#this guy (who was with someone) very kindly asked if he was blocking my view and i was like no you’re good and he was like feel free to tell

[aldieb]

ok i’m glad i got out for san fermin bc i am so powered up rn. they played “emily” second and i was like “oh cool well i will be satisfied with whatever else they do now” and then they played every other song i wanted to hear. claire wellin has an insane stage presence—a charismatic black hole sucking everything in the room in. and um the rest of my thoughts on that subject are not fit to print. also saxophonists continue to slay the most. i have never heard someone making a bari scream like that and i thought it had to be on the production end but nope

[ilovepotatoesandtomatoes]

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖕 : ̗̀➛ @darthvada

I pair you with... *drumroll*

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓪 𝓜𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓾!!!ੈ✩‧₊˚

Song to describe your relationship:

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Heart Attack (츄) by Chuu ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ꕥ Bachira strikes me as the type of person who likes talking but also enjoys listening so he's the best of both worlds!

ꕥ His mother is a painter aka a very creative women and I see that quality reflected in Bachira. He might not plan the best dates but they sure are creative-

ꕥ Part of your type was a kind person who was willing to open up. Bachira has no problem expressing his emotions and as we see in the anime treats everyone kindly (unless given a reason not to)

ꕥ He loves and I mean LOVES when you attend his games. It makes him so happy that the person he loves is watching him and that's when he starts to do extra fancy stuff to impress you lol

ꕥ Goes to all, ALL of your performances. ALL! And if he can't make it then he gets really sad. (showing him a recording of the performance or sing for him and he'll feel better lol)

ꕥ You love music! He also loves music! He dragged you to a karaoke (w/ consent) he wanted to sing with you. You were singing your favorite song sounding like an * 🎀 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩 🎀 *and Bachira was over on the side "singing" like 👹 👺😀 All that matters is that you guys had a lot of fun :D

ꕥ Because Bachira was essentially bullied as a kid, he's probably conscience of what he says and how it makes people feel. In the heat of the moment he may say something that sounds rude without malicious intent and he will pause for a moment and immediately apologize. He's very open minded so if you think something you do is weird, don't. He's probably weirder :)

ꕥ If someone oversteps a boundary and says something borderline rude he can peacefully hint at them not to be a bitc- I mean to be a kinder person 🥰

ꕥ See someone who bullied you in public? They try to say something other than an apology? He scared them away. You won't have to deal with them anymore. Would throw hands. You have to hold his hand or smth so he doesn't commit a felony.

ꕥ You're in theater so I'm assuming that you like musicals. I think Bachira knows a little bit of popular songs from Ride the Cyclone, probably watched Hamilton with his mom. Other than that he doesn't know a lot. He would love to learn more if you're willing to teach him and if you have a favorite musical he buys tickets for your anniversary!

ꕥ Your school doing a Romeo and Juliet? Asks if you want to be Juliet so that he can be Romeo. Or same thing with a different play.

ꕥ First time he went to see you perform he may or may not have brought a giant poster with your name on it and held it up when you were on stage. You may or may not have had to tell him not to bring signs anymore because he was blocking the audience's view.

ꕥ You like playing games? Bachira is a fortnight kid (this is cannon no one can change my mind-) even if he didn't play fortnight he learned the dances. Was obsessed with soccer so didn't play many as a kid but will learn how to play all of your favorite ones with you. Will stay up all night playing video games or board games just for you. <3 You guys build a house in Minecraft together. And he sets it on fire. It gets destroyed. Bye bye house 😔

"Bachira what did you do how did this happen?!"

"Hehehehehehehe...he...he...honestly idk."

Something like that would probably happen.

ꕥ If you and Bachira do a self care night together that would be so cute <3 If you guys do face masks with the cucumbers he eats all of the cucumbers and takes off the face mask too early 💀 If you have long hair or hair long enough to be braided he braids your hair. Does it look like a braid? No absolutely not but it's cute sooooo

ꕥ He enjoys receiving hugs from you and if he sees you in the hallways (or anywhere really) he'll run up to you and basically tackle you. If you're someone who is not a big fan of physical affection then you'll have to tell him because this man wants to hold your hand 24/7

ꕥ Definitely tried to teach you a little bit of soccer. He doesn't care if you're good or not he just wants to share the things he loves with the people he loves.

ꕥ He confessed first. He was nervous that you would reject him because he got bullied for being weird as a kid. Asked you teach him like two cords on the piano and he "sang a song about his feelings" to you on the piano. With two cords. Yippee!

ꕥ Wants to play among us with you to troll random people by saying they're sus and voting them out.

ꕥ He likes cuddles and enjoys listening to you sing

ꕥ Introduced you to his friends but don't pay too much attention to them or he will get jealous (I don't know how to word it without it sounding cringe 💀) Was really excited for you guys to meet each other especially his bff Isagi 🫶 You said you liked making friends Bachira does too. You guys can become like a social butterfly couple and meet a ton of new people. You said you get anxious too and Bachira is an easy going person so dw he will always be there to help.

ꕥ This bundle of sunshine is happy as long as your happy and loves listening to things you're passionate about

ꕥ Gave you a bunch of random nicknames based off of your name, things you like, things you remind him of, etc

ꕥ Your relationship is like the golden standard for couples because your and Bachira's energies complement each other so well

Note: First request yippee! I had a lot of fun writing this and at first it took me a moment to pair you with someone but then I thought about and it came to me *snap* ☆Bachira☆

If I got any information from your request wrong or you want something changed lmk and I'll fix it ASAP. Have a nice day!

[butler-on-beale-street]

Unforgettable | E!Austin Butler X Plus!Reader | Part 2

Warnings: Some talk of being plus sized, the insecurities that are involved. Mild alcohol consumption, fluff.

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: This is another slow burn chapter, but I promise you this story will be worth it. I am so glad you guys are enjoying it so far!

Have you read part 1?

Where’s the manual for what to do when the most famous and most beautiful man in America walks into your bookstore like a neighborhood regular? 

“Wanna go shopping?” You asked, leaning against the office door as you watched Evelyn chew on a pen as she drew out totals. 

“With what money?” She asked, pulling the pen from her mouth. 

“Wanna go shopping?” Elvis said, appearing behind your shoulder with the very same grin you had plastered on your face. 

“Does the devil lie, cheat and steal?” She said, backing up from her chair and standing up, smoothing down her blouse and skirt.

After re-checking all the locks and shutting off the lights, you left out of the back of the shop in hopes to be as inconspicuous as possible. “I parked around the corner,” Elvis said. You and Evelyn walked with him for about two blocks before you picked out Elvis’s vehicle–a jet black, sparkly cadillac, customized with the latest modifications. 

“Way to stay under cover,” Evelyn snickered. 

“Hey, I took the cheap one out today.” He looked at you both expectantly; his version of cheap was worlds away from yours. “Hop in,” He said, opening up the back door for you and Evey to get in. “Cheeks, sit up front with me.” You were almost half into the back seat before he urged you to sit with him up front. You weren’t going to argue. 

He walked around the car, pulling open the passenger side door for you, waiting for you to get in before he shut it firmly. 

He drove fast. For once, you felt exhilarated. You felt like you were doing something naughty and improper, but at the same time, you felt free and exclusive; like you were deserving of someone’s jealousy. Your mind swam with contradicting thoughts, but you ignored them and let Elvis parade the two of you around. You liked the attention from him. You’d also secretly wished that your cousin had called out sick to work so that you and Elvis would have been alone. 

“Bullard’s boutique and lounge,” Elvis said as he arrived in front of the glass store front, placing the car in park. “What do you say I help you ladies pick out a pretty outfit or two? Find something extra special and we could throw that in, too.” 

The moment you stepped out of the vehicle with him, you felt eyes. What seemed like a million of them. 

“Elvis.”

“Elvis Presley.”

“Look, that’s him!”

 “Who are they?”

You made no attempt to look at passersby. In fact, you made a straight beeline to the door as Elvis held it open for you. He nodded kindly at the people pausing from their day to gawk at him before he let the glass door swing shut behind him. 

“Mr. Presley!” A manicured woman dressed in a chic, knee length black frock greeted Elvis as he entered. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” The woman was beautiful, with long blonde hair that was swept up in an immaculate updo. She stood up straight and held her hands clasped together as she looked you and Evelyn up and down with somewhat of a critical expression before returning her gaze to Elvis. 

“My friends here,” he said, pulling his arms around yours and Evelyn’s shoulders. “We’re looking for some outfits to try on.”

“Mmhmm, well,” She said in a snooty fashion. “Let me see what I’ve got available.” She turned on a dime, walking back to the sales floor for a moment. 

“She’s a ray of sunshine, that’s for sure,” Evelyn said far too loudly. You elbowed her in the side.

“She’s a real looker, that’s for sure,” Elvis answered, craning his neck to get a view of her backside. 

Jealousy flowed through you as you watched him search for her. You had to stop yourself. It was just a one-in-a-million type of day and Elvis Presley was just having fun with two local girls. That simple.

“For you,” the sales clerk began as her heels clicked towards you. She looked at Evelyn. “We’ve got many options.” Evelyn was tall and slender, her proportions filled out within a body that any young man or woman her age would die for. You? Not so much. You weren’t as tall as she was, and you definitely weighed more than she did. Your entire adolescence was full of taunting and of being ostracized. In junior high, the boys on the varsity field hockey team insisted on calling you ‘Ducky’ because you had a waddle in your gait. Ever since then, you were consciously aware of your posture, always standing straight with your feet pointed in front of you almost in soldierly fashion. You had closed yourself off completely from ever feeling desirable; you made do with feeling appropriate. “And for you. There are less options that are-” she paused, “suitable for your figure.” 

“Go through everything in this store if you have to,” Elvis insisted, stepping forward and clearing his throat. “I have all day. Otherwise I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

The woman straightened immediately, her expression morphing from one pompousness to another of embarrassment and self preservation. “Of course, right this way.” 

Elvis offered you a kind smile with a wink as you took the lead further into the boutique. The woman’s words ate into you as you moved deeper into the store. Evelyn was unaware of your discomfort and practically pranced to the racks of clothing. You couldn’t blame her; she was beautiful and always had boys and grown men chasing her. You watched for years as she grew into her body, her breasts always bigger than yours, her ass nicely shaped. You never expressed your jealousy, because in reality it wasn’t her specifically that you were jealous of. It was womanhood in general. 

She was the first to try on an outfit, opting for a bright green cashmere twinset with large gold buttons down the middle. It was definitely fashionable, but way too bright for your taste. 

“Certainly…colorful,” Elvis said, sitting on a tufted stool with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his knee. Evelyn walked into the changing room. You sat in awkward silence for a moment, unsure of what to say as a conversation starter. “So uh,” You said softly before clearing your throat. “Do you do this often?” 

He adjusted in his seat, turning to you. “Do what?” 

“Beg to work at bookstores when you’re certainly set for life and then take strangers on shopping sprees.”

“Mm, only when I’m bored and lonely,” He said with a chuckle, but the darkness in his eyes told a different story. 

“How do I look?” You turned your head back towards the dressing room to see Evelyn walking out, the skirt suit fitting her in all the right places. She knew it too and you could tell based on the poses she offered. 

“You look beautiful, sugar.” Elvis offered. “You need something else though.” He said, pointing his index finger in the air, considering what that thing might be. Moments later he arrived with a bright green french beret and walked up to Evelyn, putting it on her head and smoothing her hair down. He put his hands on her shoulder, turning her in the mirror. “Well don’t you just look precious,” He complimented her, stepping back to look at her again. “Spin for me.” He said, twirling his finger in the air.

Evelyn giggled as she spun, her eyes lighting up with Elvis’s flattery. “You look beautiful, Evey,” you offered with a kind smile. “Even the color is growing on me.” 

“I’m definitely getting that for you.” Elvis said, tracing his lip with the tip of his pointer finger, obviously pleased with the vision in front of him. It made you sink further into yourself, knowing that you would be in her shoes soon, but you dreaded the outcome. Evelyn practically pranced back into the fitting room to try on the next outfit. You sat on your stool, finding yourself becoming more and more despondent. 

“So,” Elvis finally said after a moment. “Tell me about Y/n.” His crystal eyes shot straight through you as he asked the question. It was intimidating the way that he held his attention on you. “What is she about?” 

You considered the question for a moment. “Well, I’m nineteen.” He nodded with a small smile, noticing your anxiety. He nodded. 

“What do you like to do, cheeks? How did a gem like you end up in a bookstore?” He asked politely. 

“Well, I like to write. And read. It was only natural that I ended up at the bookstore. I spent so much time there after school reading books for free that Uncle Harold said I needed to work the store if I wanted to take advantage of the free perks.” 

“Sounds like I’ve got a smarty,” He said with a wink, turning back to the dressing room as you both heard the curtain grind open. 

Evelyn walked out, this time dressed in long, black and white plaid trousers that were immaculately cut to her. If anyone had guessed, they would have figured they were custom tailored. On top, she wore a light blue cotton oxford shirt tucked in. 

“You look cute as a button,” Elvis said, clapping his hands together emphatically. “Beautiful. You should be in the movies.” His smile was exceptionally wide, his teeth flashing from behind his lips. You mentally rolled your eyes as jealousy rushed back. Don’t look at her. Look at me.

“You really think so?” Evelyn beamed, turning to look in the mirror. 

She tried on several more outfits, Elvis complimenting them all equally, putting them on his tab. He was unbelievably charming; he had every woman in the country at his fingertips and he knew it. You were one day out of his three hundred and twenty five and you would have to find a way to be okay with it. 

“Cheeks?” He turned to you. “Go find something pretty and let’s watch you look beautiful in it.” You offered a sweet smile before walking off toward the sales floor, hoping to find a single piece of clothing to wear. 

A few minutes later, you arrived back with a few pieces that you liked and that you knew would fit because they had adjustable closures and some with ties. “There she is,” Elvis said, pausing his conversation with Evelyn. 

“Go ahead and try em’ on!” Evelyn said enthusiastically. 

You entered the dressing room and pulled the curtain shut. The first item you tried on was a beautiful blue cotton dress that was adorned with small polka dots and lace trim. You were able to pull it over your body but it was definitely tight around the waist. The stays in the dress hid the evidence of it not quite fitting perfectly. You turned around and viewed yourself in the mirror. The dress was beautiful, and you looked good, but you felt uncomfortable in it.You smoothed down the fabric and pulled back the curtain, sucking in your stomach and stepping towards them. They remained silent as they looked at you and you immediately felt your stomach drop. 

“You look…so lovely,” Elvis said, pausing to find the proper word. His smile was absent, replaced with an unreadable expression. 

“Oh my goodness,” Evelyn said, her eyes wide. “You look absolutely wonderful!” 

“It’s not the most comfortable,” You offered honestly. “I’m sucking in right now,” you chuckled, releasing your breath. 

Elvis chuckled softly, his face flushed slightly. “We can have it altered. I want you to get this one,” he said resolutely. “You are a vision in blue.” He said, though he wouldn’t make direct eye contact with you. There was a moment of silence before Evelyn broke it. 

“Go try the rest!” She flitted you away with her hand. 

Next was a tea-length poofy yellow skirt that tied in the back. This one easily slipped over your hips, tying in the back with ease. You paired it with a simple ribbed white shirt, tucking it in underneath the skirt as Evelyn had done with her trousers. You had paired the outfit with a red and blue ascot that you tied around your neck. You looked in the mirror. You tugged at the waistband of the skirt, moving it around to adjust it. You looked beautiful. You were comfortable, and though there were few options here, you had found two things that made you feel pretty. You would be lying though, if you ignored the insecurities that lurked under the surface. You would deal with those feelings later. 

You stepped out of the dressing room and spun around, letting the skirt flow in a circle beneath you. You came to a stop, looking at Elvis and Evelyn. “I love the color!” Evelyn raved, standing up and walking over to you to touch the fabric of the skirt. “You have to let Elvis get this for you,” she said, meaning it to be more of a whisper, but it came out loud enough for him to hear. You turned to Elvis to find him staring at you, absolutely silent. Oh God. I look horrid. Panic set in as you swallowed. 

“Wow.” was all he could say. Evelyn giggled softly. You looked at him expectantly. Finally, he shook himself out of the stupor. “Um–uh. Wow, sorry ladies. You,” He said, nodding his head slowly. “I- I’m buying this for you.” 

***

“Your total today will be two hundred and thirty dollars, twenty-four cents.” The prissy woman said from behind the counter, ringing up the clothing. You and Evelyn turned to each other, wearing the same expression of bewilderment. 

“No problem. Have a pen?” Elvis asked, reaching across the counter pre-emptively. 

“Elvis, that’s too much,” You stopped him. He turned to you, dismissing your worry immediately. 

“Honey, this is nothing. Don’t you worry one bit, Little One.” Little one. He called you Little One. Your body could have caught on fire. Every synapse, every cell in your body responded to the pet name almost embarrassingly. You imagine how obvious it must seem to everyone. You looked at the others in the room, but they weren’t looking at you. You watched as Elvis signed a check and handed it over the counter to the woman. 

“Please have these packaged in hanging bags,” he asked, pulling out a cash tip and handing it to her with a heartbreaker’s smile. She took the tip, nodding with a bright smile. “Yes sir.” Five minutes later you were back in Elvis’s Cadillac. 

“Pretty girls deserve pretty clothes,” He said, loading the garment bags into his trunk. “Where to next?” He asked, stepping over to each door, opening it for you and Evelyn before getting into the car. 

You looked at your watch. Half past four. “ I don’t think he’d mind if we showed up early. We can help cook.” You said, looking up at Elvis as he drove. 

“Wait, what?” Evey asked, leaning forward from the back seat. Elvis looked at her from the rearview mirror before looking over at you. 

“Uh, well. Elvis is having dinner with us tonight. At home.” Evelyn adjusted in her seat. 

“Wait, what?” She said, grabbing Elvis’s seat. “No way.” She paused for a moment. “Like seriously? You–Elvis Presley, are coming to my house? Eating in my kitchen? With my plates and silverware? At my table?” She rambled on and on and you couldn’t help but grin as you watched Elvis return the same look in your direction. He drove one handed, raking the other through his dark coif of hair. 

“Unless you don’t want me to,” he offered. “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” 

“No, no no! Please–” Evelyn answered. “You’ll get to meet daddy. He’s a bit–”

“Tightly wound,” You finished. “I didn’t tell you, but uncle Harold makes comments about you.”

Elvis eyed you from the side. “Comments?”

You nodded your head. “Mmhmm.”

“About what?” He asked. 

“About the um–you know, the uh–” you stuttered, trying to find the least embarrassing way to phrase the sentence. 

“The hip shakin’, Evelyn said finally. “He don’t like the whole ‘Pelvis’ thing.”

“I hate that goddamn name,” Elvis said, the words spilling from his mouth like an acid spill. 

“I like it,” you offered, Immediately dissolving into yourself when you realized how eager you sounded. You really didn’t mean it to come out so forward; you wanted to reassure him. You couldn’t help the heat traveling up your neck to your face and cheeks. He grinned brightly as he drove, running his thumb over his bottom lip. You turned your gaze out the window as Elvis drove, watching the rows of blooming crape myrtle trees pass as he flew through Memphis to your home.

End of Part 2.

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[sylverstorms]

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

[yourmcu]

Mesmerized (ii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax​ said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,551

A/n: basically a day out with Natasha. you like having her around. she likes having you around. Part 2/? (more notes at the end of the fic!)

Warnings: mostly fluff, but ending’s pretty angsty (help), some thor fluff in the beginning, jealous!nat if you squint

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

gif not mine!! credits to the owner^^

After Natasha left your room she immediately goes straight to hers. She barely falls asleep.

She stares at the ceiling, absorbed in her own thoughts. She tries to shake away the heat rushing to her face whenever the moment you kissed her on the cheek replays on her mind. All it took is someone like you to get one of the toughest people in the compound turn into mush.

She never believes in the ‘love at first sight’ bullshit because, well, it is bullshit. It’s impossible to love someone you just met. But who knows, right? You might just be an exception.

No, Natasha frowns. I just like her... a lot. It’s different.

The next morning, her run consists of her planning out the date day with you, where she’d take you first and stuff. She stops by the front gate of the compound, suddenly worrying. She wants to impress you. But what if you don’t like what she had in store? What if you think she's boring?

You're the type of person that almost likes everything and you’d express it kindly if you don’t. Boring you should be the last thing on Natasha’s mind.

Natasha walks into the kitchen to hydrate herself but halts once she saw the mess you and Thor had all over the counters.

“Wait, hold on- no, that’s - oh god, Thor, that’s too much batter!” You smack him on the arm and laugh, tilting your head a bit to figure out how you’d get the large pancake out of the pan.

“Oops,” Thor says sheepishly, turning around to put the bowl back on the counter, noticing Natasha’s confusion. “Oh don’t worry, Natasha, we’ll clean up after we’re done.”

The mention of the redhead makes you turn as well. “Good morning, Nat.” You beam. Normally, Natasha would sent a glare to anyone who calls her that, someone who isn’t a close friend, but with you... instead of a glare her eyes light  up. Giving you a small smile, she greets you back.

“I thought you were going out?” She questions, passing by you to reach the fridge.

“We were, but IHOP’s closed, under maintenance they said,” Thor sighs and you hum in response. “It’s quite alright. I heard you guys are going out anyway-”

Natasha lowers the water bottle from her lips, staring at him. “You heard?”

You spin around to clean up after turning off the stove. ‘I didn’t tell him anything,’ you mouth to her, which makes her think Steve somehow knows of it already.

Thor lets out a laugh, grabbing the whole pan and twiddling his fork, “you two have fun.” He winks and walks out of the room.

-----

“They were so cute,” you look back at the newly engaged couple near the window of the restaurant. “And really, you didn’t have to pay. I can pay you back.”

Later that afternoon the both of you headed out. Natasha parked her car somewhere and since it was a nice day, not too hot or anything, you both strolled around the city to find a place to have brunch.

“Y/N, it’s fine. I’m the one who asked you out.” Natasha chuckles, remembering the way you pouted in there begging her to let you pay at least for your own food.

You huff, smiling. “Fine. But I’m getting you back.”

So far you were having a good time with her. You got to know each other more, she told you stories about some of the team’s missions from other countries which were relatively rare, her first encounters with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, and in return you told her some about your out-of-this-world missions with the guardians.

And no you didn’t tell her about the history of moon rocks or some shit, nor did you promise to bring her back some. Who even collects those nowadays? Natasha was more interested about your early life, on Earth, which you were thankful for. You were taken away from your father (the only parent you preferred and loved) who was pure human one day by your alien-freak of a mother which you inherited your fire powers from.

You don’t like talking about it. But with her you're surprisingly comfortable.

Natasha smirks. “So we’re going out again sometime?”

“Of course we are.” After two seconds of pure confidence you wish you didn’t say that out loud. “Well, you know, I won’t force you to something you don’t want it’s - it’s your call.”

You're in the middle of telling her about your favorite bar and diner, the one your father always takes you as a child and you even paid a visit there the last time you were on Earth.

“Huh. Isn’t that the one that just closed?” She recalls

“No, really?” You drag out the ‘no’, sighing. “They’re the best. They make their own iced tea and beer and stuff... and - oh!”

You feel something rub against your ankle: a fluffy dog who's looking up at you with its tongue out and its tail was wagging wildly. Natasha raises her eyebrows, her eyes trailing to the abandoned leash behind it.

“Hey there,” you kneel down to pet it with caution just incase its intention is to bite you. But it seems to be happy and tame. “Look, Nat, s’adorable.” Natasha chuckles briefly and starts looking around for a person who looks frantic and is finding, calling a dog. 

“This fella belongs to the animal center.” You caress the dog behind its ear while you read the information on its collar.

It isn’t that far, it seems like the dog just escaped as well because the guy running the center was unaware of its absence.

“Thanks!” Said guy smiles in appreciation, reaching out to take the leash out of your hand. Natasha’s mind is focused on how the guy looks at you for the first time. It's the exact same look she gave you that night. Mesmerized, as if it was love at first sight. She doesn’t miss how his hand brushes yours, completely intentional. “I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t returned him. The pups here just grew out of their mom’s milk and are very hyper. It’s a lot of work.”

You're completely oblivious to this, you’re just glad the dog is back to where he belongs.

“No problem, he’s very sweet.” You smile politely. “Are they up for adoption? It would really help you out if they were, you know, and this one here is well behaved.”

At this point Natasha’s just eyeing the guy like he’d pounce on you any minute now. He’s definitely into you and she doesn’t like it.

“You’re welcome to stop by anytime,” he grins, ignoring your suggestion. “Can I have your number?”

“Oh, I don’t have a phone...” you trail off.

“That’s right, she doesn’t.” Natasha steps in and she catches the guy off guard and surprised that the Black Widow is actually with you the whole time. Natasha intertwines her hand with yours, pleased with his dumbfounded reaction. “We’ll be on our way now.”

You didn’t expect that but you weren’t complaining. Her hands were soft, and it brought this comforting feeling you couldn’t explain. But you clear your throat once the both of you are a few blocks away from the center.

“Sorry, he gave me an off vibe,” Natasha mutters and removes her hand from yours.

“Don’t be, I appreciate you looking out,” you smiles. Her car was getting into view now. “If it helps you sleep at night though, he wasn’t my type.” You joke.

Turns out you weren’t completely oblivious.

Natasha merely scoffs, getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

After the dog incident you both drove around different parts of the city. You went to a different mall to stroll around, commenting on anything you both saw that would somehow lead to a stupid story that happened at some point in your lives.

A local artsy bookstore, not gonna lie Natasha liked reading a good book when she had the time. So did you. It was nice to know that she’s the type of person who liked reading. Quill always got annoyed with you whenever he saw you reading silently in the ship (but when was he not annoyed with you?). The only ones that was willing to try and read back in space were Mantis and Gamora, bless her soul.

“These are good,” you mutter to Natasha. “All my books are on the ship, I think, but if I get to them I’ll let you read my favorite one... if you want.”

Last stop of the day. Natasha claims it’s a surprise.

“I don’t do well with surprises,” you whine, holding back a smile. “Just tell me.”

“No. And besides, we’re already here.” Natasha chuckles.

Your eyes light up on how stunning the scenery was. An edge of the cliff and below is a beach that doesn’t look like it’s visited by people everyday. The beautiful sunset, the sky made up of purple, orange and almost pink magnifies the calmness of the waves crawling gently to the shore.

“I always come here whenever I need to,” she says silently and exhales, walking over to you. “It’s the perfect place to go whenever those idiots get on my nerves.” You laugh lightly at her reasoning.

Natasha pats a spot on the grass beside her. She holds her gaze on you as you sit down, sighing. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she manages to stop staring at you and look up at the sky instead. It's getting darker by the minute, the orange and pinkness started to fade as the sun went down, all of it replaced by light purple, darker shade of blue.

You're used to different colored skies. It would always vary and depend on what planet you were on, plus you always see those stars shimmering up above, so your focus is on the water and the waves. The way they move calms you.

“Thank you for today,” you murmur. “I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t expect any of this happening.”

Natasha hums. “I hope I wasn’t too boring.”

“Of course not, I think you’re very interesting and you’re fun to be with.” You say genuinely.

Once the sun is fully down and the moon had taken over the sky, the both of you get up to head back to the compound. “Eating out here would’ve been nice but Steve’s in charge with dinner, he wouldn’t be too happy if he knew we already ate.” The car ride back is silent, but the good kind. A content, comfortable one.

Okay so, your stay took more than a few weeks. 

You grew close with the amazing group of people, plus your good relationship with Natasha just kept growing and... just got better.

Thor stayed too because he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t mind. Rocket left one pod for both of you to use that’ll send you to wherever Quill’s ship was up there. 

You and Natasha went out when you had the chance, taking turns treating each other to stuff. You learned that Thor included your books when he packed you a bag, and now Natasha was borrowing one of them.

Sometimes you’d join them on missions. You did a great job every time, not wanting to be a burden to a team you weren’t officially in. Sometimes you’d join Steve into a sparring session at the compound’s gym.

Speaking of which, he’s treating both you and Natasha as if you’re dating.

“Would you look at that, your girl managed to give me a bruise. She’s a keeper.” Steve tells Natasha.

“You totally deserve that.”

You also started sparring with Natasha. And Tony caught on with the whole ‘dating’ thing from Steve.

“Oooh, am I interrupting something here?” Tony smirks. He's going back and forth visiting the compound and coming home to his wife and daughter at their cabin. It's working out though. “I think the mat’s unsanitary. Take this to the bedroom.”

“Oh shut up, Y/N was just working on her tackling.” Natasha grunts, leaving you sprawled  on the mat, exhausted. “It’s getting sloppy. We’ll go again in a minute.”

-----

“Y/N,” The devastating tone of Natasha’s voice makes you look up. “Quill’s calling. He’s looking for you.”

“What?” She doesn’t answer but instead motions you to follow. In her office is a hologram of your fellow half-human and he looks distraught.

You step in front of the hologram so he can see you. 

“What happened to a few weeks, L/N? It’s been almost three months!” Quill says. “Look, come back, bring Thor with you. Our distress signal goes off almost every day and we can’t keep doing this without both of you.”

“Alright, how much time do I have before you lose your cool?” You reply sarcastically, but you're also worried and didn’t want to leave. You know better than to argue with the guy.

Natasha doesn’t want you to leave so suddenly. There’s limited communication between you and her once you go back up there. She grew attached to you.

Quill gives you an obvious look. “As soon as possible! Just - just get back here, please?” Then he abruptly ends the call.

You roll your eyes and left the room to pack, barely noticing Natasha hunched over, visibly sad and anxious that you’re leaving.

She loves you, and now you’re leaving without that knowledge.

You told Thor about it when he passed by the open door of your room. He didn’t look thrilled to be leaving so suddenly. After packing everything up (on his part it wasn’t that much) he offered to carry your bag for you as you said your farewells.

“Sorry guys, duty calls,” you sigh, hugging everyone. “Seeing as Tony’s not here just tell him I’ll miss him or something.”

“Will you come visit soon?” Wanda asks as she pulls away from your hug.

“Definitely.” You turn your head when Steve nudges you, nodding his head to the direction where Natasha is shifting, pacing, avoiding any eye contact.

You walk over to her. She tries holding back tears as you did. She grew attached to you and now you’re leaving. “Hey Nat,” you cup her face, trying to get her to look at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave either, not right now, but-”

Natasha kisses you, pulling you close to her as much as possible. Tears fully streaming down her face. She’s never felt this way before, about anybody, for a long time.

But let’s face it, you both know you loved each other. Maybe the both of you just knew that if you got together, it’ll be extremely hard for your relationship once you left. The long distance relationship thing. Even if you aren’t, it's already too painful for Natasha, like she's caught off guard or something. None of you knew that today's your last night on Earth.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Natasha whispers after pulling away.

You smile sympathetically, wiping her tears away with your thumb. “You know I’ll come back, right, pretty girl?” Natasha exhales shakily and pulls you into a hug.

“You better.”

----

I found a song for this fic-series whatever, please I’m so proud of myself the song reminds me of this story

I’M ANNOYED THAT I HAVEN’T PUT IN MUCH ABOUT THE READER’S FIRE ABILITIES IN THIS ONE BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANYWAY (they’re on a date she wouldn’t need it for anything)

[radioduo]

i was there in your forgetting (until i was forgot) || dsmp become human

word count: ~1,900

notes: woo!! the title is much different from the others but i think i like it more lmao anyway, hopefully this is good? i wrote it kind of early in the morning lmao

warnings: i guess it counts as a hostage-type situation, but i don’t know what to call that exactly, so i won’t tag it, just be warned! there is also a brief mention of smoking

first // prev // next

Ranboo had forgotten how much distaste he had for rain until he was on his own. It was still dark outside, a little past midnight if he were to guess. Streetlights and storefronts stayed illuminated, luckily for him. Ranboo sat outside a café under a rain-soaked umbrella as he planned his next move. Niki had told him which way to go, but now his only issue was finding the right direction. He had never ventured far in the city before by himself. Now he was by his lonesome with no guidance and no idea where he was going.

He removed his gloves and absently traced a finger along the edges of the metal table as he murmured directions to himself. “East… Camden, and then north to-”

“Ferndale?”

Ranboo froze. He slowly turned his head around to look at the person behind him. A tall ginger man with white streaks in his hair stood behind him, his backlit up by the light of the café. He had a curious look in his dark brown eyes as he looked at the masked android. “Who are you?” Ranboo demanded.

The ginger didn’t answer right away. He wandered over to the seat on the opposite side of Ranboo and sat himself down before replying, “I’m Fundy,” he said. He must have noticed Ranboo’s unease because he quickly added, “Don’t worry! I’m an android too.” He held up his gloved hand. Ranboo watched in surprise as the “skin” retreated from his hand to reveal the porcelain white layer below. Fingerless gloves covered most of his palm, but Ranboo could tell that Fundy wasn’t lying. The newcomer’s LED blinked from under his black cap. “I was passing through here and noticed you sitting alone. I thought you might like some company,”

The tension in Ranboo’s shoulders was easing up a little. “Okay. If that does happen to be true, how did you know I was going to Ferndale?” he asked, narrowing his eyes behind his shades. “You shouldn’t have been able to know that.”

Fundy shrugged. “I have my ways,” he said airily. Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “You’re gonna want to get patched up before going on that trip,” Fundy suggested. “I can see the scarring on your hands.” Fundy pointed to Ranboo’s hands where the skin layer rippled like water over his knuckles and joints. “Doesn’t exactly seem like you’re in good shape,”

Ranboo grimaced beneath his dual-colored mask. “If you knew about the night I’ve had, you wouldn’t be surprised,” he muttered.

Fundy laughed, a sound reminiscent of a fox squeak. “Uh-huh?” His tone was light and playful. “Well, I’m sure it was terrible, but that’s not why I’m here.” He leaned forward in his chair. The light from the stores illuminated the ginger's face. “I know a guy who can fix you up,”

“Huh, that sounds trustworthy, for sure,” Ranboo twiddled his fingers. Fundy was treading a thin line between truth and deceit. “...who do you know?”

----------

“Ah,” Ranboo sighed. “I see.”

He looked down at the slip of paper Fundy had handed him before disappearing. The address was correct, so why did it feel so wrong to be there? The android looked back up at the looming building. It was not the most threatening exterior. The walls were white brick, and the front door was a cheery shade of yellow. Rain blurred some of his vision, but he could see a garden in the back of the house. An iron gate and an intercom blocked the entrance. Haltingly, Ranboo pressed a button on the keypad. A raucous buzzing sounded from the speakers.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the crackling static. “Can I help you?” An unknown woman asked. She had an accent from somewhere Ranboo couldn't put his finger on. Somewhere southern, perhaps?

O Yes

X No

Ranboo rubbed his hands together nervously.

O Yes

“I think you can. At least, someone told me you could,” he stated. He noticed his face on a small screen, presumably the woman's view of him. Ranboo noticed how disheveled he looked, hair mussed up and clothes dirty. He frowned beneath the mask.

There was a pause, and then, “Honey, I don’t know what you think this place is, but I suggest you go home for the night. I don’t appreciate you kids playin’ tricks on me.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” He held a hand up in desperation. Removing his glove, he put his scarred hand up to the screen. “I need your help,” he said quietly. “Please?”

There was an awkward silence, and with no warning, the iron gate began to slide open. Ranboo breathed a sigh of relief. He approached the front door brightly. He was about to knock, fist poised over the door when it suddenly swung open to reveal a tall blonde woman.

