a loving kiss and hold you tight in his arms.

You didn't mind though, you needed time to think of what you'd gift him anyways so as sad as it was to not have him beside you on your anniversary, you could live with it.

Lucas is a very caring lad, would take everything according to your pace , only proceeding in things initiated by him if you were comfortable with doing so.

That was mainly the reason you have never had things get intimate between the two of you. Sure there would be a very heated make out session but nothing more than that.

Over the 5 years of your relationship, Lucas would make sure that you'd feel all his love through every single one of his actions. But not today you thought, you wanted to give him something special. Something that would leave a permanent memory in both of your minds. Something more than just a make out session, you were ready to give yourself whole to him so why not?

You were going to be the one initiating things this time.

You took a shower and head into your closet, reaching for the top shelf where you had kept the first ever set of lingerie that you'd bought but could never wear.

It's almost as though you had already planned all this because the set happened to be of his favorite color. Baby pink.

The light pink baby doll set fitting gracefully gave you a very innocent image. He was going to love this and you knew that.

It was late in the evening at around 8:48 or ish when you'd finished dolling yourself up for him, wrapping a bathrobe to hide your surprise, when you made your way to the kitchen to make his favorite dessert, when you heard the door open from the hall.

You walk over to the sink washing your hands before resuming your activity, you felt hands wrap around your waist, a head resting above your head.

"Hey" Lucas spoke in his deep voice, pressing a kiss on your temple. You turn around, his hands still around you, wrapping your own arms around his torso leaning in resting your head on his chest.

"Someone seemed to have missed me a lot" he said, letting out a chuckle as he started making his way to the living room, dragging you along. "Hey the cake!" you squeal, not trying to put up a protest, letting him pull you along.

"That can wait". Seconds before reaching the living room, Lucas removed his neck tie, "turn around" he said, turning you around himself not waiting for you to do so as he tied his necktie around your eyes "Is this really necessary?" you ask, laughing slightly. "Yep" was all he said before abandoning you in the middle of the hall.

"Lucas?" you turn around looking, a stupid move considering the fact that you were blind folded. "Hold on for a second baby". His voice sounded distant, like he was in another room, which, he was.

After what seemed like minutes, You felt a hand tug yours straight ahead until you were finally made to stand still once again. You hear a little shuffling all over the place.

"Alright take your blindfolds off when i count down from 3" Lucas said, starting the count down, right at 3 you removed his neck tie from over your eyes, looking ahead and then down to see Lucas on his knees, with a ring in his hands. "Don't say anything, let me do the talking for now" he said as he saw your eyes widen and lips quiver. "This isn't exactly a proposal ring, no, this ring is definitely not worth that much for an occasion as special as that so. This is a promise ring, a promise ring that marks us as each others, a ring that has to be on the finger where our engagement ring is soon going to be." he pauses for a second to get back up on his feet.

"So my love, what I'm trying to get at is that, I promise to love you, and only you till the very end, i promise you that i am yours and truly yours only. This ring, i should see you wear this ring every single day, every single hour, every single minute and every single second until it's replaced by me. Because you're the one, who I've chosen to spend the rest of my life with and life without you is one that i cannot get myself to imagine. You're the reason i wake up every morning with a smile on my face. You're the reason i get back home, stress free and happy because i get to see you again, and now i want you to be the reason why my heart's going to beat for the rest of my existence. So Y/n, do you promise to be mine for the rest of your life? To only love me till the very end?" he asks, taking your shaking hand into his, waiting for your reply.

You couldn't say anything, you were hyperventilating at his heart touching part promise -confession that all you could get yourself to do was choke out a tiny 'yes' before throwing yourself completely at him, pulling him in a tight embrace, which he gladly returned.

The two of you stay like that for what felt like hours before Lucas pulled back, once again taking your hand into his while slipping the ring up your finger. It was a ring with his initials engraved on it and it was absolutely beautiful. He lifted your hand up, looking at the finger with the ring in it with so much adoration before lifting his own, showing the ring that adorned his finger with your initials engraved on it. "Happy Anniversary beautiful".

He lowered your hands, placing his on your cheeks pulling you close, "I love you so so much" he said, placing a tiny peck on your lips before placing soft kisses all over your face. You stop his demonstration and remove his hands from your cheeks, instead placing yours on his. "I love you too" was the only thing you said, before pulling him in for a kiss.

His hands automatically found your hip, yours wrapped around his neck.

The kiss started off slow and sweet, your lips molding perfectly against each others until you bit his bottom lips, tugging at the hair behind his neck. He let out a low grunt, dipping in lower to pull you closer.

It started to get pretty heated. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, a crimson color painting your cheek. You take his hands in yours and started leading him away from the hall to your shared bedroom.

Upon reaching the room you once again pull him in for a kiss, this one being much intense and needy than the last. You stand on your toes for better access, deepening the kiss, when he let his tongue swipe your bottom lips, asking for permission to enter, to which you gladly allow him to, a soft moan leaving your lips.

You reach for his office shirt, unbuttoning it one after another until there was only two still intact when you press your palm flat onto his toned chest. He broke the kiss this time, panting, and you took this opportunity to kiss up his chest where your hand layed, marking the territory as yours. You bit down onto the skin to which he groaned, tucking at your hair slightly , he pulled you away looking straight into your eyes. "Babe, what are you doing?"

"Something i should've done a long time ago" you say, getting back to your previous actions, which he stopped once again. "What?" he asked, letting out a small moan as he saw you pull his hands away from your hair, to your mouth, first gently kissing the finger which adorned the ring with your initial, the slowly taking his finger into your mouth, sucking on it gently.

"I need you Lucas. I really need you" you say, voice raspy. Something about the look in his eyes changed, the color turning ebony dark, he let out a few incoherent words. "Say it again honey" Lucas said, after seconds of looking all over your face to see if you were uncomfortable with carrying this forward, shoving you towards the bed softly once he found that you weren't.

"I need you" You say a little louder than last, the words clear as day as he smashed his lips right back onto yours, laying you down gently on the bed, hovering above you, unbuttoning the last two buttons of what remained on his shirt, pulling it off his shoulder, discarding it somewhere behind him as he deepened the kiss further, this time not bothering to ask permission as he let his tongue enter your mouth. You moan out his name at the roughness of the kiss.

"Fuck babe, do that louder, you sound so hot moaning my name" he said placing his hands on your waist, his knees between your legs. "Are you sure you want to do this?", Lucas asked you, placing a light kiss at the corner of your lips after breaking the kiss for the nth time that night. You were far too into the pleasure to even think of backing out now. Not like you planned on doing that anyways.

"I've never been so sure about anything before" you say in a seductive voice, the look in your eyes mirroring his. Lust taking over the both of you. "Stop me if it gets too much to handle" Lucas said, planting a kiss on the crook of your neck before reaching out to the rope that kept your bathrobe together, removing the knot.

Upon seeing what's underneath it as the robe slid off you, Lucas backed away from the bed, pulling you up, breathing out a low 'damn'. You giggle, seeing him look at you as though he was head over heels for you, which infact, he was. "Do a quick twirl for me, will you?" he said, looking at you, letting go of your hands before sitting back onto the bed.

You do as he say, twirling as slow as you can, before doing it quick, revealing your panties. Lucas groan at the sight, his dent now clearly visible through his pants it almost looked painful. He did nothing as you stand still after the twirl, so you make your way towards Lucas, sitting on his lap, right on top of his bulge.

You start rocking your hips back and forth his clothed member, his hand finding your hips as the pressure on his bulge helped reveal a little tension. His grip tighten as you pick up a fast pace, moaning at the feeling on your clit. You could've cum right then looking at Lucas' contorted look that took over his manly features.

The air hot and steamy in the room with nothing but your moans blending in together was enough for his last straw to be pulled as he dipped his hands low, placing it on your ass as he moved you faster. He let go of your ass with one hand, moving it under your lingerie and over your clothed clit, gently applying pressure.

You let out a loud moan which encouraged him to do it once again, running his hands up and down your clothed pussy, finding a wet spot on your panties "Does that feel good baby?" Lucas asked as he slipped his finger into your panties, the pleasure doubling as you feel much more pressure without the cloth barrier. You didn't answer, instead grind onto the pad of his thumb which was toying with your clit. He let you have your ways, as he dipped his face forward, kissing his way up your neck to your cheeks and then placed a soft kiss on your lips before removing his hands from you panties, hearing you whine at the loss of contact, moving you so that you were standing up. "Answer me princess, does that feel good?" he said, removing the lingerie, leaving you bare in front of him with just your panties on. He pulled you back onto his lap, your back connected to his chest as he wrapped his hands around you, taking one of your hardened nipples and twisting it.

You throw your head back, resting it on his shoulder, nodding vigorously "Yes it does, sh-shit", he smirked, letting go of your nipples before letting his hands roam all over your body, finally placing it back onto your slit. You let out a loud moan as he draws slow, small circles on your clit, kissing your shoulder as you sigh out of content. You relax back onto his chest as he presses harsh kisses on your neck making sure to leave marks, continuing to play with your clit.

Taking notice of you drifting into your subspace at his slow pace, he entered a finger into your slit, taking you off guard. You gasp out of suprise, clutching onto his hands "Lucas oh god" you moan, he curses under his breath as he watches you writhe out of pleasure in his arms "That's right baby, that's my name" he said in his low voice, which seemingly sounded deeper than usual as he set a normal pace, pumping into you.

It wasn't until he felt you gently clench around his fingers when he decided to add another into your hole. "f-fuck babe" was all you could say, feeling him curl his fingers inside of you as he quickened his pace ever so slightly, hitting one particular spot over and over again. "That's it baby, you look great all fucked up in my arms, c'mon moan louder, let me hear your beautiful voice" Lucas spoke barely above a whisper.

His words mixed with his actions only added more onto the knot you felt growing tight in your stomach. You moan out a litter louder than all previous, pressing your head hard onto his shoulder, giving him an easy access to mark you more as he let his free arm grab your breast, kneeding it gently.

