#zero wrinkles in the brain after that completely smooth

[oflights]

the main problem with this time of year is the irresistible urge to get fully into bed at like 5:34 pm and outside is like yesss, yesss do it, it's what you deserve yesss. like is it depression or is it just november

[iarchmybaculajk]

Zombie Baby

Series Page

Chapter summary: Jimin pov, stressed from a court appearance, Jungkook tries to help his boyfriend relax.

wk: 6k

Chapter 1

The restaurant smelled of incense, and not the good kind. Just that heady warm stink that tends to choke you if you linger in a smoke shop too long. But Jimin breathed it in deeply anyways, thankful for something other than the smell of rotting flesh for once. 

That was just how it went these days, everywhere you went the smell rose up from the earth the way steam sizzled on the asphalt after it rained on a hot day. It was thick and permeated everything. There were times Jimin felt like he'd be forced to shave his head and burn his clothes just to be rid of it. 

Even while he silently thanked his lucky stars this restaurant had a decent ventilation system and was vehemently Anti-Undead, his eyes burned and watered from the hot sweet smoke of the incense. 

He blinked rapidly and wiped a little tear from the corner of his eye as it watered, giving his date a small grimace in the process, being sure to wrinkle his nose. 

"Er, yeah," Jungkook began taking a small sniff, "It's almost as bad in here. Sorry about that." 

He shrugged, running a hand through his blonde hair, a small smile on his face, "It's fine, gotta fight fire with fire I suppose."

He nodded, “So I guess we won’t be taking a post-date stroll in the park.”

He laughed coolly, “That would indeed be an accurate assumption. You can’t even take a stroll to the toilet without a shotgun these days, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not spoil the evening by tenderly wiping brain matter off your cheek.” He paused for effect, a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth, “I’d rather kiss it.” 

The grin that spread across his face was a genuine one, which was hard to come by when most of your time was spent struggling to survive or simply trying to do something as simple as grocery shopping without dealing with the nuisance that was the Zombie Apocalypse. The term only loosely applies though, as it wasn’t so much an apocalypse as it was a totally annoying and somewhat debilitating pain in the ass that just so happened to have weeded out some of the stupider people alive. 

After all, this isn’t the movies, only the completely mentally incapacitated got themselves killed. How hard is it to run faster than a corpse, or better yet, fight one off? They had absolutely no motor skills and zero upper body strength. However, their fluids, which they tended to share quite generously, were extremely hazardous – deadly even, or better yet, UN-deadly.

“Well, it is a really nice cheek, so I guess we could arrange something.” He stroked the almost too-smooth side of his face as if he were appreciating texture. 

“You’re lucky you amuse me, or else I might think you’re a totally cocky jerk.” Jimin smirked, distractedly playing with the ice cubes in his water with a spoon. 

He was admittedly a little preoccupied today; he was due to appear in court later this afternoon on an unlawful disposal of an un-dead person(s) charge. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he was pretty well known in his town for kicking ass and taking names when it came to the zombie pest infestation, and no one ever seemed to care before. But now, those damn tree-hugging morons were trying to give zombies rights, that’s right, ZOMBIES. Unfortunately for anyone with a brain, that meant that staying alive was only going to have that much more red tape and bullshit involved. 

Piss off one jerk-off neighbor who is keeping his Grandma’s reanimated corpse as a pet and get thrown in jail. It’s not like he didn’t tell him to keep her in his own yard, but she kept getting into his garbage, so it was time to put Granny down. 

People always wondered why he was so callous towards zombies, no sympathy, no remorse when he snuffed their non-existent life. That was probably because they were fucking zombies, DUH. He knew there were plenty of people who shared his views on the situation, and more than a few people that would support him in his quest to thin out the zombie herd, but as with everything there is always going to be enough dipshits to put a cramp in his style with their, “Zombies are People Too” campaigning.

Why couldn’t they just go back to policing social media, fixing climate change and saving the whales? It was like that Tootsie Pop commercial, the world may never know.

Jungkook feigned shock, “Me cocky? Yeah right, I’ve got modesty coming out the wazoo.” He frowned slightly, “Wazoo…” He said slowly, testing it out on his tongue, “what an idiotic word, I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Yeah, I was gunna point that out, but you beat me to it. I guess we can take word-smith off your list of attributes.” Jimin joked.

“Pfft, I’m a catch and you know it.” Jungkook grinned widely, his round bunny teeth in all their glory shining pearly white. 

“Yup, you’re the best.” Jimin smiled sweetly and leaned forward, thankful for the mindless conversation that came so easily with Jungkook. He was the perfect distraction.  “Thanks again for lunch, despite the lung cancer I now have from 2nd hand incense smoke, this place was pretty alright.” He took Jungkook’s large hand into own smaller ones.

“You’re welcome, I think.” 

“Now kiss me, PUBLICLY!” he demanded, tugging his hand towards him and pursing his plush lips.

Jimin knew how much he hated PDA, and Jungkook knew how much he loved to tease him about it.

“Fine, aish!” He rolled his large round eyes and gave him a kiss, but the grin on Jungkook’s face told him he didn’t mind nearly as much as he let on. 

He masked up, threw some money down on the table next to his crumpled napkin and discarded chopsticks, standing. “You ready?”

He glanced around the booth, putting his mask on quickly and making sure he had his bag. He lugged the oddly heavy bag out of the seat and threw it over his shoulder, pulling out one 9mm semi-automatic pistol from his treasure trove of deadly goodies, and took his boyfriend’s hand with his free one. 

“Jesus, do you even have a chapstick in there, or is it only weapons?” Jungkook asked, eyeing his hand-gun with a cursory glance.

“I have a few spare masks and some hand sanitizer in there too. What, would you rather I carry a full manicure set? Maybe I could mani-pedi a Zombie to death!”

He laughed as he pulled Jimin along, leading the way as he typically did. “You’re such a brat.”

Jimin shrugged, “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

They walked toward the exit hand in hand, the modern day couple; where it wasn’t entirely unusual to see a petite, 5ft '7, 27 year old man grasping a gun in one hand and his boyfriend’s hand in the other as nonchalantly as if it were a diet soda. 

As they reached the door, he unclasped Jungkook’s hand and stepped ahead, leaning against the blacked out windows of the Chinese restaurant’s door, he opened the door slowly, making sure to scope the entire parking lot before he opened the door in its entirety. 

“It’s cool, babe.” Jimin stated, and allowed Jungkook to push forward and assume his ‘alpha male’ role once again. Jungkook hated that Jimin was the one with the gun, but that was just the way it was. Jungkook may have played the more dominant role in the streets, and between the sheets, but it was Jimin who took care of the zombies. It didn’t exactly make sense, but hey… it sounded cool right?

“As much as I love having you being my savior and all, you probably should be a little more discreet with that gun.” Jungkook led the way to the car, his precious piece of shit Hyundai. Jimin mostly ignored him as he hopped into the passenger side, the one with the seat that wasn’t entirely bolted down and the seat belt that had no buckle to latch it. 

“What are you so concerned about? It clearly isn’t safety judging from the death trap you’ve been driving us around in.” He fiddled with the seat belt, finding the lucky bolt on the inner side of the seat and hooking his belt to it. He pretended for his own piece of mind that it would somehow keep him from flying through the windshield, one could dream right?

“Well, I was just thinking about the fact that you’re on your way to court and all. Maybe a little discretion would go a long way? Besides, this car is as safe as any. Never did me wrong.” He stated defensively, popping a key into the ignition.

“Yeah, except that time it broke down. I mean, times.” Jimin smirked, purposely ignoring the court comment, he was already nervous as hell. 

The car thankfully burst into life and puttered their way out of the parking lot. Jungkook squeezed his knee affectionately, “Don’t be jealous, there’s room in my life for both of you. Plus the cat. And the fish.”

“You sure about that? Sounds like you’ve got quite a lot on your plate, a car, a cat and fish. Are you sure I can fit into that little love quadrangle?”

“Oh yeah babe, there’s plenty to go around. Plus you’re at the top of my list, just don’t tell the cat. She’s a jealous bitch, and would probably poop on your pillow.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Jimin chuckled darkly. 

All things considered, Jimin was a lucky guy. He had an amazing and utterly gorgeous boyfriend, enough ammo in their house to defend a small country and while the whole world may have gone to hell in a handbag, at least they had each other.

He glanced over to his boyfriend, who was absentmindedly pursing his lips in the endearing pout that he usually wore when he was concentrating, or lost in thought, which was often if we’re being honest. It was one of Jimin’s favorite things about him. He was snarky and cocky at times, but Jungkook was also very deep and thoughtful. The list of little things Jungkook never realized were so adorable was long, and Jimin preferred it that way, lest he get an even bigger head. 

The man knew he was attractive, and that confidence was what Jimin first noticed. Though, at the time, he thought he was a presumptuous jerk, albeit a beautiful one. He had approached Jimin at a bar, while hanging out with his friends one night during their weekly attempt to blow off steam in one of the few safe parts of town. 

It was a noisy, dark club, with the kind of sexy, cool clientele that seemed to always have a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Jungkook was no exception. Jimin had been eyeballing him from across the room long before Jungkook had approached him. 

He had tousled black hair that was shorn short on the sides above his ears and longer in the back. Clad in a black leather jacket and an all black ensemble that fit his body in ways that made Jimin drool, his heavily tattooed hand holding an unlit cigarette idly while he leaned against the bar ordering a drink. But he wasn’t alone. His two friends stood off to the side, talking to each other animatedly in between sipping their drinks. 

They all looked so handsome, and extremely cool. It almost made Jimin jealous.

Jimin hadn’t realized he was staring, but he most definitely was. Jungkook had turned his head slightly as if he felt Jimin’s eyes on his back, a small smile curling his lips. When the bartender returned with his drink he leaned forward across the bar, murmuring something inaudible to the man on the other side, who nodded and left again, coming back with a second drink.

He took his bounty from the bar and immediately locked eyes with Jimin. He wore a satisfied smirk on his gorgeous face as he sauntered the distance between them. 