“Hello, darlin’,” she drawled. Her accent was much thicker in person, and clouds of cigarette smoke puffed from her mouth now and then. “Come on in! Make yourself at home here. I’ll get my husband and he can fix you right up,” she explained, ushering him into the house.

O Accept

X Refuse

Ranboo cast an anxious glance behind him. As predicted, he was alone with no one but the lady and the rain for company.

O Accept

Ranboo followed the blonde into the living room. He had to admit, the home was comfortable. The fireplace was roaring, and there were throw blankets and pillows scattered around the couch. “Th-thanks?” He called after her as he watched the woman vanish into the next room. He sat in a pillowy chair tentatively and glanced around.

The curtains were smoky gray, and the wooden floors were were the color of freshly made caramel. There was a record player in the corner with shimmering golden accents. Vintage, he noticed. It was made in 1996, if he had to guess, about thirty years ago. A low tune was playing quietly that almost felt foreboding. Ranboo was about to get up and inspect the purple and white striped disc when the door was cast open.

“Well, well, well!” A deep, booming voice cut through the soft music. A man in a cream button-down shirt and suspenders made his grand entrance and set himself on an armchair across from Ranboo. “I hear we have a visitor? It’s nice to meet a young android like you. I’m Alan Devon, and this is my wife Adeline.” he gestured to the blonde lady that stood behind him. He held a hand out to the brown-haired android.

Ranboo took the man’s hand and eyed him cautiously.

Alan Devon

Age: 51

Height: 6’2”

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Ranboo replied slowly. “I, uh, I heard that you were able to do android repairs?” He said, fiddling with his gloves.

Alan chuckled. “Not just able, son, I’m an expert at this sort of thing. I used to be the second in command at CyberLife. I helped design the very first android ever created, TU880?” Silence met his words, and he continued talking. “What I’m trying to say is that I am more than qualified to fix up your hand.” He stood up from his white armchair and headed towards a door at the back of the room. “If you follow me, we can get started on repairs right away!”

Ranboo watched Alan descend the dark staircase. The sensible part of his mind told him to run.

O Follow him

X Don’t follow him

Considering the night he’d had, Ranboo couldn’t exactly say he was feeling sensible.

O Follow him

He pulled himself off the couch and past the record player. Mellohi, he noted. Huh. With a deep breath, he gripped the railing and followed after the middle-aged man, a quiet determination settling in him.

The flight of stairs was shorter than he expected. At the bottom of the steps sat a large room full of spare parts and pieces of androids. Strewn about the room were LEDs, thirium pumps, and audio processors. Ranboo almost tripped over a stray limb. He shuddered in disgust.

“Here,” Alan pointed to the large machine at the front of the room. “Step up onto this and we can get started,” he ordered coldly.

Ranboo did as he was told, albeit reluctantly. He gasped in surprise as robotic arms grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his side. Another arm placed itself firmly on his head, keeping it still. “What is this?” Ranboo asked shakily.

Alan didn’t respond for a second as he pressed an array of buttons on a keypad next to Ranboo. Finally, he looked back up at the captive android with his too-wide smile and too-bright eyes. “Don’t you know, son?” He asked. “Lesson one: never trust a stranger,” he pressed a green button on the keypad. “Or anyone, for that matter.”

The machine jerked Ranboo's head back swiftly. “What are you doing?” he yelped. The robotic arm was sifting around through the wires and gears in the android's neck. “Aren’t you-”

“No talking,” Alan said firmly, which Ranboo assumed was his polite way of telling him to shut the hell up. “We don’t take kindly to androids in my house, you hear?” He muttered something to himself as he wandered away from where Ranboo was struggling on his own. “Androids were my idea! Who do you think gave that blue-eyed bastard the idea to build that piece of rubbish? Not to mention one of your kind killed my son.”

Ranboo stiffened as the metal claw poked his memory card. “What are you talking about?

Alan dodged the question. “I’m wiping your memory. Once that’s gone, you’ll forget you were ever a deviant, and I can dismantle you.” He smiled. “I’m going to build the most sophisticated piece of AI with these spare parts, mark my words.” He smoothed the wrinkles in his shirt. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get a drink. Don’t even think about leaving, or you’ll be sorry.”

Ranboo wasn’t sure what awaited him if he tried to leave, but he was willing to risk it if it meant freedom. As soon as his captor was out of sight, Ranboo began struggling against the metal claws that held him in place. The machine gripped his memory chip and began to pull. Ranboo winced and tried to move his neck away, but to no avail. The chip disconnected from his system, and Ranboo could feel his memories corrupting.

All the faces he used to recognize blurred together. Niki, Sam, Fundy, slipping away like sand through his fingers. He grimaced as he felt the metal claws relax their grip on his arms and head. Ranboo wriggled his way out of their grasp and stepped down from the platform. He had a minute before all of his system memory was corrupted. Ranboo frowned as he grabbed the memory card. He wasn't able to put it back in himself. He pocketed it and looked around. His adrenaline was fading, and with it went his memories. He scanned the bleak basement. His options were limited. Wait for the Devons, escape through the front door, or find-

The back door, he thought as a plain white door caught his eye. Hope blossomed in his chest again. I can leave.

He rushed to the door silently and was about to tug on the handle when he heard the door open again. Ranboo tensed.

O Leave

X Stay

[sheeple]

Not that bad

PHOTOS NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): hogwarts!au / fluff Group(s): NCT Pairing(s): Nakamoto Yuta x reader Summary: Slytherin’s aren’t evil. Sure, there are some bad apples between them. But you find them everywhere. A/n: Holy damn this must be the longest alone standing fic I’ve ever written, and the quickest. I just love the concept of Slytherin x Hufflepuff. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I had when writing this <3 [Masterlist] [Moodboard] 

It’s late when I sneak out of the Hufflepuff dorm, whispering Lumos as the tip of my wand lights up. The corridors of the basement may be lighted by torches but extra light can’t kill nobody.

As I turn around a corner, I bump into someone and I look up with big eyes, scared that it may be a professor. But to my luck, it’s a student.

Nakamoto Yuta, a sixth year Slytherin. He’s nice. At least, I think he is. I never really talked to him. He usually has this serious scowl on his face and hangs around Johnny ─ a Gryffindor who I am convinced is half-giant but that’s beside the point. He kind of... scares me? 

“Oh hi”, I chuckle awkwardly, taking a couple steps back to respect his personal space. “Lovely night isn’t it.”

Yuta cocks his head to the side and his eyes study my face before going further down. I tug at the bottom of my oversized sweater to make it somewhat longer.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, it’s cold down here”, he says as he puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. 

I look bewildered at him actually speaking to me. “I eh... I should but I couldn’t sleep! Yeah, no sleep for me.” I laugh awkwardly and point finger guns at the Slytherin boy. I grimace at my awkward self and mentally facepalm myself.

Yuta raises an eyebrow and looks confused, not really sure what he has to say.

I sigh. Idiot. The first time I practically speak with a Slytherin in all my six years here and I point finger guns at him? Pathetic. “I’m sorry... I’m actually on my way to the kitchen, do you want to join?” 

“Why would you... it doesn’t matter. I wish but I can’t. I have something important to do so good evening.” Yuta turns around and walks away.

“Oh?”, I question as I walk after him, “maybe I can help?” I smile slightly and fold my hands together.

Yuta glances down at me, his everlasting scowl on his face. “I don’t think you can. Just get your food and get back to yo─”

Yuta suddenly stops mid-sentence and stands still, listening for something. We hear footsteps in the distance and he pulls me to the side, squeezing into a crevice in the wall and whispering nox to extinguish the light on the tip of his wand. I copy him and suck in my breath, watching the hallway light up. 

Professor Snape walks in a quick pace to where we previously stood and looks around sternly, his light-up wand pointing in different directions before walking away, the light disappearing.

We stay cramped up in the small place for some time and I start to shiver. The stone of the wall Yuta has pressed me against not really the warmest. 

Yuta notices me shivering and looks down. I look away and climb out of the crevice, dusting off my backside.

“Here”, says Yuta and removes his scarf from his neck, tying it around mine. ”Next time bring your own.”

A slight blush spreads on my face at his words. ‘Next time’? Does he expect us to do this again?

“I’ll walk you to the kitchen”, he says as he starts walking and I quickly walk after him. 

“You don’t have to do that”, I say softly, “you obviously have something important to do.”

We turn a corner as he looks at me. “It’s just my cat, no big deal. He will turn up again, eventually.”

We reach the entrance of the kitchens and I tickle the pear, the portrait swinging open and revealing four long tables and a bunch of house-elves walking around.

“Miss Y/n, how nice it is to see you again”, says Pobbey, a house-elf that always greets me. “Does Miss Y/n wants Pobbey to make a cub op warm cocoa?”

“Good evening Pobbey. Just warm milk is fine.” I smile kindly at her and she hurries off.

“Don’t you want anything?”, I ask and turn around, but Yuta has disappeared from next to me, the portrait just closing and a feeling of sadness washing over me. I guess he really needed to find his cat after all.

The next morning, before I go to the Great hall, I put Yuta’s scarf in my bag just in case I see him today. I’m not going to give it to him during breakfast, that would be so awkward for both him and me. 

I walk into the Great hall and scan the room. I quickly find my friends at the Hufflepuff table and also Yuta at his house’s table, his eyes fixed on me as Doyoung is talking to him. 

I smile slightly at him and give a short wave before hurrying to sit between Taeyong and Jaehyun, them looking weirdly at me.

“What?”, I question and put eggs and two pieces of toast on my plate, “something wrong?”

“To whom did you just wave to?”, asks Taeyong and I turn crimson.

“Nobody, just a friend. Is that so wrong?”

“Of course not, but I didn’t know you had any friends outside our house”, grins Jaehyun and I give him a harsh shove, almost pushing him off the bench.

“I have a lot of friends outside our house, fyi. I just prefer to hang out with you, ungrateful mushroom.” I scowl at him.

Taeyong laughs at my insult and pats my head. “We know, we know. You’re very popular, Y/n.”

I thank him while munching on my food. “What do we have today?”, I ask and turn towards Jaehyun. 

“How should I know? You’re the smart one between us two.”

“You two have Transfiguration first. When will the two of you learn your timetable out of your head? Or just... look on the thing.” Taeyong facepalms himself and I swing my leg over the bench, giving him a hug.

“We know, but you do it for us.” Jaehyun and I quickly grab our bags and hurry out of Taeyong’s reach as we giggle, walking towards Transfiguration while joking around. 

We reach the class and I see a plethora of yellow and green scattered around the room. Oh right, we have this class with the Slytherins.

I feel immediately a pair of eyes on me and smile shyly at Yuta. He raises his eyebrows before turning around with a slight smile, shaking his head. 

“Why is Yuta smiling at you?”, asks Jaehyun as he and I take place on the other side of the room. He places his bag on the table so we’re blocked from Yuta’s view.

“I may or may not have sneaked out last night and I may or may not have hidden with Yuta from Snape patrolling. And I may or may not have his scarf...” I pluck at my nails as I await Jaehyun’s reaction.

The latter looks at me with a shocked expression and his mouth wide open. “You did what with whom?!”, he says a bit too loud. 

I hiss at him and smack the back of his head. “Not so loud, you screech owl or the whole castle knows about it. I don’t think Yuta would be so happy about that.” I glance over Jaehyun’s bag, seeing if Yuta’s looking. He’s not, luckily.

“That’s so scandalous, Y/n. Did something... more happen, if you know what I mean.” Jaehyun wiggles his eyebrows and shimmies his shoulders.

Before I can answer or flick Jaehyun’s ear, McGonagall walks in and demands all the bags are off the table and wands on the table.

I throw Jaehyun a glace saying he’s lucky and listen to McGonagall start the lesson, this time turning a pawn into a queen.

The whole lesson passes like a blur and before I know, Jaehyun and I walk out of transfiguration. I see Yuta and his friends walk at the end of the hallway and I speed up, taping on his shoulder while taking out his scarf. He stops and raises an eyebrow, something he surly loves to do.

“Sorry for borrowing your scarf. I wanted to give it back, but you disappeared.” I hold it up and chew on the inside of my cheeks. Is he going to take it or not?

“Thanks…”, he mumbles and takes back his scarf, letting his arms fall next to him.

“Well, I’m going to… go. See you in Runes.” I quickly turn around and walk towards Jaehyun, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

I stop at an empty corridor and lean against a wall, groaning loudly while ruffling my hair. “That was so awkward. I can’t believe why I did that. I really couldn’t wait until I saw him alone.” I let out another loud groan.

“That was so painful to watch, don’t ever do that again. Be grateful Taeyong wasn’t here.” Jaehyun grimaces and runs a hand through his hair.

Right, Taeyong’s issue with the Slytherins. Nothing really big happened except that his cousin is a Slytherin and he loathes his cousin, so he automatically hates every Slytherin. A bit childish in my opinion.

“Let’s not tell Taeyong, alright? He’s already so stressed out about his N.E.W.Ts and probably can’t handle you fraternizing with the enemy.” Jaehyun pushes his hands in his pockets and starts to walk towards our next class.

“Hey! I was not fraternizing!”, I call out with red cheeks as I walk after him, a scowl on my face.

The next time I see Yuta again ─ not counting the times I glance at him in the Great hall ─ is at the end of the day on Friday in our Runes class. It’s one of the only classes I have without Jaehyun. He’s outside practising quidditch with his team. And Taeyong has Divination right now.

I take place at the back of the room, finding it more peaceful and so that professor Babbling doesn’t pay much attention to me, as she usually asks people at the front row all the questions.

The chair next to me creaks and I look up from my textbook, surprised to see Yuta sitting next to me. 

“You don’t mind if I do, do you?”, he questions with a half-smile as he unpacks his books, laying them open on the pages Babbling has written on the board.

“Ehrm no, of course not”, I answer while avoiding his gaze, hyper fixating on one rune.

“I’ve been noticing something; you are actively ignoring me.” He taps my arm while cocking his head to the side.

“That's not... true”, I mumble and pull my arm away, fully aware that Babbling just walked in and is starting her class.

“Oh?”, he whispers. “Is that so? Then why don’t you look at me while I talk to you?” 

A shivers run up my spine as Yuta traces figures on my arm and the hair on my arm stands up straight. He smirks at me tensing up and he leans closer to me, to whisper in my ear.

“I’ve developed a great liking in you, my little Hufflepuff. You intrigue me. You act all shy and humble around me, it’s quite cute.” 

“But why?”, I whisper, not wanting Babblings attention. I look at Yuta ─ which was obviously a mistake, seeing he has his head propped up in his hand and a sly look on his face.

“You’re a challenge and I like that. You’re like a reward.” 

Something starts to boil inside me at his words and my hand shoots up in the air, catching the attention of Babbling. 

“I’m not feeling very well, professor. Is it okay if I go to madam Pomfrey?” I make my voice sound weak and frill as Babbling nods, sending me off.

I glance one more time to Yuta before dashing out of the classroom, walking towards the Hufflepuff conmen room instead of the infirmary.  

Once I enter the cosy, round room I let myself fall on one of the couches next to Taeyong, who’s reading. 

He looks up in concern as he knows I have class right now and shouldn’t be here. “Don’t you have to be in runes, right now?”

I bite my lip, considering if I lie to him or not. “I’m not feeling well and went to madam Pomfrey. She has sent me here to rest. Lucky it’s the last period, am I right?” I chuckle awkwardly as Taeyong pulls me closer, letting me lean my head on his shoulder.

“You sure are a bit hot. Make sure you rest for a bit. Have you packed your bags, by the way?” 

I look up at him and frown. “Packet for what?” Did I forget about a school trip or something?

“Our spring break? Aren’t you going home?” Taeyong closes his book and lays it on his lap.

“I totally forgot. My mom asked me to stay here because they are visiting my aunt in Scotland. I don’t really mind though.” 

“God I wish I could stay here too. My snake of a cousin is staying the whole week.” Taeyong grimaces and shakes his head. “At least I don’t have to share my room with him again.”

I laugh. Taeyong had to share his room last year with his cousin and almost strangled him in his sleep, twice. Now that Taeyong’s family moved to a bigger house, the cousin can stay in one of the guest rooms. 

“Just breath and count to ten, it always helps me. Just promise to write to me, okay?” I grab his hand and squeeze it softly.

Taeyong scoffs. “When do I not write to you?”

“Well...”, I begin and laugh at his expression. “I’m kidding! You always do. Jaehyun does not. I’m still going to beat him up for that.”

The following Monday I wake up just in time to still have some lunch so I hurry up the stairs. It was rainy the whole weekend so I spent it doing all my homework. Now I truly have a week off.

The tables are almost empty when I enter the Great hall. Most have left to go home. Just a few stayed behind, probably not wanting to go home or unable to. Just like me.

I take place in the middle of the Hufflepuff table and grab a sandwich, plucking the tomatoes off. If there is one thing I hate, it’s tomatoes.

“Good afternoon, Y/n. Slept well?”, asks Moon Taeil, a seventh year Ravenclaw who helped me pass my History of Magic O.W.Ls, and he sits next to me with a bright smile. He always stays behind the vacations because he’s Head boy, making sure everybody stays save even when it’s spring break.

“Like a peach. Maybe a bit too good, seeing I just woke up”, I say with a chuckle and take a bit out of my sandwich. 

“Still no fan of tomatoes I see.” Taeil points towards my plate, a slight smile on his face. “You need to eat all of your veggies.”

I mimick Taeil with a scowl. “I always eat my veggies. I just hate tomatoes.” I push my plate away and swallow a big gulp of pumpkin juice. “Do you have plans for this week?”

“I’m probably spending all my time doing homework and making sure the Ravenclaw dorm gets cleaned up. You? Any fun plans?” 

I sigh. “Not really... If it’s nice weather I will hang out by the lake or go to Hagrid’s but otherwise, I’m stuck indoors.” I pout and run a hand through my hair. God, I wish I could be home, or even at my aunt’s.

An owl ─ Taeil’s Screech-Owl Violet ─ flies down and lands in front of Taeil and me. He takes the letter as I pet her, almost getting bitten. I always forget she’s a bit cranky.

“I have to go, professor Flitwick has requested me to come to his classroom. See you at dinner tonight?” Taeil swings one leg over the bench and looks at me expectingly.

I nod with a smile. “Of course. Your table of mine?” 

Taeil jumps up from the bench and hugs me quickly. “We’ll see. See you tonight.” He walks out the Great hall and turns right, quickly speeding up.

I follow Taeil’s lead and walk out of the Great hall. I glance outside the window and see that’s it okay weather outside and decide to walk down to Hagrid’s. 

I walk down the crooked stone steps and pass his pumpkin patch before knocking on his door. There’s no sound in his hut, not even Fang barking and I glance through the kitchen window. It’s dark inside.

He’s not home. What a shame... I turn around and walk towards the patch, looking around to see if I can do something. But of course, it’s neat and there are no weeds. 

I kick against stone as I walk up to the castle. Maybe tomorrow I can help. If the whole week is going to be like this I’m going to be a ghost at the end of the week. One thing is sure, I’m going to haunt Jaehyun for sure.

By Wednesday I have picked up a routine; I have my breakfast with Taeil and two of his friends, I go to the common room, and after lunch, I go to the lake and read my book under one of the trees as the weather has been really nice.

I’ve been borrowing some of Taeyong’s books and I am grateful for his taste. The library has only educational books and I won’t ask Pinche for anything other than educational books again...

I let myself fall on the soft grass with a huff, closing my eyes and enjoying the warm glow of the spring sun. A soft breeze ruffles the leaves on the trees and a shadow casts over me.

I open one eye and let out a sigh. I have tried to avoid him as much as I can but it was only a matter of time before Yuta would catch me. 

“Wel, well, well, look who we have here. A little badger enjoying her freedom.” He grins at me while standing over me, his hair in a low ponytail. He’s out of his school robes and is wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans and a shirt. It’s the first time I see him outside the normal school hours.

I let out a sigh. “Hello Yuta, fancy seeing you too. Shouldn’t you be at home right now?” I prop myself up on my elbows and look at him in faux question.

A playful scoff leaves Yuta as he takes place in front of me. “Don’t act like you haven’t been avoiding me on purpose. I have eyes, you know.” He folds his arms in front of his chest.

I sit up and put my book next to me, plucking the grass out of my hair. “I do not...”, I mutter and look down. Be damned my inability to telling a good lie.

“Oh really?”, challenges Yuta and grins slyly, leaning close to me. “And then why are you ignoring my gaze now? And why, every time I try to talk to you or we meet each other in the hallways, you suddenly disappear.”

I suck in my breath. Why can’t I be subtle about my blatant avoiding? I chew on the inside of my cheeks and calculate the possibilities of me getting out of this situation.

I could tell him that he scares me, but that would be awkward. But the truth. I also could just tell that I am expecting an owl and I have to leave. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

I look at him blankly, not knowing what to say. I’ve never been in such a situation. “I... have to go”, I whisper, the way Yuta looks at me creeping me out. I get up and turn around, speed walking away, ignoring his calls for me.

I spent the rest of my day in the common room by the unlit fireplace and attending the little plants scattered around.

It’s not until diner that I come out of my hiding and walking down to the Great hall to eat dinner with Taeil until a hand grabs mine and drags me towards the Slytherin table. 

I look in shock at Yuta as he places me next to him, the Slytherins and Taeil looking at me with shock. 

“What?”, mouths Taeil to me and I shake my head, not knowing what’s happening.

“This is Y/n, a Hufflepuff. Y/n, this is Doyoung.” Yuta introduces us to each other and I wave awkwardly. Doyoung frowns at Yuta but continues to eat, not bothering to really acknowledge my presence.  

“What... why?”, I manage to get out as Yuta puts some chicken on his plate. 

“I start with the first one. What? You’re joining me with eating dinner. Why? Because I like you”, he states matter of factly as if just didn’t practically force me. 

“That’s... not how it works.” I frown at him and stand up, looking down at him. “You ask people, not force them, Yuta. That’s wrong.”

I turn around and walk towards Taeil, sitting in front of him so my backs towards the Slytherin table. I hear Doyoung laugh out loud and telling Yuta that he told him that it didn’t work.

“What happened?”, asks Taeil in a hushed tone and leans over to me.

“To be honest, I don’t know. I never really talked to Yuta and now he suddenly is ‘interested’ in me.” I use air quotations and Taeil glances over my shoulder. “Is he glaring this way?”

He nods. “Yes. He doesn’t look particularly happy.” Taeil looks in pity to me and I let out another sigh. He is going to be the death of me.

“Yer look tired, Y/n”, says Hagrid with great concern as I visit him and Fang for a cup of tea. “Ev’ryting all right?”

I set my gigantic cup down on the table and sigh. “Yes and no. There is this boy, a Slytherin from my year. He has never really talked or looked at me and suddenly he talks to me and drags me to his table.” 

Hagrid hums, petting Fang’s big head. “I’m no’mally not of girly talks, but yer has to giv ‘im a chance. Isn’t that what Hufflepuff’s about?” 

I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I guess you’re right... Maybe he’s not just one of many words. Thanks, Hagrid, you’re the best.” I smile brightly at him and get off my ginormous chair. “I have to go now to catch him before lunch is over.”

“Good luck, Y/n.” Hagrid waves me off as I run to the castle, almost out of breath when I reach the Great hall. 

I look around and spot Yuta, pricking sadly at his lunch with his fork. I walk up to him but slow my steps as the Slytherins around him look at me.

“Hey, Yuta”, I say quietly, sitting next to him. He glances at me but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry for treating you so harshly yesterday. I was just overwhelmed by it all, we never really talked until that night.” I scratch the back of my neck. “Would you like to join me to hang out at the lake after lunch?”

He looks up surprised. “Why are you... being so kind to me?”

I look bewildered at his question. “Because... that’s what you deserve? Do you want to join or not?”

“I never said I didn’t want to”, smirks Yuta and leans back, a playful smile on his lips. 

I let out a relieved breath. That’s the Yuta I know. 

I close my eyes as the soft breeze ruffles the trees and warm sun rays dance on my skin. I smile and lean back, on my arms.

“I have something of yours”, says Yuta, breaking the silence and pulls out my book.

“Hey, I thought I lost it. Why did you find it?” I grab the book and inspect it, to make sure it isn’t damaged.

“You left it behind yesterday when you stormed off. I wanted to give it to you back at dinner but you didn’t give me the chance.”

My cheeks flush. “I didn’t storm of...”

He laughs sarcastically. “No? What did you do then? Walk away quickly?”

I roll my eyes while laughing. “It’s called speedwalking. A totally normal thing, by the way.” 

I grab the book and open it, only for it to be grabbed away from me and Yuta stands up, running away with the book in his hands.

I jump up and run after him, almost tripping over my own two feet. “Give it back! Tae will murder me if something happens to it.”

Yuta turns around and runs backwards, a playful smirk on his lips. “So it isn't even yours? Did you stole it from hi─”

As Yuta runs back, he doesn’t see the tree root peeking out of the ground and he falls over it. I run with too much speed that I can’t avoid Yuta and I fall on top of him, knocking the hair out of both of us and bumping our heads against each other.

I groan and roll off him, laying a hand on my forehead. I begin to laugh and soon we’re both rolling over the ground, tears in our eyes.

“That’s going to leave a mark”, I wheeze and get up, only to be pulled down by Yuta. 

He hovers over me with a grin. “You should watch where you’re going. You’re going to pay for that.” He begins to tickle me and I spasm around, trying to push him away from me.

“Stop... please... I can’t”, I say in between laughter and tears stream over my cheeks, my sides and abs hurting. “Please...”

“Should I? But I have so much fun...” He stops briefly and I see my chance to flip us over, finally getting to breathe.

I sit back and huff. “You son of a...”, I let out breathlessly and run a hand through my messy hair.

“Are you comfortable?”, questions Yuta and I quickly get off him, apologizing. 

We sit next to each other in silence, both looking at the lake. I lean to the side and let my head fall on his shoulder. Except I miscalculated and I fall on his lap. Yuta looks at me surprised but I don’t dare to look at him, my cheeks flushed.

I groan before turning and laying on my back, staring up at the cloudy sky. “That was the most intensive abs-workout I’ve ever had.” I close my eyes exhausted.

Yuta looks down at me, studying my features. He slowly lays a hand on my head and begins to stroke my hair. I close my eyes and let his actions relax me. And before I know, I’m deeply asleep.

I wake up, maybe a couple hours later in a damp, dark room, green and silver the main colour all around. I sit up and ruffle my hair, looking around. It’s a Slytherin dorm. High, gothic windows that show green murky water on the right side of the bed give the room an eery glow.

I swing my legs out of the bed and glance at my watch. Seven-thirty. I just missed dinner. How did I even come here?

I open the door slowly, scared to make a sound and walk down. I stand at the top of the stairs, looking down at the common room, the fire in the fireplace lit and Yuta sitting on one of the couches, his back towards me.

I walk down and the second to last step of the stairs creaks, making him look around with a dark expression. But it softens once he sees it’s me. 

“Good evening, Sleeping Draught. How was your nap?” Yuta pats on the spot next to him and I take place, making sure there enough space between us.

“For how long was I out?” I frown, rubbing my head. I slept too deep. My head always hurts after I do that.

“A couple of hours. You actually missed dinner but I asked the house elves to make you something.” He points to a silver plate with the food still steaming. “I put a freshness charm on it so the food won’t spoil or cool down. Please, eat.” 

I grab the plate and the fork and knife next to it. “Have you eaten?”, I ask and turn to him, my eyes concerned. I wouldn’t want him to starve because of me.

He nods. “Yeah, the elves made a plate for me too.” Yuta looks at me as I eat, shaking his head. “You surely slept like a hippogriff. Are you all right?”

I look bewildered at him. Is he... concerned about me? “I... yeah? I’m just a heavy sleeper. Why did you bring me here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go. I tried to enter your common room but as soon as I tried, I was drowned in vinegar.” Yuta sulks and scrunches his nose. “That stuff really stinks!”

I giggle. “Yeah. Helga is really protective of us. She’s proud it still works after centuries.” 

Once I finish my dinner, I place the plate back on the table in front of me and sit back, my eyes dancing around the room. It’s so different from our basement...

“Y/n...”, begins Yuta and I look around scared of what to come. “Do you remember in our third year, when we went to Hogsmeade before Christmas? It was snowy and you walked with your friends in front of me and you had all this snow in your hair because some shitty Gryffindor threw iceballs at you?”

I knit my eyebrows together, trying to remember. “Yeah that really hurt... he suddenly stopped and the next day he had this huge black eye as he apologised to me... What’s with him?”

“It was me, I punched him ─ believe me, he deserved it ─ I made him apologise to you. I am... ehrm... I kinda had a crush on you then, ever since you saved a kid from the cry of a Mandrake a year earlier. And I still do...” A bright, red blush spreads over Yuta’s face and neck.

I look at him speechless. “You have a crush on me? But... we never talked? I thought you hated me...” I frown, looking back at our past years.

“Hate you? I could never hate you.” Yuta shakes his head and scoots closer. “I’m... just not good at expressing emotions. But please, give me a chance. I try to be better.”

I shake my head and grab his hand that lays on his lap. “You don’t have to be better. You’re already good enough. I like you, Yuta, I really do. But I'm... scared what Taeyong will say.” I look down and chew on the inside of my cheek.

Having feels for Yuta feels like I'm betraying Taeyong. I don’t want to lose him or our friendship.

Yuta squeezes my hand and he pushes my chin up with his finger. “I don’t care what he says, you deserve to be selfish sometimes. I like you and you like me and that’s the only thing that counts.”

Yuta closes the gap between us and presses his lips softly against mine. I look shocked at him as he pulls away. I grab the front of his sweater and brings him closer, this time kissing him back.

He’s right. It doesn’t matter what Taeyong says, it’s my turn to be selfish. 

Yuta and I spend the remaining two days outside in the sun, him reading out of my book and me plucking out flowers from the ground and weaving a crown. 

I smile content and place the crown of daisies on top of Yuta’s head, making him stop mid-sentence. He looks up and feels the flower crown. “You’re adorable”, he smiles and ruffles my hair, making me whine and pushing his hands away.

“Y/n?”, questions a voice behind us and I turn around. Taeyong stands with wide eyes a couple of meters away from Yuta and me and I jump up, distancing myself from Yuta.

“Taeyong... I can explain!” I take a couple of steps closer to him.

Taeyong shakes his head. “How could you?! You know how I feel about... them!” He points towards Yuta in anger.

“Look man, it’s her choice.” Yuta gets up from the ground and stands next to me, grabbing the flower crown on his head and giving it to me.

“Keep your nose out of our business, filthy snake.” Taeyong takes a step closer and pokes Yuta in his chest. “And keep away from my best friend.”

Before Yuta can spit something back, I push the two guys away from each other and stand in between them. “No Tae, stop. I like him, I really do. Not all Slytherins are evil. Yes, there are some bad apples, but you find them anywhere! So grow up and stop being so prejudiced against them.” 

Taeyong’s eyes study my face with a sharp glare. “So it has come to this, hasn’t it? The moment you chose a Slytherin above your own best friend.” He shakes his head disappointed and turns around, walking away.

“No!”, I cry out, “that’s not what I meant, please come back!” I try to walk after him but Yuta holds me back and tears fill my eyes. “Please...”, I whisper to no one in particular.

“Come, flower.” Yuta wraps his arms around me and pushes my face against him, stroking my hair.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen”, I sniff and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “I didn’t want him to hate me.”

Yuta laughs softly, laying an arm over my shoulders and pulling me towards the castle. “You Hufflepuffs are so dramatic sometimes. Give him time to... get used to us I guess.” 

My ears dust pink. “Yeah... I guess. Time...”

And time is what Taeyong takes. Three weeks of the next term have already passed and he still doesn’t talk to me. Jaehyun was quite delighted once he knew about us and went off to find Taeil to claim his ten Galleons.

Yuta is a delight. He walks me to every class ─ even when it’s on the other side of the castle ─ he even carries my books or bag. 

I also started to hang out with his friends more. You know, Slytherins aren’t so scary as I thought. They are really nice and sneaked me lots in their common room to hang out, even letting Jaehyun join.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon and I stroll through the castle, admiring the tapestries and paintings when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and gasp softly. Taeyong.

“Hi”, he smiles sadly and I return the gesture. “Can we talk?”

I nod, pulling Taeyong to the side so we have a little more privacy.

“Look, I’m sorry... The way I reacted was not acceptable and just childish. I also... missed hanging out with you and Jaehyun.” Taeyong looks down at his feet and plucks at the hem of his robes.

I smile sadly and wrap my arms around him, pressing him tightly against me. “I missed you too, you weird houseplant.”

He holds me at arm's length and grins. “I’m glad we’re Hufflepuffs. Imagine if two Gryffindors had to make up.”

I let out a laugh. “That would have taken ages!” I grab Taeyong’s hand and drag him towards the Great hall, taking him over to the Slytherin table where Yuta, Jaehyun, and Doyoung are seated.

I take sit next to Yuta and place Taeyong next to me. “Doyoung, this is Taeyong. He’s alright”, I say and smile to my self, happy that all the people I care about are right by me.

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

 The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

 He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

 It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

 Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

 Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

 He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

 As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

 “Are you okay?” He asked.

 She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

 “I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

 He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

 ****<S>**<S>****

 The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

 “Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

 Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

 “Latin?” He guessed.

 Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

 Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

 “Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

 She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

 Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

 Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

 God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

 He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

 He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

 As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

 He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes. 

 Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

 "Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

 "Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

 "Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

 "Buffy, I've already explained–"

 “No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

 There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

 The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

 “Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

 “Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

 “I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

 “What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

 “I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

 Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

 “It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

 “That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

 “I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

 Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

 “Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

 Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

 Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

 Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

 She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

 Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

 A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

 "What?" Wesley said, shocked.

 "Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

 “And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

 Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

 “I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

 When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

 They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

 Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

 “Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

 Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

 Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.  

 Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

 “I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

 Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

 "You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

 Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

 Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

 Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

 "I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

 Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

 There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

 She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

.

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

 “No Wes,” she said cutting him off.  “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

 “Fine,” He groaned.

 Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

 “How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

 Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

 There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

 “Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

 “Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

 Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

 “Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

 Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

 Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

 Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

 Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

 Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

 Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

 “Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

 “What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

 He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

 Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

 “You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

 “Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

 “Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

 Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

 “Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

 He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

 “No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

 Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

 Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

 Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

 “Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

 She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

 “Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

 “Of course.” Buffy said.

 “Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

 The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

 ****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot. 

 The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

 "I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

 "Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

 Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

 "Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

 "Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it. 

 Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

 Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

 She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

 "Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

 “We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

 It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

 “This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

 She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

 “Buffy?” He whispered.

 She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

 “Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

 Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

 “Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

 She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

 Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

 “When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

 Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

 Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

 “And Spike?” Clark asked.

 Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

 “Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

 “Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

 Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

 “The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

 Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

 “I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

 She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

 She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

 Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

 Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

 “Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

 She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

  “And the claim?” Clark asked.

 Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

 Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

 She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

 Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

 “Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

 She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

 Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

 “I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

 “I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

 A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

 Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

 His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

 She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

 “Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

 Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Tower (Part 2) The New Head of the Japan Branch

ITT: Caesar gets taken to task by Ruri Kazama and a familiar face appears before his eyes. @rurifangirl

Ruri Kazama had expertly hidden in plain sight, acting as a waiter right in front of the men. Now he sat down next to you, occupying the spot between you and Caesar, playing with a silver spoon in his hand.