"Oh my god Lucas I'm so close. So so close" you ramble out in a high pitched voice. He feels you clenching around his finger more frequently as he fastens his pumping, adding more pressure into kneeding your breast, pinching your nipple every now and then, pressing harder kisses on your neck. You scream as the pleasures feels oh too good as you grip his thighs hard. "Cum for me baby" he said not bothering to slow down.

You felt the knot come undone as you squirm harder in his arms, squeezing your eyes tightly shut. Gasping as his fingers continue rubbing circles on your clit.

He finally stops, removing his fingers out from inside of you, bringing the cum coated finger right into his mouth. You moan at the sight. "As expected, as sweet as I'd ever imagined" he said. As he turned around, placing you gently onto the sheets, getting up from the bed.

He stands straight up, his hands finding their way to his belt, unbuckling it.

"You can take another one right baby?" he asks as he let out a groan at the way your body layed flat on the bed.

You couldn't get yourself to verbally answer so you just nod. Once he was all rid of clothes, he hovered over you for the second time that night, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

"I promise you I'll make sure you remember this night for a long long time, princess"

Was all he said and oh was he good at keeping promises.

-

It's an open imagination ending! Hope you liked it and I'm sorry if anything came rushed, even though i wrote a suggestive oneshot the last time, this is the first time i write a smut so please do let me know if anythings out of place! 💗 (not proof read ✌)

[karmasuna]

》you have a crush on bobby pins

pairing; shinso x f!reader

genre; fluff

wordcount; 2235

synopsis; it’s shinso’s birthday and he gets a very peculiar gift from a mystery person.

a/n; wooooo it’s shinso day! this is purely self indulgent and also heavily inspired by this assclass karashuu fic by @/gwendee on ao3! they’re like my all time favorite writer yes i just-

“Happy birthday, Shinso!” 

“Thanks,” the purple haired boy glances back at the girl who had just walked past time, giving her a small smile just to be polite. 

He doesn’t know that girl, he thinks. Ever since he’s joined the hero course he’s been getting a lot more attention, which he guesses was to be expected. It’s not bad, he supposes, but it does stand in stark contrast from how they had treated him just a year ago, shunning him because of his quirk. It’s a nice change.

 Coming to a stop in front of his shoe locker, he opens it only to promptly be hit in the face by an onslaught of gifts and letters. Shinso sighs. 

“Isn’t this is a bit too much,” he mutters quietly as he bends down to pick them up, nose scrunching a little when he catches a whiff of all the combined perfumes the girls must have drowned their cards and presents in.

Behind him Kaminari whistles lowly, eyeing the small mountain. “Bro, you’re gonna catch up to Todoroki’s level in no time. That dude has two fanclubs just here at school, I seriously have no idea how he does it.”

Finally managing to get everything out of his locker he slips on his indoor shoes, tapping them gently the floor before looking up at the blonde, unamused. 

“Take whatever you want,” he gestures at the pile. “It’s not like I would be able to eat so much chocolate anyways. I don’t even like them that much.”

“Sweet,” the blonde flashes him a grin, already fishing out a bag from his backpack and wasting no time with shoving boxes in. “You’re the best.”

“You came prepared, didn’t you.” Shinso grabs the cards and envelopes, scanning through the names to see if anything catches his eye. Unsurprisingly, nothing does so he just tucks them away in his bag. Of course you hadn’t put something in his shoe locker, that’s just cliché.

Kaminari shrugs, standing up and heaving the bulging bag over his shoulder. “Bakugo never wants his presents either, so I’m ready for it.”

When he gets to the classroom he’s greeted by a chorus of birthday wishes and another small stack of gifts on his desk. These elicit a genuine smile from him. They’re from people who know him well and it shows in the unique presents they had each picked out. 

It’s sappy but the thought they put into the presents makes his heart warm, and he doesn’t even try to stop the fond smile creeping onto his face as he flips through the album Midoriya had given him, complete with cute little notes from everyone. 

His eyes widen when he gets to the bottom of the pile, looking at the small pouch in confusion. There’s a few bobby pins inside and a small scrap of notebook paper, unfolding it to see “happy birthday” hastily written in chicken scratch. Clearly whoever wrote it was either in a hurry or didn’t really put any effort into the gift.

It’s a strangely thoughtful present, he supposes. Maybe now his hair would finally stay out of his face even when he does his homework after school and his hair gel softens just enough to let a few wisps constantly poke at his eyes.

Shinso thinks long and hard about who possibly could have given him such a peculiar gift even as the school bell rings, tuning out Aizawa’s announcements as he gets lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning the room for any potential answers. 

There’s no way it could’ve been a boy. Last time he checked none of them were beauty gurus, and he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t know how to even use a bobby pin either, including himself.

So it was most likely a girl then. He finds his thoughts automatically drifts toward you, but he shoots the assumption down before it can even become an idea. Sure, out of all the girls he was definitely closest to you, but he’s convinced that you only talk to him because you feel sorry for his antisocial ass.

He sighs, burying his face in his hands. Now that he had jumped onto this thought train he can’t stop thinking about those stupid bobby pins. 

---

“Midoriya,” he later asks during class when he can’t take the curiosity anymore, “do you know if anyone in our class uses bobby pins?”

 Midoriya looks visibly confused from his strange question, and Shinso honestly doesn’t blame him at all. “Aren’t they really common? I’m not sure, but even Eri has some.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. Shinso thanks him anyways, and moves on to see if Kaminari and his habit of “observing” girls would be of any help. 

“Kaminari, I need you to help me find out who gave me bobby pins as a birthday present.”

The incredulous gaze he gets in response is definitely something he expected. “Um, what now?”

Shinso repeats himself, slower this time. The blonde still doesn’t seem to get it, so he pulls the small satchel out of his pocket and shows him. “Bobby pins,” he repeats, hoping Kaminari would connect the dots.

“Woah,” says Kaminari.

Shinso waits patiently to see if he had anything else to say. “That’s it? /Woah/?”

“I don’t know, man,” Kaminari peers at the little scrap of paper, studying the handwriting carefully. “I can help you ask around though. See what Jiro knows.”

---

Later that day after school he takes the bag out and puts it on his desk, staring at the small note that came with. He feels stupid for having used up most of his birthday thinking about bobby pins of all things. 

 “I need to know,” he tells himself before pulling out his phone and dialing.

 “The fuck you want, dipshit.” Bakugo picks up almost instantly, which Shinso is very thankful for.

“I need advice.”

“And you think I’m gonna help you like some shitty therapist? Fuck off, I don’t wanna hear you whine like a little bitch.”

Shinso waits a few moments, and when Bakugo doesn’t hang up he starts talking again. “I got bobby pins from someone in our class,” he begins. 

“Why do I need to know this.” The blonde sounds angry on the other end, so he decides to stoke his ego a little.

 “You don’t sugarcoat things, and I need you to tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not exactly something Midoriya can do.”

Bakugo snorts. “Damn right that shitty Deku’s useless. He’s fucking stupid.” 

“Yes,” Shinso agrees, “so help me out here.” 

And so he tells Bakugo everything. It’s not much given he really didn’t know anything about the mystery sender, but the blonde listens anyways, grunting occasionally to acknowledge his story.

“You have a crush on bobby pins,” Bakugo concludes when Shinso’s finished. 

“Say what now.” 

“You don’t know shit about whoever sent them but you can’t stop thinking about them. It’s pretty straightforward.”

The purple boy sighs loudly, not knowing what to say. Bakugo’s not wrong, really. It’s either that or-

“It’s either that or you have a crush on Y/N, since you obviously think she’s the one who gave them to you,” Bakugo says.

Shinso swears out loud. “I did not want to hear that,” he tells the other boy.

“Sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t have fuckin called me in the first place. This is a waste of time.” Bakugo doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“She doesn’t like me back.” At this point he doesn’t even bother hiding his crush on you anymore. If you were going to find out you would have ages ago.

“Why can’t you just ask her yourself and quit forcing me to listen to you whine like a little bitch.”

“Oh yeah.” He hadn’t even considered that an option. “I’ll definitely do that.”

“Cool. Can I leave now?”’

“Sure. Thanks, Bakugo.”

“I don’t want to hear your sappy shit,” is all he says before he hangs up. 

Shinso takes in a deep breath before pulling up your contact and quickly typing in a message, finger hovering on the send button, contemplating whether he should send such a dumb-sounding message and potentially weird you out. 

He’s still staring at the screen, his other hand going to brush hair from his eyes as he debates with himself.  

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door that snaps him out of his thoughts and makes him jump, resulting in his finger accidentally hitting the send button. Groaning in frustration, he gives himself five seconds to wallow in his regrets before getting up to open the door, definitely not expecting to see you there. 

“‘Toshi! I know it’s your birthday but it’s still Friday night, and you know what that means,” you grin at him, letting yourself in and flopping onto his bed. 

He closes the door and nods, sighing with the motion makes his hair fall into his eyes again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna force me to watch Haikyuu with you again.” 

You pout at him, scooting over to make space for him as you pull up the website on your laptop. “Don’t say it like you don’t enjoy it. I see the way you look whenever Yamaguchi gets to serve.”

“Shut up,” is all he says in response, but there’s no heat in his words.

“You aren’t denying it,” you say giddily, but your tone changes when you look at him and see him brushing hair out of his eyes again. 

“Didn’t you get the bobby pins his morning? Use them, geez,” you say casually as if it were no big deal.

Shinso freezes in his actions, trying to process what you had just said. “Yeah, I did,” he says carefully, trying not to give way the way his heart was racing in his chest, “how’d you know?”

Just then your phone pings, you laughing when you see his message. “Mhm, I put them there. If you’re not gonna use them then give ‘em back, I don’t wanna waste any. 

“Thanks,” he says, feeling oddly touched now that he knew it was really you. “I would use them but I don’t know how to.”

 You raise a brow, surprised by this new information. “Seriously? Don’t worry, I gotcha. Where are they?”