Jimin froze, embarrassed but unable to tear his eyes away from him, caught red handed. He never usually ogled strangers at the bar, and it was even less frequent that he was approached. Not that Jimin wasn’t attractive, on the contrary. He had visuals that most would kill for. But he was shy, and a bit socially awkward around people he didn’t know. Not to mention the fact that his day job usually involved a lot more gun wielding and dead things than most people were willing to deal with. 

Jimin sucked in a breath, his eyes impossibly wide when he casually sat down next to Jimin, fixing his large round eyes in a narrowed sexy way on Jimin’s face. 

He silently slid the extra drink over to Jimin and put his arm around the back of Jimin’s chair, leaning forward so he could be heard. 

Jimin didn’t move and kept his face locked forward, almost afraid of the proximity of his body, but he could feel the stranger’s sweetly scented hot breath against his skin.

“I’m Jungkook,” He said into his ear, as if he was the answer to the greatest mystery Jimin had been pondering, which he kind of was. “Do you want to get to know each other a little better?” His words were dripping with suggestion.

It was incredibly sexy. Too sexy. It kind of pissed Jimin off how evocative he was, and how his nether regions seemed to twinge despite his better judgment. He silently scolded his extremely pent up, deprived sex drive, for daring to betray him at the first hot guy to whisper seductively into his ear in far too long.

Jimin was horny, sure, but he was not a slut. The implications purring from Jungkook’s sweet mouth made Jimin recoil despite himself. 

He leaned into the feeling of annoyance, lest he instead give in to his extremely tantalizing suggestion and do something he would later feel dirty and used from. 

Jimin turned to face Jungkook, trying to not get caught up in his pouty lips, and dark provocative eyes that seemed to want him. 

“Uh, thanks for the drink,” he stammered, instantly feeling tongue tied and less confident in turning the attractive man down. “But, I’m good. I’m with my friends.” 

He knew this guy was interested in sex, and not much else, and as titillating as a roll in the sack would be with this alluring stranger, he had to keep his wits about him. He had fuckboy written all over his face, and honestly the audacity to approach Jimin like that in the first place was a turn off. 

But then why was Jimin squirming under his smoldering gaze, practically wetting his pants at the invitation?

It didn’t take long for the handsome presumptuous stranger to wear Jimin down. Before the night was through, Jimin was bent over a table in Jungkook’s modest kitchen, clothes forgotten somewhere in between there and the front door. Giving up on ever making it to the bedroom, Jimin took Jungkook’s hot thick cock from behind, in what would end up being the first of several locations and pornographic positions that fateful night. 

It proved to be a night neither of them could forget, when Jungkook surprised Jimin by calling him, immediately after their rendezvous, unable to get the beautiful, bendy, plump lipped blonde out of his head. 

Somehow Jimin fell into a relationship out of nowhere, and they hadn’t looked back since. That was over a year ago. They had somehow carved a little piece of the world out for themselves, with Jimin moving into Jungkook’s small house, joining his motley crew of pets and friends. Finding themselves intensely comfortable and content with each other. 

Jungkook didn’t even bat an eyelash when Jimin confessed what he did for a living, paying his rent and student loans off with money he made from his zombie assassin side hustle. It wasn’t legal, mind you, but it paid the bills, and there wasn’t exactly a lot of honest work to be found these days. The economy was in the toilet, and jobs were scarce, but there was never a lack of zombies that needed disposing of. 

He advertised mostly by word of mouth, but there were plenty of places that one could go when they were looking to make contact with someone who specialized in his services. He had deals with a handful of different underbelly organizations that kept the client's rolling in. There were other hunters, of course, but it wasn’t exactly a job people were clamoring to get so all he had to do was keep his rates fair to not have much competition in the market. 

The government's stance on the zombie infestation was irritating. While they had made it illegal to dispose of zombies, they also had taken their hands off the steering wheel, allowing them to run amok. They were working on a cure, and while hell would likely be freezing over while everyone waited for that to happen, they had halted the mass killings by military enforcement and instead had taken a role of doling out safety guidelines and red tape for everyone to trip over. 

All that meant was that people were expected to wear facemasks, wash their hands profusely, and avoid being eaten by the slow stupid animated corpses. It wasn’t too hard after all. But that didn’t mean that people weren’t still turning left and right, just simple stupidity ending their lives in a ugly mockery of what they once were. 

Plenty of people were holding out that there was a cure on the horizon, but Jimin was there for those who were realists. Families who had agreed amongst themselves that if they were to ever turn, they didn’t want to be left to wander the streets or potentially infect their loved ones or others. Or people who had to live in fear while a neighbor housed their own infected family members, putting the safety of everyone in proximity in mortal danger. 

When there was a zombie that needed taking out Jimin was there, no questions asked. For the low low price of 500$ a pop. 

Of course, now he was wishing he had been smart enough to not kill a zombie when he wasn’t on the clock. Taking out his neighbors granny had been a dumb idea, it wasn’t exactly hard for his neighbor to figure out he had been the one responsible after all. Killing too close to home was his downfall. 

Well, downfall was perhaps a bit dramatic, he was only going to be fined more likely than not. There was the potential for minor jail time but usually a couple of greased palms from his contacts could take care of the harsher sentences. There wasn’t a lot money couldn’t fix, not that he was swimming in it or anything. But he was owed a few favors, and he was cashing them all in to avoid jail. He was too pretty for jail, let’s be honest. 

It didn’t stop him from being nervous though, he hated the formalities of court, the imposing harsh gaze of the judge, it was all too much pressure for him. Even a speeding ticket caused Jimin to break out in a sweat. He wasn’t sure what it was about authority figures but he hated them. They made him feel weak and helpless. Which he most definitely wasn’t. 

Only one person was allowed to make him feel that way, and only in the bedroom, and that was Jungkook. Something about letting him hold him down, using his strength to pin him to the bed, or the wall, pressing his hard body against his smaller one, made him feel helpless in the most delicious way. 

But give Jimin a gun, and you wouldn’t have to worry about his small frame or diminutive height any more. He was a crack shot, thanks to his stint in the military, his unit being stationed on the front lines. Jimin had been specifically trained in military weaponry and excelled quickly becoming a weapons specialist. 

Jungkook was two years younger than Jimin, and had managed to avoid ever being conscripted thanks to the whole apocalypse thing, the war over North and South Korea being forgotten with the fate of the planet as a whole being on the line. It was quite a time to be alive. 

While Jungkook was ever the macho man, good in a fight, and masculine in all the right ways, he had no idea how to use a gun. Given the opportunity to learn, he had turned his nose up at it much like the majority of gun fearing Korean’s of yester-year. But he was fine with Jimin taking up the helm, it was their give and take. Jimin felt safe on the arm of Jungkook around people, and Jungkook felt safe with Jimin around whatever else was lurking. He was glad Jungkook wasn’t the kind of guy to feel his masculinity being threatened because his smaller boyfriend was the one carrying the gun.

He really was a catch.

___

Later that evening, Jungkook was waiting in the parking lot of the court, car idling. Jimin spotted the silver car as soon as he set foot outside. His armpits were damp, and his hands were still clammy from the anxiety of his court hearing. One 500$ fine later, he was breathing shakily but a lot easier than before. The relief of seeing his boyfriend waiting for him patiently outside made him feel even better. 

Jimin eyeballed the parking lot, sure enough, there was a zombie stumbling in the back of the lot, aimlessly walking and turning confused in circles. Not much of a threat. Which was good considering he obviously wasn’t packing at the moment. All the more reason for Jungkook to pick him up despite them not living far from the court house. Nothing made Jimin feel more vulnerable than not having his gun on him. He hurried to the waiting car, hating how nervous he was feeling. 

Jungkook leaned across and threw the car door open as he approached. Jimin hopped in letting out a breath of relief. Jungkook reached back over Jimin’s lap and popped the glove box, Jimin’s 9mm glowing in the light from within. 

“Awe, you’re too sweet.” Jimin said as if he had discovered a box of heart shaped chocolates. 

“I know how you get when you don’t have at least one weapon on you.” Jungkook quipped, running his hand up his boyfriend’s leg. 

Jimin smiled, tucking the gun into the waistband of his pants and settling back against the seat, appreciating the cold hard gun pressed there, a constant reminder that he could handle whatever happened. 

Jungkook took in the sight of his slightly sweaty, nerve-wracked boyfriend. He had closed his eyes, his breath was shallow, through slightly parted lips. His neatly styled blonde hair was starting to ruffle, with a tendril or two falling into his eyes. His shirt was clinging to him, the button down damp and uncomfortable looking at this point. But he looked extremely sexy.

“How’d it go? From the looks of how sweaty you are… I’d say, good?” 

Jimin chuckled, shaking his head, neither to agree or disagree. “500$ fine. It sucked. But I’ve lived to tell the tale, and I’ll be back to taking out zombie’s before you know it. But perhaps not our neighbors next time.”

Jungkook nodded, and squeezed Jimin’s thigh, “How about we get you home, and out of those clothes. Take a nice shower and have some dinner?” Jungkook offered, with an emphasis in his mind on getting Jimin out of those clingy clothes. 

A steamy shower with his sexy boyfriend sounded like a great way to relax and forget about how annoying and stressful court was. Who was he to say no, “Yes, please.” 

They plowed through the parking lot and on to the street, putting the courthouse and the odd lone zombie in the rearview. 

___

Jimin was naked before he knew what was happening. 

It started in the car, in between shifting gears, Jungkook was rubbing his thigh, all while never taking his eyes off the road. The only sign that he was getting as turned on as Jimin, was the way he was biting his lip ring, pushing his hand between Jimin’s spread thighs and rubbing deeply, grazing his stiffening cock with each movement. 

Jungkook was eager to destress his poor boyfriend. Eager to get him home, so he could watch him melt into a puddle from pleasure only he could give him. 

Jungkook kept the deep massaging of Jimin’s inner thigh up all the way until they parked the car. He was possessive, arms around Jimin as soon as he pulled him from the car, walking with him wrapped up inside them while Jimin fumbled with the keys to their house. Jungkook only made the job harder, while he pressed his crotch to Jimin’s ass and buried himself in the crook of Jimin’s neck nibbling and kissing his still damp flesh. 