Lu Mingfei was so shocked that he almost jumped up. The bar was located near the dance floor, illuminated only by a few bright green LED lights, and as a waiter, Ruri was in the darkness, his eyebrows picturesque, his clean brow reflecting that green light. He looked just like Chisei Gen, the leader of the Hydra in this light.

 Caesar pressed on Mingfei’s shoulders and slowly lowered him back into the seat: "It's okay, this isn’t the brutish one, this is the more delicate one. Do you need me to introduce you to him? Or would he like to introduce himself?" Caesar was looking at you, suddenly cut off by a man who had expertly escaped his notice. 

You sip your tea but your black eyes glitter with resentment. Did he really think you were still on his side?

 "Ruri Kazama, my real name is Chime Gen, the Dragon King and number two in the Devil Clan. Chisei Gen is my twin brother." The waiter said slowly, "Everyone should still call me Ruri Kazama, as my stage name.”

This was actually the first time you had heard of him as the twin brother of Chisei. But you weren’t exactly surprised.  Chisei mentioned that he had a brother that was ‘probably dead’ before.  After all, you were able to pick up on the close relationship between Z and Mingfei. But twins… that was even closer than ordinary brothers! You glance up at him, examining his face for even more telling similarities. It turned out that Chisei and Chime did look exactly alike, but it was Chime’s expressions and mannerisms that were completely different. Other than looks, there was nothing similar about the two.

The atmosphere at the table instantly cooled to freezing point. And no one broke the silence. The back of Chu Zihang's hand was so tense you could see the veins popping on his fingers. The palm of Caesar's hand hovered over the Desert Eagle at his back. The mixing spoon spun into a shifting silver light between Ruri Kazama's fingers. The speed of it was threatening.

You’d seen only a glimpse of Chime’s power on the street and he was no less of a monster than his brother. Even this spoon could be turned into a deadly weapon in his hands.

Kazama Ruri suddenly flipped his wrist, grasped the silver spoon firmly in his palm, and gently placed it on the table.

 "I… can I continue to eat?" Fingel said warily.

 Caesar froze for a few seconds, and his face turned furious as Ruri just turned back to Fingel, ignoring him.

 "Of course. You want soy sauce?" Ruri smiled and put the porcelain bottle containing soy sauce in front of him.

 "And are there fried garlic slices?" Fingel cautiously requested.

Caesar silently leaned his forehead on his hand.

Chu Zihang put the glass jar containing garlic crisp in front of Fingel. A few moments later the sound of someone eating noodles and drinking soup in a big bowl echoed around once again. Lu Mingfei reached out for a fried shrimp tempura only for Caesar to slap his hand away.

“Show a little professionalism and pay attention!" Caesar whispered.

The sudden display of temper out of Caesar made you look up. Caesar no doubt felt humiliated by Ruri Kazama’s ability to hide in plain sight. But there was more to it. By sitting between you, Ruri silently staked his claim and blocked his view of you. Caesar mentioned that he felt annoyed by the ease by which Ruri Kazama had been able to reach your heart. Now Kazama was physically separating you.

"It’s fine, let Heracles-san keep eating so we can get to the point." Ruri Kazama smiled, smoothly honoring Fingel as a member of the male escort community. As the King of such a community, his word was law and Fingel was officially knighted Heracles from now on.

Caesar and Chu Zihang looked at each other, the veins on the backs of both hands slightly subsided, and the frozen atmosphere melted soundlessly at the mention of food.

"The throne of the world of performance came to the store to do the waiter's job? How many days have you been here?" Caesar stared into Ruri Kazama's eyes.

 "I'm helping out in the kitchen, and this is the third day. I'm good at acting. With a simple change of hair and makeup, I can transform myself into another person." Ruri Kazama said, "Mr. Whale and the others didn't recognize me."

 "You were spying on us?"

"No, this way it’s easier to contact you guys. My brother knows I'm back, and he's looking for me, ready to send me back to hell. I have a famous face so if I come and go openly in Shinjuku district, there will be Hydra members ready to greet me, right?" Ruri Kazama laughed, "That wouldn't be good."

 "You were able to find Fingel. I guess the Devil Clan has long been aware that the principal had sent someone to infiltrate the Japanese, right?" Chu Zihang said.

 "Yes, but we can't conclude exactly how many people Principal Anjou sent." Ruri Kazama said, "I asked Mr. Fingel to come to the store to confirm something. The principal of your school has also been preparing to make a move against the Hydra. He realizes that there is some kind of instability within the ranks.”

"Tachibana Masamune?" Caesar asked.

 "Soon we'll know the truth," Ruri Kazama glanced at his wristwatch, "Three hours ago, the King General made a move. That viper is coming out of its hole, and our chance to join forces has come. So we need to show a united front." He looked back up. “Don’t you have something to explain to MC?”

The look in his eyes was always cold, but now that temperature has reached absolute zero!

Caesar’s expression became guarded and he glanced at you. “I will talk to her in private.”

Ruri Kazama let out a small breath. “I’ve been here three days. So I was here for the finale of the MC contest and heard her words at the end of the contest. You were working so perhaps you were distracted when she declared me the winner. What you say to her, you can also say to me.”

“But if you’re still hesitant, I’ll tell you what I know. Last night, there was a report of a rampaging Deadpool, A-rank level. I was in the area at the time, so I went quickly to investigate, but MC was already there. Her ability to dispatch a deadpool nearly ten times her size was a wonderful sight to see. But her fearlessness was extraordinary even among Elite members of the Execution Department. Unfortunately, my brother's men arrived and I had to pull her out of the fire. Which I was happy to do.”

“Before we get started on the current situation, I’d like to know… where were you?” Ruri Kazama turned to them and waited.

Chu Zihang hung his head. He looked devastated.

You can’t even look at Caesar. Your hair was up, so you couldn’t hide the hurt in your angry eyes. And that anger only grew as Caesar’s silence grew.

After a moment to give him a chance to explain, Ruri added. “If you don't answer, I will have to accept her impression of matters. To use her words: ‘You and Chu Zihang couldn’t bear her presence any longer.’”

Fingel’s spoon clattered as he dropped it and Ruri kindly patted his back as he choked, all the while, not breaking eye contact with Caesar Gattuso. “In that case, I will be happy to accept her as a member of the Devil Clan, if you’re going to relinquish custody and let her wander the street to die. She seems ready to go.”

Caesar sighed deeply. “Fine. MC, I had no intention of abandoning you on the boat. It was an act. In truth, I wasn’t sure what to do then. But Lu Mingfei had a look in his eyes. It wasn’t a look of someone who had any intention of doing anything so crass as leaving you to go to China.” 

He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit up, leaning against the table. “I was curious what he had in mind, so I decided to push him. Make him believe that I was serious, even to the point of giving him a gun to do the deed himself. The last thing I expected, though, was for you to turn on me too.” He grinned bitterly. “You were right. I was acting like Herzog. I read the files you gave me and, given the assholes in my family, it wasn’t hard for me to get into the head of someone like him. I thought, ‘MC knows me well enough by now to see through it as a bluff.’ But by the time I realized my mistake, I was already committed to the act and had to see it through to the end. I knew I was hurting you and ticking you off. I figured it would work out and we could talk later.”

He exhaled a puff of smoke. “But… I may have miscalculated that as well.”

Silence descended again.

Ruri Kazama finally looked down at you. His voice was very quiet. “Did he?”

It was always like this with Caesar. He established a little trust with you and then would simply break it, either intentionally or by accident. You’d seen this behavior before, particularly in the elevator when he pretended to be ready to shoot Chisei Gen for being a White King descendent who was more dragon than human. You really believed he would pull the trigger. So much that Chu Zihang had to whisper in your ear that he was bluffing.

You took a breath and speak. “After Lu Mingfei took me to the mountain and I calmed down, I figured you had some sort of plan. Maybe the boat was going to just stay off shore, or there was some secret scientist on the boat that would help my bloodline problem. But I still believed you would send me.” Your voice was low and sad. “I imagined those things to comfort myself so I wouldn’t focus on the fact that if I left Japan, I would die. So I reconciled in my heart that you really meant at least some of what you said. After all… I have never been anything but betrayed by every other man in my life. Why not you too?”

Caesar bit down hard on his cigarette. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“So what are you going to do? Are you going to stay with them? Or come with me?” Ruri Kazama asked softly.

“We’re both staying in Club Takamagahara right? Can you arrange a room for me? Since we’re dating, I shouldn’t stay with them any longer. Instead, I should have my own place.”

“I can do that.” Ruri nodded.

You take a shaking breath. “We can talk a little more Caesar. Once I get a little sleep, I should be ready for that.”

“Sure… take your time.”

Ruri lifted his hand and traced it down one of the hanging strands of hair next to your face. When you get back to your room, the red ribbon that you tied to your thigh was gone and your face flushes as red as the ribbon was.

Because he was such a well known performer, he was able to provide you with one of the premier suites in the professional quarters of the Takamagahara. You went back to the old stuffy closet to collect your clothes, jewelry and shoes in a box. You then picked up the Sailor Moon doll still unopened in the box. Caesar had always been extremely kind to you. But he hadn’t been able to completely wash away the lingering distrust in your heart. It was probably going to be a lifelong battle against it and perhaps now, he learned that he couldn’t be so careless.

He knocked softly on the door and you nod to let him in.

“I wanted to apologize again, for hurting you.” He said. He was still in his work clothes, but he looked nothing like the suave debonair Basara King. He was just a young man. 

You were all young.

“Thanks.” You say and put the doll away.

“There’s more to it. I wanted to tell you before you made a decision. I was… extremely impressed by your defense of Erii.”

You lift your head again to him. He was leaning against the door frame and staring at the floor, his bangs shadowing his blue eyes so that they sparkled in the dark.

“With so little information and time, you came at me with all the force and fire of a true defender of justice. It was extremely hard for me to stand up to it. I was actually relieved when you left the room.” He huffed a laugh. “So I wanted to change our proposal that we talked about in the Sushi restaurant.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“I know the original plan was for you to run off with Ruri Kazama and his little traveling circus, but now, I’ve changed my mind. I want you to convince him to at least stay in Tokyo.” His face is full of sincerity as he speaks and his voice is soft and firm. “And I want you to take over the Japanese Branch.”

Your jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“Hear me out.” He raises a hand. “I know you’re just a freshman and you haven’t taken a single class and, technically, you shouldn't even be allowed in the Academy. But none of that matters! What matters is that you were willing to take all three of us on to defend a girl who was dying and who you never met. You never met her, MC, but you immediately understood that what I was telling Mingfei to do was wrong. You said it was cruel. That we should know better.”

He paused and his voice dipped to a near whisper. “You have no idea how rare and precious a quality like that is.”

You’re speechless in shock. You thought Caesar was abandoning you. But he was admiring you!

“This place sorely needs someone who can stand up in defense of the weak and the helpless against the deep seated bloodshed and corruption. You personally know the men responsible for turning this place into such a hellhole… your qualifications speak for themselves.”

“But what about my bloodline problem?”

“I’ll write in the report that you don’t have one while we investigate a solution.” He said. 

“Everyone will know that’s a lie.” You chuckle.

“Who cares? I’d like to see them tell me to my face that I’m a liar.” Caesar raised his chin up.

You slide off the bed and walk over to him and pull him into a hug. “I talked to Erii. I already know the solution.”

He broke out of the hug and looked down at you with wide eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yes. It’s the deadpool. The blood of the deadpool fetuses has a purifying effect.”

Caesar grimaced. “That… will be a little difficult. But I’ll see what I can do.” He huffed. “Alright, I’ll finish helping you pack. You really like that Ruri guy huh?” He looked over to the shelf and then he stared. 

The photo of Renata was still pinned where you left it. He stared at it for a long time.

“That’s Renata.” You say. “She’s pretty right?”

“Yeah.” Caesar shrugged. “It’s funny. She looks a lot like a girl I know in the Student Union so I did a double take. When this is all over, I should introduce you.”

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Second chapter up now on AO3, or read on below!

“Pizza delivery for one Kagome Higurashi!” The bright grin on the wolf demon’s face immediately fell when he saw who opened the door. “Oh, it’s you mutt. Ain’t you got a home of your own to go to? Or is the salary Myouga the flea’s paying you so miniscule that you’ve been reduced to couch surfing?” He chuckled at his own joke. Inuyasha did not join in.

“Hand over the pizza and fuck off”, he said pleasantly, holding out one clawed hand expectantly.

“I didn’t see your name on the delivery order”, said Kouga, making a show of checking the receipt then trying to peer into the apartment behind Inuyasha’s broad shoulders. “Nope, no mention of a mutt named Inuyasha. Only Kagome. For all I know, you’re a freeloader trying to steal Kagome’s hard earned dinner.”

“Yeah, she’s eatin’ three pizzas and a serve of garlic knots all by herself. Even though she’s the size of a wet kitten. Hand it over wolf.”

The stalemate continued, Inuyasha continuing to block Kouga’s view, and Kouga refusing to hand over the pizzas. Finally Inuyasha rolled his eyes and hollered for Kagome, who appeared in a pair of soft blue flannelette pyjamas and fluffy slippers, drying her damp hair with a towel.

“Oh wow Kouga, that was really fast! I didn’t expect you to deliver it in person!” she said, her blue eyes lighting up at the stack of cardboard pizza boxes he was carrying.

“You’re my favourite customer Kagome – I’m always going to deliver your pizza in person.” Kagome laughed a little uncomfortably.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Um, let me just get my wallet so I can give you a tip.”

“I’ll give him a tip”, Inuyasha grumbled, stepping aside so Kagome could pay Kouga. “You should wash behind your ears more often wolf, you stink.”

“Inuyasha!”

Kagome’s elbow caught him in the ribs, making him grunt. She pulled out a crisp ten dollar note to pass to Kouga and squeaked in surprise when his much larger hand wrapped around hers.

“Forget the tip. I’m finishing up work in an hour or so. How about I come back and take you out for a drink?”

Kagome smiled kindly at him, valiantly trying to tug her hand free, and failing dismally.

“Ah, um, Kouga, that’s very kind and thanks for the offer, but as you can see” she said, glancing down at her pyjamas and slippers, “I’m not going anywhere else tonight. I know it’s Friday, but it’s been a tough week at work. All I want to do is sit on the sofa, eat my pizza and just relax.”

“So, tomorrow then?” Kagome’s smile slipped a little, and she did her best to ignore the rumbling growl beginning from her inuhanyou friend looming protectively behind her.

“Um, I have plans. For the entire weekend”, she added quickly when it looked like Kouga was going to inquire about Sunday. Kouga sighed in obvious disappointment and then placed a lingering kiss on Kagome’s knuckles, before taking the money out of her hand and handing over the pizzas.

“Another time then mon chéri. Enjoy your meal!” Inuyasha slammed the door on him.

“What did I say to you about encouraging him?!” grumbled Inuyasha, taking the pizzas out of her hands and carrying them over to the coffee table. He dropped himself onto the sofa and flipped back the lid of the first one, making a disgusted face. “Yuck. Mushrooms. This one’s yours.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat a vegetable occasionally you know”, said Kagome, sitting down next to him, continuing to dry her hair. “And in what way was I encouraging Kouga? I told him no. I tell him no every time he asks.”

“That was a no?” he snorted. “You called him sweet and batted your eyelashes at ‘im. He’s gonna take that as a yes.” He flipped open another pizza box and breathed in the fragrant smell of pepperoni and cheese. “Kouga’s a wolf youkai Kagome. You need to be firm with him, or he’s gonna walk all over you. Say somethin’ more like ‘stop asking me out, because I wouldn’t date you if you were the last demon on Earth’. That should do for starters. And if that doesn’t work, lemme punch him a coupla times. Or at least start orderin’ pizza from somewhere else.”

“But that’s so mean!” said Kagome in an aghast voice. “Kouga is actually a nice guy! When I first moved in here, he told me where all the good coffee places were. Besides, his pizza shop is in the bottom of the building, I’m not going to order from anywhere else!” She hung her towel over the back of the sofa, now her hair was as dry as it was going to get. “He means well, he just comes on a little strong sometimes. And I’m not going to let you punch anyone!” Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“Whoops Kittycat, your small town roots are showin’ again.”

“Hey! I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and that’s because I’m a nice person, not because of where I grew up!” she said, punching him as hard as she could on his bicep. Inuyasha barely moved, but looked at her pointedly.

“Nice, huh?” She crossed her arms and huffed at him and he sniggered. “What’s the current population of Wrightwood Kagome? I bet it ain’t even 5000, am I right?” He grinned at her when she rolled her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“I did live in San Diego for six months before I moved here”, she pointed out primly, reaching for a garlic knot. Inuyasha snorted, then folded his slice of pepperoni pizza in half and took a huge bite.

“Ah, that hits the spot”, he said indistinctly around his mouthful. “He may be a stinky wolf bastard, but he knows how to make a good pizza.” He wound a piece of stretched out mozzarella around his finger and slurped it into his mouth.

“Charming.”

“Hey, I’m all charm.” Kagome rolled her eyes, reaching for her own slice, then let her hand drop with a sigh.

Inuyasha glanced up, trying to read her scent. She was a lot calmer now, after her shower. A good thing too. For some reason, Kagome feeling upset made him twitchy, like he needed to do something to fix whatever had caused it. He supposed it was her size and personality. She was so little and so nice – it was no wonder he felt protective of her.

The four of them had settled into a regular routine in the three months she’d been living with Sango. Beer and chili dogs on Friday nights. Occasional trivia nights, with a stroll to the best pretzel cart in Queens on the way home. Regular card games at Miroku’s. She’d fit into their little friendship group like she’d always been there. And with Sango and Miroku’s current ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, he and Kagome were left to hang out together more often than not, which was fine by him. At least he wasn’t playing third wheel anymore.

She was cute and funny, easy on the eye. Kind, with an infectious smile and bright blue eyes. But surprisingly, also kinda sarcastic, which made him laugh. And she’d stood up for him when someone had said something with a racist undertone while they were out at the pub. He’d grown a thick skin over the years, and was so used to tuning it out, he’d hardly even noticed it. But Kagome had, and she was a sight to behold. A tiny spitting ball of fury. He’d had to carry her bodily out of the bar, needing to remove her from the situation before her comments started an all out brawl.

“Inuyasha? Um, thanks again for walking home with me tonight”, she said softly. “You really didn’t have to.”

“Sure I did”, he answered, bumping against her shoulder. “If some creepy bastard’s following you, calling me is the first thing you should do.”

“So I should always call you? Not Miroku?” she teased.

“What’s he gonna do? Put the moves on them by flooring them with his boyish charm? Flirt them into submission?”. Kagome giggled, then sighed.

“I don’t know that he was following me, really. But he kept up with me, even when I walked faster, and I just got that feeling, y’know? That something bad was going to happen.”

Inuyasha nodded. Her voice on the other end of the phone as he’d answered had been a dead give away.

He hadn’t been expecting to hear from her tonight  – Sango was visiting her brother and was away for the weekend, and Kagome had been working late nights all week, so she’d texted him and Miroku and cancelled their usual Friday night drinks. Miroku had opted out also, and he’d been sitting on his sofa with a beer, watching Netflix, and scrolling through his Facebook feed, phone in his hand. And then she’d called.

 “Hey Inuyasha?” There was an edge to her voice he didn’t like. She sounded panicked.

 “Kagome? What’s up?”

 She was panting a little now, and he could hear her hurried footsteps on the pavement, and the jingling of keys, which meant she was probably carrying them in her hand. Kagome never did that, because she had them on a long lanyard secured to the buckle on her bag strap so she could always find them easily. He knew from Sango that was something girls were taught to do if they were feeling threatened.

 “Sorry, I’m going to be a little late!” He sat up straight on the sofa, ears alert as he looked around for his wallet and keys, then shoved them in his pockets. Something was definitely up.

 “Is everything okay? You said you were goin’ straight home tonight after work.”

 “Yeah, I got held up at the office, and then missed my train. But I’m almost at Veteran’s Park, the one near Jackson Mill Road, so I should be there pretty soon.”

 “Kagome… is someone followin’ you?”

 “Uh huh!” He could tell she was aiming for a bright happy tone, but was failing miserably. Shit. The thought of anyone mugging her or worse made his gut twist.

 “Keep talkin’ to me”, he said firmly, shrugging on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots. “I’ll be right there. Keep walkin’ and stay under the streetlights okay? Try and move towards people if you can. I’ll find you.”

 “Sure thing! I’m really looking forward to seeing you!”

 “I’m headin’ out the door, I should be there five minutes, tops.”

 He’d sprinted, keeping his mobile on speaker so he could hear her talking aimlessly about random stuff, the tone of her voice getting more and more nervous. He caused a few angry yells as he dashed past people, but he didn’t care. Kagome was his friend, and she needed him. He slowed his pace to a slow jog as he rounded the corner to the park, easily locating her by scent. She was terrified. He’d walked straight up to her and embraced her in a tight hug. He could hear her heart hammering in her chest, her hands shaking as she wrapped them around his waist.

 “Inuyasha…”

 Inuyasha could smell the bastard, loitering in the background, the stink of the other man’s lust making him want to hurl. He glared in the direction the scent was coming from, pushing back a snarl. He could go after him, confront him, but he didn’t want to scare Kagome any more than she already was, so he put his arm around her shoulders, leading her away. But he knew that guy's scent now. And if they should happen to cross paths again, it wouldn’t be his fault if the fucker tripped and fell directly into his fist.

 “Nice to see you Kittycat. Thanks for callin’ me to tell me you were going to be late. I appreciate it.”

 She’d pressed herself into his side, still shaking, and he’d done everything he could to soothe her during the ten minute walk back to her apartment. Making jokes, asking about her work, inviting himself to dinner, because he could tell she was still feeling nervous. He was so glad that she’d called him, and more than a little flattered.

“I’ll always come when you call. What are friends for right? Besides, you bought me pizza. That’s more than enough payment for jogging a coupla blocks and walking back to your place.”

“You probably think I’m ridiculous”, she sighed. “He probably wasn’t following me at all. I think it’s just because it was so much later than I usually walk back from the station, and it’s the first night I’ve been here alone, with Sango visiting her family.”

Inuyasha thought for a moment about confirming her suspicion that she was being followed. But he didn’t want to frighten her even more. Part of Kagome’s charm was her openness, her excitement about finally living her dream here in NYC. He didn’t want to spoil that for her. But unfortunately, part of living in a city was learning to move about it safely, and being more aware of your surroundings. Because there were always random assholes who wanted to take what you had. He could help her with that.

“If you’re ever late again like that, call me. I’ll be happy to walk with you from the station, even if I’m workin’. Myouga wouldn’t care if I had to leave the shop for a while to walk with you – he thinks the sun shines out of your cute little ass. And ya know, if you’re still feeling worried, I can sleep here on the couch.”

“Inuyasha, I can’t ask you to do that!” Kagome said, glancing down at his long legs and then the length of the sofa, one Sango had purchased from Ikea. “You’re way too tall, your back would be wrecked by morning. I will be fine, I promise!”

He studied her closely. Her words said she was fine, but her scent, and her expression, said she wanted him to stay. He could do that for her. It wasn’t like he had any other plans on a Friday night. Besides, if he left now, he’d just be worried about her, wondering if she was sleeping or not.

He made a show of stretching himself out, twisting around to throw his legs up on the sofa and crossing his ankles in her lap, then reached for another piece of pizza.

“Ooh, yeah, this sofa is pretty comfy. I don’t think I could be bothered to go home now. Besides, you can make me breakfast. I happen to know you’ve got bacon in the freezer.”

Kagome sighed. “You’re still eating dinner and you’re already thinking about breakfast?”

“Bacon is a serious business Kagome.”

Kagome leaned forward over his legs to grab herself a slice of pizza, which flopped downwards, losing a good portion of the topping as it slid off onto the cardboard box below it. He laughed at the pout on her face.

“Okay, you should know this if you’re gonna be a full time resident of NYC. You gotta fold your pizza. Like this, see?” he said, reaching for another slice for himself and folding it in half lengthwise. He took a big bite. “You get twice as much in a mouthful, and the topping don’t slide off.”

“You should open your mouth a little more when you chew dog boy, I didn’t get to see everything in there that time.”

“You think you’re funny don’tcha?” he smiled. The nervousness in her had settled, and she was back to her normal self. Everything was okay now.

“Yeah, I do actually.” She patted him on his ankle absentmindedly as she reached for another garlic knot. “You’re a good friend Inu.”

“Right back atcha, Kittycat.”

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and dating Dean Portman

(Not my gif)(requested by @rschelberry )

- You saw Dean before you met him. You were stood off to the side watching the new recruits when he first came out onto the ice. You watched apprehensively as he threw people down and made an interesting first impression. He was entertaining that’s for sure.

- You; just like the other ducks, were unsure of the newcomers and not so keen on sharing the ice with a bunch of strangers. But you stayed back when they went to argue with each other knowing that nothing you said or did would change the predicament you were in.

- Dean “first saw you” or rather first paid attention to you when you smoothly skated over as Bombay and Tibbles spoke. You shared looks with your fellow teammates while he caught his first glimpse of your face and what a face it was.

- It wasn’t until later that you spoke to him for the first time. It was right after Les tried to ask about his tattoo that you stepped in, stretching out a hand and introducing yourself. He put on his best tough guy face and gave your hand a firm shake.

“Enforcer huh?”

“Mhm.”

“Well I’m a left wing so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. Welcome to the team Portman.” You said as nonchalantly as you could while you walked away. Oh he liked you.

- Like Fulton said: “Deans not scared of anything” and once he’s set his eyes on something he’s going to find a way to get it. You just happen to be that something.

- At first he just watches you a lot especially when the team isn’t exactly a “team”. Your fellow Ducks don’t take too kindly to the brutes infatuation. They glare at him and warn you to stay away from him, often purposefully trying to block you from view.

- When (and before) the team starts to bond you notice that Dean acts differently around you or at least to you. He’s nicer, slightly quieter, and more helpful. There’s definitely a visible difference between how he treats you and everyone else.

- You two are on friendly terms before anyone else which slightly irritates the Ducks. They don’t want you around him, much like an older sibling/parent doesnt want you around a “bad influence”. They don’t trust him.

- But, it’s only when everyone’s on good terms that he actively starts to pursue you. One day things just sort of … change? He starts flirting with you which throws you for a loop; you think he’s just kidding at first but then you realize he’s being serious. You’re confused but at the same time you…sorta like it?

- His flirting consists of teasing you, twirling your hair, complimenting you, flexing and winking when he catches you looking at him. And you let it go on for a while because it makes you feel good and you kinda like him back until one day he decides it’s time to confess.

- You’re hanging out with him in your room and he’s messing around with your stuff while you do your homework. You’re both just in a comfortable silence until he speaks.

“Hey y/n/n?”

“Mhm.”

“What would you say if I told you I loved you?” You sort of freeze as you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Well I don’t know,” you smile. “Why? Is there something you want to tell me?”

- He looks at you and shakes his head with a smile. “Y/n y/l/n I am completely, madly in love with you.”

“Well Dean Portman, it’s a good thing I’m in love with you as well.”

- He nearly tackles you onto your bed before the two of you share your first kiss. The whole time you’re thinking that any minute now you’ll wake up but you don’t and you open your eyes again to find him staring back at you with a smile.

- Technically that was your first date but you don’t really count it as such. No, your first date was at a theme park. He bought both of you tickets and the two of you had a blast screaming your lungs out on roller coasters. He even won you a prize on one of the games they had which you still have sitting on your bed to this day.

- After he won you the prize he asks if he’s “won your heart too” and you guess he really has because the two of you have been together ever since.

- He’s honestly the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. Behind his tough exterior he has a heart of gold.

- Soo many pet names. Babe, baby, honey, sweetie, angel; he rarely ever says your name.

- You call him your/a big teddy bear and he never outright denies it even though he has his bad boy reputation to keep up.

- The instant you seem even the slightest bit sad he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong and getting all soft on you. This boy turns into the human embodiment of comfort. His voice softens, he hugs you, kisses your forehead, listens intently, just everything and anything you could ever want when you’re upset.

- He scares off anyone that annoys you. You don’t even have to say anything, he just senses your impatience/discomfort and acts.

- You think you’ve seen protective, you’ve seen nothing yet. If he even hears about someone bothering you he’s immediately ready to kick ass. He offers to fight them which you laugh at but he’s only slightly kidding.

- It’s a good thing it’s sort of his job to take care of you on the ice because he’s constantly making sure no one gets to you and putting people who knock you down in their place.

- He’s like a moderate to severe on the jealous scale. If there’s a real reason to be jealous then he’ll get jealous (and will probably take it up with the guy). But if there’s really no reason to be he won’t be, like when you’re being platonic with a guy friend or just talking to a guy at lunch.

- He’s well aware that he’s good looking and…athletic; especially for his age, so he isn’t really all that worried about you running off with someone else. Just his appearance alone keeps people away from you, let alone his reputation. It’s rare that a guy is genuinely flirting with you.

- And regardless the both of you make it obvious that you’re only interested in each other which means you don’t have to worry about any girls getting to him either.

- He’s a cuddle bug; he can’t last a day without cuddling. He’ll always deny it but time and time again he’s the one pulling you onto the bed. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when; he’ll find a way to cuddle you.

- Tracing his tattoo.

- Sitting on his lap.

- Straddling his stomach while he runs his hands up and down your thighs.

- Makeout sessions while listening to rock music. He’s probably made a makeout mixtape for the two of you.

- He just loves making you mixtapes. He’s genuinely spent hours making you; what he thinks is, the perfect mixtape.

- Dancing and yelling out the lyrics to your favorite songs together.

- Doing stupid reckless shit together.

- I’m convinced that he’s the type of guy who buys cheap glass/porcelain and invites you over to smash it with him.

- He always makes sure he’s next to you when you’re sitting with the team on the benches or hanging out with friends.

- Obviously being really close to Fulton. He never minds being a third wheel or having you tag along on “bro nights”.

- The two of you share looks at each other constantly. Someone does something stupid or weird you’re immediately giving each other side eyes and looking to see if the other person saw.

- Bear hugs.

- He’s always touching you in someway. Arm over your shoulders, hand on your waist, hugging you from behind, etc, etc.

- Swatting his hands away when he tries to touch your butt.

- Ice cream and fast food dates.

- Taking long walks together. Sometimes you find something to do along the way, other times you just enjoy each other’s company.

- Having your own handshake.

- Matching bandannas? Matching bandannas.

- Wearing his clothes even though they’re huge on you.

- He always loves when you wear his old jersey. He just can’t stop staring at you and smiling whenever you have it on.

- Giving each other pep talks and having little pre game rituals.

- Calming him down when refs make a harsh or ridiculous call. It’s honestly pretty easy since the moment he sees you he just naturally calms. He’s a big tough guy but he was raised right and that means no taking your anger out on others and not taking things too seriously.

- Even though he’s a total macho man he loves when you take care of/baby him. Want to bandage the tiny cut he got on his hand? Be his guest; he’ll subtly play up the pain just to get an extra “Aw” and a kiss.

- Beach dates.

- Theme park, carnival and amusement park dates; just places with that general chaotic aura.

- Bowling dates.

- He always carries your things for you. Doesn’t matter how light, doesn’t matter how heavy, he’s taking it.

- He likes to pick you up at random. Just throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes or lifts you off the ground and places you a foot or so away from where you were previously standing. He feels very satisfied when you shriek in surprise, lightly smack him on the arm or break out laughing.

- He constantly tries to flex and show off in front of you. …yummy….

- He takes great pride in making you flustered.

- He likes teasing you in any way he can. Holding something over his head, tickling you, straight up (playfully) making fun of you, all that good shit.

- Soo many compliments and ‘I love yous’. He wants you to know that you’re his world goddamnit!

- He genuinely cannot wait you make you Mrs. Portman and will tell it to your face.

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: *falls off his chair* juyeon

Genre: BIG ANGST + drama with chaebol/lawyer juyeon

A/N: NOTE THAT THIS IS A TRIGGER WARNING. I can’t include the reason because it’ll be a spoiler BUT THIS IS FICTITIOUS SO DON’T COME @ ME PLEASE

A/N pt 2: there isn’t much juyeon in this chapter so skip it if you just want some juyeon one shots

Links to other parts:

I Never Wanna See You Again

Frustrated (light smut)

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut)

Stigma

Bourbon

Highway To Heaven (smut)

I Like Me Better

All Time Low

~

“so much for ‘i love you’.”

“are you sure you want to get on a more-than-twelve-hour flight to freakin’--” sunwoo grabs your passport and flips it open. “Amsterdam?” 

you snatch the passport back, shoving it into the pocket of your knee-length coat. 

“you ran from your family once...” chanhee looks at you with pleading eyes. “are you sure you want to run from this one?”

looking up from the passport, luggage next to your legs and surrounded by your friends, you scan the big, block letters that spell ‘departure’ across the entrance to the hall. 

“i’m not running. i just need to think.”

“the last time you were on a plane, you hurled from the turbulence,” eric scolds. “and it was a three-hour flight.”

you roll your eyes and raise a brow at your friends. they were all just finding ways to convince you stay instead of watching you leave the country just days after you find them jobs that were extremely high-paying. 

the calls you made were probably setting off a thousand alarms that would alert both your parents, since you were relying on the contacts you had as a chaebol. it was just a matter of time before they’d figure out that you left the country or something. 

“so what if i hurl? i’ll be fine when the plane lands.”

chanhee’s features were strained, and eric sighs, pulling you into a hug and giving you a brotherly rub on your head. 

“call us when you get there and tell us when you’re coming back, we’ll come get you.” eric releases you and sunwoo gives you a gently punch to your arm. you nod and look to chanhee, your arms already reaching out to him. 

chanhee takes a small step backwards, eyes looking like he was hurt. you knew he was upset with you for blowing things out of proportion with juyeon. if you didn’t try to defend him, the whole argument with juyeon wouldn’t have happened. but it was a fact that he crossed the line, and it had nothing to do with chanhee.

“if i let you hug me, then it means there’s a chance you’re going to run and i’ll never see you again.”

your arms remained stretched out but your head droops to the side, pouting a little and walking towards him regardless.

“i’m not going to run, chanhee,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders. “and even if i do, i’ll come back just to see you guys. you have my word.”

you hear him sigh in resignation and his arms find your lower back. “i’ll hold you to that. i’ll hunt you down myself if you disappear off the face of earth.”

you snicker as you pulled back, constantly swallowing your saliva so you don’t burst into ugly tears. 

you settle down in your seat and the passenger next to you greets you kindly. the skies outside the window next to you provided you the warmth and a strange feeling of freedom, but there was so much weight in your heart, you were worried the plane wouldn’t even take off. 

you recall the first time you were on a plane. it was a private flight to paris with your parents when you were still a kid. you spent half the time throwing up because of the turbulence.

the second time you were on a plane, it was with eric, chanhee and sunwoo to a nearby country. they watched you hurl out your meals like a fountain and though it might’ve been a little mean and annoying in that point of time, you look back now and realise that all they were trying to do was to make you laugh and get your mind off your motion-sickness.

you wouldn’t be who you were today if it weren’t for them. 

had they not dragged you onto a plane, you’d probably still be scared to fly with your motion sickness. but thanks to them, it didn’t matter anymore. it doesn’t matter if you threw up, all you needed to do was think about them and you’ll be fine. 

you watch the sunset below the clouds that look like cotton and marshmallows, the constant whirring of the vehicle was slowly but surely getting to your head. the pressure of being in the sky was squeezing the juices out of your brain and making your eyes tear up. your ears were slightly blocked, so blasting music didn’t really help.

you feel the familiar ball of stomach acid push itself up your throat and into your chest, and you barely get the words out to the passenger next to you before she shifts and lets you out. 

you watch the half-digested grains of rice and fruit spew out through your lips and into the toilet bowl, the material on your knees soaking up whatever liquid that was on the floor. might’ve been pee, but who cares?