 Reaching over to grab a few from his desk he hands them to you, sitting still as you shuffle around to sit between his legs, carefully gathering the stray locks and twisting them gently. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

 His brain is short-circuiting from how close you suddenly are. He can practically smell your shampoo, and seeing you so pretty and focused up close doesn’t help him calm his heart at all. 

 Your lips look really kissable right now, he thinks to himself. If he just tilted his head up the smallest of fractions your lips would meet, but he’s too afraid of ruining your friendship.

 “Damn, you really put a lot of effort into getting me a present,” he murmurs, “with the chicken scratch and all.”

 “Shush, you know how bad I am with birthdays. Be grateful I got you anything at all.”

 “Wow, I’m so touched,” he retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes at how you had just blatantly admitted you didn’t remember his birthday, “guess this means I don’t have to get you that Oikawa figure for your birthday then.” 

 He chuckles when he feels you freeze up from his words. “What? You literally gave me your own pins and told me to give them back. What kind of a crappy birthday present is that?”

 “No, please. I need my Tooru,” you whine, voice smaller than before. “I’ll get you something, anything I can afford, okay? Just tell me what you want.”

 He hums, thinking about his options,  waiting for you to get back to work on his hair before speaking up again. “Anything?”

 “Anything my wallet can handle,” you clarify, mock glaring at him as you pull at the strands roughly, making him grunt in pain. “Okay okay, I got it, chill.”

 “I don’t think what I want is going to hurt your wallet at all,” he breathes, studying your reaction to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. 

 “Mhm,” you say, not really paying attention to his words as you slide the last bobby pin into his hair, “I’m done! What do you want then-”

 You’re interrupted by him tilting his head up ever so slightly to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Gasping in surprise, you don’t even have time to react before he pulls back, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. 

 “Um, I’m sorry,” he begins, but this time you cut him off, throwing your hands around him and grinning.

 “For what, stupid? Kiss me again.”

 There’s no denying your words set his cheeks away, but he swallows before leaning back in to connect your lips again. Hands carefully snaking their way around your waist and pulling you even closer, holding you so gently as if he were afraid you would shatter or disappear. 

 “I really like you,” Shinso whispers when you pull apart, bumping his nose gently against yours.

 “I like you a lot too, ‘Toshi,” you grin, “happy birthday.” 

 He hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best birthday ever.”

---

“I should just give you my phone case or something for your birthday.”

 “What the hell? Our phones aren’t even the same model!”

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Enlighten Me

Pairings: Marcus Moreno x Reader

Summary: You’d been in love with Marcus since you were seventeen but wrote it off as a silly little crush on an older man. After seeing you again when you were 20, about six months after the loss of his wife, romantic feelings for you stir in Marcus that have him feeling confused. Two years of secretly pining after a seemingly impossible relationship leads to some confessions. 

Warnings: Age Gap (13-ish years),  Little angsty, Mentions of his wife’s death, Brief mention of pedophilia (Marcus just says he’s concerned about being seen this way), Brief mention of kidnapping (just super quickly says that reader saved kids from being kidnapped)

Word Count: 4200

______________

You stood in the briefing room of headquarters, waiting for the rest of the Heroics to arrive. Tech-no, Ms. Vox, Miracle Man, and Blinding Fast were the only other heroes there so far and the meeting couldn’t begin until everyone was present. Being in the Heroics Headquarters for the first time in what felt like forever sent nerves throughout your body like the first day of training. Even though you had always felt like a legitimate member of the team, you hadn’t been called on to do a job in a while. It was almost always Miracle Man, much to your secretly jealous chagrin, or occasionally Tech-no, depending on whether or not the problem could be fixed with gadgets. Regardless of who had been called how many times throughout the year, there was always an annual meeting of all the Heroics just to ensure that everyone was on the same page as far as current threats and protocols. This was that meeting. 

You stood beside Tech-no, listening to him explain the newest creation he’d invented in an attempt to block out Ms. Vox and Miracle Man’s incessant voices. Both of the heroes were nice people but they had egos the size of China and it did get grating sometimes. You’d always found it best to just avoid the people who had annoyed you on the team instead of getting involved in the incessant bickering that constantly seemed to be plaguing the team.

“With a simple press of the blue button, I was able to send an EMP straight to the power source of the detonation system. Stopped the bomb and Miracle Man caught the lady. Pretty neat, huh?” Tech-no explained, his demeanor pretty calm despite knowing how excited he got when his devices were successful. 

You smiled at his story, “Wow, that’s amazing!” 

“Have you been called in lately? I haven’t seen you around in a while.” He noted, brows knitting in curiosity. He’d always been like a big brother of sorts to you, one of your favorite people on the team, so of course he would notice your lack of presence, especially after spending so much time together. 

You shrugged, “Not much, only a handful of times this last year. I helped Sharkboy and Lavagirl with those elemental giants in Arkansas back in March and then Invisi Girl and I rescued all those kids from those kidnappers in Louisiana but it’s been a pretty dull year other than.” 

Tech-no’s face twisted sadly, “I’m sorry. I know it’s no fun to get left out of the action.” 

“It’s alright. Just gave me time to focus on my schoolwork.” You lied. Well, not about the schoolwork but about it being fine. You couldn’t lie that there were times you felt like you were treated like you were less important than the other Heroics for multiple reasons. Typically, the Heroics came up in generations where the last generation’s kids would take over for them. Most of the current Heroics had been born in about the same six year time period so they were all relatively the same age. However, your parents weren’t superheroes. They were just normal people who happened to somehow create a superhuman child. On top of that, you were about thirteen years younger than most of them. By the time you had decided to finally seek out help and direction from the Heroics at the age of seventeen, it was clear you were a strange in between age. The current generation had been in their late twenties-early thirties while their children, if they’d had any yet, were in the first two or three years of their lives. Especially after you’d been trained by Grandma Moreno, the team had taken to you quite well but always felt the need to protect you, despite the fact that you had superpowers, just like the rest of them. 

The door to the room slid open soundlessly but after years of training with Grandma Moreno, it was something that you noticed right away. Your heart stopped when you saw Marcus Moreno walk into the room, all geared up and with his swords strapped to his back. Your eyes were trained on his tall strong figure as he glanced around the room, inspecting who had already arrived. Butterflies erupted in your stomach and you could have melted then and there when his gaze met your own. Small crinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes as a wide smile spread across his face. “Mirror! Long time no see! How you been, kid?” He asked happily, pulling you in for a big hug. 

It took a lot of effort to not show how your heart fell when he called you that. Kid. It was all you’d ever be to him. You’d harbored a crush on him since you’d met him, though then you’d written it off as some puppy love crush on an older (and married) man. Over the years, though, the stupid feelings had anything but subsided, choosing to bubble up inside into some ridiculous unobtainable love for a man that would never love you back. Or so you thought. 

When Marcus entered the room, his eyes were automatically scanning the space for your bright smile. It was the same smile that made his heart flutter the way his wife’s did. It was the only other smile to ever have brought him such feelings of longing. When he saw you talking to Tech-no, he couldn’t help the way his lips turned up into a wide smile. 

These feelings made him uneasy, however. It felt wrong- inappropriate to have any sort of romantic feelings or attraction towards you being so much younger than he was. He had known you since you were seventeen and watched you grow into the beautiful young woman standing before him now, only growing more and more radiant with each time he saw you. By all accounts, you were an adult. You were on the verge of graduating from college, living on your own, and working a second job outside of being a Heroic. Even with all this, he was certain that if he had ever made his feelings known, you and the rest of the Heroics would look at him like some pedophile- except he was far from anything so disgusting. Any hint of romantic attraction to you hadn’t blossomed until you were twenty, when you had shown up at HQ one day, suddenly a woman instead of the girl he once knew. Even then, it was only a few months after the death of his wife and he was sure it was his heart’s way of trying to cope and fill the void with a safe presence. He was sure the feelings were purely temporary and hid them away from anyone, even himself for a while, but over the course of the last two years, he was almost frustrated to say they hadn’t subsided. Now you were twenty-two, strong and independent, beautiful and intelligent. 

With all logic, Marcus knew that having feelings for you shouldn’t make him feel dirty, especially when he’d had aunts and uncles that were fifteen years apart in age, but he couldn’t help the way the nickname kid had spilled from his lips before he could catch it in a subconscious attempt at overcompensating for his emotions. He cringed internally but kept an altered look of happiness on his face. He caught the way the twinkle in your eye faded just a little at the name and he felt a little bad for making you feel like a child. 

“Y’know, I have a real name.” You chided, rolling your eyes jokingly. 

Marcus chuckled, “I can’t remember the last time anyone used their real names on duty.” 

You raised your hand towards him, “I can’t remember the last time we didn’t just call you Marcus, even on duty. Besides, this hardly counts as being on duty.” You added, glancing around as more heroes shuffled into the room, clearly splitting off into groups based on how much they could stand one another, which wasn’t much.  

“Well, I don’t really ever go out as an actual Heroic anymore so I don’t really count.” He insisted, noticing how your eyebrow raised, eyes glancing down at his uniform and the swords strapped to his back. “It’s more of a formality for meetings like this. I don’t usually wear it.” 

“Okay, one, you do still count. You’re still the leader of this team. Two, if I have to wear this,” You motioned to your get-up, “You should have to suffer too.” You insisted with a laugh. 

Marcus couldn’t help the way he glanced down at the mention of your suit, though he tried as hard as possible to not make it look like he was actually checking you out. The smokey grey material sparkled ever so slightly in the light and was skin tight, covering your arms and legs entirely. It was modestly cut at the top, though it still showed the curvature of your breasts due to the tightness of the material. Thin black lines drew long angular patterns down your arms, torso, and legs, before disappearing beneath your tall black boots that covered just above your knees. Your hair was braided back back there were still some tendrils that hung loose at the front. You were a sight for sore eyes and Marcus’s eyes must have been aching because he never wanted to look away. 

Tech-no looked between the two of you, noticing the way he was seemingly forgotten about the moment you saw each other. He smirked to himself, noticing how both you and Marcus looked at each other differently than how you looked at anyone else. “I’m gonna go talk to Crushing Low but it was nice seeing you again, Mirror.” He excused himself, patting Marcus on the shoulder as he did. 