As soon as they were in the house, Jungkook stripped them both, tossing Jimin’s gun along with the rest of his clothes on the couch, kissing and tugging him towards their bathroom. They were barely able to navigate the house if not for the muscle memory, Jungkook was touching and kissing all the while. 

Jimin was in a fit of giggles and little gasps as Jungkook hurried them to their destination, quickly running the shower and back to pulling Jimin in close to put his hands all over his naked flesh. It was all hungry touches, and kisses. Jungkook was paying special attention to Jimin’s earlobe, pulling at the silver hoop there with his teeth. It always sent shivers down Jimin’s spine when he put his mouth anywhere near his ears, reminding him of the first time they met, his warm sweet breath purring seductively against it. 

The steam was starting to build in the small bathroom, indicating the shower was ready to melt Jimin’s cares away, not that Jungkook wasn’t doing a fabulous job of that already. He pulled Jimin in behind him, closing the curtain and letting the hot water drench their naked bodies. 

Jimin let Jungkook do all the heavy lifting, just willing to be touched and let his hands work themselves across his body. Jungkook, took a shower puff and squeezed a vanilla body wash into it, working the lather across Jimin’s chest, following the sponge with his hand as he felt Jimin’s nipples harden under his touch. Down his soft smooth belly, lightly caressing his toned abs, appreciating the subtle ripple of muscle beneath his pale skin. 

Jimin watched his hands move down his body, enjoying the way his boyfriend was so engrossed in the ritual. Jimin rested his arms loosely around Jungkook’s neck, draping them languidly and casually twirling the wet hair at the back of Jungkook’s head. 

He was ever so appreciative of the attention his boyfriend was giving to his body that bordered on worship, Jimin smirked inwardly wondering exactly who was getting off on this more. Jungkook was rock hard after all, his eyes following his hand movements, like he was drinking in every inch of the soapy naked sight. 

After Jimin had been perfectly lathered, Jungkook pressed his hard body against Jimin again, slickly moving his chest and abs against Jimin’s as he kissed him deeply, his hands grabbing fistfuls of Jimin’s tender soapy ass. 

Jimin kissed back, loving the way his boyfriend’s soft lips felt, tasting the water of the shower beading down their faces with each flick of his tongue against Jungkook’s. 

They hadn’t had shower sex in a while, but it seemed pretty evident that it was where they were headed. If the hands on Jimin’s ass, slipping between his cheeks and rubbing soapy circles around his hole, were anything to go by. 

Jungkook swirled his tongue slowly in Jimin’s mouth, almost in sync with his movements against Jimin’s rim. The two sensations eliciting a low moan into Jungkook’s mouth. Jimin bit and tugged at Jungkook’s lip ring in approval. 

Jungkook, slipped a wet finger into his hole, Jimin instantly mewled against his lips. The wet finger was  dipping in and out slowly, knuckle deep. Soon, it was followed by a second finger, stretching and twisting to make room for himself inside. 

Jimin was already weak in the knees, Jungkook knew exactly how to stretch him slowly, making his body ache without the burn of going too quickly. He was working him over with two fingers, scissoring wider at the tips til Jimin was blooming and softening like a flower opening to the sun. 

With the introduction of a third finger, Jimin was panting, gripping Jungkook’s hair at the back, with Jungkook folding himself around Jimin, head over his shoulder watching himself as he pulled Jimin’s asscheeks apart so he could get a better visual of his tattooed fingers doing what they did best. 

Jimin writhed under his fingers, holding onto Jungkook for dear life, twisting and pressing his aching dick against Jungkook’s upper thighs enjoying the slippery friction, feeling his equally hard cock press against his stomach. His ass was so full of Jungkook’s fingers, pushing slow and deep, pressing down against his prostate as he pumped them, giving Jimin a taste of the pleasure yet to come. The sweet pressure was building a fire inside his belly that was soon aching for more.  

With one final stretch, Jungkook pulled out his fingers, and slapped Jimin on his wet ass, the sound cracking in the air. Jimin gasped, the mixed pleasure and pain from the sensation making him fall apart. 

“Turn around.” Jungkook said bossily, his eyelashes were wet, his face dripping and hair a mess but he was oh so sexy when he got commanding. 

Jimin instantly twisted around, and Jungkook took him by the wrists from behind and nudged him against the shower wall. The tile was still cold and wet, it sent a shiver through Jimin’s hot body. He took Jimin’s hands and pulled them up, placing them on either side above his head, folding his fingers through Jimin’s and molding himself to his boyfriend’s body. 

Jimin immediately pushed his ass out, pressing it into Jungkook’s damp crotch, feeling his cock slipping between his asscheeks. Jungkook grinded against him, not entering him but sliding himself up and down against his ass with his dick nestled between his cheeks.

After some teasing, Jungkook finally released one of Jimin’s hands, “Don’t move.” He whispered into his ear. 

Jimin obediently waited, feeling Jungkook pressing his cock against his pliable hole, rubbing it there at the entrance as if checking if it was going to let him in. 

Jimin bit his lip in anticipation, his hole fluttering against the cock tip. That seemed to do the trick, Jungkook applied pressure, his hole immediately swallowing the cock head neatly, since he had already been so perfectly prepared for it. It didn’t stop Jimin from gasping at the sensation and sudden stretch. 

Jimin moaned deeply, while Jungkook fell against him, burying himself immediately inside of his perfect pink hole.

Jungkook put all his weight into it, and Jimin was impossibly full. No matter how many times they had fucked over the last year he never got over the way Jungkook made him feel so utterly complete and whole when he was inside him. 

“Uhhnnn, Jimin, baby. You always feel so fucking good on my cock.” Jungkook quietly purred, his lips close to his boyfriend’s ear. He wasn’t particularly loud during sex, that was usually Jimin’s role, but when he did he saved it for whispering lewdly against his neck just for Jimin to hear. It was Jimin’s biggest turn on. Hearing him breathily, quietly, coming undone just for him was like pornographic music to his ears. 

Jungkook was thrusting deep, his thighs slapping against Jimin wetly. He kept his hands above his head, not daring to move but his knees were growing weaker by the second. His dick was throbbing untouched, and Jimin wasn’t sure if it was the water or his precum dripping blissfully from the swollen tip. 

He had never been big on dirty talk before Jungkook, the idea had always made him giggle. He just couldn’t take someone saying stuff like that to him seriously. But when Jungkook pulled him by his hair, and praised how well he took his cock it nearly made Jimin cum. He never wanted him to stop. He couldn’t help the way he folded, responding in kind with sweet submissive agreement. 

“Mmm, just for you.” He managed in between gasps of pleasure. 

They were words he never could have imagined coming genuinely out of his mouth with any other man. Only Jungkook had ever made him feel so desired, so completely possessed. He was all his, his body was made for his pleasure.

Jungkook loved Jimin’s responsiveness, pushing his face against the shower wall firmly but gently, getting off on the way Jimin became his when he was inside of him. “All mine.” He grunted, grabbing Jimin’s hips and rocking himself harder against his ass. 

He was hitting Jimin’s prostate with each thrust, pounding it mercilessly. The sounds of their bodies clashing were louder than the shower itself and only drowned out by the sound of Jimin’s moans, which were sharp and pointed with each hit of his sweet spot. 

“Gunna cum.” He breathed weakly, his eyes screwed shut tight, letting the sensation of Jungkook’s hard grip on his hips and powerful rapid thrusts overtake him. The hot lightning rod of pleasure was hitting its peak.

Jungkook kept up the speed, but leaned forward again, wrapping his tattooed arms around Jimin’s chest tightly, holding him close and hard, shallow, fast pumping as he climbed toward his own orgasm. 

“Cum on my cock baby, show me how good I make you feel.” 

That was a request Jimin could most definitely fulfill, with Jungkook’s cock buried to the hilt and his breath against his neck Jimin was spiraling over the edge. Jungkook’s arms held him up as he nearly fell to the shower floor, fucking into him as his orgasm was purged from within, spilling rope after rope of cum beneath him.

His walls were clenched hard and tight against Jungkook who continued to pound Jimin. He couldn’t even feel his feet on the floor anymore, his orgasm still hitting him like crashing waves, moans and sounds he wasn’t even registering were flowing from his lips. 

Jungkook’s orgasm was close behind a few short hard thrusts later with an intense guttural groan, keeping himself deep within Jimin’s hole. He was panting hard, riding out the sensation overload with a deep grinding roll of his hips, seemingly never wanting to part from Jimin’s body. 

As if cured from some kind of sex poison, Jungkook grinned, his voice breathy but returning to normal, “Feel better now?” 

Jimin couldn’t stifle the laugh, Jungkook was still buried in his ass, and he was being cute. “Much.” He managed finally finding the strength to stand again. Jungkook buried his wet face against Jimin’s neck and kissed him repeatedly, “Good.” He murmured against his skin. 

When they had finished up in the shower, Jimin felt like an overcooked noodle. Soft and pliable. Jungkook wrapped him up in a huge fluffy towel, and carried him to their bed like a bride, eliciting giggles from Jimin. He was impossibly relaxed, in a way only Jungkook seemed to make him. Content, blissful and sleepy. Jungkook snuggled against his burrito wrapped boyfriend until they both fell asleep, forgetting dinner, and zombies, court and the whole world all together. 

____

[bangtae-sohotddaeng]

tripping on skies, sipping waterfalls | k.th.

pairing: art-student!taehyung x creative-writing-student!reader 

rating: m (18+)

genre: angst | smut | fluff | humor | college!au | established relationship!au

summary: One drink too many at Hoseok’s Halloween party, and you’ve blanked out on the entire night that followed. Now, who’s gonna fill you in when Taehyung looks one second away from breaking into tears when you bring it up with him? From running across the university campus in remnants of your vampire outfit, to dealing with your downtrodden boyfriend’s disappointed stares - you’re left with one hell of a day, and zero recollections.

warnings: swearing + talks of alcohol (literally the whole tHEME of the story) + casual use of the word “amnesia” by careless college students + sexual situations (nudity, semi-public sexual acts, really explicit makeout sessions, dry-humping, lil bit breast play, lil dirty talking, fingering) + love bites galore.

word count: 19.2 k

note: so. issa a humongous beast, i know. i literally cannot fathom how i wrote these many words without posting anything in between. also, believe it or not, i fleshed out the plot for this fic all the way back in June, 2019. it's taken me nearly two years and a HELL LOTTA editing to the basic storyline to finally be able to finish this off. also, i extended this AU to include all the boys, so...kinda had to rope in their stories, too, lol. hope you enjoy this while i go slave off on the rest of the six fics~ 🥺💜

💟 YOUTH – 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

A knock sounded, seemingly coming from the end of a miles long tunnel. You groaned, pursing your lips against the pounding that echoed in your head in response.