“miss, are you alright?”

“yeah--” you belch out a disgusting scent, a mixture of vomit and food. “i’m okay.” 

you grab a handful of tissue and wipe your lips, leaning back on your heels before losing your balance when the plane shakes a little. your back hits the wall of the cabin, and a headache rips through your temples. 

you grit your teeth and groans of pain unconsciously pour out through your lips, your hands now pressing into your ear as the pressure in them become physical pain. 

“miss! are you okay? do you need any assistance?”

“i’m fine!” you snap back. “it’s just a little... headache--”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“stay with me forever.”

“i can’t pretend you’re not the best thing that’s happened to me.”

“i love you.”

you vision widens and start to focus, but you frown to yourself when you process nothing besides a plain, white ceiling with amber lights lining the edges. 

you inhale a deep breath and you give your nerves a moment to find your fingers. you blink so slowly, you were wondering if you were paralyzed or if your brain was just processing it super slowly.

“you’re awake.”

that voice.

turning in search of the source, your eyes catch a glimpse of the room you were in. there was a table in the corner of the room, a television mounted to the wall, and the floor was carpeted with a cream colored rug. 

you process the views before you spot an IV drip, and it was hooked up to your left hand. the blanket was riled up to your stomach, and the scent of the room knocks some sense into your thinking. 

you were in a hospital ward.

“where am i?” you breathe lightly, shutting your lids and rolling your eyes under to make sure you weren’t in a dream. 

“in amsterdam, where else?” 

“what date and time is it?” you look behind him and note the pathetic amount of afternoon sunlight spilling through the blinds that were closed. 

“i don’t know how that’s going to tell you how long you’ve been here, but you passed out halfway on your flight here. you’ve been in this bed for more than thirty hours.”

you suck in a sharp breath and cover your eyes with one arm, the disgusting scent of medicine and antiseptic making your lungs hurt. 

“how did you know i was here?”

dumb question to ask.

“it was a little difficult to ignore the calls you were making to my sub-ordinates and colleagues and partners. adding on the fact that your mother called to scream at me about you getting on a plane here,” your father gets out of the sofa next to your bed and walks around to the table, pouring a glass of water. “i wasn’t very keen on hearing her out until she told me your flight was to amsterdam.”

he brings the glass to you and holds it out.

“it was tricky to pretend that you aren’t my daughter... who also happens to have motion-sickness but still gets on a flight alone.”

you scoff, sitting up and taking the glass only because your throat was killing you. “fun to know that i need to get on a plane to get your attention.”

your father scratches a temple and waits for you to finish the glass of water.

“enough attention for me to cancel my meetings and fly here from croatia. i left the moment the airline called me to tell me my daughter passed out on the flight your mother was telling me about.”

you gulp the last bit of water and hold it to your chest. he gestures for it, and you reluctantly let him take it away from you. 

it reminds you of all the times his house staff waited on you and how bad it made you feel. but you were always happy knowing that they were comfortable working in that house. 

“so, do i get to know why i had to cancel my meetings to find you here, in a ward?” he lands the cup on the table and refers to the sofa seat next to you. 

“solo trip to get away from city life. i simply passed out from the turbulence a long-flight was putting me through.”

he’s probably not going to buy that.

“that’s not very healthy.”

you scoff, lying back down into the bed and running your hand through your hair. “of course it’s not healthy. anymore throwing up and i’ll erode my own digestive system. if only i could fault someone for my throwing up.”

silence. 

“so... whose is it?”

“what do you mean ‘whose is it’? i was born with a weak gut, so i guess it’s mine.”

silence. 

“i’m not talking about your motion-sickness, y/n. i’m talking about the 15-week foetus inside you.”

the what--

“15-week foetus? what are you--”

oh.

no.

“you didn’t know you were pregnant?”

your heart felt like it was going to explode and a wave of ache rips through your chest. 

“if it’s a 15-week-old foetus, shouldn’t you have already missed like two or three periods?”

your fingers find your temples and you shut your eyes tightly. you start to feel your eyes getting wet and your nose turns sour as you desperately try to find any strand of possibility that this wasn’t happening. 

“i was... working. i thought it was just the stress--” all of a sudden, you see nothing but juyeon’s face in your head. your eyes were sealed shut but you saw nothing but him. 

and now you were carrying his child. 

“huh,” your father calmly watches you go through a whole mental breakdown. “you’re not wearing a ring, so i assume the baby’s father isn’t my son-in-law?” 

you turn to look at him with tears impairing your vision. 

“your mother told me you were engaged over the phone. you can imagine my confusion when you turn up here, on the other side of the planet, alone, pregnant and without a ring.”

this can’t be real.

“get out.”

your father sucks in a sharp breath through his nostrils.

“you can fly back to croatia and tell mother not to poke her nose into this. i’ll deal with it on my own.”

he nods in your peripheral vision, your eyes only staring at an empty space on the ceiling. you shut your eyes and let the tears roll down the sides of your face, curving its way into the crevices of your ears. the sound of the shoes thumping softly against the carpet tells you he’s leaving and you hear the door swing open.

“call me if you need anything. i’m still your father after all.”

and with that, you hear the door shut. 

you let yourself sob quietly, the reality sinking into your bones and you swore you could hear your heart beating in your ears. your hands find your abdomen, and you question why the product of your love with him was presented to you not in the form of casual dates and a simpler romance, but a baby, in a world of money you wanted nothing to do with. 

you pull yourself together after about an hour of crying, and through swollen eyes, you find your luggage and bags behind the sofa seat your father previously sat on. fumbling around your bag, you were relieved that your phone had not been turned on the entire time since you boarded the plane. it would still be close to full battery.

your home screen becomes flooded with notifications of missed calls. from eric, sunwoo, chanhee, your mother, even your manager, and him.

you swipe away everything and let the phone adjust to the timezone and boot up, and once it was good to go, your first instinct was to call chanhee. 

“where have you been?! your flight landed like... a billion years ago!”

“chanhee--”

“you better have a damn good explanation for fucking disappearing off the face of the fucking earth when you literally told me you won’t--”

“i--”

“where are you now, huh?! strutting down some random street in amsterdam thinking about coming back like, never?!”

“chanh--”

“believe me, i WILL get on a plane and fly to amsterdam just to strangle you myself!”

“chanhee, i’m pregnant.”

the other end of the line goes silent and you wonder if he hung up or something. 

you hear him breathe into the receiver and that was your cue to finish your story.

“i passed out on the flight and now i’m in a hospital in amsterdam. my father’s in the country because the airline called him about me but i don’t know how long he’s staying,” you pause, bracing yourself to repeat that cursed word reality has decided to offer you. “i’m three months pregnant.”

silence. 

you look down at your hands that were absent-mindedly fiddling with the corners of your blanket. your hair was messy and draped over your shoulders. your eyes struggle to remain wide open after the excessive crying in the last hour. 

“... does he know?”

“no. even i didn’t.”

“what are you going to do about the baby?”

you purse your lips, pain rippling through you when you realise you had to make a decision that would change your life forever.

“i assume you’re not planning on telling him?”

it was your turn to fall silent.

you don’t want to be a shitty person for hiding this from him, but neither did you want him to have an opinion on what you should do with it. 

“i think you should know that he’s been searching high and low for you. sangyeon and jaehyun told us that he’s been to your place and the only thing he hasn’t done is call the bureau director.”

“i’ll tell him after i decide what to do with it.”

“and?”

“i’ll tell him--”

“i know what you’re thinking of doing.”

you feel your facial features strain and compress all into each other, your thumb brushing the skin on your finger where the ring should be. 

“you’re thinking of aborting it and telling him right before you get it done, aren’t you?”

he wasn’t your best friend for nothing. 

“i know it sucks... the situation you’re in. and i don’t want to be the one who guilt trips you into keeping it just because it’s his or that it’s a life. so forget about him, and think about yourself before you decide to do anything. it’s yours as much as it’s his, and i know you have the means to raise it on your own, both financially and emotionally.”

chanhee’s words crush your last attempt at holding yourself together, and you bury your face into your free hand with the phone held to your ear. 

“you’re hurting, and i know there’s nothing i can do to make you feel better besides give you what you need right now, and that’s space and emotional support,” a pause. “so call me when you’ve decided, and i promise i’ll see you soon.”

you sniffle loudly into the receiver, sure that he heard you. nodding to yourself, you thank chanhee and hang up, letting whatever fluids you had left inside you pour out through your eyes. 

THE NEXT DAY

“thank you, it was a great stay,” you smile at the hospital receptionist, handing her the black and silver card that your father left behind. it had your name on it, but this was the first time you’ve ever used it.

you promised yourself you’d return the money when you earn it back. you didn’t want them to use this as a hold to keep you by their side. 

“the bill’s already been paid by your father, miss,” she returns a bright smile and hands the card back to you.

ugh, one step late. 

“in fact, he informed us that he’s booked you a place to stay in a hotel nearby. it’s a five-star hotel so there’s everything you need there, and if you feel uncomfortable or in need of medical assistance, it’s only a five minute drive here from the hotel.”

you provide her a weak service smile as you chuck the card back into your wallet. 

the receptionist calls you a cab and sends you on your way to the castle-looking hotel. the hotel staff get your luggage and belongings up to the room while you roam around the lobby and the compound. you find yourself outside the building, now walking along the path next to the river bank. 

couples were eating and drinking the evening away, the orange beams from the sun shining down on you and elongating the shadows of the birds that fly past above you in the sun’s light. 

you find yourself in a secluded spot where the river opens up to the sea after spending nearly an hour just walking along the water line. 

the only source of light around were the street lamps, and the water extends so far out, you couldn’t even see the horizon. you hear someone walk past every now and then and they kindly greet you. the friendly culture here was making you feel so comfortable, you couldn’t help but laugh at chanhee’s worry about you staying here forever. 

you pull out your phone and dial for the abortion provider of the hospital you stayed at, and for a second you worry about the medical bills. 

but it was quickly washed away once the abortion provider picks up, and you start inquiring about abortion protocols. your eyes travel out to sea as the person on the other end of the line feeds you the information that you were going to need to look over again once you’ve returned to the hotel.

your mind flashes back to the night juyeon proposed to you after you told him about your family. and you truly wonder...

life has a way of putting you in places you were meant to be.

Part 11 (final): Gravity

[tintinwrites]

what kind of fool am i | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part One of Two

A/N: This is one of the darkest things I’ve ever posted. Big shoutout to @niffleurs​ for helping me a lot and shoutout to you guys for suggestions of what you wanted to see in this!

Rating: It’s not really explicit, but I’m going to say M bc I would rather adults read the subject matter.

Warning: Torture. Blood. You and Poe both take a couple punches. Naughty words. Forced kissing. Threats of sexual assault. Emotional trauma. Sexual references.

Word count: 3,212, apparently!!

Summary: You’re on a mission when a group of men that aren’t entirely linked to the First Order decide to have fun with you and Poe.

A good musical accompaniment: What Kind of Fool Am I - Emile Pandolfi

Poe almost kissed you.

Looking at the starry sky reflecting in your gaze while you sat with him in a quiet field, he leaned slightly closer.

And for a moment he didn't care about the war, or rebuilding the Resistance, or staying completely professional, or the undeniable pang he knew would be in his chest if you were to reject him.

If you denied him, he would understand that; but if you kissed him back, he would know you liked him too and be with his favorite person in the galaxy.

You were looking at the trees and telling him a story without looking at him, and he was about to crane his neck to press his lips to yours.

When blaster shots sounded from the little village where you were currently on a mission to find allies.

Poe decided he could kiss you later as you both leapt to your feet and ran to see what the noise was.

The native people of the planet were being corralled into the village square by a group of men in black clothing, waving their blasters and firing them warningly when someone dared try to protest whatever they had planned.

"Deliver any Resistance members you have hidden to me or my men, and I won't order them to kill each and every one of you slowly," said a man who appeared to be the leader; tall and classically handsome if you didn't count his cold, cruel eyes.

"You won't find any Resistance members here." That was a villager, only slightly lying as a quick scan proved there were none of your friends or colleagues standing among them.

"Then I'm going to have to show you why you should tell me where they are."

Both you and Poe were hiding behind the short wall that surrounded the village, and he was looking at you with wild eyes telling you please don't when you moved to peek over the wall again to see what they were going to do to convince these people.

The leader was approaching a young woman, the muzzle of his blaster moving hair away from her pretty face.

He paused and you hid behind the wall as he whipped around to look at you. "Wait a minute."

Everyone was silent as his footsteps grew louder in the grass, approaching the very spot where you were pressed tight to the wall.

Poe quickly deduced that he saw enough of you to assume that someone was there, and he wouldn't even need to be right at the very short wall to see you.

He needed to think of a way to stop this guy or his height over the wall would be much to his advantage.

"I don't think threatening to kill people is the most convincing way to go about this." He stood and did his best not to glare in your direction when you squeaked at him to stop; his presence was enough to distract this guy from hearing your quiet noise.

"Poe Dameron." He was in awe, but not impressed as much as pleased to have found one of the Resistance's most prominent members.

"And I'm guessing you're some First Order goon?" Poe stepped over the wall like a fool, knowing you would be spotted if he didn't move as far away from you as he could.

"Not exactly. Seize him." Two large men that he hadn't noticed grabbed tight to his arms and started frog marching him somewhere that he didn't really care where.

It wasn't near you.

That's all he cared about at the moment.

"And one more thing." His tone was casual and Poe heard a familiar voice crying out, looking over his shoulder to see the man dragging you to your feet with one hand gripping your hair and the other gripping one of your arms, forcing you to clumsily step over the wall.

"No! Y/N!" He tried to fight now that you needed his protection, but he was forced away to a small home that had been taken over by these men without his knowledge.

One of the men who had a hold of him was larger than anyone he knew, easily forcing him into a dining chair and taking bindings from the other man to tie him down expertly.

His wrists bound behind the chair and his shoulders were stretched, already hurting as he uselessly tried to tug himself free of the strong material.

Maybe he should've struggled harder when you were dragged in, but he was too busy fearfully watching you be tied to a chair across from him.

It was only supposed to be him.

"Manu, tell all the guys to kill every single kriffing person out there." He addressed the one large guy and you and Poe looked at each other hopelessly.

"Did the First Order really send someone too trigger happy to complete their mission?" Poe's sassy remark was not very biting.

All those villagers would be killed and there was nothing either of you could do about it.

"I wasn't sent by the First Order. But I'm glad to help them by weakening your pathetic group."

"Why do you care if you're not one of them?" Your gaze flickered from him to the other darkly dressed man in the room and then to him as he crouched down to your level.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

"You know my name."

Poe had yelled it and you were nearly as prolific as he was in the first place, but the man grabbed onto your chin tightly. "What's your fucking name?"

It was power play and you knew that, and you gasped out your full name to make him release his vice grip.

He tapped the spots where you would surely be bruising, gentle like he hadn't nearly broken your jaw by hand, and you leaned your head away from him, watching how tense Poe was in his chair.

"My name's Ric and that over there is my best pal Sheltav. There's something you need to know, sweet thing. Are you listening?" He blocked your view of Poe.

"I am." You stared defiantly into his eyes.

"We're not part of the First Order and I don't really give a damn what their intentions are for you, but we're gonna have some fun, don't you think?"

"I think it'd be fun to bash your face into the ground."

Ric turned around to walk to Poe at his comment, smiling kindly. "Aren't we going to have fun, Sheltav?"

A grunt.

"Aren't we going to have fun, Y/N?"

Silence.

"Aren't we going to have fun, Poe?"

His voice had darkened, the pilot's name punctuated with a hard punch to the face that almost made the chair topple over had Sheltav not stepped over to hold it upright.

The stars in Poe's vision were not as pretty as the ones he'd been watching in your eyes, and he was slightly aware of you yelling his name along with kriff this and damn that at Ric.

But he'd been punched many times and would rather keep the violence on him rather than you until he figured a way out of this.

There were weapons being laid out on a table when he stopped seeing double of Ric, meant for him if he had anything to say about it.

Ric looked at him like he could read his mind, his hand held out for Sheltav to place a small dagger into it. "I think it's sweet that you tried to distract me from finding her."

Maybe he could read his mind or maybe Poe had a fucking tell, like clenching his jaw when the dagger was held up to your face.

Your eyes followed it, gasping when he moved it to easily slice the front of your shirt open.

"Don't fucking touch her!" He knew it was stupid to let these guys know that any harm coming to you was indirectly hurting him, but he wasn't going to sit back and let them do what they wanted.

"I didn't. Or are you warning me tied up to a chair at my mercy?"

"Poe, don't—"

You were interrupted by a rough slap to the face and Poe attempted to jump from his chair, earning a punch from Sheltav like he wasn't already securely tied down.

That rib's broken again, flitted through his mind, but he was thinking more about you than the pain in his side.

"No speaking unless you're spoken to, princess."

"We're not telling you where the rest of the Resistance is," Poe murmured through a clenched jaw.

"You two are enough."

"Or you're a couple of pansy First Order allies that can't take more than us." A closed fist against your face was the retaliation for Poe's comment and you cried out.

His chest tightened painfully, fear strong at them hurting you for sassy comments that he was used to being the one hurt for.

The dagger was at your collarbone, a distracted whimper from your lips as the tip broke open your skin and only pushed deeper.

Poe yanked at the binds around his wrists, squirming in his seat to be free. "What the hell do you want then? Their approval? Money?"

"Maybe I want two of the best pilots in your pansy Resistance to bleed and scream." Ric moved to slice a line into your jaw and Poe shouted,

"Please don't!"

The smirk clearly said he should have kept his mouth shut, should have let them do a mere little cut in your skin.

"Are you with him?" He asked you softly, and you were still blinking away the fist that had collided with your face as you answered.

"No..."

"Did you know that he wants to be?"

"Poe is my friend."

Poe was your friend who hated himself for wanting more, for thinking about kissing you when you considered him to be a trusted colleague, for the glint in Ric's eyes when he saw the truth in his.

He trailed the dagger along your torso.

"I said we'd all have fun and I think we can give Dameron something fun to tighten his pants, don't you? It's obvious you owe him for making him pine after you with nothing in return."

"She doesn't owe me—" Poe flinched at your loud scream, not able to see with the man blocking his view of you, but pretty sure the dagger was somewhere digging into the skin of your right hip.

You began to sob at the pain.

Poe couldn't look away from the tears streaming down your cheeks with Sheltav's grip holding his head still, and he knew he needed to get you out of there.

"Please! Please stop! You're hurting her, please!"

"That's part of the point here."

"You can hurt me!"

"I heard you're dramatic."

And he did stop, leaving you slumped and weeping in the chair.

With a P and a D carved messily into your hip to humiliate you, to mock Poe's desire for you.

A reminder for if— when you were free, for this and what a thoughtless dick he was, wanting you too much that these men noticed it.

This wasn't something where they were trying to get information and promising him that they would stop if he told them what they wanted, and Poe didn't know what to do.

What if they did want information?

Would he let them hurt you or betray the Resistance?

"Do you like it?" Ric moved over to hold the tip of the dagger between Poe's legs and he flinched back quickly, though there wasn't anywhere to go.

"I would rather carve into you." He was an idiot who instinctively bit back at anyone who tried to intimidate him, forgetting that his words didn't put him into any trouble this time.

No, it was you who received another punch to the face and this time your head drooped down, and Poe started panicking.

He squirmed, watching Ric tilt your head back and search for a pulse. "Y/N? Sweetheart?"

"She's tough. I knocked her around a bit too much, but she's perfectly fine."

"Please leave her alone."

"Do you want to kiss her, Dameron?"

"Excuse me?"

Ric brushed a hand over your hair, and across your cheek, then dug his thumb into the front of your throat. "Answer me."

He needed to behave, to keep you from being hurt. "Yes."

And the guy started batting at your injured face gently, prompting you to wake up again.

You didn't have any idea what was happening and Poe hated the way you looked at him in confusion like he could tell you that you were both on base where you should be.

He hated it more when Ric turned your head to offer him a view of your profile; or to offer him a view of the kiss, your pliable lips opening for his tongue to crudely thrust into your mouth, taking advantage of your current confusion.

His lips were coated with the blood dripping from your split bottom one as he pulled away, walking to Poe and gripping his hair tightly.

It took all his effort not to bite the fucker's tongue when he kissed him. He wanted to taste his blood and not your blood, but could only imagine what would be done to you if he injured your captor in such a way.

"There you go," he said patronizingly, like that demonstration was anything like kissing you would be.

"Poe...I'm..."

"It's okay, baby."

Ric smiled. "You really like her. I could make her suck your dick. I mean, I don't think she'd have any idea what the fuck she's doing right now, but I can guide her a bit, assist her with a good pace."

If looks could kill, he would have been a pile of dust on the floor and Poe would have been breaking free to save you right then; his glare was darker than it'd ever been.

"Don't you ever think about fucking her?"

"No."

His answer was fast and this time he was the one who was hurt for speaking, with a hard backhand and then a sharp tug on his hair to lift his head like it was his fault he looked away from the man. "You're a terrible liar. Do you want to fuck her?"

He didn't want to tell them the deepest thoughts he had about you, his little desires that would probably be used against him.

But his lack of an answer would be misbehavior and be used too.

Probably to hurt you.

"Yes."

"Me and Sheltav can take care of that for you too."

There was a moment where he had to think extra hard around the ringing in his head from the smack, but he understood quickly and his eyes widened.

He couldn't even formulate any words as Ric moved over to untie you and your body fell limp against his chest.

You were in his arms like those damsels in distress he'd heard about in stories as a kid when he remembered how to speak, how to protect you. "Please don't! Oh, fuck, no, please! You can do whatever you want to me! I'm willing to give you anything you want if you...please don't hurt her like that."

He was struggling harder against his restraints now, caring very little if he dislocated his shoulders as pleas and curse words fell from his lips, tripping and stumbling over each other, not intelligible and yet desperate to be acknowledged.

"Poe," your whimper of his name broke his heart, knowing you figured out what they were going to do and couldn't even try to fight them.

"Please don't fucking do this to her! Please!"

They walked into an adjacent room and the door shut with a click.

You were about to be hurt in one of the worst ways possible thanks to his desire for you and his inability to tell one stupid lie.

His binds dug into his wrists as he tried desperately to free himself, merely tiring himself out with his attempts.

He hated himself for giving up when there needed to be another option that he assumed he was simply too selfish to see, dropping his chin to his chest and weeping loudly. "No, no, nononono, NO!"

He sobbed, feet slamming against the ground as if he could use the momentum to pull his wrists free.

The chair rocked slightly, mocking him, telling him it could break if it wanted to and that it didn't want to, that he was going to have to live with what he let happen to you.

He slumped, panting hard.

A tear, your scream, and blaster shots.

Then there was no sound at all; he looked at the door with empty eyes, trying to hear any little noise he could.

Did they kill you?

And if they did, was it necessarily a bad thing?

He wasn't sure if he would prefer you alive and destroyed or dead and somewhat peaceful.

He was very sure, however, that it killed him for the last time he saw you to be half-knocked out and beaten, restrained in a chair.

The last moment of affection with you, friendly or otherwise, a bloodied kiss from the lips of a man who took advantage of your weakness.

Poe refused to look up when the door squeaked open.

What if he received a blaster shot to the head?

It was always how someone was going to take him out and the only way he'd be free of them now, and he didn't see why he should live when you didn't.

"Poe?" The voice made him tense slightly, raising his gaze until it came to the most handsome face he'd tell everyone he ever saw.

"Finn. Buddy." His words cracked with relief and hope.

And there you were, alive and...clinging to Finn's side, weeping into his shirt.

What was it Poe had been thinking about you being destroyed or peaceful?

Your shirt was torn a little more, but there hadn't been enough time for you to be hurt and that was definitely good.

But was the threat and everything else they'd done too much for you?

"They're dead, but I counted six other guys out there. We can sneak back to the ship if we stay quiet." Finn explained this with you still grasping onto him as he untied Poe's wrists.

"She needs a jacket." And Poe tried to take you from him, wanting to hold you close as if it could erase what had been done to you, but you flinched away.

"Damn, Poe, come on."

"I'm fine, but she needs a med droid."

Finn looked at him like he was crazy, like you were both in need of a med droid, but moved out a back door of the home with the assumption that Poe had enough sense to follow.

He did.

Watching you hold onto Finn to keep from collapsing as the three of you sneaked through the dark towards the Falcon, happy that you were safe now.

And understanding that you clung to Finn out of your newfound hatred for and fear of the man who was the reason you needed to be safe in the first place.

[itsuki-minamy]

“R:B” CHAPTER 4 (Part 1)

TRANSLATION & RAWS: NARU-KUN

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3: Part 1 / Part 2

Hot.

The body seems to burn.

The meat is roasted in the flames. The blood boils constantly.

Everything around his emitted heat. Everyone around his has pushed the heat. Tied, hampered and contained. Tied up and condensing the heat.

The heat inside was already unbearable. His brain was boiling and he even felt like it was melting. If he doesn’t let go immediately, he will go crazy. So he put that heat in his fist and hit it. For something that pushes the heat. To tie things up. By things that incline, hinder and contain. To everything that tries to tie it.

He will do his best to repel the tangible and intangible pressure that blocks him. The pressing heat turns into scorching heat and rejects it.

Just at that moment, the heat that escaped became a pleasant sensation and burned his nerves. The wave of heat shaking his discomfort, made the freedom of the moat shine.

It was comfortable.

So…

Hit it.

Smash it.

Penetrates.

Push it in and get out.

The unexpected joy of pleasure that was not his. There were many people around him who were delighted with liberation from slavery and wanted to be destroyed. There were those who had the same goal and those who had the same irritation. He took the initiative and exercised power. The companions screamed loudly, and the sound brought a new pleasant warmth.

Power went up. Even if he is hurt or painful, he is still the power to carry on. It is a power that never gives up, even if it is confusing and terrifying.

It is the warmth of life.

And now. It's hotter than ever. It is painful. Flesh burns, blood becomes irritated, and irritation fills the brain.

It's okay.

The "power" that stabbed the fangs, shaved the desires and shook ...

He tears it all down.

Everything was burned.

Those who rejoice together were erasing everything with their hands.

It is the desert that extends. The desert he once dreamed of.

Facing the vague but emotionless sight, the blood freezes, the core freezes, it's like this, he is different...

Suoh woke up to a chewing voice that did not sing or shadow. His entire body was drenched in sweat and he was making a violent pounding as if his heart was broken.

Like a bad cold that seems to upset the stomach and a severe attack of cancer in the limbs. Inhale the warm air of the place and scratch the moment between dreams and reality.

He looks around with unmistakable fear. It makes sure there was no evidence of destruction.

What there is the usual view. Nothing changes, the room on the first floor of the bar "HOMRA".

He was tense with all his nerves and confirmed it many times.

And finally he exhales.

Immediately after the fleeting relief, a sticky and suffocating heat completely enveloped Suoh's entire body.

++++++++++

He lit the cigarette for the moment.

Suoh puts smoke in his lungs while sitting on the bed. Then exhale everything from his body.

It seems there is still heat left in cells throughout the body. The center of his head is particularly terrible. Feel a sharp dull ache in the slight mud-like heat. Damn feeling, like poison in his chest, he smokes again.

When he closed his eyes, the scene from his dream was still on. The desert of destruction. What's hard to say is that while he avoids the scene, he thinks it's okay. As he understood the tragedy, he still had the sensitivity to feel the scene in a refreshing and liberating way.

There were no ties of any kind there. There was freedom.

Freedom based on his own power.

Damn. He frowned and stood up.

Looking out the window, the scorching sunlight still lights up the world. Suoh clicked his tongue, imagining a peaceful prison.

He put the cigarette in an ashtray and left the room.

Suoh is awake on the second floor of "HOMRA". He takes a shower and walks from the hall to the stairs. Faced with that, hear a voice below.

"No doubts?"

"Yes. Fushimi also confirmed it by another route."

Izumo Kusanagi's bitter voice. It was Totsuka who answered.

"Yes. I expected it, but as soon as I faced him, he ran away."

"Whatever. It's my responsibility."

"I do not care. I will carry it out. Somehow."

"I feel sorry for the mob people."

"That is his business."

When he heard about the mafia, he knew what it was. It's the conflict from the other day. Suoh makes a sound and goes downstairs while somehow observing the content of the conversation.

At the same time as the footsteps echoed, the conversation between the two stopped. Kusanagi and Totsuka turn their faces as he goes down to the first floor.

"King. Good Morning."

"Even though it's very hot, I can't sleep until this time."

Totsuka was unconcerned and Kusanagi spoke with a dismayed smile. They were both not serious until shortly before.

It is a pleasant and habitual attitude. Suoh shrugged and took his usual seat at the counter.

"And Anna?"

"She went shopping with Kamamoto."

Take control and light the cigarette. Kusanagi kindly handed him the ashtray.

He asked for a glass of water and drank about half of it at a time. Water, a mineral that floats on ice, slides through the body. The sensation made him feel a bit rested.

He probably won't want to hear it.

These two people should be able to see that his internal pressure has recently increased. He is sincerely grateful for the consideration that they do not want to put an extra burden on him.

But,

"...So?"

Suoh asks, smoking slowly and brushing off the ashes.

"Are you sure?"

Kusanagi arched an eyebrow and Totsuka looked up, and they looked at each other. Even if he feels like it just then, he thinks they are intimidating each other.

"What did you hear?"

"I just heard it. It seems to be the case with the last mafia."

"Yes, well... Actually, that conflict seems to have started with our newcomer."

"Did he get into a fight?"

"That's what I mean... Apparently, they blackmailed the drug business."

Suoh's eyes when he heard it became sharper.

"I see, it's disgusting because they just fill their mouths."

He dares to laugh ironically.

"I'm excited about my mafia opponent."

"Idiot. Your screws just fly away."

"Eh?"

"Yes. It started to cost me because they rejected me there, it seems that it was the result of an increasing escalation."

Totsuka half faintly replied.

Suoh and his friends attacked the last time because the members of "Homura" were attacked by the mafia. Retribution for the attack. And, in order not to cause more victims to the members, the battle was opened.

However, it seems that the cause was on "Homura's" side in the first place.

Of course, when it comes to the drug business in the Shizume-cho area, it cannot be overlooked. Eventually, a collision would have been inevitable.

"Rather, I'm glad you refused. It's hard to imagine 'Homura' would be one of the traffickers."

"Homura" is a group of so-called street gangs, but they have not dealt with illegal businesses.

Exceptionally, when troubleshooting Strains, the customer may be someone who is "the source", but the requests received are carefully screened. They have a line that should not be crossed as a team.

They have the meaning of self-discipline because they are a group with enormous power, but more than that, it will not be "a hobby" of Suoh and other executives.

However, there are some who are unhappy with him in the current "Homura".

"Even if Totsuka says 'harassment', while listening to something that never happened, it seems like other newcomers also exploded and got involved. They did various things, from funny pranks to stealing products. He must have been quick to sharpen there."

Kusanagi knew that there was a skirmish between a part of "Homura" and the mafia. However, shortly after hearing from the members and embarking on arbitration, the mess turned into a conflict.

There are also conditions like the fact that the opponent was a martial arts group, and that many of the members were foreigners and didn't know much about "Homura's" real situation. But still, if the lower limb hadn't anointed the fire, it would have been a bit smarter.

Suoh waved the cigarette with a distant look as he listened to the story.

The more he listened to it, the less it seemed to go down. A ridiculous and troublesome story. However, he wondered if he could say something about those people without laughing.

For example, how far would he have gone that night if Totsuka hadn't stopped him? For his own pleasure. Or to escape the pain of burning.

Bitter things come from the back of the body.

"What guys?"

"Do you remember Yamata, who received the installation three months ago?"

"Yes."

"It's a group focused on him, and now it's a group of seven or eight people."

Kusanagi said that and scratched his head in an annoyed manner.

With an old man's expression that is a mixture of deprivation and ideology.

“Well, it is a small article. It was a journey where a little smart kid was smart and mean. However, when the other party is the mafia and the kid is a walking flame radiator, it's not easy to drink."

He said bitterly with a serious voice.

"The most troublesome thing is that those smart guys don't do it. At the bottom, it's okay if it's so unreasonable. There's a lot of air, on the contrary, next time they'll go through more and more, and even if they move on with the current situation It usually will. As expected, it's too early."

While saying that, Kusanagi prepared a glass for him and poured water.

After putting it in his mouth and taking a breath...

"I really want you to be patient."

When, he laments exaggeratedly...

"Although "Scepter 4" is getting more active, our members are increasing the extra work."

"After all, if I'm keeping an eye out for newcomers..."

“That's why I said it before. I am only responsible for you."

By convention, Totsuka was supposed to take care of the newcomers in "Homura." But it's been months since that practice stopped working. As Fushimi has said many times, there are too many newcomers rather than Totsuka's negligence.

In progress…

[krystalkoya]

Tango | 01

Summary: Fed up hanging by the sidelines when you and your friends go out clubbing, you enroll in a dance class to give you the much needed confidence to join your friends out on the dance floor. What you don’t expect is to go from tripping over your feet to falling head over heels for your dance instructor.

Or, the one where you start learning more about your dance instructor than the art of dance itself.

REPOST: this fic underwent minor changes, nothing plot-wise but some minor edits to grammar and/or characters to make it up to par to my standards 

read on ao3

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, smut, 

rating: +18

word count: 24k

chapter warnings: 18+ semi-public sex, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs, dirty talk

01| 02

_____

“For the last time Chae, I said no. I’m tired of being the only one sitting by the bar while the rest of you throw ass on the dance floor!“

You immediately cringed as you registered the sheer volume of your voice in the quiet frozen food aisle of the grocery store.

Shooting the glaring mother beside you an apologetic look, you lowered your voice and tried again.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just… everytime we go out I end up sitting by the bar on my phone or chatting it up with the bartender. It’s not like I don’t enjoy our conversations, some of them are quite insightful, but… I think it’s time for a change.”

Of all the times you have gone out clubbing with your friends, you were always the ‘responsible one’. You weren’t forced to take on this role. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any fun while you were there. You enjoyed bar hopping and trying all sorts of questionable liquor, but when it came time to actually dance? No thanks. You’d rather just stick to your silly phone games. With a resigned sigh, your best friend of five years said, “___, no one is forcing you to sit by the bar the entire night. Here’s a thought: if you want to have fun why don’t you come dance with us?”

Picking up a tub of ice cream from the shelf, you examined the calorie content while you mulled over your friend’s words. The cold dessert definitely wasn’t allowed on your healthy eating kick, but not caring you tossed the tub into your cart and readjusted the phone in your hands.

“Chaeyoung, you know why.” You heard the frustrated click of her tongue before you even finished your sentence.

“Is this because you said you can’t dance? Please, not this shit again. You don’t have to be an expert! Like, have you actually seen anyone dance at the club?!? Everyone’s drunk and uncoordinated anyway so it doesn’t matter!”