“Oh, okay!” You had honestly almost forgotten about the other man, too entranced by Marcus’s presence. 

It got quiet between you and Marcus after Tech-no had left, apparently having provided some sort of unknown buffer between the two of you for your unspoken tension. Marcus stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at you with a smile and you chewed your lip, trying to think of anything to say to break the silence. 

“Well-”

“How-” 

“Heroics, I’m glad you could all make it.” 

You and Marcus had begun to speak at the exact same time, only to be cut off by the ever commanding presence of Ms. Granada as she floated into the room gracefully despite her insanely high heels. With momentarily startled eyes, you shot Marcus an apologetic look before making your way to your designated seat around the large circular table. You sat between Sharkboy and Miracle Man, Marcus taking his seat across the table from you and crossing his hands over the files you’d all been handed. 

The meeting went quickly as Ms. Granada did a recap of the last year. In the file had been a list of all the missions gone on, all villains, new and old, as well as more boring things, like the budget for the upcoming year and guidelines on how to handle the press when situations got more destructive than preferred. 

After she had finished everything up, you all rose from your seats and began to leave, very few members of the team wanting to be around each other any longer than necessary. You decided to hang around HQ a little longer, it having been a while since you’d been to the building. There was one place in particular you’d always loved. In the back of the massive building, there was a garden that had always felt a little out of place amongst all the cold clean metal of the facility but it was somewhere you’d always felt drawn to. There was a small pond with little koi fish that swam around inside and a moderate variety of plants, most of which were actually somewhat tropical looking, all around. Gravel formed a path that wound through the mulch, crunching beneath your boots as you walked and breathed in the fresh air. You knelt down beside the pond and watched contently as the little orange and yellow fish glided through the water effortlessly.

“Had a feeling I’d find you here.” Marcus’s voice startled you and you whipped around in a knee-jerk reaction. 

Your heart rate slowed and you chuckled a little, “Yeah, couldn’t help it. It’s been a while since I got called here to help out with anything. Figured I’d better come to my favorite spots before I didn’t stop by for another few months.” 

Marcus sighed knowingly. He knew you weren’t called in for many missions and he was partially to blame for it. When Granada consulted him on which Heroics to bring in when the world was in peril, he always suggested other people first. Perhaps it was selfish of him but he was honestly just terrified of losing you. Especially after his wife’s death, he wasn’t sure if he could handle losing you as well. It wasn’t that he thought you were incompetent by any means, he was just genuinely scared for you and the idea of Miracle Man getting a good beating made him feel better than the idea of you taking one. 

“You know, you’re still a valued member of the team. Even if you’re not called in all the time.” Marcus tried to reassure you, walking beside you through the winding path of foliage. 

You shrugged, “I guess. I know my powers aren’t as cool or useful as some of everyone else’s. I mean, Miracle Man can fly. Tech-no can build almost anything. Lavagirl can literally control lava. You’re a freaking magnet!” 

You and Marcus both laughed when you called him that and he shook his head, “What are you talking about? You’re amazing! You can create physical projections of yourself! That’s pretty awesome.” 

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks at his compliment but still just shrugged again, “Yeah, but I can only really make them do separate tasks when I really focus on them which is hard to do in the heat of battle.” 

“Hey, you are talking down on one of my best friends and I really don’t appreciate it. You really are absolutely amazing, though, and everyone sees it.” Marcus stopped, hand coming to your shoulder to make you stop as well. A goofy little laugh followed his lame joke and you couldn’t help but feel the warmth blossom in your heart at his compliments. When you locked eyes with him, you were sure he could be the last thing you ever saw and you wouldn’t ask for anything more. 

That bit of doubt still crept up into your mind though, even though Marcus had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person in the world. You glanced away, avoiding his gaze, “If that were true, I’d be picked for more missions. Sharkboy and Lavagirl live on another planet and have a six-year old. I’m single, kid-less, and live twenty minutes away. They both manage to go on more missions each in a month than I do in a year.” 

Marcus’s face fell when you began to walk away again. He never would have thought that his attempts at keeping you safe would have had such an impact on your self-esteem as a hero. Marcus had seldom used his powers anymore, something he felt was unnecessary if he wasn’t actively working as a Heroic, but before he could help himself, his hand had flexed just enough to will the metal vambrace around your left forearm to pull towards him. 

Your eyes shot down to the way your arm was being pulled towards Marcus and then back up at the man in utter confusion as to why he wouldn’t let you walk away. The force wasn’t strong by any means but just strong enough to draw your attention.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized simply, unsure of what else to say. 

As far as you knew, none of what you had just said had been his fault. By the way he apologized, you could tell he wasn’t simply apologizing for the way you felt but it was like he was sorry for something that he’d done. “For what?” You asked, confused. 

Marcus let his grip on your protective vambrace go and you took a natural step towards him, bodies closer than you meant them to be but not making any effort to correct it. “It’s my fault you don’t get called on often.” He admitted, looking away guiltily. 

“What? How?” You asked, desperate to understand what he meant. He was the leader of the Heroics so you were sure that he had some say in who was called in but you had never thought to attribute your lack of action to him. 

“Granada has actually suggested that we bring you in for many missions throughout the years but… I’ve always been the one to suggest other people.” Marcus continued slowly and he could see the hurt in your eyes at his confession. 

Your mouth fell open a little, trying to hide the hurt in your eyes. Did he have any idea how long you’d been feeling undervalued? Less than? Treated like a little kid? “Why would you do that? Do you not think I’m good enough?” 

The look in your eye almost made Marcus regret ever coming clean to you. He had hoped that telling you Granada had requested your assistance multiple times would make you feel better. Instead, he should have seen how this would just make you feel worse. 

Your heart almost broke. You could handle Granada thinking you weren’t as good as everyone else. You could handle Miracle Man treating you like he was better than you (like he did to everyone). You could handle the mothering way Ms. Vox treated you and the way Tech-no treated you like a little sister. The one person whose opinion you valued the most had never outright treated you like you were less than. But now, it seemed that he’d thought you were all along. 

“No! That’s not what I meant at all! You are one of the best people on the team. I just-” 

“You just what?” You snapped more aggressively than you meant to, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. 

Marcus closed his eyes and turned his face away from you, “I just couldn’t risk losing you.” His voice was calm and guilty, remorseful and scared. 

The venom in your chest began to subside at his confession and your voice softened, “You’re not gonna lose me, Marcus.” 

His eyes slid open at the safety of your calmer voice, feeling more able to face you now that he didn’t have to see the anger in your eyes anymore. He swallowed hard, deciding that it was too late to turn back now. “I never thought I’d lose my wife either but… I was scared of being wrong again and losing you too.” 

There was a pause while you tried to interpret what he meant by this last statement. He had always cared about you, that much had been clear, but you’d always assumed that it had been in a brotherly fashion. The way he looked at you now as he poured his heart out to you made you feel like there was a little more behind the words than you ever thought. 

“You don’t have to be scared.” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, as you took another subconscious step closer to him. Marcus’s eyes glanced down at the mere inches between your shoes and his before raking up your body and finally meeting your eyes.

“There’s more than you know.” He admitted quietly, his voice low and raspy. His eyes searched yours, terrified that this was the last time he’d ever see those beautiful eyes looking at him in this same way. He was about to cross a line that he couldn’t come back from but something about today made him feel like he couldn’t go any longer with this secret in his heart. 

“Then enlighten me.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, “I might lose you still if I do.” 

“Then it sounds like you have a decision to make.” You responded, anxiety rising as you looked at him with a straight face. You hadn’t meant to sound so blunt but he couldn’t say something like that and not expect your brain to linger to the worst possibilities. What could be so bad that he was convinced it would ruin your friendship? Was he kicking you off the team? Were you being reassigned to somewhere else in the world? Was about to insist you go back to training? Was he moving? The sudden flood of doomsday-level thoughts concerning your friendship made you vaguely annoyed that he would lead you on with a comment like ‘there’s more than you know’ and then continue to beat around the bush. 

“I think I love you, Y/N.” He blurted out, suddenly feeling a massive weight lifted off his chest. That weight was quickly replaced by a bubbling sense of insecurity when your mouth fell open in a state of disbelief. 

“Y-you what?” 

Marcus’s heart was caught in his throat and his breath hitched, unable to make it past the lump. His nightmare was coming true. This was a mistake. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-. This was a mistake.” 

“Wait!” You reached out to place a hand on his bicep when he turned to leave. He stopped and turned back to face you, hurt evident in his eyes, “Don’t leave.” 

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- I’ve had feelings for you for a while now and I didn’t want to come off as the creepy old guy.” He began to ramble uncharacteristically, the typically smooth under pressure superhero reduced to a panicked lovestruck boy. 

You put a hand over his mouth and looked straight into his eyes, “I love you too.” 

Beneath your palm, his jaw went slack. Slowly, you removed it, biting your lip with a small nervous smile as you waited for him to respond. “You do?” 

You nodded shyly, never thinking that your dirty little secret would ever come to light. “I’ve had a stupid little puppy love crush on you since I was seventeen but I’ve been in love with you since I started college. I was always just worried you’d only ever see me as a little girl.” 

Marcus’s hands nervously came to rest on your hips as he stared down at you in disbelief. He shook his head, “You’re an amazing woman, Y/N. One that’s impossible not to fall in love with.” 

Your hand came up to his cheek, the stubble scratching your skin lightly, “And you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. One that’s impossible not to love.” You mimicked his sentiment back to him with pure genuine intent. 

His hand came to cover yours, pressing his face further against your skin, pulling you closer to him by your hip. It was an innocent move, one of a man desperate to finally experience what he’d been keeping bottled up as a deep secret for the last two years. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asked, obviously referring to the thirteen year age gap between the two of you, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” 

“I know that I’m younger than you but I’m not a naive child. You’re not taking advantage of me at all. Believe it or not, I am absolutely and irrevocably in love with you. If you want me, I would love nothing more than to be with you.” This was it: your all or nothing, all cards on the table, point of no return. The words you only told Marcus in your dreams were spoken and unable to be taken back. 