Gosh, what was this? Why was your mind so freaking foggy? What did you do last n—

"Angel? Are you in there with hyung?"

You wrinkled your nose, always hating how your boyfriend's entire group of friends had taken to address you by the pet name he gave you—to the limit where you legitimately didn't always remember that "angel" wasn't your name. They said it was somewhat of a "norm" in their group that came into practice when Jin forbade them all from saying his girl's name. Or getting too friendly by calling her “noona” in a really creepy way.

You'd had eight months' experience of this idiocy now, but that didn't make you cringe any less whenever you heard the address.

You tried swallowing past the sand in your mouth, eyebrows wrinkling as you willed your brain to interpret what the voice said beyond your "name."

And then it registered.

In there? With hyung? 

What the hell?

"What? No, hyung, I can’t just rattle the knob to check—what? I might have heard some... wait. Why? What? No! Noona is—no, she's an adult, I'm sure she can make her own decisions! I’m not going to—I'm disconnecting the call, Namjoon-ssi, this is so uncomfortable!"

Your eyes fluttered open in pitch black darkness. 

Namjoon-ssi? Who was referring to your dumbheaded best friend with such respect?

Wait, wait, wait.

…noona?

Only one person called you…

"Jungkook?" you muttered, wincing at how horrible you sounded.

Releasing a deep breath, you came to the conclusion that you were dealing with a hangover. A really, really bad hangover, because your recollection of how you got to this point was nil.

Blinking, you opened your eyes wider, looking around in an attempt to catch bearings of where you were, because the overwhelming heat wrapped around your body definitely didn't remind you of your cold ass dorm room.

You squirmed, attempting to stick your feet out of the warm covers that seemed to be stifling you whole, specifically your legs and your midsection.

"Nuuuu~nghhh…"

You froze.

What the—?

The voice—well, more of a groan that you couldn't really comprehend—had come from somewhere near your rib cage. 

You pulled your arms down from where they were rested under your pillow, wincing at the soreness that'd taken residence in them. With slight shaky fingers, you reached over to where you hoped the nightstand would be. To your luck, your fingers brushed over a smooth table top before bumping into what felt like a button that could belong to a bedside lamp.

Swallowing the cotton wool lodged in your throat, you pressed down with your index and middle fingers, immediately hissing in discomfort when blinding light burned your corneas.

"Whaaa~nuuuuu…"

Something soft brushed against the underside of your boobs. Your eyes immediately snapped open wide, disregarding the killer headache that ensued. Your heart was pounding hard, fear climbing up your windpipe as you looked down.

Your naked boobs greeted your line of vision, followed by a mop of black hair.

You heaved in a huge gulp of air.

No. 

No, no, no, no, this couldn't—

Was this—

Did you—

Were you naked?

You didn't realise when your eyes had squeezed shut, but they fluttered open when a contented hum echoed around you, a small gust of warm breath brushing against your stomach.

"Uh…" You wanted to say something to the fluffy, dark hair moving around over your abdomen, but you were at a loss. 

Why was he lying over your naked body? God, was he naked, too?

What the heck had happened last night?

"Whoa." The fluffball on your abdomen moved completely, and a pair of round, pretty eyes connected with yours past your bared breasts. "What a beautiful sight to wake up to. Good morning, baby."

You involuntarily shivered at your boyfriend's gravelly morning voice. The damn pitch that was deeper than the ocean on the regular, tended to penetrate the layers of the earth itself when he woke up.

But…

Oh, God. You had only ever seen him topless. And only seen, not even touched. Or more. So, waking up to being topless and under him was making your heart beat out of your chest, and your body burn with sparks, all over.

"Um, Tae…"

"Hmm?" Plump lips connected to your skin, dragging over the sides of your breasts.

Your breathing was immediately unsteady even when your eyes widened in alarm. "T—Tae, wait…" You swallowed thickly when he climbed up your body and set his hands on the bed next to your pillow, his face hovering inches above yours.

You breathed in, preparing to speak past the bundle of nerves in your throat, and—froze. 

A corner of your lips twitched.

His eyes were surrounded by huge pools of black, that you could now recall was eyeliner that you'd meticulously applied on him, last evening. The bright red lipstick he'd gone for in order to finish off his vampire look, was now smudged all the way down to his chin. 

Despite the killer throbbing in your head and your panic at your state of undress, you couldn't hold back a fit of laughter at the sight. "Tae, baby—your makeup…" You managed to mumble between bouts of uncontrollable giggles.

Taehyung just grinned at you, shaking his head in silent humor. "As if you're any better. Ooh, look at this!" His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on your neck. "Your neck looks like you got attacked by a vampire, baby."

You smacked his chest with a harrumph, ignoring the warm, firm feel of it, rolling your eyes when he broke into laughter. "Pretty sure you were the one that did it, smartass."

"Well. I don't see a problem with it. We were supposed to be vampire mates, after all." Flashing you a smirk that would've been a lot more irresistible to you if it weren't for all the smudged lipstick on his face, Taehyung rolled off your body to sit at the edge of the bed. "This headache, though… ugh…" He groaned, massaging his forehead with a hand. "How much did we have to drink, Angel?

You slowly sat up in bed, dragging the sheets to cover yourself all the way up to your neck. Your brows furrowed in concern. How much did you have to drink, for real? The way you couldn't seem to recall literally anything from the party last night was kind of a sign that it had gone beyond your limits.

Clearing your throat in nervousness, you lifted the edge of the sheet to take a peek at yourself, breathing a tiny sigh of relief on finding your panties still wrapped around your hips. So at least you hadn't gone all the way, right?

Right?

"Hey, Tae," you called out, stopping your boyfriend on his way to the bathroom. He was clad only in a pair of boxers that accentuated his plump butt, which was also a first time experience for you, but you figured that it was better than nothing. "We, uh, what did we do last night?"

Taehyung looked at you over his shoulder, brows slightly creased in confusion. "What? We went to Hobi hyung's Halloween party, baby, dressed as vampires. Hence the makeup…?"

You shook your head, gulping down your nerves. Taehyung had completely turned around to look at you, now, arms crossed against his bare chest. In spite of the ridiculously smudged makeup on his face, he made a damn appealing sight. You willed your gaze to not stray down to his sculpted thighs for the sake of your own sanity.

"Angel?"

"I—I mean...after," you mumbled with flaming cheeks. 

Your asshole of a boyfriend grinned wickedly at that, moving his hands to place them on his hips. "Uh huh. After, baby? What do you think?" He gave you an exaggerated wink.

You looked down at your fingernails, your entire body almost shivering out of nervousness and each one of your nerve endings inducing sparks all across your body. You were pretty sure you were blushing all the way from your ears, down to your chest.

Soft thumps of feet padding across the floor echoed around the room. You felt his warmth near you before his fingers tapped beneath your chin, prompting you to look up.

You did, eyes widened and breathing halted.

Taehyung's brows were lowered and lips pursed together as he looked at you with soft, concerned eyes. "Do you…do you not remember anything?"

The hesitation in his voice almost caused your heart to stop beating. Why was he being like this? Had the two of you actually done it, last night?

And…you didn't even remember anything?

"Angel?"

"Oh, God, Taehyung! Why do I not remember?" you suddenly cried out. 

"Hey, hey, baby, it's okay!"

What? No, it wasn't.

You'd had sex with your boyfriend for the first ever time after eight months of dating, four out of which you'd spent dreaming extremely lewd and inappropriate dreams about him, and now―and now you didn't remember it!

"I'll go take a shower, and then we can talk about last night. Okay, baby? Hey, look at me," Taehyung softly spoke to you, carding long, elegant fingers of one of his hands through your hair. He cupped your cheek with the other. "Don't worry, Angel, you're just hungover right now. I'm sure it'll all come back once your head's feeling better."

You swallowed thickly, kinda pissed at yourself for feeling so emotional about this, but kinda more pissed at your drunk self for doing the do with the love of your life when she knew she was too far gone to retain the memories.

"I love you, baby," said love of your life murmured to you, leaning in to peck your forehead softly.

"Love you too, baby," you mumbled back, watching, from the corner of your eye, as his shapely ass made its way down the room and into the bathroom.

You exhaled, loudly. Even though you loved him beyond measure and trusted him completely, you didn't wanna talk to Taehyung, right now. He remembered everything from last night, and the torn, hesitant, kinda hurt look in his eyes made you feel insecure and disadvantaged.

You knew you had to cure your hangover first, vent out about how dumb you felt, and have someone reassure you that forgetting about your first time with your boyfriend wasn't the end of the world, before having that conversation with Taehyung.

And you also knew how you were gonna accomplish that.

You needed your best friend.

You’d already pounded on the door like crazy twice by the time you first heard movement from inside. What the hell was Namjoon busy with now? Hadn't he called Jungkook up just a while earlier, causing the boy to wake you up?

It was one o'clock on a Sunday morning, anyway. There was no way someone like Namjoon was busy.

Wait. Hadn’t he been at the party last night, too? You couldn’t really recall, to be honest.

God, what was Hobi serving last night? 

Tapping your feet impatiently, you scratched at your cheek. The water base, super dry moisturiser you’d stolen from your boyfriend’s roommate was definitely not meant to suit your skin type. But you had no choice. You were in a crisis. You had needed to escape the dorm before Taehyung came out of the bathroom, and you couldn’t have exactly walked out with the remnants of last night’s vampire makeup all over your face.