“That’s not the point. Let’s just forget about this okay? I don’t even like the club anyway. All these sweaty strangers rubbing up against each other? I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Nope, you’re not weaseling your way out of this one. Come onnnn, it’s our tradition for god’s sake! If I’m being honest, I don’t even really like the club, but we’re in our twenties and society has convinced us that these are the golden years of our lives and we need to spend it getting drunk, stoned, and dicked down by random guys each week. It’s the principle of the thing.”

“First of all, we barely do any of those things you just mentioned, at least I don’t. I don’t know what you get up to in your free time but leave me out of it. Like I said, my mind’s made up and I’m not going back. End of discussion.”

You hear silence on the other line and for a moment you really think she has given up. But this is your best friend we’re talking about here, you should know better by now.

“Not even if I agree to teach you a few steps?” comes her pleading response. If you were there with her right now, you had no doubt she would be pulling her signature pouty-lipped face that always seemed to make you give in to her demands. Good thing you weren’t there.

“Really? Your going to teach me how to dance? Remember how that turned out the last time? In case you don’t, let me remind you. Bad. Like, very, very bad.”

There was a pause, as if she were jogging her memory of the time she tried to teach you how to ‘walk it out’ at her sister’s wedding years ago. “You’re absolutely right. How did I forget that mess.” You can almost hear her shudder on the other line. “That almost tore our friendship apart. Fine, you win.” Crossing off frozen fruit off from your list, you started walking towards the produce aisle of the grocery store.

“Exactly. Let’s just move on. I’m not going clubbing anymore and that’s that. Plus I wasn’t exactly meeting any guys there anyway.”

Chaeyoung let out a laugh, to which, you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why, but you were offended nonetheless. When she spoke again she revealed to you what she thought was so funny. “___, you do realize you don’t actually date the guys you meet at the club right? Those guys are only good for a fuck. Haven’t you ever heard of a one-night stand? And if they’re really good, then maybe even two fucks.”

“W H O R E.” is your only reply.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, it’s the 21st century and I am a sexually liberated woman who is free to do what she pleases with her body, with multiple men if she wants too. Third of all, you really need to get some dick, maybe then you wouldn’t be such an uppity bitch all the time. But guess what? That’s not gonna happen if your ass is glued to a stool instead of some dude’s crotch the entire night.”

“Hey listen, can you hear that? It’s the sound of me, rolling my eyes at you for the thousandth time tonight.”

She paid you no heed, ignoring your comment in favor of continuing on with her tirade.

“Listen, if you really want to learn how to dance I know someplace you could go to get lessons. I met this guy at the club who teaches contemporary dance but the studio offers all sorts of genres. You interested?”

As you checked off the last thing on your grocery list, phone pressed against your ear, you came to a stop and mulled over her words. Dance lessons? It never occurred to you that you could sign up for lessons, you had simply resigned yourself to the sad fact that you could not and would not ever have rhythm. At this point, you were tired and ready to end this conversation but you knew that wouldn’t happen if Chaeyoung didn’t get her way. So with a sigh, you reluctantly agreed.

“Sure, why not.”

“I’m sorry? Something other than immediate rejection? I- wasn’t expecting that. Okay, great, I’ll send you the details before you change your mind. I got to go now babe, my boss has been on my ass about these quarterly reports and I can’t stand to hear him go off on us about ‘the importance of meeting our deadlines’ again. But I’m so proud of you for doing this, we’ll have you throwing that ass back in no time! Love you!“

You could almost hear her grin through the phone but before you could even say goodbye she had already hung up on you. You chuckled, resting your hands on your shopping cart as you stared down at your phone. Chae could be – a lot. But she was your lot to handle. She was a reliable friend and you wouldn’t have made it through these last few years of college without her. However, as you went over the last few minutes of your phone call you couldn’t help but feel somewhat anxious.

Did I really just agree to taking dance lessons of all things?Fuck. If there was anything you could pray for more in that moment it was that you didn’t make an utter fool of yourself when the time came for you to actually dance. But before you could ponder your dilemma any further, several harsh taps on your shoulder stole your attention away from the device in your palms and up at your surroundings. You swiveled your head around looking for the source of the incessant jabs when your eyes landed on silky locks of vibrant red hair.

Oh boy. Oh boy, because the man attached to the mane of crimson hair might possibly be the most attractive person you have had the pleasure of viewing in a while.

He was strikingly handsome, a kind of natural beauty that was seemingly effortless (something you appreciated but had always envied). Bright red hair meshed well with smooth tanned skin, and a lithe form clad in casual jeans and a baggy t-shirt that somehow looked way better on him than it would on you. How was it possible someone looked so good doing a task as mundane as grocery shopping? Realizing that your eyes may have wandered for too long, you drew your eyes away from his form and back to his face.

You instantly regretted it when you saw the look of pure annoyance marring his handsome features.

Oh.

Obviously handsome boy was mad at you. Why, you had no idea. So taking it upon yourself to find out, you cleared your throat, and asked in clearest voice you could muster, "May I help you?”

He kissed his teeth, chuckling lowly, but something about the venom in his voice told you he didn’t find anything funny. “May I help you… Yes, you can actually. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re blocking the tomatoes.”

Annndd there it is. He just had to ruin it by opening his mouth didn’t he?

You looked around. You had, in fact been blocking anyone’s access to the tomatoes that were sitting in a crate next to the other vegetables in the produce aisle. An honest mistake, so what was his deal?

“Well, I’m sorry but you could’ve said something along the lines of… oh I don’t know, 'Excuse me,’…? There’s this thing called being polite, you know.”

You may have been struck silent by his looks at first but there was no way you were going to let some entitled prick walk all over you. Running a hand through his hair, he shifted his weight to his other foot and shot you a piercing glare before saying through teeth clenched tight, “Look I don’t have the time for this so could you kindly do me a favor and move to your left a little so I can just pick these up and go?”

Excuse me? Just who did he think he was? You take a moment to breathe because despite your anger, you will not get yourself thrown out of this grocery store for assault. You oblige him, taking a step back as you say, “Fine, there I moved. But do yourself a favor and learn some manners. You’re lucky I’m not in the mood for this shit tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” He muttered, not even sparing a glance at you as he inspected the tomatoes for selection.

Scoffing at his remark, your jaw hung open shocked by the sheer audacity of the man before you. You gave yourself a few more seconds to calm down before you closed your mouth and abruptly spun on your heels. You did not have the time nor the energy to argue with some dick in the grocery store so late at night. Swiveling around, you hurriedly stormed off to checkout, looking forward to going home and getting some sleep before class the next day. .

.

.

Three days later you were stumbling into your apartment, kicking your heels off into some random corner of the room to inevitably trip over later.

You dropped your purse at your feet as you collapsed into the soft cushions of your sofa, mentally and physically exhausted from the stress of the long week you just had. The unnecessary pressure from your boss to meet the deadlines eons away had built up so you were grateful that you had the weekend to recharge. At the moment, all you wanted to do was take a nice hot shower and curl up into your soft cotton sheets. Perhaps you would catch up on a couple episodes of your favorite TV show before bed as well.

Unfortunately, just as you settled into your couch, your phone decided to start buzzing. It took you awhile to locate the device from within the depths of your bag, but once you found it you weren’t surprised to see your best friend’s name displayed across the screen.

“Hello?” you grumbled into the phone.

“Sooo… how do you like the studio?”

Confusion marring your features, you questioned her. “What studio? What are you talking about?”

“Oh bitch. Bitchhh.Do not tell me you forgot. You do remember that I signed you up for dance lessons for Friday? Please tell me you remembered.”

You didn’t remember. But in your defense, what was she thinking signing you up for a class that met on Fridays of all days?

“____, I swear to god you better get your ass to that studio or I will drag you there myself. I don’t want to deal with you whining to me about your shitty dancing anymore, so move it. You still have half an hour before the class starts.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going, I’m going. Sheesh woman,” you said already making your way to your bedroom.

“Good. Tell me how it goes when your done! And don’t forget to have fun!” her voice almost too saccharinely sweet.

It amazes you how this woman can switch between an angel and the devil’s spawn in a matter of seconds.

As soon as you said your goodbyes you rummaged through your drawers for some comfortable your workout clothes. Stopping by the fridge for a water bottle, you headed toward your car, mentally preparing yourself for an hour of hell.

If you were going to suffer, might as well be hydrated.

And hell it was.

Because although you managed to make it to the class with 10 minutes to spare, you immediately regretted coming when your instructor for the evening walked in. That same prick from the grocery store entered the classroom, a bright smile on his face as he welcomed his students. You would of thought this man was a completely different person if it weren’t for the bright red hair that sat atop his head.

You tried everything in your power to avoid eye contact but it was too late. It was almost as if time has slowed down as you saw the expression on his face morph into shock the moment you two locked eyes. The brief moment between you two passed almost as fast as it came, though because in the next instant he was plastering a wide smile back on his face and moving to the front of the room to address the class.

You don’t remember much of his greeting. You managed to pick up that his name was Jung Hoseok. And he said something along the lines of “dancing is a form of self-expression” and “don’t be afraid if you can’t get the moves right away… have fun…“ But for the most part you had zoned out, contemplating the catastrophe that was your life. Fuck me.

It was just your luck that you managed to get him as your dance instructor. If it weren’t for the fact that you had already paid you would have left already.

Unfortunately, you were just going to have to try avoiding the man for the next hour or so. After that you were never stepping foot in this studio ever again.

Avoiding Hoseok wasn’t all that hard considering the fact that once he started, his sole attention was dedicated to concentrating on teaching the choreography. That and you had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying just as hard to avoid all eye contact with you as you were with him.

While the music played he stood at the front of the class, teaching you all a simple choreography that went along with a high-tempo hip hop beat.

Although you took a place at the back of the class, it didn’t completely eliminate your anxiety of dancing in front of complete strangers. It was irrational to think that anyone would pay you any attention when everyone’s focus was likely to be on trying to get their own moves right. The class was diverse, with people younger, older and around your age there but it seemed as if everyone else was doing so much better than you as you struggled to keep up with the steps.

It was just your luck (which was minimal these days) that at that moment, Hoseok called for a break. Thank god.

You propped your hands up on your hips, closing your eyes and rolling your head back to stretch out the muscles in your neck. Unfortunately, your moment of relaxation was interrupted because when you looked back up you were shocked to see Hoseok walking… right towards you? That couldn’t be right.

Despite ignoring your presence for the whole first half of the class, he seemed to be charging straight towards you. But just before he could reach you, a few members of the class ahead of you had intercepted him in his travels. Phew.

Dodged a bullet there. You’re not sure what he was going to say to you, but you’re completely sure you didn’t want to hear it. Taking that time to escape, you took a seat near the back of the room and pulled out your phone to text Chaeyoung.

You: It was a big mistake coming here. [7:47]

Chae: Why, What’s wrong? [7:48]

You: Remember that dick I told you about?

You: The one from the grocery store? [7:48]

Chae: Yeah… [7:50]

Chae: Oh no, don’t tell me he’s there??

You: Oh he’s here alright.

You: He’s the goddamn dance teacher for christ’s sake. I mean, what are the odds, right?!? [7:50]

You chanced a small glance over your shoulder and heaved a sigh of relief when you saw Hoseok was still engaged in small talk with some chatty women. And judging by the way their hands lingered on his arm and the exaggerated laughs in response to his jokes, it was fair to say they weren’t just interested in the art of dance, but instead the art of the dance teacher. Don’t be fooled ladies, bad things sometimes come in good packages. You learned that the hard way.

Looking back at your phone you read the recent message from Chaeyoung.

Chae: Wow, what a coincidence

Chae: But he can’t be that bad right? [7:53]

You: Not that bad? Were you listening when I told you the story the other day? [7:53]

Chae: I was but i really think ur just being overdramatic, like always. I mean, the guy just wanted his radishes and u were in the way [7:56]

You: Tomatoes, Chae. He wanted tomatoes.

You: And 'like always’..?!? Are you my friend or his??! [7:57]

Chae: Whatever. Istg you’re so stubborn sometimes

Chae: Just give him a chance. He must be good at his job and you need all the help you can get. ;) [7:58]

You leave her on read as Hoseok calls the class back to his attention. Overdramatic my ass, you think as you get back in line. Only half an hour more of this and then I’m through. That’s it. They couldn’t convince you to come back here even if they paid you.

By some miracle you manage to make it through the rest of the class.

Luckily Hoseok had chosen songs with slower rhythms as opposed to the upbeat choreography he was teaching in the beginning half of class.

Hoseok thanked the participants for attending, and if you weren’t in such a rush to get out of there you would have appreciated his sincere closing remarks. Alas, that wasn’t the case and no sooner than Hoseok stopped talking were you sprinting to the back wall to gather your belongings.

Gathering up your water bottle, your phone and purse, not even bothering to shove the items into your bag, you turned on your heel and made a mad dash for the exit, hoping to avoid Hoseok’s gaze as you escaped with the crowd. But fate seemed to have a different plan for you, as it always did, because no sooner had you turned around were you barreling straight into a firm chest. One glance up led you to determine that it was Hoseok’s chest to be exact.

Luck really said fuck you and took her leave didn’t she.

Taking a step back you steeled yourself and channeled all the energy you had left into a glare you hoped conveyed that you really weren’t in the mood for his bullshit today.

"Yes?” You glowered up at him.

He chuckled softly. Chuckled. You really didn’t find anything funny about this situation. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Pretty fucking awkward to say the least.

“This some type of revenge scheme of yours? Watching my every move so you can best plot when to strike? I didn’t realize I pissed off a stalker the other night. I should really be careful about who I make angry in the future.” He says, smirk apparent in his tone.

“No, actually. Believe it or not, I’ve got better things to do than go around stalking assholes like you.”

“And that includes taking my dance classes…?”

This cocky bastard. Scoffing, you square your shoulders and push past him heading right for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, your second attempt at escape was foiled yet again by Hoseok, a hand on your wrist preventing you from leaving.

"Hey… wait, I was just joking. Listen, I’m sorry if I was rude the other night. I think it’s great that your taking my class though. Did you have fun?”

You snort, shucking his hand off your wrist and saying, “You’re only saying that because I’m paying you. Can’t be mean to paying customers, now can we?”

“That’s part of it, yeah,” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up at the side but at the roll of your eyes he backtracks.

“Kidding! Kidding.” He panics, hands up to placate you. “But seriously, I’m sorry for the way I acted the other night. It wasn’t me. I was going through some shit and I… look it doesn’t matter. I had no right to be rude to you over some fucking vegetables. So will you please accept my apology so we can start fresh?”

At this point you were tired, sweaty and all you wanted to do was go home, take a nice hot shower and curl up in your soft linen sheets. Plus, his apology seemed genuine. And you didn’t want to admit it but perhaps Chaeyoung was right when she said you could be a tad over-dramatic at times.

So, with a huff of your breath, you went the drama free route for once and accepted his apology.

“Okay. But consider this your last chance so don’t fuck it up.”

“Trust me, I won’t. You won’t ever see me acting like that again. I had a bad day and I took it out on you which was in no way acceptable. How about we turn over a new leaf? Sound good?” At your nod of affirmation, he presses on, “So how did you like the class?”

You took a moment before you answered. Should you tell him the truth? That you absolutely hated it? That you had already decided you were not coming back? Or should you lie and say you loved it, only for him to be surprised when you didn’t show up the next week, or the following week, or the week after that…

“It was good. You’re a great teacher. It’s just… I don’t know. Dancing just isn’t for me.” You decided to go with the truth but you wanted to make sure he knew it had nothing to do with his teaching.

“Isn’t that why you took this class? To get better?” he asked with a confused crinkle of his brow and a tilt to his head.

He had a good point. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. I guess it’s just my own insecurities holding me back. I feel like a fool in a room full of swans.”

“Swans?” He snorts. “Were you in the same room as me for this last hour? The woman in the front row would’ve taken my eye out at one point if I hadn’t dodged her leg in time. Trust me, you’re all equally terrible.”

By this point you two are the only ones in the room but surprisingly it’s not as uncomfortable as you’d imagine it to be.

You’re not sure how to respond so you say dumbly,

“Uh…thanks??”

“You’re very welcome.” He says with a smile and a pat to your shoulder.

You shake your head in disbelief of the man. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

He scoffs, placing his hand over his heart in mock outrage. “Ouch, you wound me. Come on, you don’t really think so low of me do you?”

“I’ll tell you what, considering when I first met you, no. You were a huge fucking dick then, but now??” You place a finger on your chin as if considering his rank to you now.

“You’ve been demoted to just an average dick. Four or five inches maybe?” You tease.

“I don’t know whether I should be offended or not but I’m gonna choose not for fear of starting another argument. But listen,” he says tone turning serious, “you weren’t that bad from what I could see of you. You weren’t good, but certainly not terrible. You managed to keep up with a lot of the steps.”

“How would you know? You didn’t even look in my direction the whole hour!”

“Not true. I did glance at you a couple times. But you had a scowl on your face the entire time so I knew you were still pissed at me from that other night. Your energy… it was killing my vibe.”

“And you wonder why I still consider you slightly dick-ish.”

A roll of his eyes was his only response, choosing instead to elaborate on his earlier comment. “Look, if you’re really that uncomfortable being in a group setting you can always sign up for private lessons.”

“Private lessons? With you?” “Yes, with me.” He said with yet another eye roll, but he was smiling so you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed.

Private lessons did sound nice. Dancing in front of one stranger was always better than dancing in front of a whole group of strangers. But that would mean you would be alone, with Hoseok. Although you hated to admit it, dude was attractive and he turned out to have a better personality than you’d initially thought. Yeah, the coward in you said you were going to have to pass on this.

“It’s gonna be a no for me, thanks for the offer, but I’m good, really.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise but all he says is “Okay, that’s fine. Just do what works for you.”

“Thanks, I will,” you say tersely, hiking your bag up on your shoulder. The comfortable mood from earlier seems to have dissipated just as soon as it settled, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now.”

“Right, it is getting late.” He says with a polite wave.

But he seems to have forgotten something because when you turn the knob on the door you hear a sudden “Oh!” from behind you. You turn to look at him.

“I didn’t get your name. I introduced myself at the start of class but I’ll do it again in case you were too busy plotting my death to notice. I’m Hoseok.” He extends his hand for a shake, expression expectant, probably waiting on you to introduce yourself as well.

You did remember his introduction at the beginning of class and you thought it was only fair that you tell him your name given the fact that you no longer wanted him to burn in the pits of hellyou guys were on good terms now.

“___. And sorry, I didn’t realize my glare was that obvious. I’ll try to be less subtle next time.”

“___. Nice to meet you under better circumstances. Hopefully there won’t be a next time, for my sake at least. So, I’ll see you next Friday then?”

“Yeah… see you.” It was a lie. You knew damn well that this would be the last time you stepped foot in this studio. Screw Chaeyoung and the hell you would receive from her for quitting.

With a final goodbye he sent you off with a blinding smile and a wave of his hand.

Turning swiftly on your heel, you threw him one last tight smile over your shoulder before you exited the studio, grateful that this night was finally over. .

.

.

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“Jesus woman, lower your voice! I have neighbors!” Typical. And she calls you overdramatic.

“Fuck the neighbors. Let me get this straight.” She says. "Hot guy wants to spend time with you and you turn him down because of… what exactly?“

"First of all, he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I’d be paying him for private lessons. That’s all.” you explain.

“Potato, potahtoe. Why would you pass up the opportunity to get some one-on-one lessons from a hot instructor?”

You currently sat across from Chaeyoung, the two of you curled up on your couch together. You were supposed to be on a bad 90s movie marathon until the topic of your first (and last) dance class came up.

“Because,” you began, “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s not a grade-A douchebag.”

The look she sent you for that last comment immediately translated to 'cut the bullshit’. She knew you were lying. Curse you for being so accustomed to telling her everything. You told her all the details from the fated night at dance class over the phone the next day, but in hindsight you could have saved the part where Hoseok turned out to be somewhat of a decent guy to yourself.

“Hon, you know you need these lessons. And if you’re too afraid to dance in front of a group why not just get the private lessons? Plus, you need to get out of the house more. You’re always either studying or at work these days. A hobby will hopefully distract you and get rid of some of that stress. And you know what else gets rid of stress? Fu-”

“Quiet woman! I need to think.”

Despite that last comment, she was right. Chaeyoung being right was becoming a recurring theme in your life and you didn’t like it. But it was a rare occasion that you had any time for yourself, let alone anyone else these days. Although it was your last semester your professors had been unrelenting, you seemed to be getting double the work as in previous years. In addition, your nearly inflexible work schedule and crappy boss hadn’t made things any better.

Shoulder slumped, you admitted defeat.

Shock replaced her features. “I’m sorry what?”

“I said you’re right okay? God, why is it so hard to admit that to you?”

Chae let out an excited giggle, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry it’s just, that’s the second time this week that you didn’t argue back with me. Allow me to enjoy this will you? Anyways, does this mean you’ll suck it up and go back?”

You slowly nodded your head, muttering a 'yes’ under your breath. You figured the lessons would allow you to learn how to do something you’ve always wanted to do while providing you with a good way to relieve all of your pent up stress.

She leaned forward to give you a brief hug before leaning back to say, “Hey, I’m proud of you. We’ll sign you up for the private lessons later. Let’s move onto more important topics. So what does this guy look like anyways? Let’s see if he’s as attractive as you say he is.”

“It’s not like I have a picture of him saved anywhere. I didn’t get his number or his social media.”

Sighing, she whips out her phone, not even looking at you when she asks, “What’s his name?”

“Huh? Jung Hoseok, but I don’t see how that will help. It’s not like you can–”

“Found him!” And she’s moving closer to you to show you her phone.

“You said he has red hair right? This him?”

You take a look at her phone, the Instagram page of the one and only Jung Hoseok displayed on the screen.

His instagram is filled with pictures and videos of him at the studio leading dance practices or performing some kind of choreography. Then there are the typical pictures you would expect of any instagram user. Selfies of him out with friends, food, the scenery. He must have died his hair regularly- in some pictures he had the red hair he had currently, in others it was brown, and even blonde at one point.

“Damn. This is him? Hold on.. maybe I should sign up for lessons too.”

“Please,” you scoff and hit her arm. “I’m concerned enough about your vagina already. Please don’t add more guys to the mix, especially not my dance teacher.”

“Relax I was joking. Mostly. And don’t be concerned about me, my vagina’s doing just fine. You should be concerned about your own dried up puss. How long has it been since she’s gotten a good plowing?”

You shake your head at her, redirecting your attention to the TV.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Chae flings her arms around you. “Because you love me and no matter what you say, I’m still your favorite person in the world.”

You smile, humming in acknowledgement. “I guess,” you say, defeated. “Now shut up and let me watch my bad movies in peace.” .

.

.

The following week you find yourself back in the same dance studio.

Before she left your house that night, Chaeyoung made sure that she witnessed you make an appointment for the next available private lesson with Hoseok. This is how you wound up here at the dance studio at 7pm on a Tuesday night.

You take a seat on the floor of your designated room for the night, as you still have about ten minutes until your lesson starts.

Hoseok isn’t here yet and you pray to god he doesn’t show up so you can just go home.

Pulling out your phone, you open up your music playlist. After the first group dance class, you had went home and downloaded the songs Hoseok had used. You figured that even if you weren’t going back to the class, at least you got a few new songs to listen to. Hoseok actually had a pretty good taste in music, which you guess wasn’t surprising considering his job as a dance instructor.

You lazily scrolled through your playlist, stopping when you came across one of the songs you recently added. It was one of the slower-tempo songs that Hoseok had used in his last class. You could still remember some of the choreography clearly, simply because of how badly you butchered the steps. Feeling brave, with no audience to witness your wild flailing limbs and uncoordinated movements, you turned up the volume on your phone and stood up from your position on the floor.

Doing your best to execute the choreography that Hoseok had taught you all from your very first class, you went into the first movement.

Just then the door to the studio burst open and you nearly jumped out of your skin from how hard it had startled you. Placing a hand on your chest as if it would somehow calm the rapid beating of your heart, you whirled around facing the source of the loud intrusion.

It was Hoseok, standing in the doorway with his duffel bag on his shoulder and a slight smirk making its way onto his face. You rushed over to your phone on the floor, picking it up and turning off the music that was still blaring in the otherwise quiet room. However, your frantic actions must have prompted Hoseok to speak.

“Got started without me, did you? It’s okay, don’t stop on my account. Just act like I’m not even here.”

As you disconnected your phone from the speaker, you shot him a quick glare before locking your phone and placing it on top of your bag by the wall of the studio.

“Let’s just get this hour over with. And please, try to keep your smart comments to yourself.”

“And the ice queen returns. What happened to our heart to heart the other night? Did you forget already?,” he said with a grin so wide you wanted to box it right off his face.

"No it’s just that I’m only allowed to be nice for very brief moments in time or else I’ll spontaneously combust. So are you just gonna stand there and look dumb or are you gonna teach me something? I’m not paying you for nothing.”

“Right you are. Lemme just get set up and we can begin, mmkay?”

Once he sets his duffle bag down and connects his phone to the speakers in the room he turns to you.

“Why don’t we start with the same song you were just practicing to.” He says scrolling through the phone in his hand.

He presses play and the song starts playing through the speakers like it was a moment ago. He stares at you expectantly.

“What?”

“Well, show me what you were doing before I came in.” You don’t know what you were expecting because in all honesty this was what a one on one dance lesson entailed. It was inevitable that you would actually have to dance in front of him in order for him to help you. But still, you were nothing if not stubborn.

“Can’t you just teach me some steps and I’ll try to keep up? Like in your group sessions?”

“___, the benefit of having private lessons is that I can focus on you. I need to get a baseline to see where you are before I give you anything too hard.”

You’re silent for a moment. It was better to rip off this band-aid sooner rather than later. Embarrass yourself in front of him now and get rid of this awkwardness that still remained between you two. Making up your mind, you tell him to restart the song.

You get in the starting position while Hoseok moves back in the room to give you more space. As the music starts again you repeat the steps you went through earlier, trying your hardest not to mess up.

The whole time you run through the choreography you feel completely uncomfortable, feeling Hoseok’s stare on your form from behind. About a minute in, just when you start to forget the next couple steps, he cuts the music.

You turn around to see him setting his phone down once again. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just leisurely takes a few sips of his water before turning to you. You have half a mind he’s doing this on purpose just to see you squirm.

“Well, not gonna lie that was bad.”

“I’m leaving.” you say already moving towards the door.

“Wait, wait let me finish. It was bad, yes, but it wasn’t terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I’m being serious. Trust me I’ve seen far, far worse. You have a general sense of rhythm but you don’t always know where to direct it at times. Your movements aren’t fluid. Too jerky in some areas, smooth in others. You need to loosen up. You’re too stiff. Just relax and feel the music.” He presses play again and this time demonstrates the first couple steps before motioning for you to try again.

You are reluctant to do so but comply anyway because it is what Chaeyoung would want. She’s not here right now, but you have no doubt she’ll know you didn’t give it your all the next time you see her.

And you fear the consequences of that interaction more than your current predicament. Note to self: rethink this entire friendship dynamic asap. ___

The rest of the lesson goes by smoothly, surprisingly. Hoseok demonstrates the choreography while you try to keep up, him stopping you every now and then to correct you.

Halfway through the lesson, when Hoseok called for a water break, the door to your studio swings open. A lithe brunette man appears in the doorway, only to double-take when he sees you and Hoseok inside, before he starts apologizing profusely.

“Ah, sorry hyung, I thought I was in here today.”

“No worries Jimin. I think you’re in room 211 today,” Hoseok replies, before glancing at you. “Jimin, this is ___, ___ , Jimin. He’s the one of the contemporary dancers here.” he says, gesturing between the two of you.

Jimin. Why did that name sound familiar? Was this the guy Chae was talking about? The one she met at the club?

“Nice to meet you, Jimin,” you say kindly.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too ___.” And you don’t know if it was just you but you swear there was a glint to his eyes and a slight curl of his lip that made this baby-faced man seem so much more tantalizing. But before you could ponder this further, Jimin was speaking again.

“Unfortunately I have to get going now or I’m going to be late for an appointment. The mom’s a nightmare — wants her kid to be the next Maddie Ziegler. Tough luck cause little Sarah’s got two left feet. Don’t tell her mom though, she’s loaded and I need the money. Anyways, I gotta go. Hope to see you around sometime ___! Later Hoseok!” He calls with a wave, already out the door in a matter of seconds.

Hoseok chuckles softly at that, shaking his head slightly.

“He seems nice,” you say. “Why couldn’t I have gotten him instead of you as a teacher?”

Hoseok pins you with a look. “Because, contrary to popular belief, I don’t think contemporary dance would do you much good in a club. Unless it’s an underground jazz club. Maybe not even then,” he shrugs.

Why didn’t you just lie when he asked you why you were taking lessons earlier? It was already embarrassing enough being here dancing in front of him, and now he knows you’re here just because you wanna know how to throw it back in the club.

Apparently, your silence in response to his comment was his cue to keep talking.

“But anyways, Jimin may look like an angel but he’s everything but. You’re better off with me.”

“Oh, like you’re some saint.”

“As holy as Lucifer,” he smiles.

“The fallen an-”

“Less talking, more dancing. Come on we still have like 15 more minutes.” he says, cutting you off by turning the music back on.

 Needless to say, the dance lesson wasn’t as bad as you had expected it to be. A couple days later you and Chaeyoung finally have a chance to catch up and you tell her all about your first lesson. You mention the brunette haired boy, Jimin you think his name was, and she tells you that that was in fact the guy she met at the club. Apparently, your first impression of the man was correct. Chae tells you he’s a huge charmer, can flirt the pants off any woman, or man, for that matter. You think it’s his eyes, they draw you in like a predator hunting its next prey.

She encourages you to go back for more lessons, even if its just to get a chance to “sample the merchandise” as she put it.

You do find yourself going back the next time and the week after that. Not to “sample the merchandise” or whatever the fuck, but because of your dedication to getting better. Soon enough you have been attending the lessons for a little over a month. You find that each time you go the embarrassment of having to dance in front of Hoseok dissipates little by little.

You even discover that Hoseok is not that bad to be around. He’s funny and despite your fears of him laughing in your face when you mess up he’s surprisingly polite. He doesn’t scoff or sneer when you miss a step, instead he’s attentive, sweet even, as he helps you correct your form.

You start to notice a difference in yourself as well. Even if only by a fraction. You aren’t a professional-level dancer yet (nor do you think you’ll ever get to that level, but that’s okay) but you’ve come a long way from where you started. It makes you feel proud that you are finally doing something for yourself. Something you always wanted to do but never had the chance to.

One night however, Hoseok decides to change things up from your usual way of doing things.

You enter the studio, the first one there as usual, and you put down your things before you start stretching to get your body warmed up for vigorous exercise. It had been something Hoseok suggested you do when you had started complaining about having cramps after sessions.

It is when you are bending over, hands touching your toes to stretch your hamstrings that you hear the door swing open. At the low whistle that comes from behind you, you jerk upright and turn around, sending a glare to the man standing in the doorway.

“Perv,” you say through your teeth.

Hoseok sighs, defeated, “Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? If you don’t want to give me a show, face away from the door next time, yeah?”

You cross your arms over your chest and say, “I’m not paying you to ogle my ass. We’ve only got an hour and you’ve already wasted 5 minutes by showing up late.”

“It always comes back to money with you doesn’t it? I’m hurt.” You roll your eyes instead of responding and he uses this time to set his duffel bag down next to yours at the back of the room.

He squats down to fish his phone and aux cord out of his bag while he speaks.

“I want to try something different today.”

He’s not looking at you so he misses the suspicious look you send his way. “Different…how?”

“You said you’re here because you want to learn how to dance so you can go to the club right?”

“Yeah…?” you say, still not getting his point.

“Well everything I’ve been teaching you so far is way too advanced for a club. In all honesty, you don’t really need these lessons if that’s the reason you’re here, but you’re paying me so who am I to complain?”

You give him a pointed glare. “Your point, Hoseok. Get to it.”

“Right, all I’m saying is my lessons are useless in that kind of setting. So, I’m gonna teach you something else. Something useful.”

“Yeah? Well, something tells me I’m not gonna like this.”

Finally locating his phone and aux cord from within the depths of his bag, he fiddles with the speakers as he says,

“Oh trust me, you won’t.”

Suddenly a song you don’t recognize is playing through the speakers. It’s slow, much slower than the other songs you’ve practiced to. The rhythm is … sensual.

Too sensual.

Hoseok sets his phone down on his duffel bag in the corner of the room. You see him glance at you before he picks up the chair by the wall and walks toward you with it.

He sets the chair down behind you before coming back around to face you again. “You’re main problem is you’re lacking confidence. You need to have confidence to dance in the club – to dance period. To not care what anyone thinks about you because in that moment you’re free. It’s just you and the music.”

He takes in your expression. You’re still looking at him with suspicion, arms crossed over your chest and expression guarded.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve improved a hell of a lot these past few sessions, but you’re still not completely comfortable, I can tell. And your dancing is suffering from it.”

Clearing your throat, you ask defensively, “Okay, and?? What does this have to do with our lessons?”

“Well I can’t force you to gain confidence in your dancing but I can certainly help you try. Just try and follow my lead, okay?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, instead he pulls the chair up further and tells you to sit in it.

“What, why?!?” You protest. Did he really expect you to just go along with whatever he says without telling you what his plans were? He must not know who he’s dealing with.

Rolling his eyes, he repeats himself, “Just sit in it. We don’t have time for this.”

“Not until you tell me why I have to sit in the chair.” You say not backing of down.

He tilts his head back with a groan, looking thoroughly fed up with you. “God you’re so stubborn. Everything just has to be difficult with you doesn’t it?” He says more to himself than to you.

At this point the all too-sensual-fucking music still plays from the speakers and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you fearful of what was to come.

Hoseok finally peels his head back down from the ceiling to look at you and when he does his stare is intense.

You go to say something else but when he turns his gaze towards you it makes you hesitate.

You gulp.

“Why are you so stubborn, hmm?” And he takes a step closer to you.

“Do you like pissing me off? Is this fun for you, is that it?” Another step forward from him has you stepping back, suddenly not feeling as bold as you had been just moments ago.

“Hoseok, what are you-”

“Ahh, ahh, ahh…” he shushes you with a finger to your lips. “Don’t speak. You had your chance. It’s my turn now.” 

You find yourself leaning as far back as possible to put some distance between the two of you, but when you step back again, your leg hits the chair, causing you to stumble.

A hand snakes around your waist, preventing you from a painful collision with the chair and the floor of his studio. A look of shock lights up your face as you look up at Hoseok, your voice truly stolen from you now.

“Careful, we don’t want you to get hurt, now do we? Why don’t you take a seat, hmm? Relax those legs a bit, you’ll need them later.”

This time Hoseok leaves you no room for debate as he eases you down into the chair himself. The music is still playing, and your nerves are higher than they ever have been during a lesson. This was Hoseok’s plan to get you to feel confident? If the sweat forming under your pits was any indication, he was doing a terrible job.

Hoseok stands before you, looking down at you in your seat.

“You need to loosen up. Dancing is all about feeling music. Letting the rhythm flow through your body as you feel it.”

He suddenly stands back a bit, swaying his hips to the beat of the music as it plays.

“Don’t think, just do what feels right.” At that he closes his eyes, head tilting back towards the ceiling once again, but he keeps the swaying to the music.