 His deep brown eyes flicked to your lips and then back to your eyes, his intention clear and awaiting any sign of hesitation, to which he found none. You leaned up on your toes but he finished closing the gap between the two of you, your lips touching in a gentle experimental kiss. His lips were soft in stark contrast to the stubble that scratched your skin. At this close proximity, you could finally breathe him in and it exceeded all expectations. He smelled clean, like freshly washed laundry, but with a hint of what you could only place as men’s body wash. 

Marcus felt the way your body melted into his touch. Your skin was soft as silk against his, your lips like pillows he wanted to stay in forever. Your perfume danced around him, engulfing his senses and rendering him incapable of thinking of anything but you. Finally, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. Your lids slid open only to see him already admiring you. 

“There’s nothing I would love more.” Marcus repeated. Two and a half years ago, he never could have imagined he would ever love again. Two hours ago, he never would have imagined that you could have possibly loved him back. But here you were, gazing up at him in a way he only let himself think about when he was alone, wrapped in his arms the way he dreamt about, saying the words he’d felt guilty for fantasizing about hearing from you for so long. 

[hikaridemina]

Short background story for my character Demina and how Asmodeus ended up becoming a single dad.

Alternate universe, non-canon.

-----------

Near the centre of the Lust Ring stood a four-story high building, decorated with stained glass windows and heart motifs everywhere, the yard well-kept from front to back and surrounded by metal fencing which was also made up of heart shapes. The building doubled as both a home and workplace, the first floor being a designated office space for business matters, while the rest of the floors above were living spaces akin to a mansion.

This was where the ruler of the ring, Asmodeus, also known as "Ozzie", lived and worked.

It was a late night as he was seated in his office, sorting through stacks of papers at his desk. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, the lack of sleep beginning to wear on him a bit. He could leave his office at any point and literally just go to the upper floor to call it a night, but there was a backlog of things that needed to be addressed and he wanted them done properly.

Suddenly the intercom on his desk began to ring. With a sigh, he pressed the button to answer it.

"Yes?"

"Uh, sir, there's something at the front door. You uh, may want to come look at this." He recognized the voice as one of his imp security guards.

"I'm very busy, can't you handle it yourself?"

"No, sir I'm sorry but you really need to come here."

Another heavy sigh as Asmodeus pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, I'll be there in a moment."

He rolled his office chair back and stretched his legs out before going to stand up. He was caught off guard by a sudden crack in his back.

Ow. Had he really been sitting at that desk for so long? As soon as this issue was taken care of, he planned to just go straight to bed.

He opened the office door and peered down the hall to the open lobby area, immediately he saw his entire staff of imps clambering at the front entrance.

As he walked over, all heads turned to look up at the large demon, who still could not see out the front door.

"Alright, what is this about?"

The staff said nothing as the crowd spread out to make way for their boss. Asmodeus continued forward to the door.

"I swear this interruption better be worth... it.” He trailed off, raising a brow in obvious confusion.

An open cardboard box covered in a blanket was set on the front step. Asmodeus knelt down to carefully pull the blanket back, revealing a tiny demon with a white complexion, fuzzy black hair, and oval ears that looked way too big for their small head. The baby was swaddled in another blanket and was sound asleep, oblivious to the crowd of people that were fixated on it.

"Uh, sir this was left here too." An imp in a security uniform came up to his boss, likely the same one who had called the intercom earlier. They were holding a folded piece of paper and promptly handed it over.

Still kneeling, Asmodeus unfolded the paper and proceeded to read the crude message written on it.

'It's yours asshole'.

His eyes went wide. This couldn't possibly be...

Oh no.

He began to recall a rather... saucy encounter he had a few months prior, he had almost completely forgotten about it. The realization felt like a truck had just hit him.

The security guard leaned sideways to look at their boss' face, which they swore looked more pale than usual.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"Y-Yes everything is fine!" Asmodeus hastily picked up the box with both hands as he stood, feeling the being inside shift slightly. He replaced the blanket over the box and went back inside, shuffling through the crowd whose eyes were now trained on him. He stopped past the group and looked over his shoulder to address them.

"All of you get back to your duties, this isn't Mammon's circus."

Asmodeus then looked directly at one of the maids. They were a taller imp woman with horns that split on the ends, making it appear as if she had four instead of the usual two.

"Priscilla, with me please."

"Of course, sir." The woman did a quick bow before going to her boss' side. The two proceeded to his office, Priscilla turning to close the door behind them once they were both in.

He gently placed the box on top of his desk, while Priscilla grabbed a stepping stool from the corner and placed it down so she could stand tall enough to reach. She pulled the blanket back to look at the child under it, who was astonishingly still asleep. Immediately she noted their distinct pink and black facial markings matched those of her boss.

“Oh Ozzie, what have you gotten yourself into?”

He had no response for her, as he was too busy scouring every corner of his mind trying to remember who it was exactly he had slept with months prior. The memory of the act itself was there, but not the woman's name or even what she looked like. He concluded that he must have been extremely intoxicated at the time, despite him being very careful regarding things like that as to avoid any situations he would be otherwise unprepared for. After all, there was the smart way to being the sin of lust and then there was the stupid way.

Unfortunately he had gone the stupid way for just one night and now there was a baby in front of him.

He was pulled back to reality as he noticed the child began to wiggle around a bit. They yawned with a little squeak before opening their eyes, two golden pupils now staring up at him in fascination. The child giggled and held up their hands, their extremely tiny fingers making grabbing motions.

In what was almost an automatic response, he slowly reached out one of his large hands in front of the small demon, his index finger immediately being tugged on. He let his hand be pulled over to the side of their round face as they hugged it, making a sound that could only be described as a happy murmur.

Priscilla watched the scene in silent awe, slightly turning her head up and to the side to glance at her boss. Asmodeus had a mixed expression on his face that she had never seen before in all of her time working for him, but she could tell it was a look of contemplation, confusion... and fear.

“Sir, just what are you going to do about... this?”

“I...” Asmodeus continued to stare at the child clinging to his hand. At first the obvious solution of giving them away came to mind, but... now that very thought brought on a sinking feeling in his chest, his heart aching at the consideration as he weighed his other options.

He finally settled on one.

“I am keeping them.”

Asmodeus lowered his head a bit, almost ashamed at what he was about to ask of his employee.

“Priscilla, would you help me?”

The imp looked nothing less than surprised, though her expression was also a happy one.

“Of course, Ozzie! You don’t even need to ask! But...” She cupped her chin with her hand as she looked with concern at the tiny demon.

“We don’t have anything close to baby supplies in the mansion, and who knows when this little one was fed last...” She then suddenly had an idea.

“I could take them to my house for the night to get things started off and then bring everything we need in the morning. With your permission of course.”

“That does sound like our only plan right now.” Asmodeus gently freed himself from the child’s grasp, which caused them to start crying as they waggled their arms in his direction again.

Priscilla took the initiative and picked the child out of the box, gingerly holding them against her chest.

“Shh, it’s okay! You’ll see daddy tomorrow!”

Priscilla looked out of the corner of her eye at Asmodeus and had to use every ounce of her strength to hold back laughing as the greater demon’s face turned beet red.

“You can count on me, Ozzie. Now for the love of Lucifer, go get some sleep.”

Asmodeus only nodded as he watched Priscilla leave his office with the child. He sat down in his chair and leaned an elbow on his desk, still trying to process what the fuck just happened tonight. With a sigh, he took his cell phone from his pocket and began to scroll through it.

Might as well make things more interesting. He tapped Mammon’s name from the contact list and started typing a text.

‘Apparently I’m a father now.’

Sent. He waited a few moments when he saw the tiny dots flashing on the screen to indicate that he was about to get a response.

‘Ha ha nice joke, don’t quit your job though.’

Asmodeus squinted his eyes in annoyance as he was about to type back when the little dots appeared again before another text came in.

‘Wait are you fucking serious?’

He quickly typed back, 'Yes.'

'WHAT! WHO DID YOU KNOCK UP???'

'I don't know.'

Asmodeus covered his face with both hands and groaned. It was going to be a long night.

[roman-writing]

no great revelation (3/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Tyalor

Rating: T

Wordcount: 6,444

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself  caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

Aurthor’s notes: Please don’t expect anything from this story. I’m just doodling in between writing ch11 and ch12 of ‘bring home a haunting.’

read it below or read it here on AO3

III.

—

The only transport with availability they could find on short notice was a nine day trip through hyperspace on the Hydian way with a stopover on Coruscant to jump on another transport for the Byss Run. ‘Short notice’ actually being: a seven hour wait in the public hangar bays, during which both Jamie and Dani hunkered down on an unlit bench and attempted to look as inconspicuous as possible. By the end Jamie — who was not by nature a person inclined to sitting still — was ready to claw out of her own skin if it meant getting up and actually doing something. And to really make things worse, the last tickets on the transport were for eighth class quarters with only one sleeping cot. 

“I didn’t even know they had an eighth class,” Dani muttered. She tugged at the hood of her cloak as they were jostled down the crowded corridor that led deep into the belly of the ship. 

“The joys of being a Service Corps brat,” Jamie said dryly, then she grunted when she caught an elbow to the back of her knee. She growled over her shoulder at the huddle of little robed Jawas pressing in close behind her. “Hit me again, I fuckin’ dare you.”

The only response to her threats was a series of skitterish language and rude gestures. One Jawa even jumped up and down, miming hitting her again. Jamie was sorely tempted to get her handheld mining laser out and have a go, but there were about seven of them and the very idea of being dogpiled by a bunch of children-sized robe-rats was too much to bear. 

Dani seemed to not see this interaction at all, and was focused entirely on pushing ahead. She squinted at the faded room numbers over each of the narrow doors, and said, “I think this is us.” 

“About bloody time,” Jamie grumbled.