You looked down at your ridiculous attire consisting of the leather shorts you wore last night, topped with a huge, off white sweatshirt you'd found lying over the living room couches. You guessed it was Taehyung's, but you were, embarrassingly, not completely certain and it very well could have been Jungkook's. Either way, it didn't really matter, ’cause, as mentioned before, you were in a freaking crisis. Your feet were wrapped up in the spare pair of bathroom slippers you kept at Tae's.

Exhaling loudly, you pulled up your arm to bang heavily against the damn door, again. "Where the fuck are you, Namjoon? Open up!"

Mere seconds later, grumbles seeped through the door to you, and then it was slowly unbolted.

You were gonna straight up fall into Namjoon and legit beg him to comfort you until your body melted—

"Well, hello there, sexy cheeks! What a pleasant surprise!"

You groaned aloud. Just what you needed to make this morning a bigger headache—your best friend's roadside romeo, can-never-keep-it-in-his-pants, creep of a roommate. "Jackson. Get the fuck out of my w—"

"And, FYI, I was referring to your ass cheeks."

You gritted your teeth. "Where's Joon?"

The cocky guy in front of you shifted to set his hips against the doorjamb. "Sleeping. He came in late, last night. That damned loser was at the party till two am on a Saturday night, and didn’t even bring a girl back home. What a fucking waste."

You squinted at him. "Bullshit. He called Jungkook earlier."

"Yeah, well, he went back to sleep after that. It's Sunday, sexy cheeks, even a nerd like Joon is allowed to sleep in today. He's been working his ass off at the library for a couple nights, anyway."

"Stop stereotyping him." You rolled your eyes. "Will you move?"

Jackson's silver blonde hair moved across his forehead as he tilted his head to look at you with a sly grin. "What if I refuse?"

"I'll stab you and walk over your body."

His eyes momentarily widened, but then he gave a nervous giggle. "O–oh? We won't want that to happen now, would we? Come on in, sexy cheeks!"

"Stop calling me that!" you snapped, walking into the dorm and heading straight towards Namjoon's bedroom.

"What? But that's my pet name for you! I don't wanna call you Angel like the rest of the fucking college!"

"It's just seven guys, Wang, jeez. Also, I actually have a name?" you yelled over your shoulder, fiddling with the awful door knob on Namjoon's bedroom door that was almost always jammed. Like it was right now. Good God!

"Your name? That's so mainstream, babe, have some respect for my vibe, at the very least."

"I'm not your babe!"

"But you could be!"

"I'll slap you, Jackson, shut the—" you broke off with a grunt as the doorknob finally twisted free. But your relief had a super short life, because then you had to nearly cause your shoulder to rupture when you tried to get the door to budge. "Why does this idiot not complain about getting this shitty fucking door changed? He'll get stuck in there someday and die, I'm telling you."

"Whoa. You're contemplating way too many murders for a Sunday morning, sexy cheeks. All okay?"

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "You want me to actually commit one of them?"

Jackson's eyes widened and he slowly retracted his steps to the kitchen, where he presumably was before he came to open the door, given the apron he'd tied over his muscle tee and the random patches of white powder that covered his exposed upper arms. You rolled your eyes once again, and gave a particularly hard push to the door, making yourself stumble in as the door suddenly opened.

Namjoon stood on the other side, though, eyes barely open and silver blonde hair mussed. 

He was shirtless, in the process of trying to unwind a twisted up t-shirt. "Whoa, whoa—hol' up—when did I say you could come in?"

You paused. Your eyebrows lowered. Your eyes narrowed. The audacity?!

"I've seen you pantless, Namjoon," you deadpanned. 

"Wha—is that even a word—"

"Dude, I've seen your penis when it wasn't as big as my pinky toe!"

"Okay, hang on now, it's got to be at least the pinky finger—"

"We were four. It was the pinky toe." You exhaled when Namjoon gave up and went back to getting into a t-shirt over his plaid shorts. "Are you not looking at me, right now? Do you not see what kind of a wreck I am? What sort of a best friend are you?"

"Uh, a sleep deprived one? And, for the record, I actually am not looking at you, 'cause my eyes aren't exactly open and functioning at the moment, anyway."

You shot him a glare, but then exhaled and slumped down on his bed with your shoulders drooped. "I fucked up, Joonie."

Namjoon stopped in the process of blindly hunting for his glasses in the top drawer of his nightstand. He looked at you, complete with his swollen ass eyes and bee stung lips. You would have laughed if your own tragedy wasn't laughable in itself.

"Stop gawking!"

Namjoon shut his mouth and straightened up. "I, uh… You fucked up? Kinda hard to swallow. You're an inspiration to everyone, babe. Angel never fucks up."

You groaned a little upon hearing the wretched "pet name" tumble so smoothly from your best friend's lips. "Angel? Really, Joon?"

Namjoon shrugged, standing on his toes and extending his arms above his head in a full body stretch before he settled on the twin bed next to you. "I've got to, hun. You know how Jin hyung gets when he hears any of us call you anything but Angel."

"He's not here right now, though, is he?"

"Well, I'm trying to practice." He shrugged a shoulder. "So, are you here to pointlessly argue with me, or are you here to discuss how, exactly, did you fuck up? You were with Tae last night from what I gathered out of Jungkook's flustered half-sentences. Did something happen between you guys?"

"Yes?" You grimaced. And then you thickly swallowed. "I… I had sex with Taehyung.”

You looked at him when Namjoon had been silent for too long. He was blinking at you. "I don't see any fucking up happening, Angel, only fucking Tae."

Oh, how you'd slap him into the next galaxy if you had the energy at the moment. "Kim Namjoon, I swear to God—"

"Okay, okay, sorry. So. How does having sex with your boyfriend equate to fucking up? What'd I miss?"

You sighed. "I was completely hammered, and don't remember a single thing."

Namjoon's eyebrows rose very slowly. "Wait…what?"

You frowned. "Don't make me repeat it, Joon."

"I'm not, girl, but. Just. I—I don't seem to comprehend."

"I had sex with him for the first fucking time, Namjoon, and I don't remember a single detail! You know, I wanted to know how it all went down, how intense, sexy and gorgeous he looked on top of me. I wanted to save it to my memory. If he was on top. Otherwise, what he looked like when desperate and begging below me."

"Wait—"

"But I remember nothing! I'm so embarrassed, Joon! Maybe he put those gorgeous ass fingers of his to good use. I bet he did!"

"Hey—"

"I don't even know if he ate me out or if I sucked him off, because I would have loved to, before we—"

"Holy fuck, stop! I don’t wanna hear that, gross!" Namjoon pressed both his palms against his ears, his face pulled into an expression of utter disgust. His mouth opened, probably to give you a piece of scolding, but then his gaze dropped to your exposed collarbones and his eyebrows raised. He removed his hands with wide eyes. "Now, I don’t know about those dirty freaking details, and I don’t want to—but I can guess that your night was definitely passionate. Maybe a bit rough."

You frowned, following his line of sight—

And then sprung to your feet with a loud gasp. "Holy fucking shit! What the hell—"

"Whoa—"

You gripped the neckline of the hoodie and tugged it away from your chest. "He left bruises, Joon, these aren't just bites!"

"Wait, wait—"

"God damn—" You struggled to wrestle the hoodie off your body.

"No—"

"I need to fucking see, Joon—"

"But I don't!" Namjoon squeaked. 

You managed to remove the hoodie completely, your hands busy patting around your boobs to feel for bruises. You looked up at your best friend to find him turned away with both his palms pressed up against his eyes.

It took you a moment to realise that he was throwing a fit about you being topless in front of him. You exhaled. "Must I remind you that you've seen me pantless, too, Joon?"

"We were kids! And now we're not! I don't wanna pop a boner for my childhood best friend that I've shared poops with!"

You grimaced. "You won't, Joon. It's as you said—we've shared poops. It's physically impossible for us to get turned on by each other."

"I'm still a straight guy, though, and boobs are boobs."

You clicked your tongue, choosing to walk into his bathroom to, partially, save him from dying out of panic, but mostly analyse your upper body in the mirror. 

You hummed to yourself when you found a blossoming patch of pink right under your left boob, and an almost navy spot above your right nipple.

You fought a whimper of despair. Sex with Taehyung seemed like something that’d get you wet by memories alone. But you'd already missed your first chance to make them.

You grumpily stomped back to Namjoon's bed and collected the hoodie you'd tossed on it. Pulling it over, you smacked a turned away Namjoon upside his head. "I'm dressed, loser."

"Not wanting to see your boobs makes me a loser?"

"Making a big fucking deal out of it while I'm stuck in a very embarrassing and kind of an impossible situation does!"

“Oh my God, fine! Let’s just talk about that stupid, overthinking brain of yours.”

Your mouth falls open. “The fuck? I’m not overthinking, Joon, for the love of—”

“Okay! Just—stop with all the cursing, you sound like Yoongi hyung!” Namjoon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get the basics down, then. Observe, analyse and calculate. You’ll tell me about how you feel in certain...areas of your body, and then we’ll conclude if any sex even actually happened or if you’re fussing over nothing. ’Kay?”

You dumbly blinked. If any sex even actually happened? You didn’t need any testing for that, Taehyung’s face had been more than enough to tell you. “No?” you sneered at Namjoon. “I know it happened. I need to know how to recall the details. Do you know, like, some brain exercise or something? Like, running a mental disk defragmenter of sorts?”

Namjoon sighed. “Listen—”

“Also, can you please dye your hair and stop twinning with the asshole next door? I feel like I’m talking to him and it makes me wanna puke.”

Namjoon sighed again. “He’s gonna dye his hair to match mine like he always does, it’s pointless.”

“Then shave it off.”

“Ouch, woman.”

“What?” You scowled at him, rummaging through his wardrobe to try and make yourself slightly more presentable. “And get ready. We’re gonna go get some breakfast. Greasy and cheesy. And you’re gonna tell me what to do. And I’m calling Munchkin to join us.”

As you carried a pair of sweatpants into the bathroom, you heard your best friend murmur something like, “this is gonna be a long day.”

Taehyung sat sprawled all over the living room couch, barely looking up when Jungkook's room's door opened. His eyes kept digging holes into your phone that you'd left behind when you made your—very obviously hurried—exit while he was in the shower. Why, though?

Taehyung was fucking confuddled.