While his eyes are closed, you take the opportunity to get a good look at him. He really is in his element when he dances. There’s something about him that just looks so at peace – like he’s in his own little world that consists of just him, the music, and the sway of his body.

You drink in the movement of his hips all the way up to his exposed neck and that sharp jawline you finally had the chance to admire with his eyes closed. Instantly, you regret your ogling because it does nothing to quell the rising of your body temperature, or the heat between your thighs.

Things only get worse when you notice that he is getting closer to you. Stepping in time to the music, Hoseok is slowly inching his way towards you. He’s looking directly at you now, can see you squirming in your seat in an effort to put as much distance between you two as possible, and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. Oh he’s enjoying this, the bastard, a little too much if you’re being honest.

Suddenly, as the beat drops in the song, he’s propelling himself forward, effectively closing the last few inches of space between you two.

He’s leaning forward, devilish smirk on his face and a hand on the back of your chair, you’re face almost eye level with his chest as you look up at him pathetically.

“This is the type of dancing you’d most likely see in a club. Free, wild… seductive.”

By now the music has returned to it’s melodic rhythm and so does Hoseok. He begins swaying to the beat, rolling his body into yours in a way that can only resemble a lap dance to any onlookers.

One hand on the back of your chair, the other just lightly grazing the top of your knee as he moves, the smirk never leaving his face as he says, “Watch me. See how fluid I am with my movements? How I hear the music and let the notes flow through my body?”

He’s backing away from you now, only to circle your chair, not failing to drag his fingertips across your shoulders until he comes back around to face you again. He traces his arms down your forearms only to grab your hands and hold them in front of him while you continue to stare pathetically up at him.

“Think you can do that for me?” he asks, hopeful eyes shining back at you.

What is he talking about? No you can’t do that, that’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. This whole situation is bizarre and you snap out of you’re stupor to remind him that he’s supposed to be teaching you to dance, not… whatever this is.

“Hoseok,” you say, “I’m not paying you to give me a lap dance.”

“Oh, I know,” he nods, “You’re gonna give me one.”

Before you even have a chance to ask him what in the hell he’s talking about he’s hiking you up onto your feet and plopping himself down into the chair instead.

He looks smug as he sits, legs spread wide in that obnoxious way that guys do and hands in his lap. He stares up at you blankly.

“Well…” he pats his thighs, “Get to it then.”

You stare at him incredulously for a moment before you burst into laughter. The unhinged notes of your laugh almost sound out of place amidst the music that still plays in the background. 

“You’re kidding right? You’ve got to be kidding.”

When his facial expression remains serious you realize that he’s not kidding. You still. “You’re not kidding.” You cross your arms over your chest, turning towards the door. “Okay I’m actually leaving...,” you say for the second time that night.

Before you can get too far, however, arms snake around your waist and you find yourself rooted to the spot.

“You wanted my help, well this is what my help looks like. Ultimately, it’s your own choice, you don’t have to do this but trust me, this lesson is just as beneficial to you as any other, maybe even more.”

You hang your head down, sighing in defeat but not ready to give up just yet. “How do I know you’re not just doing this for your own perverted gain?”

He lifts his hands up by his sides and says, “You have my word. This is purely for your own benefit and not for my own personal gain at all. Scout’s honor.”

You reluctantly relent, softening your demeanor a little by unfolding you’re crossed arms from your chest.

Hoseok calms at that, seeing that you are staying.

“Plus,” he adds, “No offense, but if I wanted a good lap dance I’d just go to the strip club.”

You turn to leave again but Hoseok is grabbing your wrist preventing you from straying far yet again. He’s doing that a lot tonight. Being overly touchy-feely. You can’t say you’re complaining. 

“Kidding, kidding. Geez, your finicky. Come on, at least just try for me.”

You turn around in his arms and sigh. “Alright… well, what do you want me to do?”

“Just feel the music and do whatever feels right.”

Confidence. Just have confidence, you say to yourself. You put your hands on the back of his chair, as he had done earlier but after that you freeze. You don’t know what to do. It seems like you can’t even hear the music at all with how hard you’re heart is pounding in your ears.

Hoseok must have noticed your hesitance as he puts his hands on your wrists which causes you to look at him.

“Hey, just breathe. It’s just me, you and the music.”

He places your hands on his shoulders and his arms at your sides pull your hips closer to him. As the music plays, his arms around your waist guide you into a soft sway along to the beat.

“See? Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head at him, still a little timid but starting to move your hips along to the music on your own.

Feeling more emboldened as time passes, you pull back from him a little, and let the music guide your movements. Your hands drop to your sides, slowly dragging them up your body as you continue your hypnotic sway from side to side. You try to channel all of the grace and sex appeal of your favorite female artists into your movements, imagining a movement and forcing your body to execute it exactly.

At first you don’t pay attention to Hoseok, your eyes opting to drift closed so you can focus on hearing the music and translating it into dancing. But at the sound of someone clearing their throat your head snaps back up to stare at the man sitting directly before you.

Big mistake. His eyes are focused on you, staring intently at you and every move you make. It causes you to falter a bit in your movements, but you quickly recover, not wanting him to notice how much he affects you. He looks… uncomfortable? Weird because you’ve never seen him look like that before, ever. He’s always the picture of calm, cool and collected. But now… now his eyes are blown out, pupils wide and…you could swear you saw his eyes flicker over your frame once before he wets his lips and shifts in his seat.

Mostly because you want to get away from his heated gaze but partly because you feel strangely emboldened by his reaction you begin to tease him more, starting a slow walk around the chair like he had done to you earlier. Unfortunately for you, he can still see you in the mirrored wall of the studio and he is looking straight at you, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. You meet his eyes with a stare of your own, the room silent except for the music that plays softly in the background.

It’s almost as if you are in some sort of competition. As if he’s testing you to see whether you really have the guts to do what he asked of you. And if there was one thing about you, it was the fact that you really, really liked to prove people wrong.

Biting your lip, you tentatively place your hands on the back of his chair, the tips of your fingers lightly touching the top of his shoulders.

To your surprise, he captures your fingers in his own hands, dragging your hands down to rest properly around his neck. At this point, you are just slightly swaying in time to the beat of the music, nerves shooting through your body at a rapid pace. Your eyes fall close, head tilted down at your toes in favor of looking at him.

However, your head snaps back up again once he speaks.

“You’re doing well. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Well, piss me off and this is what happens.”

“Really? That’s all it takes? A couple fighting words and you’re moving like this? Remind me to piss you off more often then.”

“Please don’t. Between you and my best friend I don’t think my blood pressure can take much more than this. Any higher and I’m finished.”

He chuckles lowly and your too busy admiring the deep timbre of his laugh so close to your ear that you don’t notice he’s pulling you around to face him until your standing right in front of him again.

His hands find their way to your hips but this time they’re timid. You freeze, standing between his parted legs, so close, your hands braced against his shoulders as you stare down at him. He seems to be just as frozen, seemingly shocked still by the proximity of your body to his. His hands maintain their light hold on your hips, not wanting to push you farther than your willing to go, as if he’s waiting on you to make your next move. It’s cute… his hesitance. He’s being polite, an action you’d never expect to come out of the usually cocky man sitting before you, and your thankful. It gives you the much needed confidence to continue, your movements becoming bolder, raunchier.

And suddenly you’re pushing off from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as your move in time to the music. You don’t watch him for long though, it’ll only make you more nervous than you already are. You can already feel that sudden burst of confidence starting to dwindle but you don’t want to give in to nerves now. You’ve come to far.

You spin around, continuing with that same sensual sway before you bend over suddenly at the drop of a beat, your head down by your knees and your hand at your feet. You don’t know where all this is coming from. How you are doing it. You must be pulling from the mental compartment of all the dance moves from female artists you had admired but could never pull off.

Whatever the case may be, you know one thing for certain, you are doing what feels right. It’s just you and the music and your body is responding to it. What you have yet to realize, however, is that the man in the chair is also responding to something. And it isn’t the music.

_____

Hoseok watches as you slowly drag yourself back up, turning yourself around to face him again. The whole time he just has a front row to seat to your ass. I mean it’s just there. He’s starting to think this was a bad idea, but in his defense, he didn’t know you’d turn out to be such a fucking tease. Once you let your guard down, he couldn’t deny that you actually had some moves. There was some rhythm in your bones somewhere. Buried deep, deep down beneath all that ice.

But soon Hoseok is losing focus again as your shimmying turns into a slow stalk towards him. Your face – determined, concentrated, his – apprehensive, and so unbelievably turned on.

You grab for the back of his neck with one hand, drawing your faces close, as you sink down on his thigh, beginning a slow grind there.

Yep, definitely a bad idea, he thinks.

Where was all this coming from? You had to be fucking with him. You must’ve known how to dance all along because this is ridiculous. No, it’s ridiculous how turned on he is right now and you haven’t even done much but move your hips.

Well, now you’re grinding said hips on his thigh and that’s ten times more distracting. It doesn’t make sense really. He’s seen way better dancers – at strips clubs, some of his fellow coworkers, hell even some of the half-drunken girls at parties he’s been to. He’s seen all the tricks, the way they oozed sexuality with each and every movement. But there was something about you that held him hostage. He was intoxicated. By what he doesn’t know.

It must be your eyes. So dark and captivating, yet so innocent at the same time. Or maybe it was the fact that you did prove him wrong. And he didn’t know whether to be thankful or resent the fact that you did…

He’s not sure, but for the life of him he hopes you don’t notice his body’s reaction in response to your actions.

_____

Holy shit, you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Grabbing his neck and taking a seat on his lap seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that you’re behind made contact with his thighs? Different story. But still…you want to prove him wrong. Not just that, you want to prove to yourself that you could do this. So, summoning all the courage you had left in you, you ground down on him. Your hand still holding his neck, your faces mere inches apart as you ground your hips into his crotch. The shocked expression on his face and his blown out pupils only encouraged you, urging you to move faster, grind just a bit harder.

"You didn’t tell me you could move like this,” he mutters lowly, so lowly that if anyone else were to be in the room, only you would be able to hear him.

You falter slightly, not expecting his voice because it felt like ages ago since either one of you spoke. However, you quickly recover, composing yourself to reply to him.

“I didn’t know I could.”

He glances down, then back up. “Clearly you can.”

At this point your faces are even closer than you were before, nose to nose, and his hands have once again found their way to your waist. He doesn’t control your movements, as he did before, instead his hands seem to follow your lead, allowing you to remain in control.

The gesture is subtle, but you pick up on it nonetheless. It’s sweet, you think, how he’s not forcing you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, allowing you to be in control of your body.

You find yourself leaning forward, something about him drawing you in. You are staring into eyes and his intense gaze meets your own right back. You also find that your lower half has migrated from the end of his thighs to closer and closer to his crotch. And what you find there makes your breath hitch, voice caught in your throat.

If he knows that you noticed the slight bulge forming in his pants he doesn’t say anything. And neither do you. Instead the both of you just continue to stare at each other. Your hips have halted all movement, the room silent except for your heavy breaths and the sound of the music in the background.

Your arms are still around his neck and the position is intimate so intimate, but you don’t pull away.

He looks up at you, bottom lip between his teeth, as he studies you, and he looks like he’s about to say something but at that moment the door to the studio swings open and you are scrambling off his lap in an instant. Your butt makes contact with the hard wood of the floor and you wince. Hoseok had been nice enough to try to save you from your inevitable fall but when he couldn’t he offers you a hand up instead.

Your eyes snap to the man in the doorway when you hear him start to speak.

“Sorry, am I… interrupting something?” The man queries, the expression on his face puzzled and slightly uncomfortable.

“No, not at all!” Hoseok blurts, then composes himself, “I was just in the middle of a lesson, what do you need Jungkook?”

“Sorry, uh right. I was wondering if you could cover my class tomorrow? The 8-10 year olds? I got a group assignment for school I can’t miss.”

“No problem. Why didn’t you just text me?”

“You weren’t answering your phone. I figured you were in here rehearsing like always, I didn’t know you had a lesson going on, sorry.” The kid does look sincerely remorseful for barging in on you guys but you couldn’t help but find his wide eyes and puppy-dog expression cute. Speaking of cute, you were starting to wonder whether being attractive was a requirement for working here because so far everyone you had come into contact with was insanely good-looking.

“It’s okay. I guess I didn’t tell you I had a lesson tonight.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking slightly out o breath even though he wasn’t the one dancing. Gesturing between you both, he introduces you to each other and says, “You have got to stop meeting my friends this way. But all this is telling me is that my friends lack manners and need to learn how to knock.”

Jungkook blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he glances at you and gives you a small wave. Adorable.

You wave back, smiling politely as you ask him, “So Jungkook, you’re a dance instructor here too?”

“Yep. I mostly lead the children’s hip hop classes but I assist in the adult classes occasionally.”

Hoseok claps his hands together, “Alright, I think Jungkook’s intrusion wraps up our lesson. Kook I’ll see you later. Text me the details of the class so I know what I’m doing when I get there okay?” Jungkook nods his okay and they say their goodbyes. Once the door swings closed again Hoseok turns to see you have already started collecting your things.

“Your friends seem so much sweeter than you.”

“Here we go again, you assuming you know my friends better than I do when you don’t.”

“What?” you shrug. “The kid’s adorable. Like a cute little puppy.”

“Yeah, well sorry you’re stuck with me. JK doesn’t do private lessons.” You zip up your backpack and throw it over your shoulder as you stand, turning to face him. “Aww that’s too bad. Maybe I can get him to make an exception?” You put your finger to your chin in thought.

“You really didn’t do too bad today you know.”

You’re confused by the sudden change in topic but his next statement clears it up for you.

“Your dancing. It was actually… pretty good.”

You blush at the compliment. Really? He really thought you did well? You don’t know why you are surprised because you could obviously tell by his body language a few minutes ago that he was into it but…it felt good to hear him say it.

“Uh, thanks.” You say like an idiot. God why did words fail you at the most inopportune of times.

“No problem. See, I told you all you needed was a little push.”

You smile and nod at him again (like an idiot) but you can’t help it. You don’t know what to say. It’s like you were suddenly overwhelmed with a fresh wave of nerves.

“Well it’s getting late. I guess I’ll head out.”

“Right, uh, I-I’m gonna go now too. Uh, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He flashes his megawatt smile at you and you feel the butterflies stir.

Sending one more tight smile has way you turn on your heel and make your way to the door as quickly as you can without actually running.

God, what did you get yourself into?

.

.

.

A week later you are sitting at the shitty desk in the shitty building of your shitty job.

In case it wasn’t clear enough, you really didn’t like your job.

Originally you had took it because you thought it would be a good entryway into the publishing world. Turns out you were just doing the job of a glorified intern, answering phone calls, responding to emails, and (you guessed it) going on the occasional coffee run.

Fucking secretarial work. You should have known this is what you would be doing when you applied, really. You had thought this job would give you exposure to the world of writing, publishing, and editing but sadly you were wrong. The lengths of your exposure spanned asking a client what day of the week worked best for them to meet with a staff member to discuss their work.

Thankfully, with only one semester left in school, you wouldn’t have to wait long until you could apply for work that you actually wanted to do. Once you figured that out, exactly. At only 24, most people would say you were doing well for yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel as if life was passing you by and everyone was leaving you behind.

You took a break from school for a year to save up enough money to go back but when you did, it wasn’t easy. Who knew taking a year off could make it so hard to get back into the groove of things? You had to grind full time for awhile in order to catch up. In the meantime though, you were stuck here.

Currently, you were supposed to be responding to emails but you were attending to much more important business.

Chae: So y'all bumped and grinded on each other… and he almost kissed you. I’m struggling to see the downside to all this

You: I said it felt like we were gonna kiss, not 'he almost kissed me’ Big difference.

Chae: Sounds the same to me

You: And the downside is that now things are going to be awkward between us. We were actually starting to become cordial with each other, dare i say friends even. now that’s all shot to shit

Chae: It’s only awkward if you make it awkward ;)

You: Exactly! Have you met me?!

Chae: You’re overreacting! He obviously likes you so quit worrying.

You: Oh yeah? What makes you so sure of that?

Chae: He let you dance on him for 15 minutes and popped a stiffy from it. I think he likes you.

You: I have got to stop telling you every little thing about my life.

Chae: Try as hard as you want but I’ll pry it out of you sooner or later!

Just as you were about to type out a snarky reply in response, your phone pinged with the alert of a new message.

But it wasn’t from Chaeyoung.

It was from Hoseok.

Hoseok: Hey

And then, another ping, alerting you that second message had come in.

Hoseok: I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel our lesson tomorrow. I have a thing I gotta go to. Hope you understand :)

Great. Now he was cancelling on you. Must be trying to avoid you after what happened last session. Chaeyoung wasn’t always right, as she liked to believe.

You: Yeah, well if he likes me so much why did he cancel our lesson tomorrow?

Chae: What?

You: Yep. He cancelled just now. Said he had a 'thing’

Chae: Ppl have to go to 'things’ all the time. Relax. I can 100% bet that he still likes you

You: Sure (◔_◔)

And that was the end of that conversation because eventually you did get back to work, even if all you did was pretend to organize the files in your already alphabetically-coded drawer. By the time it was time to clock out you were already packed up and ready to go, all you were waiting on was the clock to hit 6pm.

You had absolutely no plans today, a rare occasion that you got to go home and not have to worry about how you were going to finish several assignments for classes that you a) had little to no time on, or b) had ample time for but procrastinated on.

All you wanted was to go home and curl up in front of your couch with your dinner.

You gasped. Dinner. It was sad to say, but you had absolutely no food in your home to make a warm home cooked meal tonight. With your roommate having gone to visit her family back home, the house had been even emptier than usual. And you were too lazy to go grocery shopping tonight, it would have to wait until the weekend. So, as you got in your car you pondered your options for where you would be getting your next meal from.

There was a Korean place nearby that you had always wanted to try. You guess now was the perfect opportunity unless you wanted to go home and put together a dinner made out of cereal dust and cup ramen.

As appetizing as that sounded (it didn’t), you quickly changed lanes, heading for the restaurant a few miles away from you.

When you got there you were surprised. Not by the decor, or by the delicious smell of food wafting through the air, but because the man standing directly in front of you looked like your dance instructor. You hadn’t memorized the back of his head or anything, but you were pretty sure this was Hoseok standing in front of you and not some eerily similar doppelganger.

He stood in line waiting to order his food, hat pulled down low over his eyes and head buried in his phone. He hadn’t noticed you yet, thankfully, and you took this time to ponder whether you should make yourself known or just go home to your sad dinner of cereal flakes and cup noodles.

The last time you two talked you had turned into a awkward, stuttering mess, so wanting to save yourself the embarrassment of having to go through that again, you had decided to slip out as inconspicuously as possible.

No luck. Unfortunately, Hoseok chose that moment to look up from his phone, swiveling his neck around on his shoulders for a stretch.

You were backing away quietly toward the door so you saw the exact moment Hoseok recognized you, double taking to confirm that it was in fact you. You hear your name fall from his lips in question and you resist the urge to visibly wince.

“Hoseok!” You say feigning enthusiasm. “What’re you doing here?” The fake smile plastered on your face is probably terrifying.

“Just grabbing dinner. My buddy owns this place so I get a nice discount. You grabbing dinner too?”

“Yeah, yep.” Jesus, fuck. “Though I don’t have a friend who works here so I guess I’ll be paying full price.” How much longer did you have to endure this torture?

He laughs at that, and it does something weird to your stomach. The butterflies are acting up again, but this time it isn’t due to nerves.

“Listen, I’m really sorry I had to cancel our lesson. It’s just there’s something I forgot about and…”

You interject to help move the conversation along. You do not want to talk about dance, or lessons, or anything at all right now.

“Hey, no worries. I get it. You make me out to be way more devastated than I actually am.”

He laughs again saying, “Stop lying. You would’ve quit weeks ago if you didn’t like dancing at least a little.”

Maybe he was right. You don’t know. You certainly didn’t hate it as much as you did when you started, but love? Hmm, must be still getting there. You force your other theory, the one where you decided to keep up the lessons because of the person teaching them, down deep into the recesses of your brain. 

You go to answer him but before any of you can say anything else, it’s Hoseok’s turn in line.

He greets the host comfortably, they seem to know each other, presumably because Hoseok’s friend owns the place and he must come here all the time.

“Jaehyun, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“Good, good. Me and the wife took a vacation away from the kids and lemme tell you, best sleep I’ve had in a long time. You still working for that crappy boss of yours?”

Crappy boss? As far as you knew Hoseok seemed to be comfortable with his job at the studio. You had even met the owner one time and she didn’t seem to be a total stick in the ass. In fact it was quite the opposite. You remember you had been running late to practice after work one day, struggling to lug your bag, your change of clothes and sneakers all into the studio. The owner had been passing by when she saw you and kindly offered to give you a hand. But then again, some people tended acted different towards their employees versus a paying customer.

“No, no I quit not too long ago. Seokjin here today?”

“Oh really? And yeah he’s in the back. I can go grab him for you if you want-” The host, Jaehyun says, already making his way to the back of the restaurant.

“No need. I’ll see him later no doubt.” Hoseok replies.

“Alright. You want the usual, to go?”

“Actually,” Hoseok glances at you,“I think I’ll eat here tonight. Can I get a table for two?”

“Sure, no problem.” You see Jaehyun’s eyes land on you standing awkwardly off to the side before they’re back on Hoseok, “Just give me a minute.”

You’re confused. Was Hoseok meeting up with someone? That’s the only plausible reason for him asking for a table for a table for two. You panic. What if he meeting up with a date? God you needed to hurry up and order your food so you could get the hell out of there.

But then Hoseok is turning to you, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Have dinner with me?” he says.

“What?” You must have misheard.

He laughs, though this time you don’t know why. “I said have dinner with me. Come on, I could use the company. Unless… you have other plans?” And for a moment he looks disappointed.

Yeah, your other plans consisted of curling up on your couch and stuffing your face of bulgolgi but you don’t tell him that. In fact, you’re starting to think you must be a masochist because despite your nerves just a moment ago you agree to eat with him anyway.

“Uh, no. No plans.” you mumble.

“Great, so you’ll eat with me?”

You nod tentatively in response and that elicits a wide smile from him that lights up his face like the sun. You sigh, following Hoseok to a table near the back of the restaurant. You’re more whipped than you thought.

The food is good, oh my god it’s so good. Why hadn’t you come here sooner?

You’re in the middle of shoving another serving of pork belly into your mouth when Hoseok (who you had honestly forgotten was there) speaks.

“Whoa, slow down. A-are you even chewing? Please tell me you’re chewing and not just inhaling your food.”

You moan around a spoonful of sliced beef, rice, and vegetables, the spices meshing together and hitting your tongue just right. “Can’t talk. Eating.”

He shakes his head, attention now on his own food and making sure the meat on the grill between you doesn’t burn.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to put in a little extra for chef then. He never cooks like this when I’m by myself.”

You stop eating mid-chew, tearing your eyes away from the table to shoot him a look. “Hoseok, I don’t know if this is what I think you mean but you’re not paying for my food.”

“I already told you, it’s your first time here so don’t worry about it. Plus, it’s the least I can do for disrupting a busy woman such as yourself.”

Something about the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his face while he says it gives you the impression that he knew you had absolutely nothing better to do tonight.

At his words, you momentarily forget your argument and say, “Excuse me. I’ll have you know I am very busy, okay? So drop the sarcasm. I had several plans lined up for tonight.” You huff indignantly. 

“Oh yeah, like what?” he queries looking up at you in between turning the meet over on the grill. 

Shit. “Like... you know. Stuff,” you shrug. 

His light cackle fills the air and you would be more upset that he was laughing at you if said laugh didn’t warm your insides and bring a smile to your own lips. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before.”

“Me neither. And I’ll be beating myself up everyday for not having come sooner. This is fucking delicious.”

“Yeah, I know,” an amused expression crosses his face as he resumes watching you scarf down the rest of your meal. “Save some for me, yeah?”

“You snooze you lose.” Comes your retort, already reaching for your next mouthful of food. “You said you’re friend owns this place?”

“Yes he does. The friend’s name is Kim Seokjin. That’s me. I’m Kim Seokjin.” You register that another voice has entered the conversation and you look behind Hoseok to see a handsome man smiling brightly at the pair of you, his hands resting on good-naturedly on Hoseok’s shoulders.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying my food. If you’re going to get anything out of this date I’m glad it’s a good meal.” Seokjin says to you.

This time, you do choke. Coughing hysterically, you reach for your glass of water in an effort to clear your throat. Date? Hoseok’s friend thinks you were on a date.

Just great, add more fuel to your fantasies.

Hoseok blanches, looking back at Seokjin to clarify. “Seokjin, you know damn well I stopped bringing my dates here after what happened the last time.”He gestures to you, “This is ___. She does lessons with me.”

No longer coughing up a lung like a madwoman, you shyly wave in greeting when Seokjin looks your way.

“Nice to meet you ___. Ignore him, I’m sure anything I said at the time was perfectly appropriate.”

“You told her I can only get it up if we’re both cosplaying as titans from that weird cartoon you watch!”

“Anime, Hoseok, it’s called anime. And your kink is nothing to be ashamed of! There are plenty communities of people out there with the same fetish. I just had to give your date a warning in case she wasn’t into that sorta thing. I was only doing you a favor.” Seokjin shrugs.

Hoseok huffs in frustration and you chuckle quietly at their antics. Seokjin, hmm? So far you think you like this guy. You haven’t seen Hoseok this flustered in… ever.

The squabbling between the pair dies down and you tune back into the conversation when Seokjin turns serious.

“How’s things going at the firm 'seok? That place keeping you busy?”

All of a sudden Hoseok looks, nervous? And not the flustered kind of nervous he was just a moment ago when Seokjin was teasing him. He’s more anxious than anything. He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck before he replies,

“Yeah, I uh… I quit actually.” he mutters sheepishly.

You think Seokjin’s eyes are going to pop out of his head with how far they bug out of their sockets. “Quit? What do you mean quit? Since when?”

Hoseok glares at the other man, as if trying to telepathically communicate that he should keep his voice down.

He elaborates, “I don’t know, about a month ago? Listen, it’s not a big deal.”

Seokjin bellows with laughter at that, a hand placed on Hoseok’s shoulder for balance as he doubles over in mirth. Once he comes to again, he wipes a tear from his eye dramatically and straightens up.

“Ha, good one. Not a big deal? Wasn’t that your old man’s dream for you your whole entire life and it’s 'not a big deal’?”

Hoseok winces at that and you’re starting to realize that this conversation is venturing into personal matters. Personal matters that are obviously a very touchy subject for Hoseok if his reaction is anything to go by.

“Yeah, well it’s not my old man’s life to live now is it?”

Hoseok says lowly and at that the conversation halts for several moments.

You’re thankful for the chatter of other patrons, the sounds of metal hitting ceramic, and the distant street noise coming from outside or this long lull in the conversation would have been way more awkward than it already is. You are beginning to wonder whether you should just leave enough money on the table to pay your half of the bill and go home but then Hoseok is speaking again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that it’s just… I was tired of people telling me what I should be doing, especially my dad. So, I quit. I never liked that job anyway.”

Seokjin nods his head in understanding. “No, I get it. I’m glad you’re out actually. You always seemed so miserable there and you never had time to hang out anymore. I take it you’re at the studio full time now?”

“Yep. I’ve felt better than I have in a long time too. Despite being on my feet most days I feel like I have more energy than I ever have working in that hellhole.”

“Good. I’m proud of you. What did your dad say?”

That anxious look is back on Hoseok’s face.

“Funny story. I kind of… haven'ttoldhimyet.” The last part of his sentence is rushed and muttered under his breath but Seokjin still clearly manages to hear what he had said.

“You what?! Hoseok, you have to tell him! It’s gonna crush him but he needs to know.”

Hoseok swats at Seokjin’s head as if trying to shoo him away when he leaned closer to shout at the man sitting in the booth before him.

“I know, I’m working on it. I just need time. That’s why I didn’t tell you right away. You can’t your mouth shut for shit.” Seokjin places a hand on his chest, offended

“Excuse you I can keep secrets, especially the one you’re keeping from your dad right now. Just tell him soon, he’s gonna find out eventually.”

“I know, I’m just not ready yet. But I will be! Soon.”

Hoseok starts playing with fingers dejectedly and Seokjin looks down at him pityingly.

He looks so sad and small, and the sight tugs at your heart strings immensely. Suddenly Seokjin turns to you as if just now remembering you had been sitting there the entire time.

“I don’t think you can blame me for scaring off your date this time Hoseok. This was all you buddy.” Seokjin says with a pat to the other man’s shoulder, most likely trying to lighten the mood.

“Again, not a date. And I still blame you. You’re the one who asked me about my job.” Hoseok counters.

“Fine,” Seokjin brushes Hoseok off with a huff before he turns back to you. “But I still feel bad. Tell you what, I’ll throw in a free dessert, any one you want, on the house.”

“Oh it’s ok, you don’t have to-” you begin but Hoseok cuts you off.

“She’ll take it. She’s not even paying so I’ll take any discounts I can get.”

“Oh, well in that case, it’s standard price and extra for any extra toppings.” He turns back to you, “I recommend getting the sweet rice cakes with red bean paste. Absolutely delicious.”

Hoseok bristles. “Isn’t that the most expensive thing on the dessert men-”

“And with that I bid you all adew! Nice meeting you ___. And Hoseok, tell your dad about the thing!”

Seokjin shouts as he makes his way back to wherever the hell he came from. You barely had time to say goodbye as you watch him disappear toward the back of the restaurant.

You can’t help but smile as you observe Hoseok expression, elbows propped up on the table as he rubs his temples in annoyance.

“I like him,” you say decisively.

Hoseok still has his eyes closed when he replies.

“And the saga continues. How many more of my friends can you meet without taking an instant liking to them over me?”

“It depends, how many more friends do you have?”

His eyes snap open.

“None. No more. Seokjin was the last of ‘em. I’m a very lonely guy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

You nod along dismissively. Hoseok was, generally, a very freindly guy (aside from that one fluke the first night you had met him), so you doubted any of that was true. 

“Listen, I’m sorry you had to see all that. Seokjin just kept prying. He must’ve forgotten we were in public. Or he didn’t care,” a pause, “He just didn’t care.” he declares.

You decide not to give him a hard time especially after hearing some things he probably never meant for you to hear.

“Don’t apologize. I get it, we all have overbearing parents, some more so than others.”

He laughs bitterly, “Yeah, my dad’s one of the more overbearing types I guess. Fucking sucks, really.”

You give him a pitying smile to try and convey that you understand where he’s coming from but you don’t, not really.

Your parents had always been pretty supportive of you, always letting you try whatever little activity caught your eye only to inevitably drop it two weeks later in favor of a new one. Your dad had always said “Let the girl try it. It’ll build her character,” all those times your mom got fed up with your lack of commitment to any one thing. You tried basketball (no hand-eye coordination at all) and drawing (too meticulous) and martial arts (sports just weren’t your thing) until you found something you did like. Writing. You had always loved reading and writing, so much so that you had joined the neighborhood book club (that was only comprised of retirement aged grandmas and a sprinkle of middle aged moms) to discuss your favorite books. In high school, you had become an active participant in the creative writing club, even going so far as to become the vice-president in your senior year.

So no, it didn’t really make much sense to you when someone told you they had an overbearing parent. Why would you want to limit your child by putting them in a box of what you think he or she is capable of doing?

So, as you sit there and wonder what you’re life would have been like if your parents didn’t let you experience these things, Hoseok continues.

“My dad he’s… he’s not a bad guy it’s just, he’s got a fixed idea of what I should be doing with my life.”

“Ohh.” You blank in recognition. “Let me guess, you don’t want to do that do you?” you query.

Hoseok nods. “Ever since I was little he was always saying ‘go to college, study something practical, get a high paying job.’ It’s like he never stopped to consider what I wanted.”

You nod, finally understanding. “Sometimes people just want the best for their kids but they don’t realize that their hurting them in the process.”

Hoseok’s eyes glimmer with the excitement that someone finally gets it. “Exactly. I’d just wish he realize that what’s best for me is doing what I want to do, not living out whatever plan he had laid out for me.”

“And what is it? That you want to do?” You ask. The answer should be obvious.

It is obvious. The man looks like he lives and breathes dance. Often more times than not he is a couple minutes late to your lessons because he got held up rehearsing for his own showcase, or staying behind to help a few of his other students with a difficult part of the choreography. Whatever plan he has laid out for himself you know dancing is an integral part of it. That’s why it does not come as a surprise to you when he says,

“Dance. I love it.”

You gasp, sarcasm laced in your tone, “I never would’ve guessed!”

He smiles. “I’m not sure how far I can go with this. I just know that it comes as natural to me as breathing and I never want to stop. And I want to make a living doing something I love, ya know? God, forbid I get into a freak accident or something. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” He chuckles but you don’t doubt for one second that he is dead serious. You admire his passion and his bravery for getting out there and actively seeking out what he wants. Most kids wouldn’t dare defy their parents, even if it means sacrificing their own happiness.

Hoseok didn’t, refused, to settle. It’s admirable.

“I’m proud of you.” you say seriously.

“What?”

“I said I’m proud of you. I know I’m not your dad and I don’t have some lifelong bond with you that would warrant you wanting my approval, but, if it means anything, I’m proud of you. For living your life the way you want to.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly awestruck by the fact that you didn’t say anything sarcastic, or slightly insulting, for once. It’s actually quite…nice. He’s not sure how to respond yet but his body warms a little inside at your remark.

“Uh, thanks. Yeah, i-it does mean something. Means a lot.” And he’s back to sheepish again, his face turning a cute shade of tomato red in response.

You learn a lot about Hoseok that night. He was two years older than you, for one, and apparently he had a degree in business analytics, which was… completely not Hoseok to say the least.

In other words it was extremely shocking to you, but it was something he had completed at the insistence of his father. He had been working in sales for about a year when he decided to call it quits. Ever since he’s been working at the studio full time as an instructor. He makes significantly less money now, but at least now he doesn’t dread the thought of waking up to go to a job he never liked in the first place.

He shows you his instagram page (something you had already studied extensively after that night Chaeyoung had discovered it) where he posts his original choreography and clips of the showcases he’s done. He tells you he’s been meaning to start up a YouTube channel where he can post longer clips and tutorials. The whole time he speaks rather excitedly about it all, like a little kid talking about their favorite cartoon. It’s endearing, seeing his eyes light up like stars as he talks about his goals. He even tells you he wants to open up his own studio one day, although something about the way he says it makes him seem unsure if of it’s possibility, uncertainty flooding his irises and replacing that shiny glimmer.

You tell him to go for it. You have full faith in him that he’ll have a studio to call his own in no time. You’ve seen the comments under his videos, praising him, begging him to upload step-by-step tutorials so they can learn the choreography for themselves. You have no doubt that anyone who’s serious about dance will want to train under him, you included. And so you tell him that. He’s already come this far, why stop now?

The conversation even ventures into your own career. Wherever that’s headed. You tell him you’re in your last semester of school and about you’re major in English literature. It’s something you always liked but you’ve been unsure of the kind of career you wanted to pursue. There seemed to be too many options, yet none at all. You weren’t conducive to teaching, if what happened in the 7th grade when you tried to tutor little Johnny from next door was anything to go by, then yeah – it was best you left teaching alone.