She and Dani scooched closer to the wall and as far out of the way as possible to let the mass of other low level passengers by. Jamie glared at each of the Jawas as they passed, and each Jawa in turn fixed her with their glowing yellow eyes, while Dani swiped the laminated card they’d been issued by the ticket officer. A light on the door flashed red. Dani muttered something under her breath and swiped the card again, and with a blink of green light the door hissed open.

The room inside was small enough that Jamie could hold out both arms and touch the walls on either side. The sleeping cot was little more than a slit in the wall with storage lockers built into the wall beneath. The most uncomfortable metal bench Jamie had ever seen crouched in the far corner, bolted into the wall as well to prevent theft. They hadn’t even bothered pretending there was space to make food; for the next nine days it was all dietary supplements or overly priced galley grub on the upper canteen deck. 

“Looks cosy,” Jamie said, peering in over Dani’s shoulder. 

“How long did that droid say the trip was again?” Dani asked, gripping the straps of her bag at her shoulder.

“Nine days.”

The two of them looked back, and marinated in the notion that they would be spending nine whole days in such close quarters that one could barely turn in a circle without hitting the other. 

“Where are the bathrooms?” Dani asked.

“Dunno. Let’s find out.” 

Jamie nudged at Dani’s back, and the two of them stepped inside. The door hissed shut behind them automatically and sealed itself with the blink of another red light. While Dani set down her bag on the bench, Jamie started hitting random buttons on the panel by the door to see what they all did. The first dimmed all the lights. Useful. She turned them back on. The second opened the door again, which she quickly shut. The third opaqued the tiny port hole that admitted a view of the cramped hallway outside. And the fourth slid back a wall panel opposite the cot.

“Found the toilet,” Jamie said. “And the shower.”

Dani, who had crouched down to open the storage lockers beneath the cot, straightened and turned around. She made a face. “All in one?”

Jamie poked her head inside. “Seems like it. Smells clean, at least.”

Indeed, the industrial-strength cleaning vapours were so overpowering they made her eyes water. Screwing up her face, Jamie leaned back. Dani came to stand beside her and investigate the ablutions closet as well. The moment she caught sight of the tiny mirror bolted to the wall inside however, she made a strangled noise and jerked her gaze aside. Jamie watched in puzzlement as Dani whipped back around and tried to pass it off as a cough.

Without a word, Jamie hit the button to shut the panel that hid the ablutions closet. “You all right?” 

Still facing the other direction, Dani nodded. She cleared her throat and said in the most unconvincing tone possible, “Yeah. Fine. I’m - I’m fine.” 

Carefully Jamie slipped past Dani so that they didn’t brush against one another. She dropped her own travel pack onto the bench beside Dani’s and unzipped the main compartment to rummage around inside. 

“Don’t reckon there’s much chance the menagerie will die down until well after we’ve hit hyperspace.” Jamie checked the time on her travel credentials chit, hitting a few buttons on the display until it was set to a standard self-regulating clock so she could actually remember to sleep on a decent schedule. “But if you’re hungry, I can battle my way to the canteen on deck 34?” 

“No. Thank you. The lunch we had at the hangar terminal was enough.” 

Peeling back the packaging of a dietary supplement from her bag, Jamie shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, and tossed back the supplement with a dry swallow and a grimace. Another quick search around the room revealed a tiny spigot protruding from one of the walls, which delivered a dribble of fresh water when she set an open travel bottle beneath it. Jamie took a grateful sip, then filled up the bottle to the brim before capping it. 

“Wish they’d just knock you out flat for trips like these,” Jamie said. “But then they couldn’t gouge us at the souvenir shops, I guess.” 

Behind her, she heard a begrudging huff of laughter. When Jamie turned around it was to find Dani with her hands around her stomach, as though trying to give herself the galaxy’s most ineffective hug. Dani glanced up and shuffled her weight back and forth in obvious discomfort. Even now, standing as far from one another as they could, Jamie could easily reach out and touch her if she tried. 

“I - uh -” Dani made a feeble gesture towards the panel that hid the ablutions closet. “I thought I saw something. That’s all.” 

Jamie shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Not my business.” 

Beneath their feet, Jamie could feel a slight rumble as the engines hit maximum burn. There was a momentary feeling of weightlessness, and then the familiar pull behind her navel when they finally hit hyperdrive. Some ships — sleeker, more capable ships than this — liked to make an experience out of going into hyperspace. Like pushing in the throttle on a first rate speeder. This experience however could only be described as lumbering. Like an overworked beast of burden taking that first reluctant step towards its destination.

Letting out a long tired exhale, Jamie said, “Right. Nothing left to do, then.”

And without further ado, from her bag she pulled out a set of pajamas — the only set of other clothes she had brought with her, to be perfectly honest, apart from a heavy thermal jacket in case they got stranded on an ice-ridden hell hole like Hoth or some shit — and began to change. 

Unlike the previous nights, Dani did not avert her gaze or get flustered. Instead, her eyes traced the tattoo on Jamie’s shoulder, a series of vines and flowers curling down the bicep of her right arm and partway up her neck. A large enough piece to be eye-catching, while also easily concealed by clothing. Not that the Jedi Order cared about tattoos. Just that some planets had different rules than others, and when you hopped from place to place as often as Jamie did, then you hedged your bets. 

“Does it mean anything?” Dani asked, nodding towards the tattoo.

Pulling a soft shirt on, Jamie shrugged. “Means I was young and stupid. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” 

Dani didn’t have a reply to that, though the expression on her face said that she didn’t buy Jamie’s story for an instant. She squeezed by Jamie to start pulling out her own set of sleeping clothes, and Jamie had to hop out of the way while tugging a pair of sweatpants up her thighs. 

“Don’t suppose you have any you’d like to share with the class?” Jamie asked, giving Dani a quick once over. 

Dani, who had been in the process of taking off her cloak, froze, then continued what she was doing once more. “No,” she said, facing the wall so that her back was turned to Jamie. 

“Thought it was a fair question,” said Jamie. She stepped atop the first rung of the ladder built into the wall so that she could inspect the cot in all its glory. Thin sheets. Thin mattress. Thin pillows. Happy days. 

“I appreciate tattoos,” Dani answered, her voice muffled momentarily by the shirt she pulled over her head. “But I’ve never wanted one for myself.” 

“Fair enough.”

When Jamie had assured herself there were no unfortunate bugs or surprises in the bed, she hauled herself up into the cot. She had to lie flat to slip in, and the ceiling was close enough to her face that when she was on her back she could make out every scratch and detail in the panels. 

“Well, this is shite,” she muttered. Turning her head to one side, Jamie asked, “Do you get claustrophobic? Only that I can take the end nearest the wall if you’d prefer.”

Dani went very still in the act of pulling on a thicker set of socks. Then she gave Jamie a guilty little nod.

“All right.” Jamie shuffled over some more until she was wedged up against the wall. 

Padding across the small room, Dani dimmed the lights before she climbed up into the cot beside Jamie. It was so cramped with the two of them, that there was no way they couldn’t not touch, and there was no way for Jamie to plaster herself against the wall any more than she always was. Eventually Dani was lying flat on her back, sheets pulled up to her chest, and staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling, while Jamie tried her damndest to not move too much. 

A futile effort, in the end. With a muttered curse, Jamie wriggled around so she could reach up and scratch at her own tattooed shoulder. Dani frowned over at her quizzically, and Jamie answered, “Got a scar. It itches like mad sometimes.” 

Dani hummed a wordless note. When Jamie had finally stopped scratching, she asked, “Why are you helping me?”

Jamie adjusted her pillow and said, “I don’t like Czerka. And, well, I guess I’m stuck with you now.”

Through the dark, Dani’s expression was inscrutable. She rolled over to face Jamie, and the pillow obscured her partly so that the only eye that watched Jamie was the one that seemed to gleam golden in the deep shadows of her face. “You just left your whole life behind on a whim.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments,” said Jamie. “Even Force sensitives are discouraged from it, generally. Especially at the Temple.” 

Dani blinked at her. “I’m sorry if I was too forward, or -”

With a snort, Jamie shook her head. “Not at all what I meant. Just — I move around a lot. And you’ve seen my apartment. Did it look like I was planning to stay long?” 

Rather than answer, Dani asked, “Do you not like the places you live in?”

“I like them fine. Telos IV is fine.”

“What about family?” 

Jamie arched an eyebrow. “What about them?” 

“Well -” Dani faltered over this for a moment. “I miss my mother. She’s awful and she drives me crazy, but I still miss her.” 

She said it like it was an example, an invitation for Jamie to give her own in return. 

“Don’t have one,” Jamie said. 

“What? Nobody?”

“Nope.” 

“But what about -? I mean -” Dani blew out a frustrated breath before continuing. “Surely there are people who care about you. You’re a good person.” 

“You’ve known me three days,” Jamie pointed out. “Less. Two and a half.” 

“Jamie,” she said in an admonishing tone.

With a sigh, Jamie rolled onto her back. She could hear their neighbours through the thin walls. Someone was playing thumping music and talking loudly amongst themselves in a language she did not understand, until they blended into a drone of white noise. 

“Attachments are forbidden for Jedi,” Jamie repeated, “but I’ve never been Jedi material. When I was still in training at the Temple, there were people in my group that I cared about. Sure. Formed an attachment with a youngling named Mikey. We weren’t related by blood but we might as well’ve been. I looked after him, and for a while things were good. But he was strong. Stronger than I could ever dream of being. And for people like him, people strong in the Force -” Jamie made a helpless gesture towards the ceiling. “They separated him from the rest when he was still so young. He’s a Jedi Knight now. We don’t talk anymore. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Dani said softly.

Jamie’s stomach swooped, and she grit her teeth against it. “I hope it is. It’s for the best.”

“And what about these other friends? The ones we’re going to visit on Tython?” 

“Just friends,” said Jamie. “Good friends, but friends. They’re actual Jedi, and they take that shit seriously. Or, well -” she huffed out a laugh. “One of them does. Sometimes I wonder if Owen takes anything seriously. Most people, though? No. No attachments. Most people aren’t worth the effort.” 