"Oh, finally!" Jungkook's surprised voice floated over to him moments before the boy himself rounded the couch to look down at him, entering his peripheral vision with a water bottle in hands. "Where's noona? Tell her to call Namjoon hyung, he rang me up…worrying…about her…um. Hyung? You okay?"

Taehyung blinked, raising his brows as he hummed in question, refocusing his gaze on the younger boy. "What?"

"Did you, uh, hear anything I said?" Jungkook looked at him cautiously, taking wary sips of water.

"Yeah, I heard." Taehyung looked down at his hands. "She's not here, she left."

"Left? On her own? You didn’t drop her off?" Jungkook sounded innocently curious. He chuckled. "You still hungover, or what?"

Taehyung sighed. "Well, no. But she didn't ask me to drop her. Didn't even tell me she was leaving. Also left her phone behind, for some reason."

"Maybe she was in a hurry to get away from you after last night?" Jungkook's eyes were wide in alarm even before Taehyung shot him a glare. "Sorry, I didn't… Um. That was a stupid joke, I don’t even know why I said that when I don't even know anything. Um. Sorry."

"No, you're probably right," Taehyung regretfully mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. "She was gone within five minutes."

"And is that why she stole my hoodie, too?"

Taehyung's head snapped up, again. What did he mean by that? He found Jungkook frowning at one of the armrests of the couch. "The fuck did you say?"

Jungkook's big, innocent eyes looked at him in panic. "I—I mean, I left it here after I spilt ketchup on it! Remember yesterday's lunch burgers? And now it's…well. Not here."

Taehyung rolled his eyes, secretly exhaling in relief, while at the same time annoyed at himself for thinking stupid shit. And also at Jungkook for making him think it. "The hell, Kook? How does that mean she took it?"

Jungkook squinted at him. "Okay, so then did you take it? Because I sure as heck didn't touch it, hyung."

Taehyung stilled, realising that the boy was probably right, because the top you'd worn last night was still lying on his bedroom floor. He bit his lip. Had you actually been in such a hurry to get away? Get away from him?

Did you…hate him for last night? But you'd very clearly reassured him that you wanted it and were ready and you looked actually excited about it. 

You’d looked really excited about it.

But maybe you were too sloshed to think then, but were trying to avoid him with your mind sober. Maybe you regretted agreeing.

Oh no. Oh no.

"We were drunk off our asses, last night," he tried to fruitlessly dissuade Jungkook, his voice coming out tight. Because what did it even matter if you'd already changed your mind? "Maybe your drunk ass used it to clean up your whizz and then threw it out your window and forgot?"

Jungkook's gaze turned even more speculative. 

Taehyung looked away, eyes landing back on your phone. Distress gripped him.

"Um."

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "Say it."

Jungkook cleared his throat, awkwardly scratching the back of his head when Taehyung looked up to meet his shifty eyes. "Did you, uh. Did you and noona have a fight?"

Taehyung slunk lower in his place. "No, but we would now."

Jungkook cleared his throat in response before soundly gulping down water.

Taehyung almost laughed at his discomfort. The younger probably felt Taehyung needed some sort of counseling or suggestions, but he really didn't. And it wasn't just because he and Jungkook were not the best of friends despite being roommates for nearly a year now and part of the same group of friends for nearly six. No, he actually did not want it because that would make him worry that much more. He'd rather talk to you—apologize to you and try to make you understand as much as he'd be able to—whenever you decided to contact him.

Not that Jungkook would be good at consoling him, either way—the boy was horrible with words and had zero tact. His world revolved around gaming and studying music and minimal human interaction, a complete contrast to everything Taehyung was. Which was somewhat of a reason why they worked out so well as roommates.

"Uh…we…um. Nevermind." Jungkook turned to leave.

Taehyung mustered a chuckle. "Say it, Kook." 

"Do you wanna go to Jin hyung's?" he spoke in a single breath.

Jin—the oldest in their group of friends and also the one Taehyung was the closest to—lived in a four bedroom apartment shared by Yoongi, Hoseok and Jimin, and often, Jin's girlfriend, too, which was owned by a family member of Hoseok's. Namjoon, your best friend and the final member of the group, lived in a dorm on the other side of the campus, similar to Taehyung's own, with a school friend of his.

Now. Jungkook, being the youngest of the entire lot, was extremely insecure and conscious of himself around Jin. And so, despite nearly licking the very ground Yoongi walked on due to the guy's musical prowess that Jungkook was a fan of, the younger boy always tried to avoid visiting the house if not for extreme case scenarios when the entire group gathered there for activities that he was not allowed to skip. He usually just called Yoongi over.

And he was suggesting they visit? This had to have taken some guts.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanna go to that house?"

"Well, not really." Jungkook's cheeks tinged pink. "But you look like you could use Jin hyung's advice and stuff. He also, um, makes yummy hot chocolate. Jimin hyung and Hobi hyung could cheer you up, and. Um. Yoongi hyung could help me with my…semester project?"

"And here I thought you were being thoughtful!" Taehyung let out a laugh. “You just want Yoongi hyung’s help, you selfish brat.”

Jungkook ducked his head. “A little bit of both?” He clicked his tongue, whining. "Come on, hyung, I'm trying here!"

"I know, I know." Taehyung rolled his eyes but nodded, ending Jungkook's misery.

He eyed your phone and released a shaking, nervous breath. 

“Well, I'm sort of driving myself nuts by sitting here. Let’s just go.”

“This is a disaster.”

You thumped your head against the table, groaning. “Gee, thanks, babe. Makes me feel so much better. I should’ve just gone back to the dorm. Wendy would’ve given me ice cream, at least.”

Your other only-best-friend-in-this-world—other than Namjoon, that is—rolled her mascara laden eyes. “It’s not my duty to make you feel better. I’m here to show you the mirror and be honest, not give you ice cream and kiss your boo-boos like your pussy roommate. That’s not helping. That’s ignoring the problem.”

“Fair point.” You sat up and looked down in your lap. “So. Do you honestly think I’m doomed?”

“I honestly think you’re stupid.”

You shot a glare at her.

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! You yourself said you both had your lower regions covered, right?” At your nod, she clicked her tongue. “So you’re not even sure if you had sex, in the first place. And even if you did, so what? He’s your freaking boyfriend, bitch! Grab him and do the do whenever!”

“Will you tone it down?” 

You jumped. And then scoffed when Namjoon settled on the empty chair on your other side, putting the tray of your frothing, steaming beverages down between you three.

"Tell me why you nicknamed this one munchkin and not guerrilla, again?" Namjoon grumbled, scowling at your girl best friend. "She's got their lung capacity."

"Because she's got munchkin legs," you mumbled, hurriedly bringing the styrofoam cup to your mouth to taste nirvana. “Ah, this is so good! And she walks super slow, like a freakin’ munchkin.”

"Oh, so that's also an insult?" Namjoon looked at your best friend with gleaming eyes. "I thought it was a pet name!"

Her eyes narrowed at Namjoon for a second, before her expressions dropped into a lascivious smile. "You thought it was cute, didn't you?" she dramatically batted her lashes, leaning closer to Namjoon, pushing her voluminous chest out. “You think I’m cute too, dontcha, Joon bug?”

Namjoon, immune to her dramatic, completely unnecessary seduction, blew a raspberry in her face. 

“Ew, you animal!” she shrieked, flinching away as droplets of spit rained on her face. “Gross!”

“You asked for it,” Namjoon deadpanned, sipping from his cup. 

“Guys,” you began. “Can we please talk about what I should do?”

“Uh, can I please also mention what you should not have done?” Munchkin squinted at you. At your noncommittal shrug, her expressions morphed into a sharp glare. “Sneak out. I mean, he’s your damn boyfriend of nearly quarter of a year, babe! Why the hell would you want to confide in Captain Dumbass, over here, and not him?”

“My IQ’s greater than you, but other than that—valid point, dude.” Namjoon turned to stare you down. “When it all winds down, and you end up sorting it out, he’s still gonna be hurt that you ran away, man.”

You bit your lip. You hadn’t thought of it that way. “I forgot my phone at his place, too, so I couldn’t even text him.”

This time Munchkin turned her horrified gaze at Namjoon, and Namjoon at you. “What?” he squeaked. “You haven’t even texted him this entire time? Why didn’t you ask for my phone?”

“It’s almost three,” Munchkin mumbled. “He’s gonna be so pissed.” Her eyes suddenly turned wicked. “Imagine the angry sex.”

You snorted, bitterly. “How? I got fucking amnesia after our first time together, remember? I don’t even know what to imagine.”

Your best friends groaned in unison.

The second Hoseok invited them in, Jungkook went off like an arrow towards the direction of Yoongi's room.

Taehyung gave a dry chuckle, raising his eyebrows at Hoseok’s puffy eyes as he waved his hand before the guy’s face in greeting. “Good morning, hyung!” he said with fake cheeriness to grate on the elder’s nerves. 

Hoseok gave him the most venomous scowl Taehyung had ever seen on the guy’s face and walked away.

“He was cleaning up till six am and then Jin hyung woke him up at nine to go grocery shopping!” Jimin called from his slump on the couch, past the entry hall. “Poor guy didn’t even get to get his dick wet in his own party.”

“Of course you’d mention that,” Taheyung snorted, moving to join Jimin in what seemed like a Netflix marathon. “What’s this?” He nodded towards the 50-inch.

“Pretty Little Liars,” Jimin mumbled, lifting his feet enough to make room for Taehyung and then rested them back in his lap. “It’s a story of some girls. Who lie. Because that is all that girls fucking do, apparently.”

Taehyung, despite his mental disposition, found himself snorting in amusement for the second time. “Where’s Jin hyung?”

“Dropping noona off at Jackson’s. They’re in a fight, so don’t ask him about her.” Jimin raised a brow. “All okay?”

“They're fighting? How're you handling it?" Taehyung teased, well aware of Jimin's fear of conflicts between the group's oldest couple, and got a glare back. "And, not all's okay. Kinda had a shitty night.”

“Could not have been shittier than mine. You came in with your babe, made out in every corner of the house, held her when she did a keg stand, leftmaking out—what could go wrong?”