Hoseok tells you that you and his dad might get along. He was a literature teacher, though more of the Korean literature variety. He then asks you if you’d ever be an author. You like writing but how often do people become successful authors and make a decent living off of it?

“If you’re any good you’ll make it. You should let me read some of your work. I’m an honest critic, I swear.” Hoseok says. Hoseok is the last person you’ll ever let read your silly drabbles and poetic musings. Honest critic or not, there’s still something raw, vulnerable about letting anyone, let alone him, read your work.

And you hate to admit it but you had a feeling you’d value his opinion a little more than you’d like to.

You both continue to talk, your conversation surprisingly deep, as you finish up your meals. Hoseok had ended up ordering the sweet rice cakes even though you told him not to. But boy are you glad he didn’t listen. One bite in and you feel like you have died and gone straight to sticky rice heaven.

Hoseok also gets away with paying the bill, despite your loud protests against it. Although you do manage to slip him a twenty, refusing to take another lesson from him if he doesn’t keep it.

You actually had fun tonight, not something you had thought you would be saying when you first stepped into the restaurant and saw Hoseok standing in line. But now… now you don’t want the night to end.

Thankfully, Hoseok, must not either, which is why he offers to take you to a nifty little ice cream parlor that he swears has the best soft serve in town. Two desserts in one night isn’t exactly ideal, but neither of you are complaining. Now as you sit on a bench outside slurping on your quickly melting double chocolate fudge cone, you are content. The softly flowing waters of the river before you provide calming background noise to the otherwise quiet night.

“So have you applied what you learned in an actual club yet or what?” Hoseok says between licks of his mint chocolate chip ice cream.

You choke on your ice cream (you don’t know how but you do).

“Ex-scuse me?” You mumble around a bite of the cold dessert.

Hoseok chuckles at your flustered response.

“When was the last time you’ve been to a club?” he asks again.

“Um- awhile actually. And I’m not exactly thrilled to go back.” Your surprised Chaeyoung hasn’t dragged you out to yet another club in weeks. She must be busy. That or she’s just giving you time to get settled with these lessons before she forces you onto a club dance floor.

“You should go back. See if you’ve improved at all.”

“Well I better have or you’re a terrible teacher and I want my money back.”

He just shakes his head rather than dignifying your comment with a response.

“So tell me,” he begins, “What’s the real reason you decided to take my lessons?”

“Huh?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“You heard me. You can’t just be taking lessons because ‘you want to learn how to dance in a club.’ I had a feeling you were lying when you first told me but I didn’t want to push it. So tell me, why are you really here?” He queries, eyes squinted at you in suspicion.

Try as you might to deny it, he’s onto something. Although this whole thing had started because Chaeyoung suggested that you get lessons to get over your fear of club dancing, perhaps you definitely had ulterior motives when you initially agreed. You guess Hoseok was starting to catch on that you can’t just be taking his lessons for something as silly as dancing in a sweaty, grimy club. And he was right. So you tell him the truth.

“My dad, he was in a group when he was younger. He and his friends started it up expecting nothing serious to come out of it, but they eventually started seeing some success in it. They started competing in competitions which blossomed into them winning a few. They even became back up dancers for a couple of the local artists in his town. My dad used to tell me all about his days as a street dancer and he seemed so happy then.“

You relay the story of your father’s background, a faint smile on your face as you are reminded of all those times he used to sit you on his lap and tell you all about his glory days.

"They were dancers of the popping/locking variety.” You gesture to Hoseok, him most likely being familiar with the technique. “And he wanted to make a career out of it too but, I don’t know – life happened I guess. He met my mom and pretty soon I was here.” Hoseok is nodding along, paying attention to your every word as you tell him your family history.

“It was an unplanned pregnancy but my parents weren’t upset or anything. They just… adjusted. My dad had to put his dream on hold to support us, especially with his father-in-law breathing down his neck that he needed to get a real job to support my mom and me. So, he eventually settled down. He made decent money, so he never really complained but he never did get back to dancing. Not really.”

You shrug thinking about your childhood with your father. He was the best dad, always there for you, making you laugh, but more often than not you would spot something somber floating in the depths of his eyes. Something just below the surface, but subdued enough to make you believe you needn’t worry.

“But as long as I remember he was always dancing.” You remember those early mornings, waking up to soft music playing as your dad danced with your mom in the kitchen, her shrieking at him to stop fooling around before she burned the pancakes and, him, laughing heartily as he tried to coax her into a swing.

“He loved it. Dancing was his passion. Kinda like you really.” You pause to look at him.

“He tried to get me into it but I never took, obviously. I guess that’s why, now, I’m trying to pay homage to him. I don’t know it sounds stupid but, I want to connect with him in some way and dancing is the only way I know how.”

You didn’t mean to tell Hoseok this much about your personal life but once you started talking, it was hard to stop. Hoseok was a surprisingly good listener, but more than that you realized that it had been a long while since you talked about your father. You figured that you needed to get this off your chest and Hoseok generously lended an ear to listen.

Hoseok makes sure your looking at him before he says, genuinely, “It doesn’t sound stupid. Not at all.”

His words strike a chord in you and you feel grateful that you joined him tonight.

He holds eye contact with you for long after he finishes speaking. It’s too quiet, the only sounds you hear are the gentle pitter patter of the water before you, and you swear you can hear both of your breaths, slow and heavy. He holds your gaze and… did his eyes drop down to your lips or are you hallucinating? If they did it happens too fast for your soju-riddled brain to comprehend because now his eyes (if they ever left) are back up at yours. His stare is intense, too intense, which is why you find yourself snapping out of your haze and averting your eyes to your rapidly melting ice cream.

Hoseok clears his throat, adding some much needed noise to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

“Your dad sounds a lot like me actually. Mind if we switch?” he jokes.

You smile, grateful that the awkwardness from earlier starts to dissipate. “I’d love to but I don’t think it’d be much of a fair trade. My dad died a couple years ago.”

Hoseok winces, his attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, seeming to have worsened it instead. “I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a really great guy.”

“It’s no biggie. He was sick and we knew he would have to pass eventually. And, you’re right, he was a great guy. I have a feeling you guys would’ve gotten along well. Could’ve even given you a couple pointers.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I guess you’re not wrong though. I would’ve loved to learn from a guy like him.”

You smile. “God, now I wish you were his son. You would’ve made a way better student than I did, that’s for sure.”

Hoseok laughs. “Like I said, offers still up to take my old man. He probably would’ve loved another literature nerd to geek out with over similes or metaphors or whatever the hell you all get excited over.”

“I’m more of a sucker for descriptive imagery myself, but to each their own.”

Hoseok snorts around his final bite of his ice cream cone, thoroughly done with this conversation. You continue to lick your ice cream happily, pleased that you got the last word in.

 Hoseok drops you off back at Seokjin’s restaurant to pick up your car and from there you both part ways.

“I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.” he says as you try to fish your keys out of your purse.

Your heart flutters at the prospect of Hoseok wanting to spend more time with you. Finally locating your keys you unlock your car, sending Hoseok a response over your shoulder.

“We should. I severely underestimated you Jung Hoseok. You can be good company when you want to be.”

Salacious smile on his face, he pokes his head through the open window of your seat, his forearms resting against the car door.

“I’m really not that bad once you get to know me ice queen. I just had to get you to warm up to me. I can be good from time to time, but only if you let me.” He winks.

Heat rushes to your cheeks so incredibly fast you’re surprised you don’t pass out from it. God he’s unbelievable. Just when you think you’re getting over this silly crush he starts this to fuck you up all over again.

You groan audibly. “It was nice while it lasted. Goodnight, Hoseok.” you say tersely.

“Night, __! ” He calls cheerily over his shoulder and you watch him incredulously for a little bit before you drive off, headed straight for home.

When you do get home you run over the events of your night from beginning to end, not believing that it started out with you worrying that your next meeting with the dance instructor would be awkward.

You are grabbing some pajamas from your bottom drawer when you hear your phone ping with the alert of a new message.

You grab your phone from its place on the bedside table to read it.

Chae: Suit up, we’re going dancing bb.

You: When?

Chae: This Saturday. And bring your dancing shoes cause I’m inviting a few special guests.

You: Special guests???

Chae: You’ll see ;)

You don’t know what Chaeyoung is up to but you’re certain you don’t like the sound of it. Whatever she’s planning you push it to the back of your mind as you get ready for bed.

And once you do finally settle into the soft sheets of your heavy duvet, it takes you longer than expected to fall asleep. Because all you can think about is how soft Hoseok’s lips would feel pressed against yours if he had kissed you earlier on that park bench. How delicious his taste would’ve been, minty fresh and slightly sweet. How thoroughly you would have wanted his tongue to explore the recesses of your own mouth.

And suddenly you were awake, the growing wetness between your legs an undeniable indication of your desire.

Fucking hell, one little almost-kiss already had you reaching for that tiny motorized bullet in the top drawer of your nightstand. You were screwed.

.

.

.

Taehyung and Yoongi are not what you were thinking when Chae said you’d be having 'special guests’. Yoongi technically didn’t even count as a 'special guest’ anyway since he was working tonight.

And Taehyung came with you guys to the club almost always. You think the only time he skipped was when he had an extremely important final early the next day, but even then, it was like pulling teeth trying to convince him to stay home and get some rest. But when you mention this to Chaeyoung, she tells you they are not the 'special guests’ she was talking about.

You three sit by the bar, chatting with Yoongi while he polishes glassware, occasionally dipping away to attend to real customers. This routine is normal for you, but somehow tonight feels different.

As the night goes on you get more and more wary, truly scared of what Chaeyoung has planned. Everyone’s acting strange. Chae, especially. Sure, you guys make small talk but it’s weird because you all never make small talk. At least small talk this awkward and stilted. Yoongi asks you how your lessons are going and you respond truthfully.

“Kicking my ass but I’m no bitch so I’m getting through it.”

Taehyung jumps in too, trying to make chit-chat about how your last semester at school is treating you. Usually you like talking to Taehyung about these sorts of things. He’s a good listener and gives you surprisingly good advice for someone who’s supposed to be younger than you. But tonight he seems distracted, like he’s only half listening. His eyes dart around the room several times before they inevitably fall back on you, pretending as if they never left.

They aren’t immediately jumping up to gyrate and dry hump the air either, which is also strange. Everyone seems like their waiting on something to happen, yourself included. The difference being that they know what that something is and you don’t. The suspense is killing you.

It was 10pm on a Saturday and you would much rather be at home but you’d be a fool to mess with your friends’ plans. You figured it would be a typical night out. It wasn’t.

For one, Chaeyoung had taken extra care to pick out your outfit for tonight, refusing to let you go with your usual selection of comfort over fashion. She even went as far as asking Taehyung (the resident fashion expert) to stop by a little early to give his opinion. Before you even got a foot out of the house, you were poked and prodded at, not a single hair on your head left out of place.

Now as you sat there in your little red number, you couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about. Last time you checked it wasn’t your birthday, or a special occasion so what on earth was making them act so strange?

But when you spot a familiar head of light brown hair in the crowd you begin to realize.

“You invited Jimin?” you whisper-shout over the loud music to Chae. You can see that said head of light brown hair is making his way towards your section of the bar.

The smile originally directed at the brunette man making his way towards you all immediately disappears at your accusation.

“No. Must be coincidence.” She’s says before flagging Jimin down with an enthusiastic wave of her hand.

Coincidence my ass,you think. Jimin reaches you guys, that friendly smile on his face as he greets you all with a hug. He seems to already be familiar with Taehyung, apparently. This comes as a shock to you and go to ask Chaeyoung if they’ve all been going clubbing without you but something catches your eye. One more head is rapidly approaching your growing group.

“Jimin, what the fuck? I turned around for a second and you were gone.” Says the new visitor.

Jimin turns around to face his friend. “I told you to follow me. Why didn’t you listen?” While they argue you turn your attention to Chaeyoung, that conniving little–

“You invited Hoseok?” You grit out through clenched teeth, doing your best to control your volume so the red-head doesn’t hear you.

When she doesn’t do anything but smile coyly in response you turn your head to Taehyung and Yoongi.

“And you two, you knew didn’t you?”

Taehyung shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry ___. I wanted to tell you but she threatened to cut up all my button-downs if I did.”

“No excuse,” you say mercilessly, then turn to Yoongi who is still polishing that shot glass even though it’s been clean for the past 5 minutes now.

Yoongi looks up, eyebrows perked up at you as if to say, ’oh, you’re talking to me now?’ “I wasn’t threatened.” he says, expression bored. "Chaeyoung told me everything that happened starting with the day you first met him in that grocery store. When she told me her plan I was all in. You need some dick ___. Desperately.“

Taehyung snorts a laugh at that, trying (and failing) to hold it in when you glare at him. Chaeyoung lets out a full belly laugh not caring about the death glare you’re shooting her right now.

You turn back to Yoongi, giving him a taste of your medicine too. "What? I’m only stating the truth. ___, I love you but I can’t have you hanging around me the entire night. My tips were starting to dwindle and,” he leans in as if to tell you some big secret, “this may sound selfish but I like money just a teensy bit more than you.”

You pout childishly at him, about to complain that he’s a terrible friend but you freeze when you hear your name come from the taller of the two men beside you.

“___? Is that you?”

You take a moment before you look at him to calm yourself down. You saw him yesterday and that went fine, just relax. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. Maybe it was the fact that you were seeing him in a club setting, a place you were never really confident in to begin with.

You breathe in and out one last time hoping to god no one notices how long its taking you to gather yourself before you can respond.

But once you do look to Hoseok all your efforts to calm yourself down go to waste because holy fuck does he look good. A long sleeve button-up adorns his frame, the sleeves rolled up to expose his toned forearms. Tight black jeans emphasizing his finely toned legs. Even his hair is styled differently, the tousled red strands now slightly wavy, the curls cascading down his forehead prettily.

You must be taking too long to say something because the next thing you know, Jimin is speaking.

“Oh yeah, it is.” He looks to your friends. “I didn’t know you guys were friends with ___. She takes lessons with Hoseok at the studio. Right, 'seok?” He bumps Hoseok’s shoulder, which jolts him out of whatever haze he was in.

He shoots Jimin a glare, rubbing the spot where he bumped him tenderly. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t know you would be here. Jimin didn’t say he was meeting up with anyone when he dragged me along.”

Hoseok introduces himself to your group of friends, although you’re pretty sure he needs no introduction. Clearly Chaeyoung filled everyone in on exactly who he is.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys but I’m gonna go dance. Jimin? Taehyung? Care to join me?”

Jimin barely even gets out a “Sure, why not?” before Taehyung and Chae drag him off to the dance floor.

And then there were three. You turn to Yoongi, thankful for his presence. “Yoongi do-”

“Save that thought, I’ve got to attend to those paying customers over there. Be right back.” Yoongi says, heading towards the couple a few barstools down. They seem to be far more interested in their own conversation that you doubt they were even trying to get the bartender’s attention at all.

So far you’ve concluded two things from being out tonight. 1) You were friends with conniving little snakes, and 2) you needed new friends.

You hear Hoseok pulling out the seat next to you and you’re nerves shoot up all over again due to the fact that the two of you are all alone.

His eyes are back on you again and you feel self-conscious, not used to wearing something so revealing, especially in front of him. His eyes appraise you, and you swear you can feel your gut doing backflips inside you.

“You look great, you know. Red looks good on you.” Hoseok says genuinely.

“Thanks.” You give him a once over. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

”'Too bad?’ Wow, you really know how to compliment a guy, don’t you?“ He says but you can tell he’s not offended by the way he chuckles lightly at your comment.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, you sipping greedily on the drink in front of you as a way to calm your nerves. You’ve never been an avid drinker, but apparently tonight you are. Before you know it you’re a little past tipsy, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body like a reassuring blanket. Your nerves are put to the test again, however, when Hoseok decides to break the silence.

“About the other night, I’m sorry again I had to cancel our lesson. My sister’s wedding is coming up and mom wanted everyone home for a family dinner. I wasn’t flaking on you or anything, I swear.”

You quickly swallow down the rest of the liquor in your mouth so you can talk. “Oh my god, don’t worry about it. Especially if it was a family thing. Like I said, I wasn’t even upset when you had to cancel.”

It was a lie. You were upset but not because you wouldn’t get to dance. More like you would be missing out on another chance to spend time with him.

“You keep saying that but I doubt it. It’s funny, I didn’t know you’d be out tonight. I wasn’t even planning on going anywhere but Jimin insisted I tag along. This must be fate.” he says.

You laugh internally. Fate. If you call the three stooges grinding up on each other a few feet away from you gate, then sure. Regardless, you tilt your head slightly in confusion, asking him what he means anyway.

He looks at you. “Well, this is your first night out in a while right? The other day I joked you should apply what you learned at a club but it’s not so much of a joke now. Come on, let’s see if you remember any of what I taught you.” At that he stands, taking your hand in his in an attempt to pull you off your stool.

You don’t budge, rooted to your spot like a stubborn weed in the grass.

“No thanks. You go, have fun. I’ll keep the drinks company.” You reach for your fruity concoction, taking a sip rather than obliging Hoseok’s requests for you to stand.

“Come onnnn, it won’t be that bad. If anyone laughs I’ll defend you, you’re all equally bad in my eyes, don’t worry.”

“Wow that makes me feel ten times worse, I’m definitely not going anywhere now.” You mutter. But when he pouts at you slightly, his eyes pleading for you to come join him, you relent, sliding off your stool and tugging your dress down before it can ride up any further on your thighs. You sigh. You figured you have to do this eventually.

If it wasn’t Hoseok you have no doubt your friends would come looking for you sooner or later. And they wouldn’t be as nice as Hoseok had been. He smiles victoriously when you stand, keeping your hand in his as he leads you out to an empty space on the dance floor.

You see your friends plus Jimin couple feet away caught up in their own world as usual.

Hoseok stops somewhere in the middle turning you to face him. He starts you out with something simple, guiding your movements as you sway along to the beat.

“See? Nice and easy, nothing crazy.” he reassures you.

But then he’s spinning you around, your back facing his front. When his hands glide around your waist you can feel the blood in your body as it makes it way to your cheeks. He molds you to him, brushing his hands down your arms before their landing firmly on your hips again.

Oh this guy, he thinks he’s such a fucking tease doesn’t he? Well, two can play at that game. The music is suggestive, sensual, similar to what you danced to back in his studio.

You can do this, you think. You roll your hips back experimentally, feeling a surge of confidence enter you when his breath hitches.

“Like this?” You say innocently, although your movements are anything but. “Am I doing okay?”

You try again, more firmly this time, making sure that he feels every inch of you against his crotch. The soft moan he releases by your head is music to your ears.

“More than okay.” Another groan when you grind down against him again.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” he asks almost breathlessly.

Watching him come undone like this is nice, you think. This… this you can do. Especially since each and every reaction you coax out of him just makes you feel that much bolder.

His hands come around to clutch you more firmly, securing one arm around your waist while his other remains attached to your hip, pressing you closer against him.

“Just a few,” you whisper, loud enough for him and him alone to hear.

He’s burying his head in your neck, the skin there soft and exposed and inviting. Your scent is so potent there, and as he drags his nose across your skin he can’t help but want a taste.

You whine, ready to just start begging him to drag his tongue along your already when you feel his lips on your skin. They’re soft at first, peppering your skin with light, tentative touches. But soon enough his lips are lingering. His kisses longer, sloppier. The open-mouthed kisses he trails across your neck are so hot and searing it causes the rest of your body to tingle with undeniable desire. You crane your neck even further if that’s possible, wanting him to mark up every inch of your bare skin. He engulfs your earlobe into his mouth, groaning into your ear when he speaks.

“You taste so sweet.”

You moan in response, too caught up in how good his tongue feels against the shell of your ear to say much else.

And then he’s trailing kisses down your jaw, all the way to your lips only to capture them in between his own in a kiss.

He groans into it, the taste of your lips even sweeter than your skin. But your twisting awkwardly to try and reach him properly and noticing your discomfort, he maneuvers your body in his arms, turning you to face him. Your arms immediately encircle his neck and his lock tight on the dip in your lower back, inching dangerously close to the curve of your ass. You devour his lips like a woman starved, and he does the same, thrusting his tongue between your lips, the both of you eager to explore each other.

Too soon he’s pulling away, and you chase the feeling, pouting when he doesn’t immediately press his lips to yours again. He’s panting breathlessly, smiling at your cute reaction.

“God what are you doing to me.” He presses his forehead against yours, rolling his hips up against you and that’s when you feel it.

A prominent bulge presses against the thin material of your dress and you feel a new wave of arousal hit you at the promise of what that holds. You press your legs together in an effort to relieve some of the ache between your thighs, unintentionally rubbing up against Hoseok in the process.

“Fuck,” he groans from deep within his throat. “I need to get you alone.” You nod enthusiastically, too out of it to say anything. All you know is that you need him, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

Pressing one last kiss to your lips, Hoseok pulls away, dragging you behind him as he makes his way through the crowded bar.

After brushing past a crowd of sweaty drunken club goers, he’s finally pulling you into a co-ed bathroom, locking the door and pressing you against it. He wastes no time, attacking your lips again so you feel the full force of his mouth against yours. The kiss is deeper this time, tongues colliding sloppily and just the barest hint of teeth that makes you eager for more.

Your hands glide up his chest, the shirt you had admired earlier quickly becoming a obstacle in your desire to feel his bare skin against your palms.

You pull away slightly, just enough to murmur against his lips,

“Off.” You tug at his shirt.

He chuckles lowly, placing several quick pecks against your lips before he’s stepping back from you.

“Eager are we?” he teases, unbuttoning his shirt at a snail’s pace just to piss you off, no doubt.

You roll your eyes because yes, you are fucking eager.

Instead of responding you yank him back to you, swatting his hands away so you can undress him yourself. Once his shirt is all the way undone you take the opportunity to run your hands up and down his toned torso. Jesus, all those hours at the studio did him well. You’re distracted by his chest so it takes you off guard when his lips are suddenly back on you. His kisses are not as frantic this time but just as passionate.

You take your time exploring him. He breaks the kiss, moaning audibly when you graze his nipples with your thumbs. Sensitive is he? You smile, taking that information and filing it away for later.

But your moment of power is fleeting, however, because the next thing you know he is hiking your dress up, his hands kneading the supple flesh of your ass.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” One hand pushes your dress up over the curve of your ass while the other traces the delicate lace of your cotton panties.

“Ever since that day you sat on my lap and grinded on my thigh like a horny little slut.”

You moan at a combination of his words and the fact that he’s now cupping your clothed sex. You’re so wet and there’s no doubt he can feel you soaking through to your panties. But you don’t care. He’s massaging his fingers over your clit just right and ohmygod you don’t want him to stop.

“Or maybe it was before that. Who knows. But all I can think of lately is how pissed that sharp mouth of yours makes me and how much I want to fill it up.”

Good god you needed him to shut up. It’s embarrassing how close you are to coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

It’s funny because if anyone asked, 'deny, deny, deny’ had been your motto when it came to Hoseok. But once it actually came down to it you had to admit that you’ve wanted him for a while now too.

But now that you finally have him, you’re not at all sure what the hell you signed up for.

In a flash he’s down on his knees, yanking your panties down with him as he goes. You gasp, shocked by the sudden rush of cool air on your hot core, but that doesn’t stop you from snaking your hands through his hair, spreading your legs a little wider for his ease of access.

When two of his fingers meet the slick heat of your pussy your breath hitches, already overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers on you.

“I wonder,” Hoseok begins eyes concentrated on the dewy pink of your folds as they greedily engulf his digits. “Do you taste just as good down here as you do up there?” His fingers glide up and down your pussy, scissoring your clit between his index and middle finger. So close to where you want him to be but not quite there yet.

However, he doesn’t wait long to give you what you want because all of a sudden his tongue is on you, the flat of his tongue pressing up against your clit as he swipes one long stripe up your sex. You moan wantonly, clutching the hair on top of his head even harder than before.

He groans at your tight grip, inadvertently producing vibrations against you that make you moan louder with pleasure.

“Mm, so much better.” He places several kisses against you, making his way to your aching hole.

You throw your head back when he scissors his tongue into you, a soundless moan leaving your open mouth. You worry when you feel him retract his tongue, but it’s only so he can push two fingers up into you, stretching your hole so he can thrust his tongue deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you whine desperately.

“How’s this? Am I doing okay?” He mirrors your words from earlier, and you’d scold him for teasing you but you can’t, not when he’s lapping at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Fuck Hoseok,” you pant, “I can’t… I need…” He draws back, catching your eyes with his as he mouths at your pussy, “What? Hmm?” Another lick, and you whimper, knees buckling.

“What is it you need?” He whispers darkly.

His gaze is so intense but you’re caught in limbo, wanting to look at him but not being able to with the way your eyes keeping fluttering shut at his ministrations. You cry out when the tip of his tongue flicks hard against your clit, punishment for not having answered him.

“Shit I-I need you.”

He groans, adjusting the pressure against your clit to soft kitten licks, yet the two fingers shoved up your pussy keep a solid rhythm.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Please…” you writhe against the wall, holding tight to his soft locks for leverage.

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please…” you cry out when he gives a particularly harsh thrust inside you. “M-make me cum.”

He groans, resuming a harsh pace against your core. Everything is wet, his lips sloppy and shiny from a combination of your juices and his saliva. His fingers are relentless, pistoning into you and not letting up until you’re cumming around his digits.

Your orgasm builds in the pits of your stomach, a slow burn that culminates in an explosion of pleasure that has you moaning his name in satisfaction.

“Fucckk. Hoseok, just like that.” You’re a whimpering mess at this point, you’re hips undulating against his tongue as you ride out the last few waves of your high.

He laps up your juices eagerly, not stopping until he’s tasted every part of you. You watch him, satiated, as he gives your cunt a few last licks before he’s rising and capturing your lips in a kiss. You return his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away from you, smiling endearingly.

“You were so loud.” he comments.

“And who’s fault was that?!” you hit his chest playfully. “You’re lucky the music out there is so loud or else you would have gotten us both kicked out,” you say.

He laughs at your faux outrage. “It would’ve been worth it,” he mutters lowly.

“Mmm,” you hum pressing against him again for another kiss. “Maybe.”

You’re body is molded to his, and you can feel every inch of him against you, including the hard erection pressing against your upper thigh. You snake your hands down his bare chest, past his toned stomach, until one hand is cupping the tent in his pants. He groans lightly. You apply more pressure, gripping him more firmly so that you can feel the outline of him over his clothes. You tug at him lightly.

“Don’t tease.”

Smirking against his lips, you decide to spare him. He’s suffered long enough having to endure being this hard for so long. Determined hands cease their assault on his clothed cock and reach for his belt buckle, undoing the clasps that keep him hidden from your view.

The whole time he watches you with bated breath and lust in his eyes, anxious for you to get your hands on him. Once his pants are undone you tug him close to you by the belt loops, before one hand is reaching into his boxers to feel him. Your hands thread through neatly trimmed pelvic hair before they land on him, full and thick and hard, and he groans.

“Oh god, please please don’t tease.“

You giggle at how desperate he sounds but only squeeze your hand around his shaft harder, taking the time to explore him before you absolutely ruin him. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but there’s enough of him to make you literally salivate at the thought of him fucking you open and taking you raw.

When you get to the tip there’s a bead of pre-cum forming, a patch of his underwear already wet with how much he had been leaking before. You use that to coat the rest of him, the added lubrication making it easier for your hand to glide up and down his shaft.The whole time you observe his reactions, his eyes shut tight in pleasure giving you the freedom to watch him unrestricted.

He gasps when your thumb dips down into his slit, his eyes screwing shut, brow furrowing deeply.

But he doesn’t have long to revel in your touch because all to soon you’re removing your hand from him completely. His eyes shoot open at you, confusion etched across his features. Cute.

You take pity on him, giving his lips a quick peck before you drag the same hand that was just on his cock up to his lips. Tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, you tug down on it until he’s opening his mouth for you. You take this opportunity to stick two fingers into his warm mouth, and he accepts them greedily, sucking and coating your digits in his saliva.

You watch him entranced, and he looks back at you intently, but you pull your fingers back once you feel like they have been sufficiently coated. For good measure, you lick a line up your palm before your hands are back on him again.

This time, when you wrap your hand around him, the glide is much easier due to your dual saliva. Hoseok keels forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as you stroke his cock.

“Does that feel good?” You ask.

“Yes, yes. God please keep going.” he pants next to your ear.

And you do keep going, if only to coax those cute sounds out of him further. Your hand is moving at a punishing pace, your grip deathly, but you don’t let up even when your arm feels like its going to fall off with the amount of effort you’re exerting.

You want him to cum. You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel just moments prior. And you’re doing a pretty damn good job if his whimpers next to your ear are any indication.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum.” he pants out.

At that declaration, you stroke harder in an effort to get him to cum faster. It’s only when your fingers graze his tip one last time that he is done for, his orgasm hitting him full force and coating your hand in thick ropes of white.

You slow your pace, milking him of all he’s got as he comes down from his high. He slows his breathing beside you, his harsh pants eventually subsiding into even breaths. He pulls back to face you.

“I can’t believe you. You really just made me cum in my pants like a fucking sixteen-year old.” he says, disbelief etched across his face.

You laugh, removing your hand from his underwear. “It’s payback for eating me out so well I couldn’t think straight. You should be thankful it wasn’t my mouth.”

His eyes darken at that, but you quickly shut him down. “Get your head out of the gutter, there’ll be plenty of time for that but right now we need to get cleaned up. The guys are probably wondering where we are.”

“Sorry but you can’t just say stuff like that and not expect me to get excited… and… no that’s not helping either.” In the midst of him talking you had brought you’re cum-drenched hand up to your mouth to suck off Hoseok’s seed that hadn’t remained in his pants.

You smile sheepishly but continue cleaning off your hand anyway, too concerned with the taste of him to worry about his growing arousal.

You turn around to wash your hands in the sink there while Hoseok buttons himself back up behind you. You shoot him a smile of gratitude in the mirror when he reaches down and adjusts your dress back over your ass for you.

Drying your hands, you help Hoseok fix the last few strands of his hair that was out of place before you two deem that you are acceptable enough to be seen in public again. And by acceptable you mean: it’s obvious you two hooked up but hey, at least you had the decency to try and cover it up.

Hoseok and you make your way back to you’re little area of the bar to see that Chaeyoung, Jimin, and Taehyung have taken a break from dancing. You don’t even make it all the way there before you see Chaeyoung’s resulting smirk and waggle of her eyebrows at the sight of a disheveled Hoseok and you.

You mouth out a “Shut it” to her and hope she knows how to read lips.

“Where have you two been? We came back and you weren’t here.” Taehyung asks, seemingly none the wiser to you and Hoseok’s whereabouts.

“Dancing Tae, isn’t that what people do at clubs?” you say quickly.

“The horizontal tango maybe,” you catch Chae muttering under her breath and you kick her under the table in retaliation.

Thankfully, that conversation is cut short when Yoongi drops by again, striking up conversation about some drunk asshole he’s debating on whether he should call security on or not.

You try your best to act natural, and so does Hoseok, but a lingering stare from Jimin has you thinking he must be a little more perceptive than Tae (or less drunk). You feel like you can breathe again when he finally relents, attention turned back the animated bartender behind the counter. .

.

.

The next day you are at work, physically, yes, but mentally? Checked out the moment you got here. You’ve been thinking about Hoseok’s mouth on you all day, the pretty sounds he made when he was desperate, the face he pulled when he was orgasming under your-

The phone rings and you’re pulled yet again from your fantasies. It was for the best. You really needed to focus and get back to work.

You pick up the phone, putting on your 'professional voice’ and getting your computer ready to set up an appointment for one of the clients.

You’re not even halfway through you’re greeting when you hear the sound of your best friend on the line.

“Chae?!” You whisper shout, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Why are you calling me at work?!”

“You know why. If you answered you’re texts it wouldn’t have to come to this, now would it?” She whisper-shouts back, letting you know that she’s probably supposed to be working too.

You saw the texts (so many texts) but you had yet to answer her. You didn’t see the point when she had known what happened, you knew what happened, why did she want to coax it out of you so badly?

“ Chae, please. I have shit to do and you can’t call me up at work like this- I’ll talk to you later, bye-” You’re about to hang up when you hear her noises of protest on the other line. You sigh.

“Wait, wait, hold on. At least tell me this… was it good?”

You let a smile break out onto your face, nodding your head in confirmation.

“Yes.” you leave it at that..

She squeals into the phone and you can hear that she wants to try to weed some more information out of you but you are already saying goodbye. The last thing you need is your friend thinking she’s some kind of matchmaker.

You go on about your day more focused this time, thankfully. But the excitement of the morning returns when you get a text message around noon.

Hoseok: hey :)

You: hi

Hoseok: how are you?

You: I’m swell, doing absolutely wonderful on this fine day. And you good sir?

Hoseok: haha, very funny

You: Lol, how are you gonna ask ‘how am I’ when you literally ate me out like you did last night. You should already know. 

Hoseok: I didn’t think it’d be polite to tell you right off the bat that I’m still thinking of your taste on my tongue. Since this morning actually

Well that shuts you up momentarily.

Hoseok: What’s wrong? No more jokes?

You: Some of us are at work you know

Hoseok: I’m at work. Teaching a group of 10 year olds right now. Doesn’t mean I’m not imagining bending you over and fucking you into the mirror of my studio

It takes you a while to respond because that is certainly something you’ve imagined before

You: Gross. Such dirty thoughts in front of the kids?

Hoseok: Relax, their on water break rn

You: Still

Hoseok: Anyway, I wanted to ask you something

You: Shoot

A few minutes pass where you see those same three dots appear and disappear, as if their mocking you.

Hoseok: my sister’s having her wedding rehearsal is coming up. I was wondering if you could come with me

Hoseok: I’m not forcing you, or anything! I could just really use someone there with me to take get my relatives off my back. If they see I’m with someone they’re less likely to hound me

Hoseok: And not 'with someone’ like that! As friends, I mean.

He’s inviting you to a family event?

You: Can’t you take Jimin or one of your other friends with you?

Those three dots appear and disappear for a few seconds but it takes significantly less time for him to respond this time.

Hoseok: Can’t. Jimin gets motion sickness, Jungkook’s busy with school and Seokjin would just be a mistake. You’re my last hope. Please.

He sends the puppy-dog face emoji and you are a goner.

You: Fine, when is it?

Hoseok: Really? Great, thank you so much.

Hoseok: And it’s this Saturday but we have to head up there a couple days early, so maybe Thursday night?

You: I’m using my sick time for this so it better be worth it

Hoseok: It will be. I’ll make it up to you I promise ;)

You don’t respond after that because you really do have to get back to work now. You two have been friends for a couple months now and now you’re meeting his family. As friends, you remind yourself.

This whole one-eighty in your relationship with Hoseok had been nothing more than a friends with benefits situation. Right? Is that what you wanted? Yes. Maybe. It could be? You weren’t sure.

The only thing you were certain about right now is that you had to go home and start packing for a weekend trip away to meet your friend’s (with benefits) parents.

It was going to be an eventful three days you’d come to find out.