Dani's gaze was a dart of gold through the enclosed space, the two of them cramped together, their knees brushing despite their best efforts. Then, she said, "I'm glad."

Frowning, Jamie turned her head to look at her. "About what?"

"That this isn't an effort."

Jamie opened her mouth to retort but no sound came out. It hadn't been said with venom or sarcasm. It had been resigned. Matter of fact, even. 

And before Jamie could gather her wits about her enough to formulate a response, Dani rolled over and nearly took the rest of the blankets with her. Scowling, stomach churning unpleasantly, Jamie rolled over as well and tried to get some sleep. 

 --

Three days passed without anything noteworthy occurring, which — given the way Jamie’s week had been going so far — was a miracle in and of itself. And after three days of scouring the various lower and mid decks, Jamie could with great confidence say that no Czerka had followed them aboard this particular vessel.

Now, if only those weird fucking nightmares would go away. That would be grand.

Jamie was at the canteen bar on the mid decks. She was allowing herself to indulge in the vice of a foamy alcoholic beverage which resembled beer but which definitely wasn't beer. The location she would've preferred to drink at — a corner table with an excellent view of the whole room, and good access to one of the side exits — was already occupied by a group of surly looking humans, which meant that Jamie was forced to drink at the bar itself. She nursed her not-beer and tried not to think about how she still had six more days of sleeping beside a very attractive woman who was alternatively clingy or kick-y in her sleep.

Right when she was constructing ways of padding Dani's legs — more socks would do the trick, surely; and the woman was always bloody cold; she wouldn't complain — Jamie felt a frisson run down her spine. She straightened from her stoop with a frown, and looked around the room for any indication of new threats or danger.

Which was when someone stepped up to the bar beside her. He waved down the droid bartender and ordered himself a drink. Non-alcoholic. She looked at him, and went tense.

When it had seemed that she could finally allow herself to relax, to enjoy this leisurely cruise through hyperspace — as much as anyone could enjoy passage in their shit quarters — Jamie just had to go run into a Jedi.

An actual Jedi this time. Brown robes. Lightsabre. The whole lot. In fact, the last thing she noticed about him was his lightsabre. It was everything else that gave him away. The way he held himself. His clothes. The way he even breathed.

Immediately, Jamie buried her nose back into her glass and prayed that he wouldn't look her way.

He did. Of fucking course he did.

His sharp eyes promptly found the Service Corps dog tags hanging from her neck. Jamie was still mentally kicking herself for wearing them today, when he slanted his head sideways to read her Corps Assignment on the metal tags.

"And how is Telos?" he asked without preamble.

Jamie shrugged and stifled the urge to walk very quickly away. "Scarred," she said, "but alive."

He hummed. The droid brought him his beverage, and he murmured his thanks before turning his attention back to her. "And you're heading to Coruscant," he remarked thoughtfully. "Are you being Reassigned?"

Jamie shook her head. She bought herself some time by taking another sip of her not-beer. "Nah. Been three years since I've seen some friends on Tython. Thought I ought to say hello. They'll be sick of my pre-recorded postcards by now."

His answering smile was small, a thing barely there. Then there was a flicker of his brow. "You know," he said slowly, "I think I recognize you."

Well, that sure wasn't ominous. Not in the slightest. 

"Oh?" said Jamie. 

"Yes. You used to be ExplorCorps, didn't you?" He leaned closer, elbows on the bar, considering her. "My old Master was a Seeker. He showed me the proceedings of a smuggling bust he took part in about four years ago on an undisclosed planet near Nar Shaddaa. You gave the testimony that sent that Hutt crime lord to prison."

Jamie bought herself a second by buying her nose in her glass and taking a deep drink. So much for identity suppression. "Ah - yeah. That was me. Small galaxy, innit?"

He held out his gloved hand. “Pasha,” he said.

Switching her not-beer to her other hand, Jamie took his hand and shook it. “Jamie. And what brings you here?"

Setting his hand down, Pasha tapped his fingers against the bar top. Then he surveyed the rest of the room, as though checking for eavesdroppers. "I trust I can rely on your discretion?" he said in a tone that was too casual.

"Yeah. 'Course."

The droid bartender trundled by on its treads, and Pasha waited until it was gone. “I am investigating a murder."

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over Jamie’s head. "Someone in the Order?" 

His expression was grave, and he nodded. "A young Consular by the name of Edmund. His body was found on a transport cruiser passing through Vurdon Ka. We believe it was the work of a Sith assassin."

Well, that was new.

"What? That close to the Core Worlds?" Jamie asked, and her voice was as incredulous as she could make it.

"Yes," he said and he was the definition of sombre. "You understand why this is so important. If the Sith have managed to infiltrate so deeply into the Core, then the risk to the Republic is far greater than we had thought."

"Well, fuck," Jamie muttered. Though not for the reason he probably thought. 

She really had to go and get herself involved in the biggest clusterfuck of the decade. No. Biggest clusterfuck of the century. 

“We’re almost finished making our sweep of the ship,” Pasha sighed as he lifted his glass for a sip. “I’ll be glad to be done. It’s tiring work, and this assassin somehow manages to slip through our fingers every time we get close.” 

Wait, wait, wait. Hold the holo. 

Jamie jabbed her finger against the bartop. “You think the assassin is on this hunk of junk?” 

He nodded, lowering his glass. “We’ve done a thorough check through the upper and mid decks the last few days. Just making our way to the lower decks now.”

“I’m down there, and I haven’t seen anything,” Jamie said, hoping she didn’t sweat straight through her shirt. “Now, I’m no Knight, but I think I would know a Sith assassin if I saw one.”

“Have you ever met a Sith before?” 

Jamie paused. She’d had plenty of dealings with Sith associates over the years — smugglers, crime cartels, weapons dealers, drug runners, you name it — but an actual Sith in the flesh? She shook her head. 

“Pray you never do,” Pasha said darkly. 

Jamie felt the hairs on the back of her neck and arms lift with a shiver. Then the sound of heavy boot steps approached the bar. Two masked Troopers in scuffed body armour stopped behind them, the Republic insignia emblazoned in blue on their left shoulders. They were walking talking weapon arsenals with more military tech between them than the rest of this sorry boat combined. One had a massive assault cannon strapped to her back and a bandolier of grenades clipped across her chest. The other was armed with a blaster rifle, a shielding pack, and an honest to fuck harpoon. Jamie sank down into her bar stool a little further. 

“Sir,” one of them said, her voice muffled through the helm. “We are ready to descend into the lower decks whenever you are.” 

Pasha gave Jamie a commiserating look and then drained his glass in one long pull. “Seems like the job is never done,” he said with a smile. “May the Force be with you.” 

Jamie lifted her own glass in reply, watching them go without taking a sip. The two Troopers cleared the path just by walking in a straight line. People scrambled out of their way. The three of them passed through a door, rounded a corner, and they were gone. 

Exhaling the breath she had been holding, Jamie slumped against the bar, letting her head rest against the cool and slightly sticky surface. She could hear the whir of mechanical treads as the droid bartender shifted position behind the bar. Jamie lifted her head. 

“Oi,” she whistled to get the bartender droid’s attention. 

It stopped cleaning a glass and gave her a low tired beep.

“Is there some sort of tech or maintenance shaft I can use to get to the lower decks fast?” Jamie asked. 

Another beep, and a spindly mechanical arm popped out of the droid’s flank to poke a button. The garbage chute sprang open from the wall. Craning her neck, Jamie wrinkled her nose as she looked down into the chute, which ended in a trolley full of rubbish that was just big enough for her to fit inside if she tucked in her legs and arms. 

With a deep sigh, Jamie bolted back the rest of her drink, then stood and started to round the bar towards the chute. “Fuck me.” 

 --

Jamie was still picking eggshells from her hair when she walked the corridors of the lower decks. At least the bar’s garbage had mainly consisted of fresh fruit rinds and nut shells, though she had a stimcaf stain on her pants that would take an age in the ablutions closet to get out later. She hurried along the hallway, pushing past clumps of other passengers who wandered about or chatted with one another. 

For the first time since stepping foot on this ship, she wished they’d gotten a room on an even lower level deck. This was only two decks beneath the canteen, and battle-hardened Republic Troopers weren’t exactly known for sitting on their hands. 

The door to their room was open, and Dani was nowhere to be found. Swearing under her breath, Jamie looked left and right down the hallway, hands on her hips. She checked the time at her wrist, and then continued down the corridor at a light jog. Every open room she passed, every tightly-confined communal space, Jamie poked her head in for a quick check, until finally she found her.

Dani was, of all places, twenty doors down with the Jawas. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground, nursing a steaming mug of something or another while listening intently to the surrounding seven Jawas chittering at her. Jamie stopped in the open doorway, slightly out of breath. 

“That’s extortion!” Dani remarked, and one of the Jawas nodded emphatically. Then she said, “I’m very impressed.”

This earned Dani a series of gratified chirps from all of the Jawas, one of which eagerly topped up Dani’s mug with more of whatever beverage they were all drinking. She thanked him, and several of the others began demanding Dani’s attention with small sharp hand gestures and fast-paced prattling. 

One of the Jawas noticed Jamie's presence and started making a high-pitched growl, like a territorial womp rat. The noise alerted the others, including Dani, who glanced up.

"Can we talk?" Jamie asked. She stepped further inside the room with a furtive motion for Dani to approach her.

Looking puzzled, Dani handed the mug to the Jawa sitting closest to her, then rose to her feet and crossed the room. “Is there something wrong? Why do you smell like orange juice?” 

“Long story.” Jamie smacked the button which shut the door and opaqued the tiny porthole that peered into the Jawas’ quarters. Lowering her voice so that the Jawas couldn’t easily hear her, she whispered, "There’s a Jedi on board and two Republic Troopers. They’re looking for you and they think you're a Sith assassin."

Dani stared at her. "But -" she spluttered, "I'm not."

"I know that. But they don’t."

Dani glanced towards the door, then at the Jawas. She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “What do we do?” 

“We hide and hope that once they’ve cleared this deck, they don’t come back,” said Jamie. “I don’t know how much time we have. They were making their way down here right as I left.” 