Taehyung grimaced but didn’t protest. “When did Jin hyung leave? I didn’t see him on my way over. Why’s Honey noona even friends with that pretentious jackass Jackson, nobody likes him,” he chose to comment on Jin’s girlfriend’s questionable life choices, instead.

“Nobody but Namjoon. Don’t forget they live together. And he and noona are family friends, you know that.” Jimin frowned. “Why’re you so eager to see Jin hyung? He didn’t really say when he’d get back. Maybe he and Honey noona are…making-up. If you know what I mean. I sincerely hope they are,” he added with a despaired stare skywards as if tossing a prayer up to God.

“Shut up, pervert. I'll just text him.” Taehyung waved a dismissive hand, pulling out his phone.

Jimin cleared his throat. “At least ask me why my night was shittier, you ass.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, shooting Jimin a flat look. “You didn’t get laid, I already know it.”

“Well, that, yes. But also, the circumstances leading up to me not getting laid? Ugh.” Jimin scrunched his nose. “So there’s this cute, little, busty babe, okay? Shaking her boobs up in my face, and I know she wants to fuck, but. I can see how sloshed she is, so I, you know? Hold back.”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows, still typing away on his phone. “Doubt that.”

“I did, okay? Wait till you hear the rest of it.” Jimin’s head dangled off the armrest, upside down and Taehyung could only see his neck as he spoke. “She comes on too strong, and at one point—I can’t resist. But when she’s on her knees, she’s so confused that I… man, I felt so bad. She was wasted, dude!” Jimin pulled himself back up, nestling his head against the armrest as he frowned at Taehyung. “So I tell her no. She cries. I try to comfort her, but she just keeps sobbing. And then she fucking throws up all over my carpet and—I still fucking try to take care of her. And, you know, after I’ve given her hugs and a water bottle and so much pep talk—her phone rings and she says she has to go. Now, get this.” Jimin sits up, now scowling at Taehyung. “She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Taehyung couldn’t hold back the laughter that burst out of him, his head rolling back against the back of the couch as he held his stomach. Just the one time in his life Jimin tried to be a gentleman, it backfired. But it served Jimin right for trying to get into everyone’s pants. He told the guy as much.

Jimin scoffed. “I don’t try to get into everyone’s pants, dude. I’ve never tried to turn the charm on you, have I?”

“’Cause you know you’d fail.”

“I would not and you better believe that, Kim Taehyung.” Jimin suddenly licked his lips and sat up to get into Taehyung's personal space. “You see these lips? They—”

“Yah, Park Jimin! Get your paws off my dongsaeng!” Jin entered the house with a booming yell.

Taehyung sighed in relief, grateful for more reasons than one. “Morning, hyung!”

“It’s afternoon, brat!”

“I thought he was your dongsaeng?” Jimin mocked. “And for the record, he’s mine, too.”

“I’m barely three months younger, Jimin, fuck off.”

“Tae! Leave this idiot be and go wait in my room. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Taehyung stood up to locate Jin to find the older one heating something up in the microwave, aggressively pushing things around. It was a strange sight. Jin’s temperament was always cooler than a cucumber. And he especially tended to his kitchen appliances and utensils with an impossibly tender hand. He was clearly agitated, completely unlike how he normally was. Was his fight with his girlfriend that bad? 

As if sensing his gaze, Jin looked up, concern shining in his eyes when they met Taehyung’s. Taehyung imagined his own must have reflected it back. “You okay, hyung?”

Jin sighed. “Been better,” he tiredly mumbled, running a hand down his face. “I saw your texts. I gather you haven’t eaten?”

Taehyung nodded, silently, walking around the couch to join the older in the kitchen. Settling on a stool, he observed Jin's furrowed eyebrows and set jaw. Something had to have happened recently, or he'd have noticed something in Jin's behaviour earlier.

“I haven’t eaten either, hyung,” Jimin yelled from the living room, sounding offended instead of whiny or seductive, for once. “This sort of favoritism is too much, even for you.”

Jin narrowed his eyes at Jimin. “You know, every time Honey ignores me, I'm immediately reminded of how you could have taken that blonde to your own room, Park Jimin. So no, the favouritism isn't too much. And for the record, you’re more than capable of feeding yourself. This one? Not so much, right now.”

Taehyung hung his head, curious about what all Jin just said to Jimin, but also immensely floored by Jin’s concern for his own well being. Despite clearly not being in the right state of mind himself, he was still caring for Taehyung. He mentally thanked Jungkook for bringing him here.

Clearing his throat, Taehyung placed his hands on the kitchen counter. “When I didn't see Honey-noona at the party last night, I thought it was work related. You two often skip parties to catch up on your beauty sleep and all that. Is something the matter, hyung?"

Jin extracted some sort of noodles from the microwave and shut his eyes. "She's mad at me."

Taehyung's eyebrows rose. Jin and his girl had been together for over five years, now. They were past the stages of fighting over petty things. It had to be serious. "Oh?"

"And it was triggered by something that idiot did!" Jin finished, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin.

The latter clicked his tongue. "For the last time, hyung," Jimin called out, sounding exasperated, "she’s mad over something else. The sooner you figure that out instead of blaming me every time you meet her, the faster your fight would be resolved.” He peeked at Jin over the couch's back. "And can you please make a quick work of it? I hate this phase…"

Taehyung’s eyebrows lifted up. Escaping the blame—classic Jimin. “What, exactly, did you do, Jimin? What blonde didn’t you take to your own room?” he asked, repeating Jin’s words from earlier.

“Irrelevant. He’s actually correct,” Jin interrupted, walking out of the kitchen. “You'll understand when I tell you. But right now, let’s talk about your problem. Come on.”

Although Taehyung was both curious and worried about Jin’s fight, he was more downtrodden due to his own situation at the moment, so he decided to follow the older boy upstairs, to Jin's room.

On entering the room, Taehyung slumped into Jin’s armchair while the man himself turned on the lights and made his way towards Taehyung with a water bottle and a huge bowl of reheated chicken noodles in hands.

Taehyung uncapped the bottle as soon as it was handed to him, not realising how badly parched all the worrying had gotten him. 

“I, uh, went to the shop you texted me. Have you guys really talked it through?”

Taehyung’s head snapped up. “What?” he asked, swallowing a huge gulp of water.

Jin cracked a smile for the first time. “One of the thirteen texts you sent me was about this shop, remember? It was on the way, so I dropped by to look around, but I couldn't really choose—”

Taehyung’s phone rang, interrupting Jin. It was Namjoon. They both frowned.

What if the guy was still calling to ask about you, like he did this morning? Taehyung had assumed that you’d have talked to Namjoon, at least. His eyes widened when it hit him — you’d left your phone behind, how would you contact anybody?

He looked at Jin. Jin crossed his arms in front of his chest, gesturing to the phone with his eyes. “Pick it up.”

With sweaty hands, Taehyung picked up. “Hey, Joon hyung.”

Silence. He frowned.

“Hello?”

More silence. And then a hushed, indecipherable whisper sounded in the background which was followed by what sounded like a slap. Taehyung’s breath hitched.

“Angel?”

A sharp intake of breath filtered through the speakers to him. But then nothing else.

“Whe—” He cleared his throat when his voice broke. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Tae.” Your voice was light, airy, almost like a whisper, but it managed to weigh down on his heart. “I’m okay.”

Of course, you were. You’d chosen to see Namjoon, apparently. Why wouldn’t you be okay?

“I—I’m sorry for leaving like…that. I hope you didn’t take it the wrong way.”

Taehyung was at a loss. “Wrong way? Angel, I…” He exhaled, shutting his eyes. In what way had he taken it? In what way was he supposed to take it? “Why did you leave, baby?”

No response. Taehyung’s heart seemed to keep on sinking.

“When can I see you again? We need to talk about last night. You know that, right?” He licked his lips and looked up at Jin. At the elder’s nod, he continued, “we need to finalize what we discussed. You get me?”

“I’ll see you tonight, Tae.” Your voice sounded tightly wound with emotions.

Taehyung took that as a good sign. “That’s great. I’ll be…I, uh. Just text me when you get to the dorm. Your phone’s on the coffee table. I’m at Jin hyung’s, I’ll come immediately.”

“Okay, I’ll do that. Um. Tae? I love you.”

Taehyung could breathe again. “I love you, too, Angel. I love you so much.”

He’d barely disconnected the call when Jin grabbed him by the shoulders. “Get some food in you and come with me. I went to the shop, but couldn’t really make the right purchase. You’ll have to do that yourself.”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “But I already told her to come see me! You nodded!”

Jin rolled his eyes, taking a spoonful of noodles and stuffing them into Taehyung’s mouth that was hung open in surprise. “Because we have plenty of time, genius! It’s three in the afternoon. We’d be able to make it back before six, at any cost. Don’t worry about it.”

Taehyung took the bowl of food from him, his appetite announcing itself as soon as a bite of savoury deliciousness touched his tongue. Stuffing his face, he nodded at his phone. “Could you please put that to charge? It’s almost dead.”

And then he smiled to himself. He was gonna make everything right, tonight.

“I’m pretty sure five o’clock doesn’t count as ‘night’ in any culture across the globe.”

You ignored Munchkin’s sarcastic remark as you stepped out of the car, and gave Namjoon a grateful peck on his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me here, Joon.”

“Great. Ignore me and then cry when there’re consequences.”

Waving a butterfly wave at a fuming Munchkin and a chuckling Namjoon, you stepped into Taehyung’s dorm building. You knew you were early, but your nerves didn’t allow you to sit still at Namjoon’s place. You didn’t dare go back to your own dorm, knowing how chaotic Wendy tended to get and not able to muster the energy you usually needed to deal with her.

Taehyung lived in the larger, spacier and definitely pricier North Dorms. They were more like mini-apartments, with individual rooms and a living room area along with a whole kitchen instead of the tiny kitchenette you had with your own South Dorms. Namjoon lived in the East Dorms, similar in design to these, but in a wackier condition and slightly less pricey.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. You would take your phone, text Taehyung to inform him of your arrival, have a glass of water, and patiently wait. Jungkook wasn’t much of a talker, anyway, so you’d have some time to yourself before Taehyung for here, which you planned to utilise by giving yourself mental pep talks. 