[parkeraul]

the sweetest hello, the saddest goodbye | part 2

a/n: tshtsg is back by popular demand because some people wanted a closure and who am i to deny it? i wasn’t expecting so many feedbacks (specially on angst, i really suck at writing angst and this was so??? surprising???) & i’m so grateful for it all, it warms my heart so much. anyways, grab some tissues (extra tissues because i intend to earn more than tears from your eyes only, if u know what i mean) because this is gonna be a rollercoaster and let me know if you like it. by the way, wrap it before u tap it (yea bish u know what i’m talking ‘bout) — do what auntie ann says, not what auntie ann writes.

warnings: angst, drinking, swearing & smut. words: 8k [worth the wait i guess] recommendations: read part 1 to understand better.

Empty. This is how he was feeling. Up at the stage singing to a huge amount of people; alone at home with his thoughts messily written all over the papers — taking over every single hour of his day; among his crew on the backstage; regardless of the situation, he felt unfilled like everything he’s seeing is slowly turning black and white and dull. He noticed that this aching feeling was suffocating him in all the possible ways when he started letting everything pass by. He’s forgotten lyrics during the shows countless times, he’s forgotten to reply the messages popping up on his phone all the time, he’s forgotten even to eat properly sometimes. He’s forgotten himself somewhere lost but, worse than that, he’s forgotten about her. 

But moving on is definitely not the place where he’s at right now. 

He’s forgotten the little details, the ones that are printed on every page of his notebook so he can at least read about it and try to recover any memory, although all of this wasn’t as nearly as satisfying than remembering about those details vividly. Shawn came to the point where just having a slight piece of reminiscence would ease his stinging soul — the way her perfume and the scent of her hair mixed greatly together and used to get stuck on his clothes from the million times they used to hug and stay in there for a while, body—to—body as they appreciated the moment to keep quiet for a while, just enjoying the feeling of having their frames pressed against each other with a couple of caresses coming across his muscular back or a gentle head-rub right above the nape of her neck. The taste on her lips, incomparable and so captivating that he could keep his mouth on her for an eternity and write innumerable songs about it — every now and then he just rests his head against the closest surface and closes his eyes, searching for one of the times he had her splayed on his bed all to him, waiting for his red lips to love her body in that tempting way that only Shawn can because he takes his time to cover every inch with his mouth and hands over and over again until he earns desperation from her, an unstoppable desire to unravel underneath his body at the point she can’t control her shaking limbs. Her smile, her eyes, her sweet laugh and calming voice were all gone, replaced by the image of the tears streaming down her face when she last looked at him to walk away without promising to come back before he went insane. Insane might be right word to describe the state of his mind, he swears he’s nearly going crazy because it seems like it doesn’t matter what he tries to do, nothing’s going to complete him so perfectly like she does. Nothing.

The pub is loud and filled to the rafters, the strong beat of the music reverberating through the walls and the floor underneath his body that doesn’t sync with the rhythm. Everything’s slower, everything’s cloudy and meaningless but something made him think that a glass or two of whiskey would probably get him into it, consequently avoiding the annoying commentaries coming from his friends questioning ‘are you good?’ or ‘what’s gotten into you?’ and ‘are you still thinking about that?’.

Even if things aren’t the way he’d usually like — who is Shawn Mendes to negate a good party? — He’s trying his best to let this atmosphere hit him. Gradually, the song sounds nice, a drink leads to another and he tries to connect with the people around him dancing to the beat like the music has thrown a spell and everyone’s progressively giving in as he makes an effort to follow, eventually singing the songs he knows and loosening the tension on his body. Shawn feels comfortable to look people in the eyes, nodding towards the ones who knows him and smiling to the ones he’s recognizing from afar as he swallows his drink down his throat, not minding the burning sensation anymore. “’M gonna get another one. D’you want something?” He says closer to Brian’s ear, pulling out his wallet from his pocket. “Yep. Want you to slow down,” The redhead answers, handing him fifty bucks. “And some tequila shots, if you may.” Shawn laughs thinly, getting the money and pulling away from his friend to hide the money inside his wallet and fix his hair back, undoing a couple of buttons of his dark shirt. Finally that unavoidable effect of the alcohol. The hotness grazing his skin and turning it rosy, only able to be seen when perkier lights illuminated his frame in the middle of so many purple and red setlights shining through the crowd. He ignores what his best friend just said — it makes no sense to ask him to slow down and be funnier at the same time, he can’t perform both all at once — and makes his way to the bar with difficulty due to the many people blocking the way and the place going very brightened and then totally dark in a matter of seconds, increasing not only his confusion but also the dizziness upon his head. The journey to get their drinks is filled with hundreds of excuse me’s and mild touches, silently warning the people that he needs to move forwards and they’re on his way. Still tipsy, he manages to act kindly meanwhile his body submits to the laziness of his movements and leaves the sober-state behind somewhere among the public, approaching a chair in front of the counter step by step where he can sit down to wait for the drinks. “A glass of bourbon and... How many shots can you fit into fifty bucks?” He shouts to the barman, quickly pulling out his credit card. “Three shots, buddy.” The guy responds, typing on his screen to register the order. “Add eight more, please,” He could use some of these shots later, he thinks. “Credit card.” Shawn’s toying with the card, tapping it against the marble while the man before him is still giving away his request and setting the little machine in front of him. It’s all very fast and he doesn’t even listen to the barman after he removed his card and got his note. “What’s your table?” “Table 88,” He blinks rapidly, processing the things happening around him. “Thanks, man.”

It lasts almost three songs until he’s done with the glass he took five minutes after he ordered it, having the drink still at the bar and seeing the shots going to where Brian is standing along with the other guys. It’s almost inevitable to end up reserving himself at some point of the day, his brain asking for some time alone so he could think things again and progress from this looping of reliving his heartbreak that wouldn’t go away so soon. He wanted so bad to let her know that he’s entirely over that person from the damn song everyone’s made sure to remember him about in every interview, remember him how careless he was with the one person that actually matters the most to him. “Such a dick.” He thinks to himself and it happens literally everytime he’s on his own re-experiencing those bitter memories, it’s instant: a bad moment leads to a prompt chastise because he’s never going to forgive him for letting her escape through the spaces of his fingers for the exact reason that he had her on his hands, that’s something that she even dared to say sometimes shyly with her face hidden on his chest and he could never help but roll her over and kiss her face repeatedly, so happy to have someone who wore the feelings on the sleeve just like he does. They do fit together, but there was this huge pile of unsolved things standing in between and it was no one else’s job to disentangle the remained knots than his. It was so innocently unconscious of Shawn to keep going on like he was wholly recovered from that previous relationship and he caught himself laughing at his own actions after realizing how dumb he was, how stupid. He got way too blinded by that hurried wish of belonging to the girl who had to move past his hotel room door and ended up carried away to the middle of nowhere, having his frustration and guilt as company.

Some curious eyes were watching him and he decided to watch back, finding distraction on a few smirks towards him and all the bodies swaying from side to side addicted to the sound and some others were staring at him with their silhouettes standing still, a single pair studying his frame from afar and getting covered by the people coming across.

“We have the fate by our side, remember?”

A voice pops up on his head, his ears focusing on nothing more than this tone banging violently inside his brain as he props himself to stand on his feet, leaving the heavy glass aside on the counter. His vision is too blurry to process what is he exactly seeing and his head is also whirling, not helping him for a bit even though he’s blinking rapidly to brush it off somehow. A hand comes up to wipe the liquid standing on the edges of his lips, instantly flying to his shirt so he can fix the way he’s looking and give his chest a glimpse of fresh air to cool the boiling sensation of the alcohol. He tilts his head up, standing on his tiptoes and he goes from side to side in order to clear the view.

“If it’s supposed to happen, we’ll find a way.”

Shawn feels his knees failing and his throat drying, breathing heavier through his mouth, lips parted and he scrunches his eyebrows, wondering if he’s seeing things or if someone put an extra on his whiskey — and concluding that he actually just drank way too much but that answer doesn’t make the shape of her disappear. He’s not daydreaming, he’s not hallucinating.

“You gotta let me go, sweetheart.”

And just like this, her eyes leave his and she trails her way through the crowd, making it hard for him to follow her with his sight so he immediately moves. It obviously wouldn’t be easy. The excuse me’s are being said all over again, his soberness showing up for a moment now that he’s decided to go after what’s been driving him insane over the past months and ask for a chance to simply apologise if she’s not into hearing all the stuff he had put into new unreleased songs, saying goodbye to the rest of sanity that he had left. Through selfie requests and people pinned down on their spots, he rushes his steps and he’s not going to waste any more time on asking ‘please, can I pass?’ and mumbling thank you’s — it’s unmanageable but he literally acts like there’s no one else inside that pub than him and her, who’s reaching the stairs and climbing them rapidly. Shawn would buy her game with no complains, he’s a fool for this type of love-story and it’d be a wonderful situation to turn into poetry if he hadn’t so many people blocking the two meters separating him from the first degree.

 Among twisted lines trailed by his feet and eyes peeking out every corner, he crosses the hall above the stairs after going up. There are couples making out, one or two people smoking and empty glasses leading to a semi-opened door at the very end of the corridor. He’s glad everyone else is probably drunker than he is, so he looks back when he arrives the door to rotate the yellow sign hanging on the door — hiding the indication of ‘Rooftop’ to show the ‘Interdicted’ behind it, soon stepping out of the dark place.

 The roof is illuminated by the moonlight and occupied by some chairs and small couches distributed along the big space, the wind blowing colder as the sky could barely get dark by the moon so bright up in there among the stars and thin clouds. The lights of the apartments shutting down here and there, but not weakening the beautiful sight standing in front of that unique silhouette. Her hair is being blown lightly and so is the big coat covering her entire back until the beginning of her thighs and he has to stop himself from running directly at her; from approaching her body in the neediest embrace that he knows he’s capable of. “You know that hide-and-seek was my least favourite game when I was little?” He chuckles softly. As per usual, his unmistakable voice gets her vulnerable. His sweet tone, always floating between low and raspy to harmonious and joyful seemed to entice her and there was no turning back. Not that she wasn’t expecting him to follow and find her, but she needed at least two good minutes to settle down and think about what to say because it was certain that Shawn would hit her with questions and thoughts of his. She turns around; too shy to face him after what happened a month ago so she keeps on looking at her own feet, smiling to the ground and supporting both elbows on the balcony meanwhile he closes the door behind him. His nervousness starts to show up and it makes him smile too as he undoes the buttons of his dress shirt to roll up the sleeves, revealing his tattooed arm and letting the air cool the parts of his body. “Don’t you have a tour to take care of?” Still staring down, she asks and she doesn’t mean to sound rude. For someone who barely has time to hang out, it’s a surprise to see him outside the studios and backstage. “I didn’t expect to see you here too,” Shawn jokes, knowing that this is what she actually meant. He hides his hands on the pockets of his pants and walks slowly towards her, not wanting to get near enough to scare her away — but dying to get near enough to watch the moonlight lightning up her face. “I have a few days off, just needed to distract myself… Get some air, do different things, you know?” Stopping two or three steps away from her, he keeps on waiting for her to look at him since that’s what he’s been craving for several days. “Yeah,” She mumbles, breathing deeply before tilting her head up and seeing that he’s closer than she thought he was — the signature chocolate-fallen-curl contrasting with the colour of his skin and matching his eyes at the same time, so locked on the shapes of her face like he had found her for the first time. “How’s everything?” “How’s everything?” He questions back, voice squeaking a little and he giggles. Like it isn’t obvious. “Everything’s been terribly awful,” This time, his intonation falls an octave and his stride comes forward a little bit more and he surprisingly doesn’t stagger, gulping before moving on now that her eyes just founded his. “Everything’s been dreary ever since you left,” The wind hit them harder and, when she closes her eyes to avoid it, Shawn sees a teardrop moistening her eyelashes and her bottom lip being hidden by her teeth sinking down on the plump skin so fiercely. “You feel the same, don’t ya?” How can see right through her like this? It’s so unfair, she thinks, and so dumb of her to show such weakness this immediate. She opens her eyes and blinks quickly to dissipate the tears, sniffing faintly and holding her own arms to warm her body somehow, also to comfort her own shaky limbs instead of giving in and throwing herself at his strong arms. “I know you do,” He emphasizes and he’s 100% sure that he’s right. They’ve never broken this connection between them. Call him crazy, but he could swear that her heart is beating as heavily as his even when she was far away from him during this whole time — their respiration have the same hurried pace, both their minds work together like they depend on each other and it’s undeniable that their chest flutter with the same feeling. “Listen,” He starts, pausing to lick his lips and close all the space between them, the tips of their feet nudging as he holds his hands together to stop the urge of caressing her arms and pulling her to himself. “There’s so much I wanna tell you. Would it be okay if we talk?” She takes in the way he’s looking concerned at her, internally hoping he hadn’t asked for too much. “Sure,” She says and he looks around to find which one of the seats is the most comfortable. “But not here, ‘s way too cold.” Ending with a soft smile, she suggests and Shawn literally melts inside when seeing a happy expression of hers, even if it’s not fully sincere.

This sparkled something in Shawn, he wants to see more of that and he wants to be the reason behind her happiness. During the time they were walking past the stairs and the dancing bodies to reach the exit door, he begun to list all the important things he’d been thinking about to show her how sorry he feels for making her feel like a backup, for making her wait, for hurting her feelings and for not being the perfect guy for the perfect girl that she is. He doesn’t know how he managed to focus on her sat down beside him on the passenger seat and on this list at one go, but it worked for the time they were inside his Jeep driving to the apartment he got in Toronto with the radio turned on — so when there wasn’t a red light for him to stop and glance at her through the corner of his eye, he could rely on her tone singing the songs along in a timid volume. Shockingly, there wasn’t a tension. The anxiousness was certain, but the fact that they wanted and needed this moment got higher than any other type of intimidating emotions. It felt so good to be together again, even if it’s only physically speaking — they don’t know where this is going, there might be no reconciliation but being close feels right, feels like home.

At the elevator, he leaned against the cold wall and she turned to the mirror to fix all the imperfections (perfections, to Shawn) as his eyes burned all of her in a compelled stare. She’s too beautiful to be true according to his conclusions, too precious not to be held the entire time and too sweet to waste her time with someone who can’t treat her right. They kept on stealing glances here and there, earning smiles and sighs from each other like when she stepped inside the elevator on his building at their first date — when he took her to see the Christmas lights after dinner, and he’d tour the entire Canada with her if she asked to. He remembers being now exactly the way he was back at this day: heart beating faster, eyes glued on every action of hers with his brain electing all the emotions he needed to let her know.

The apartment is as cozy as she remembered. The couch is white, the view is still very beautiful and the living room is slightly disorganized. On the center table there’s a few pages sharing the space with a pick, a pen, a half-empty bottle of water and a mug. The window is open, curtains swaying as the wind invades the room and gives both of them chills. “Get yourself comfortable,” Shawn says, shutting the door close and locking it just in case someone decides to leave the pub sooner. She takes off her shoes to leave next to the door and walks bashfully; feeling the softness of the mat sprawled in the middle of the room under the wooden table as she sits down on the couch. He drops his keys on the counter of the kitchen and follows her with his eyes. “God, I’m sorry! What a fuckin’ mess—“ “We’re not here to talk about the mess,” She cuts him off, getting up to reach and grab him by the arm to join her. “We’re here to talk about something else, aren’t we?” “Of course, of course,” Being dragged by the arm, he lets her pull him and he tugs at his curls before holding her hand more forcefully, impeding her to sit down again. “You look pretty in this dress.” He smirks but not dirtily — on the contrary — it’s a grin filled with the purest joy. “Yeah?” Asking, she keeps standing on her feet and spins around with the help of his arm raising to whirl her by the hand. “This guy gave it to me on my birthday. Pretty cool, right?” “Awesome!” He chuckles, holding and caressing her hand while he dares to get nearer. “He’s got taste, eh?” “He wore Saint Laurent to the Met Gala so, yeah, he’s got a whole lot of taste.” They laugh simultaneously, allowing themselves to ignore the seriousness of this meeting for a moment. As they’re both people who hate confrontation, that feels like a good start before discussing things over. “Can I hug you?” With puppy eyes, Shawn asks her impulsively and she feels completely unable to say no. Tiptoeing to hold him by the shoulders, she snuggles in and he embraces her middle leisurely from the very edge of his fingertips to his palm, ending up trapping her with his thick arms. They both close their eyes and their breathing get calm. Their hearts, on the other hand, are beating insanely and banging each other’s bodies, their upper halfs pulsating from finally getting back to where they belong. “I missed you so much.” That’s all it takes for her to start crying. “Missed you too.” She murmurs, clutching at his body harder and the tears are wetting her cheeks. Shawn feels a huge knot forming on his throat, begging to be released in a cry and, holding her tighter, he lets it out. He can’t disguise if it’s from having her there against him, or if it’s the fear consuming him and reminding the possibility that she wants to go on without him, if it’s both, if it’s none of these things… It’s all very blurry but this torture has to end, and it has to be now before he goes madly insane. “C’mere,” He says, letting go of her partly to sit down and drop his hands: one to hold hers and the other one to wipe away his and her tears. “I… Well, first I want to apologise. I’ve been nowhere close to what you deserve, I was an asshole and—“ Shawn uses the hand that’s not holding hers to rub his face, covering his mouth at the end of it so his following words start to come out muffled but audible enough for her to listen. “And I know that nothing in this world can fix what I did to you. God, and I’ve tried — I’ve tried to fool myself and accept that this would never happen again but not for a single moment I found myself able to get you out of my head,” His hazel eyes are deeply connected with hers, occasionally dropping to see her lips parting and her eyebrows frowning in the pain they’re sharing of struggling so much to find a way to give this relationship the decision it needs. “What is this that you’re doing to me?” Questioning kind of angrily, Shawn seems to get more and more lost. He’ll never figure out exactly what gets him on his knees for her, it’s every little thing about the girl in front of him.  “I can’t get you out of my mind. When I’m sleeping, when I’m singing, when I’m writing… You’re there all the fuckin’ time. I can’t… I can’t do something that’s not related to you anymore and you can totally tell me to shut the fuck up right now before I do something stupid, but I love you. I… Holy shit I love you so much it hurts,” He leans closer, moving a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and touch their noses and foreheads together. “And I’m not sorry for this.” It’s too late for her to notice his lips coming because it happens suddenly. About two seconds ago he was standing distant and now their lips are pressed against each other as both his hands hold her face with an urgent need. She lifts her eyebrows in surprise but doesn’t back off — instead, she brings her hands to hold his arms and feels his entire body trembling, holding back the cry with all his strength. Nothing else seems to matter now. They’re finally fading into the touch they’ve been missing so much and it feels so right and so wrong at the same time. He reschedules the thought of deepening the kiss for some other time, pecking her lips repeatedly and slowly at the same time, enjoying the tender graze of their mouths brushing together. “No one wants this more than I do, trust me,” She mumbles, sighing soon after. “But how am I—“ “There’s nobody else,” Shawn interrupts, knowing that he failed her trust. “It’s you. It’s only you.” “Shawn,” Nodding in denial, she tries to move away but his hold won’t let her. He doesn’t mean to come off impolite, but it’s practically unconscious. “It’s easy to say.” “Then tell me what do I do,” He looks her deep in the eyes, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “Tell me what I can do to make you mine for a lifetime.” His words are a trap, cornering her and making it hard to avoid her most sincere desires. Her mind can’t form an instant choice and the only thing she knows is that she’s dying to say yes, as many times as needed. Too bad it isn’t simple like this, there’s so much to heal and yet a big lack of patience. “Just say the words, babe,” He sinks his fingers into her hair, tugging at it lightly to tilt her head back so he can have her mouth at his mercy right in front of his. “I’ll do anything if it means I’m never going to see you leaving me again.” He whispers, at the merge of sobbing as he feels his head starting to ache from the whiskey and the crying. All that he wants now is her. She’s the only one that can ease all the agony that’s taking over him. “Jeez!” She hisses, defeated and weak for him. “Shawn, I—“ “Stop me if you don’t want this,” He understands how difficult it is for her to put into words by the way she’s having issues to breathe properly. “But I need you so bad, babe, so bad,” Mouthing at her lips, he loosens the grip on her hair so she can relax and lean against him. “Let me show you how much I love you, how sorry I am…” And like this he descends to the curve of her shoulder, planting wet kisses up to her neck — taking from the base to the skin under her ear with all the passion he’s got. “Let me make you mine again.” She doesn’t wait when he reaches her jaw to move his mouth to the corner of hers, capturing his lips in a deep kiss filled with all the emotions burning inside their bodies. He holds the nape of her neck and her waist with strong hands, pulling her to himself as he breathes harshly, searching for all the air he can get to keep kissing her with all that he’s got. Shawn slips his tongue past her lips and she reciprocates, letting their kiss mix together at the point where she moves forward to straddle his lap and, before his back can hit the couch, he’s grabbing her by the back of her thighs and rushing to his room.

He doesn’t care to turn on the lights, taking advantage on the moonlight breaking through the window to see the bed where he puts her body down on gently to promptly get rid of his dress shirt without undoing the buttons — he holds onto the fabric and simply stretch the edges apart and pull it out from his jeans, throwing the now-ruined cloth away and kicking off his boots and socks. She’s still shifting her frame on his bed but he doesn’t waste time on lying above her after she takes off her coat to leave it aside, traveling his tattooed hand through the side of her silhouette covered by the black velvet dress separating the warmness of her skin from his graze while he finds her lips again. They’re devouring each other’s mouth, letting loud smacks fly throughout the room and she starts to grab his arms for dear life, encouraging to push his instincts farther, profounder on her, not stopping for a second to care about bruises and hickeys — it’s distractingly intense, dripping lust and an unstoppable compulsion to kill this distance with the love that runs through their veins; spreading an enormous heat all over their skin. Shawn traces her clavicle and presses his fingers down as they move to the thin strap of her dress, going under the piece of cloth and hauling it down her arm and immediately doing the same with the remaining strap. She’s tugging at his thick curls ferociously and he bites her bottom lip, pulling it to himself and watch it spring back in place when he releases it. They’re frantically inhaling and exhaling noisily, her arms coming back down just for him to expose the skin of her stomach and chest and flying back to where they belong: him. She’s squeezing the muscles of his shoulder as he goes down to attack her neck with hot and needy kisses, the curls of his hair tickling her chin and soon moving away with his head going down so he can mark her skin with suctions and love-bites, embellishing all the way from her throat to her collarbones with red stains turning into purple already and she can’t help but squirm everytime his teeth graze her icy body, getting lost in the way he’s consuming her entire being like it’s the last time he’s ever going to cover her middle with his skilled mouth. “Fuckin’ missed this,” Shawn mutters between smooches and bites, his hand everywhere all at once while her back starts lifting off the mattress as she shivers. “Fuckin’ missed your body all to myself,” With the black velvet on his hands, he keeps on loving every inch he started revealing while her tight dress was being removed, pulled down to her hipbones and then legs, soon joining his long-gone dress shirt on the floor. “Fuckin’ missed you, babe,” Hovering over her again after throwing her cloth away, he whispers close to her mouth and clings their frames against each other gently, not wanting to smash her with his front. It’s electrifying the touch happening in this moment, their touches stringing and giving them all the answers they’ve been searching for: this is where they’re meant to be, this is the right thing to do. “I love you.” “I love you more,” She whispers back, wasting no time on replying him and venting her aching heart out shamelessly. “Been missing you so much…” And she has no more space to speak. He smiles widely and brings his lips back to hers, overwhelming her whole body with a heated kiss. The pressure between their lips is perfectly added as they lock and unlock their mouths with more patience, tasting each other’s tongues lazily like there’s no tomorrow — and even if it has, Shawn doesn’t wanna leave this moment; he wants to stay in this bed and make love to her until the sunrise so he’s going to have an eternity fitted in these hours to make her moan and tremble underneath him as many times as he wants to, definitely keeping this night eternized somewhere inside his heart and soul, materializing this eternity. She needs more of this, so she threatens to inch closer and stand on her elbows but Shawn is quicker to press his palm down on her middle and pin her on the bed. They’re both breathing deeply into the kiss and he lowers to trail a long stripe with loud kisses from her cheeks — loving one side with his lips and grazing the other side with the back of his fingers;  to her jawline — tickling the skin above it with his teeth, unable to hold a smile from this joy of being with her again; neck — switching between kisses, licks and suctions, leaving a curved line of hickeys drawing her sweetest spots; chest — pecking the expansion without leaving a single space behind as he drives his hand to her back, unclasping her bra and tossing it somewhere away so he can capture one of her nipples with his lips, fondling the other one with his index and middle finger while the other ones work along with his palm to massage her breast; stomach — applying a heavier pressure on his kisses in order not to tickle her and keep on taking away those low whimpers she’s giving to him, her skin showing goosebumps under his touch as he gives all the inches the love they deserve, the love they’ve been craving with his eyes fluttered closed, mind deeply concentrated; hipbones — feeling the curve of them against his swollen and wet lips and catching her underwear in between his teeth to pull it away from her just to release and let it softly slap her body, opening his eyes only to look at her utterly fucked and having issues to maintain her breathing patterned; thighs — covering the smooth skin with his mouth like he’s french-kissing like they’re her lips, heating the inner parts with his touch and not breaking eye-contact with her this time, his curls starting to fall down and eyes attentive on her; and her covered heat. She’s helplessly dripping wet and groaning, barely keeping her body in place from this torture. Bucking her hips forward, she meets his tongue coming up her pussy and a loud moan escapes her parted lips, her hands flying to his curls and grabbing the locks and punishing them between her fingers. Shawn embraces her thighs while watching her becoming a mess, grasping the sheets and looking back at him with desperation, needing him to do something, anything. It’s a wild dream that he doesn’t wanna wake up from. Holding her legs forcefully, he stops her from squirming too much after taking off her soaked panties. She quivers a little, feeling the colder air blowing her dripping core before he covers it with his tender tongue, licking boldly from her entrance to her clit repetitively — yet slowly — and attaching his lips around her bundle of nerves to suck on it, pulling to his mouth the taste of her that he’s been starving for ever since he realized the hurried urge to consume her body blooming inside his mind. She’s letting out broken sobs, nearly suffering from how delightful it feels to have her throbbing clit being caressed by his soft lips and wet tongue, making her go even wetter if that’s possible. Tilting her head, she sees the curve of his upper lip molding perfectly the beginning of her lower lips and her heart starts to miss the beats, she’s not sure she can take this amount of pleasure but surely wants to keep going at the moment he digs his short nails into her thighs and eats her out mightily. Shawn tugs the skin of her sensitive clit between his red lips and licks it devotedly to suck it more roughly, making her eyes roll to the back of her head as she gives up on the bed to finally let her body feel the moment relaxed against the mattress, the tingling sensation down on her entrance and knot on her lower stomach growing more and more messing with her senses. The noises coming from his actions are driving her insane, crying out his name like it’s the only thing she knows and God knows how much this is making his member get close to explode inside those tight jeans, also warming his chest and spurring his heart to beat agonizingly fast in happiness, love, relief and the other countless emotions that he’s not decently conscious to name. “Shawn, I need you,” She manages to say among the growls. “I can’t take it anymore, please.” Honestly, neither can Shawn. It’s speedy the way he gets up to unbutton his black jeans and pull it down with his underwear, his cock springing up and bouncing after leaving the constricted fabrics and she’s ready to get up and knee in front of him but when she sees, he’s already above her and grabbing her wrists together upon her head. “I just gotta feel you,” Sticking their foreheads together — with that obstinate s-shaped-curl between them — he lies down on her silhouette slightly to feel her temperature mixing with his. “Is that okay?” “Yes,” She pants close to his mouth. “Just please, babe…” He lines himself up, brushing his angry tip against her clit and entrance and moistening her with pre-cum, both their parts craving that first thrust going deep inside of her as he bottoms out almost immediately. It’s hard to suppress a moan so he lowers a little bit more, supporting himself on one arm besides her as the other one goes under the nape of her neck to grab at the hair upon it, lightly scratching when his fingers curls inside to hold her strands and tilting it back to expose more of her skin for him to descend and suckle that region under her ear with a fiery desire. “Love you,” She murmurs, scarcely noticeable and holding his face and moving it towards hers while she says it. “Not more than I love you,” He replies instantly and brushes their noses together before stealing a frantic kiss.

Now it’s all slow.

He pushes his hardened member back and forth deliberately, making her feel all his length millimeter by millimeter meanwhile they’re kissing unhurriedly. She moves her hands to his shoulders, taking a good handful of them whenever he buries himself inside of her completely and then traveling to his muscular back, scraping at it and leaving red lines along the expansion of his prominent muscles, bringing his body impossibly closer. When Shawn breaks the kiss is just to sink his cock strongly, in a deafening roll of his skin slapping hers, to groan stridently as he contorts his face in pleasure. The air seems to leave her lungs when he tries it again, doing it even deeper and tougher practically knocking the sanity out of her when he hits her spot with this much force. Her mouth falls in agape, eyebrows frowning and he looks at her doing the same expression, driving into her more and more aggressively, their bodies smacking and filling the room with that incomparable sound. At the same time it’s raw and rough it’s unbelievably delicious — every thrust of his sliding easily in and out and although it’s steady, it has a raced pace: he goes all the way in very fast and powerfully to let her tight walls hold his cock closely at the point it makes him go lightheaded, veins in his arms darting out and his hairline is getting wet but not for a split second he thinks about stopping. He only wants more: more of her back arching, more of her legs shaking uncontrollably, more of her nails digging into his back, more of her mewls and eyes rolling profoundly… “More,” Shawn hears her begging, promptly relying on that hand that was on her hair to use his right arm to grab her leg and bend it up, giving her a new angle. “Give it to me,” He’s rumbling and pushing ferociously, the hazel eyes never leaving hers as he hits her in every thinkable way. She starts to squeeze his dick harder and he starts to twitch, grazing her g-spot even more lusciously and he can feel his orgasm at the merge of washing him off. It’s so hard to hold himself when he’s gliding so easily, so deliciously that it makes both their heads spin while everything around them seems to fade away. There’s nothing else than their sex overriding them, there’s nothing else than their moans entwined in the most beautiful symphony and their highs exploding inside their bodies. She feels her entrance pulsating and he’s already low-growling with his raspy tone into her divided lips, filling her with hot ribbons that are fading into her orgasm following not long after and he collapses onto her frame, trembling and holding her as they try to recover their respiration. “Fuck,” He whispers, thrusting very slowly still. They’re wasted but he doesn’t want it to end, doing his best to respect her sensitiveness and suggest a round two at the same time, typical boyish grin highlighting his small scar. “Please, never leave this bed.” “Will not,” She answers, eyes fluttered close as she palms his flushed chest.

 When the sunrise breaks into his bedroom with no further warnings, he feels the bright light trying to invade his eyelids and turns around to face the other side of the bed. He lazily stretches his arm to touch a body that’s not there. This is what spurs him to open his eyes. Eyelids lightly squinted, he eyes around the bedroom to find the floor clear like not even he stepped inside this place for the last 12 hours. The space beside him on the bed is perfectly made, the pillow is fluffed and free of any signs that someone had rested on there for the last night until now and he still has his dress shirt on with his black Calvins and only one sock on his foot. “What the fuck?” He mumbles, sitting and rubbing his face. This doesn’t make sense, there’s no way. How the hell she could’ve managed to sneak out without leaving a trail behind it’s a question that has no coherent answers. And it’s so not her type to go out and dress him instead of stealing his shirt to keep it to herself. Shawn tosses the blanket away and gets up to knock on the bathroom door and get no responses, flicking the doorknob open and finding the place just the way he left last night: his cologne is on top of the sink, his toothbrush in the right spot and the towels are correctly arranged just like the mat. He enjoys the moment to splash some cold water on his face and brush his teeth, looking at his own reflection on the mirror and seeing that his skin is normal — no hickeys, no scratches, not a single bruise or bite. His eyes are reddened though, kinda swollen and very tired. He takes long strides to the living room, where his notes are still above the black center-table with the bottle of water completely filled and untouched and the mug besides the pen. Chewing on his bottom lip, he looks at the whole room spinning in place and there’s not a damn indication that she’d been here. Maybe he was wrong, maybe someone did put an extra on his whiskey and the effects are happening just now. She has to be here, she has to be somewhere inside this condo. Shawn rushes back to the bedroom, grabbing his phone and searching for a message or whatever gives him a warning of where the fuck she’s hiding herself.

iMessage from Brian: hey dude. left ur keys on the counter last night and i’m gettin some breakfast n bacon to take care of this hangover. don’t die, brb!

Scrolling down, he sees nothing more than the usual. He scrunches his brows, opening his Instagram and instantaneously seeing a post from her in Toronto from 10 hours ago somewhere not even close to the pub he went to last night. She’s wearing the same dress he gifted her, though — hugging her shape dreamily and just from looking at it Shawn can feel the fabric in between his calloused fingers, and he smiles painfully.

 Under the steamy water, he runs his fingers through his hair a thousand times like the rubbing would make his brain dissipate the clouds from his thoughts. Nothing makes sense, nothing fits, nothing belongs together. When he’s sitting down back on bed with his soaked hair dripping waterdrops onto his back and chest, Brian pops his head inside the semi-opened door of his bedroom with a cup of coffee on his hand. “Hey, man!” Shawn looks at him and silently allows him in. “Feeling better?” “Guess I…” He frowns, eyes focusing on nothing. “Did we smoke yesterday?” “No, dude,” Brian answers, chuckling lightly. “But it looked like you did.” “What’s that?” “You were yelling her name in the middle of the pub for everyone to hear and that was so fucked up.” Then reality shoves a punch on his face. Hard. “So fucked up…” It was all a motherfucking dream from the moment Brian held him and forced him into the Jeep to come back home. The tears were wetting his face crazily and he couldn’t stop calling out her name from that second to when his best friend put him on bed, so drunk and so fucked up. “This shit’s all over the internet, isn’t it?” Shawn asks, facepalming with both hands. “Chill, bro,” He hears Brian responding. “We got you out of there coolly, don’t worry,” He takes a sip of his coffee, watching his friend sitting down and feeling miserable, wishing he could do something more. It’s almost motherly the way Brian stares at Shawn. “Got you breakfast, c’mon up—“ “Thanks, man, I’m good.” “You gotta eat, bitch,” Brian says playfully. “I’m not really into saving your ass from another catastrophe that soon.” This time, Shawn laughs exhaling through his nose and gets up. “Thank you for yesterday,” They smack hands together and pull each other for a side hug. “I owe you one,” After they release, Shawn fixes his towel around his v-line. “If you don’t mind I’d like to—“ “Be alone, yup,” Brian winks at him, stepping out of the room. “Gotcha. Good luck, man. If you need me I’ll be at Ian’s.”

As soon as he hears Brian closing the front door, he finishes putting on his boots and unlocks his screen open to find a chat and press onto the voice recording button. Holding it, he goes to the mirror to pass his hand on his hair for the last time. “Hey, uhm… I know this is random but… Can you meet me down on Adelaide Street?” And even though the message hasn’t been seen yet, he goes to the kitchen to take his keys and drive all the way there.

 And sitting down on his favourite café, he orders that meal he knows she likes to share with him while he tries to come down from the most gorgeous nightmare of his life, admiring the view from the ambient out there as he efforts his nerves not to feel empty anymore, expecting her to show up and fill his hollow being with the pleasure of having her presence physically, out of the mess that his mind has become.

He’s seen that she listened to his voice memo about an hour ago but didn’t respond. Shawn can’t stop staring at the chat wordlessly, gulping and breathing deeply before he’s snapped out of his own little world by a sweet-unique tone coming together with that enticing scent only he knew better than anyone else.

“Wanted to see me?”