"Spike was telling me -"

"Who?"

Dani pointed to the Jawa she’d handed her mug to. "Spike."

"You learned their names?"

"They're cute!" Dani insisted.

Right as she said it, one of the Jawas snatched up what appeared to be a tiny live rodent from a container, and swallowed it whole. The rodent vanished into the impenetrable darkness of the Jawa's hood, until even its wriggling tail was slurped up as well.

"Yeah, they're fuckin' adorable," Jamie said dryly.

“Spike was telling me,” Dani repeated more firmly this time, “that there are ventilation ducts that they use to pressurise the cabins during take off and landing.”

“And what happens if they decide to de-pressurise the cabins while we’re in there?” 

“We’re in hyperspace. What are the chances we’re going to be boarding anything?”

“The way my luck is going,” said Jamie, “I’m willing to say the chances are pretty bloody high.” 

“Do you have any better ideas?” Dani asked, and there was an edge to her voice that from anyone else would have sounded angry, but which Jamie could already tell was just fear bleeding through. 

“I do, actually.” Jamie jerked her thumb towards the door behind her. “We ride the rubbish chute to the upper decks and lie low until they finish their sweep down here. They’re not going to retrace old ground, and once they’ve cleared the entire ship, we’re gravy.” 

“The garbage?” Dani furrowed her brow, giving Jamie a once-over. “Oh, I see. That explains it.”

In the background, a few of the Jawas had huddled around a small handheld screen and started chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Jamie and Dani ignored them until Spike scurried over and tugged at the trailing ends of Dani’s cloak. Both of them turned to listen, and Jamie felt her blood pressure tick up in real time. 

“What?” Dani asked, face going pale.

“They can’t have made it to this deck already,” said Jamie to Spike. “You must be seeing things.”

In answer, Spike motioned towards the cluster of Jawas, one of whom turned the little screen around to show the holo it displayed. They had somehow hooked into the security feed and on the screen, clear as day, was Pasha and the two Troopers, striding down the corridor towards them. 

Without peeling her wide eyes from the screen, Dani asked in a trembling voice, “Where did you say the garbage chute was located?”

“They’ve already passed it,” Jamie muttered.

Yammering in agitation, Spike pointed towards the ceiling, where a vent was located just above the sleeping cot. Jamie groaned.

“Oh, all right,” she relented. “C’mon.”

Picking their way across the Jawas’ quarters was like navigating a minefield. There was junk sprawled all over the place in piles. It was a mystery how they even managed to get it all in here. When Jamie climbed the ladder beside the cot, there were two sets of glowing yellow eyes watching her from the dark corner of the bed.

“‘Scuse us,” Jamie mumbled and pulled out her mining laser to cut the vent free just enough so that it swung open on two rusted hinges.  

If Jamie wasn’t in the habit of hauling herself up trees all day, she would’ve had a hard go at clambering into the crawlspace. As it was, she grunted and pulled herself up. With a bit of wriggling — her hips got stuck in the small vent opening — she managed to get inside. She held a hand down for Dani just as there was a knock on the door. 

“Let’s go,” Jamie muttered more to herself than anyone else, as she heaved Dani up and into the ventilation shaft with her. Dani scrambled in and Jamie barely had enough time to seal the vent shut before the door opened with a hiss.  

Jamie was squashed between metal on three sides and Dani on the other. The only light in this space shone through the slats in the grating. Every breath was loud, as loud as Jamie’s heartbeat. She couldn’t have moved much if she tried. At her feet she could feel the shaft turn a corner, and any attempt to crawl along after it would end in one or both of them getting well and truly stuck. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” Jamie heard Pasha’s cultured voice. 

"Official Republic business," said one of the Troopers, his voice sounding muzzy through the speakers of his helmet. "Your cooperation is appreciated and expected. Any opposition will be met with force."

The Jawas jabbered and quibbled, but the sound of heavy boots stepping into the room regardless of their protestations was unmistakable. One of the Troopers, the one with the harpoon strapped to his back, stepped into view right below the vent. Jamie watched him crouch down and open up the storage lockers beneath the cot for inspection. 

Dani’s eyes were squeezed shut. Jamie could feel the way she was trembling all over. Reaching up, Jamie took her hand, but Dani’s only reaction was to clutch it in a white-knuckled death grip. Jamie winced, the bones of her hand creaking, but she did not pull away. 

“What’s this?” 

The Trooper below had dragged something out from the locker, while his partner searched the ablutions closet. The Trooper nudged a large crate with the barrel of his blaster rifle, then turned to a nearby Jawa. “Open it,” he ordered.

The Jawa needed the help of two friends to heave the lid of the metal crate back. The Trooper had his blaster rifle tucked up against his shoulder, ready to fire, only to lower it once more, when the crate’s contents were revealed to be piles of more useless junk. Tangled skeins of wire. Dismembered droid parts. The works. 

“Have you checked the cot?” his partner asked. 

“Nothing but a litter at roost,” the Trooper replied. 

Pasha spoke up from the doorway. “What about the vent? It looks like it’s been tampered with.” 

Shit. 

Dani’s breathing started growing fast and shallow. She was a line of tense muscle pressed up against Jamie’s front, her jaw clenched so tight Jamie was amazed she hadn’t cracked a tooth. There was a groan of metal around them and whole sections of the walls started to flex and bend in an alarming manner, as though something were attempting to crumple the entire shaft in one massive fist. Meanwhile, Dani’s shaking fingers dug painfully into the skin of Jamie’s hand.

Double shit. 

“Shhh,” Jamie whispered. “Shh.”

Dani’s brow was furrowed and her breathing had shot straight past panting and into hyperventilating. The pipes beyond the crawlspace hissed and whined. 

Below them, the Jawas were crowding around the two Troopers, but Jamie paid them no attention. With her free hand, she cupped Dani’s cheek and said softly, “Look at me. Dani. Hey.” 

Dani opened her eyes, expression raw and panicked. Jamie could feel every sweeping exhalation as Dani struggled for air. 

“With me,” Jamie murmured, and she breathed in and out with slow exaggeration. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. 

Slowly Dani matched it, her muscles relaxing in the smallest of increments while Jamie coaxed her along, until they were breathing in synch, until Dani’s forehead rested gently against her own, noses brushing. 

“All right, all right,” Harpoon Trooper growled below them. “We’re going. You’ve made your point.” 

The Jawas were still talking over one another all at once and waving their tiny robed arms while the Troopers stomped out of the room. It was a small thing, the relief that burst like little fireworks in Jamie’s chest. She smiled, then breathed in sharply when that relief continued to branch out into something more, something alive, electric, and beyond herself. She gave Dani’s fingers another squeeze and shook her head quickly.

The Force retreated like a skittish hand reaching forth in the dark, but it was too late.

The footsteps below them had gone quiet. 

"Is something wrong, sir?" one of the Troopers asked.

"I thought I felt something,” said Pasha slowly. “We went too quickly through the deck above this one. I want to go back.” 

“But -”

“There is something above us, Commander,” Pasha insisted, and his voice was stern. “Ignore this floor, and let us go with haste.” 

When they had finally gone, Jamie allowed her body to slump with a beleaguered sigh. Then she began to laugh softly. One of her hands was still cupping Dani’s jaw, and she brushed her thumb over the round bluff of Dani’s cheek, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. 

“Well done, love,” Jamie said with a smile.

Dani’s gaze was surprisingly steady for someone who had just been in the throes of a panic attack. She swallowed thickly. “Thank you,” she breathed. 

It was an extraordinarily bad idea to glance down at Dani’s mouth. Jamie hadn’t even realised she’d done it until Dani blinked at her, tongue darting out to wet her lower lip. A nervous, automatic gesture, but one which Jamie could not ignore. 

“I think we can leave now,” Dani said. 

“Right.” Jamie cleared her throat and let go of Dani quickly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” 

While she worked to open the vent again, Jamie had to sternly remind herself that Dani was a wanted murderer, and that the warmth pooling in her gut was a very very bad idea. Dani was silent as Jamie urged her to go first. One after the other, they squeezed themselves out of the vent and dropped down onto the floor below. 

When Dani did it, the Jawas caught her and cooed over her, patting off the dust from her clothes. When Jamie did it, the Jawas let her fall in a bruised and graceless heap onto the floor.

“Thanks, mate,” Jamie grunted at Spike.

Spike narrowed his yellow eyes, then offered Jamie a mug of that steaming stuff they’d been drinking before. Sitting up and brushing herself off, Jamie took it. The drink tasted like battery acid warmed over, but it filled her with such a mild and pleasant feeling that she drained the cup. 

“They’re not going to stop looking, are they?” 

Jamie ran a hand through her hair. “No,” she said. “Don’t reckon they will. He sensed that, so he knows now there’s something on board. He’ll be back.” 

Dani twisted her fingers together. When a Jawa offered her a cup, she demurred with a murmur. “So, now what?” 

Tipping her head back towards the ceiling, Jamie closed her eyes. She mulled over their options, then shook her head with a wry grin. “God. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this.” She waved the mug at Spike. “Don’t suppose you lot have a long-range transceiver I could borrow? Preferably untraceable, but beggars can’t be choosers.” 

Rather than hop immediately into action, Spike looked at Dani for confirmation. Dani nodded and said, “Please.” 

With a series of noises that could only be described as high-pitched grumbling, the Jawa rummaged around in the still open crate that the Troopers had inspected earlier. He unearthed a dented and ancient subspace transceiver, dusted it off, and handed it over to Jamie. 

“The hell is the range on this thing?” Jamie muttered to herself as she turned it on.

The transceiver blinked to life with a flicker of white noise. Hoping beyond hope that the frequency was still the same as she remembered, Jamie keyed it in and hit the transmit button. 

For two of the longest minutes of her life, the only answer was a blur of static. Then a familiar voice crackled to life. 

“Well, well. Jamie Taylor. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Jamie’s smile was more of a grimace. “Hello, Rebecca. Remember how you owe me a favour?”