You were gonna come clean to your boyfriend and tell him that you remembered none of last night, profusely apologise for panicking and running out on him, and then, if the mood allowed for it, request him to give you a refresher that you’d be sure to memorise properly, this time.

The door was opened. Jungkook immediately jumped, eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw you. “Oh, my God!”

You gave him a tight lipped smile. “Hey, Jungkook. May I come in?”

He gaped at you for a few more seconds before shaking his head as if to break his shock induced trance. “Ye—uh. I mean, yes, you could, but hyung’s not home.”

You nodded. “I know.”

Just as you’d made to move ahead, Jungkook stopped you. His eyebrows were arched. “Unless, you don’t wanna see him and are here to grab your things—in which case, I really won’t let you in.”

You frowned. “What? No, I need to get my phone so that—”

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook blocked the door with an arm. “You’ve got to talk to hyung once before making any rash decisions, and I won’t—”

“Wait, what? Rash decisions?”

“—might be a bit young and inexperienced, but I will not be an accomplice in the ploy to get Tae hyung’s heart broken—”

“Heart broken?” You balked at him while Jungkook kept on spewing stuff that made absolutely no sense to you. “Jungkook?”

“—no clue what actually happened, but because you really should’ve stayed to talk instead of running away from hyung—”

“Jungkook!”

“—not been emotional, but this really kind of hurt me, too, and you have no idea how much hyung was—”

“For fucks sake, Jungkook!” You held the guy with both his shoulders, making him immediately shut up. “Are you even listening to me? Stop speaking!” 

He blinked. “Um—”

“Stop!” You held a finger in front of his face. “Zip it up. Zero noise. Absolute silence.”

At his nod, you retracted your hands and pushed past him to enter the dorm. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up your phone which was kept on the coffee table—just as Tae had told you it would be—and opened your chat box with him.

Tae❤ hey babe, im here ik im a bit early but dw, take your time i will wait i love u 🥺

SENT at 17:03

“I have come to talk to Tae and apologize, Jungkook,” you finally said, turning to face the guy who was still awkwardly standing at the open door. “Now please shut the door and go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna be here, waiting till he comes. I’ve texted him.”

Jungkook closed the door, very slowly, still looking at you warily. “You aren’t going to break up with him?”

“What? Of course not! I love him!”

He visibly relaxed, even letting a hint of a smile swim onto his face. “That’s good to hear. I thought I’d messed up.”

You frowned, scrunching your nose up in confusion. “Wait a second, you had messed up? How?”

Releasing an immensely loud sigh, Jungkook walked up to sit next to you on the couch. “Uh…” He bit his lip, fidgeting with his hands. “Well, you all know how horrible I am with words, right? It’s half the reason why I don’t talk much. I get too upfront, accidentally, and it gets horribly worse if I’ve deduced a situation wrongly and spoken about it.”

You gave a small chuckle. Jungkook was adorable, at times, looking way younger than his age. Not that you knew his exact age. You were certain he called you noona just because Taehyung was his hyung, and not because he knew your exact age. You could turn out to be younger than him, and he’d give you the same amount of respect and formality. “You just did that to me, a few minutes back.”

Jungkook shut his eyes with a wince. “Exactly. I did something similar this morning, and said stuff that I had no way of knowing facts about. And…” he trailed off again, this time squinting at your...well, boobs.

You immediately straightened. “Yah! What are you looking at?”

Jungkook looked up with rounded eyes. “That’s my hoodie.”

You looked down at yourself and physically cringed. You were the worst girlfriend in the world to not be able to tell the difference between your boyfriend's hoodies and his roommate’s. “Oh, God. Oh no, I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

Jungkook gave a small, awkward nod. “It’s fine, you’re okay.”

You shook your head at yourself. “It’s been a horrible day, Kook.”

“I’m gonna have to agree with that."

You both sat in silence for a while, and you recalled how you’d imagined you’d get peace and quiet because Jungkook didn’t talk much. You mentally snorted. The guy hadn’t exchanged as many words with you in eight months, as he did today. 

Your eyes fell onto the TV in front of you. You squinted at the animated, white-ish balloon-ish things.

"Is that Soul?" you speculated.

Jungkook's cheeks and ears pinked. "Um, yes."

You lifted the remote and wordlessly unpaused the movie.

Settling on the carpet on the ground next to the coffee table, Jungkook munched on some nuts as you both watched. 

The movie was good – really good and engaging, so much so that you didn't check your phone for over an hour. When it pinged with a message, you suddenly recalled that Taehyung hadn't responded to your text. Sitting up, you grabbed the device to check.

18:23 Munchkin😾 (1 new message) 

You sighed in disappointment. 

Scrolling past your best friend's inquisitive message, you got to your chat with Taehyung. You frowned. The message hadn't been delivered, yet.

"Want some?"

You looked up with a start to find Jungkook's hand holding the bowl of nuts to you, his head still facing the TV. You cleared your throat. "Um, no, I'm good."

He retracted his hand without a word. "You okay, noona?"

You bit your lip. "Taehyung hasn't received my text, yet."

This time Jungkook twisted his neck to look up at you. The odd angle made it difficult to discern what expressions he held, but knowing him, it was probably surprise—his resident facial expressions, next to only occasional grimaces.

"He said he was at Jin oppa's and would come here as soon as I texted him, but…"

Jungkook hummed, turning back. "He is there, yes. We went together, but I left early because Yoongi hyung had to go to his studio. And I don't like to hangout with anybody else in that house."

You snorted at that, sobering the next second. You exhaled. "I think I should call him."

Jungkook gave a simple nod. You stood up with your phone to your ear. But then you stopped, mid-step. Taehyung's phone was switched off.

This was very unlike Taehyung. 

You pursed your lips in concern. He'd sounded fine—if not more than a little low—when you talked on the phone. He didn't sound angry, that is to say. Did something happen in the meanwhile? You wondered what it could be, because as far as you knew, you hadn't done anything wrong other than running off to Namjoon for help. But it had been nearly three hours since your talk, so you couldn't really be certain about Taehyung’s mood anymore.

You were at a loss. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just stay here and wait? 

But what if Taehyung was really mad for some reason and didn't come at all, and you had to stay the night? You were certain he wouldn't appreciate you staying in his dorm with his male roommate alone, overnight. Taehyung was far from an insecure or controlling boyfriend, but put in his shoes, even you would be irked if he were staying over at your dorm with just Wendy around.

You groaned at your chain of thoughts. What were you even thinking? This was so stupid. He would be here any minute, and this would all come to an end. You really wanted to slap your drunk self for putting you into this mess. Or, you realised, you could slap Hoseok for throwing the stupid party with memory wiping liquor, in the first place.

You sat back down on the couch with a thump. You were being unreasonably paranoid.

You took a few deep breaths, looking from your phone to the TV screen, and then at the back of Jungkook's head. "Jungkook?"

He hummed in response.

"I need some advice."

Jungkook turned to look at you, eyes wide in evident alarm. "No. Please no. I'm horrifyingly bad at that."

You clicked your tongue. "Tae's phone is switched off. He never turns his phone off, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked taken aback as well. He probably knew the fact. "Maybe it got discharged?"

You sighed. "Jin oppa's house has plenty of chargers and charging points."

Jungkook looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with his hands as he trained his gaze at your feet. "Um. I… I am not sure what…" he trailed off, biting down on his lip, looking beyond lost. "I don't even know what happened."

You shut your eyes and massaged your forehead with both hands. "What happened is that I got extremely embarrassed about…well, yesterday. Something—something happened which made me too nervous to face Tae. Coming here after so many hours, I thought I was ready to apologise and talk it through, but the longer it's taking him to get there, the more uncertain I'm getting."

You took a breath after you'd poured it all out. Jungkook was the last person you'd expect to understand your situation and give advice. But he prompted you to tell him – and it flowed out.

You shut your eyes tighter.

"If—if you think you're not ready," Jungkook suddenly began after a heavy silence of a few extended seconds, "you can step back and take a breather. Take some time to yourself, analyse and then build up the courage. In my experience, saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum." 

His words gave you a pause. Namjoon and Munchkin's words came back to you. Taehyung was your boyfriend—you could talk to him, whenever. Why were you making such a big deal out of it? Well maybe because you didn't want the situation to deteriorate further. Jungkook was right. You should rethink your decision of coming clean to Taehyung, lest you create more problems between the two of you by upsetting him.

"Does… does any of that help?" Jungkook hesitantly asked you.

You gave him a big smile "I think it does."

As if on cue, the sound of a key turning in the door reached you. Jungkook's head whipped around to look at it.

You breathed in, preparing yourself.

“Why’s your phone turned off, hyung?” Jungkook accosted him at the door.

You saw your boyfriend over Jungkook’s shoulder. He was frowning, and was seemingly yet to notice you. “My phone?” He brushed a hand over his trousers’ pockets, dark, curly bangs brushing his eyelids as his head bent. You bit your lip. He was irresistibly handsome without even trying. “Oh fuck,” Taehyung enunciated, looking up at Jungkook very slowly. “I left it at Jin hyung’s. Did you say it was off?”

Taehyung stepped into the dorm, wide eyes immediately colliding with yours. “Um. Hey,” you squeaked, standing up.

“H—hi,” Taehyung stumbled on his words, eyes roving first on your face and then the rest of you. He momentarily frowned, probably recognizing Jungkook’s hoodie on you, and then met your eyes with a hesitant expression on his face. “How—how long were you waiting?”

You bit your lip. He seemed to be feeling guilty already. You reckoned it would be better to not add onto it. “Not long,” you simply responded.

Taehyung took baby steps towards you, while Jungkook glided around the place, shutting the door, turning the TV off, and then exited to his own room. You looked down at your feet, only looking back up when Taehyung’s own entered your vision. “Angel,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face. His deep brown eyes looked like pools of dark chocolate. “What happened?”

The simple question made tears prickle the back of your eyes. 

It was always so simple with Taehyung. He was never pretentious, never impatient, never expected the world out of you—and yet you did not share things with him like he deserved. Why did you always have to be so self conscious?

Something must have shown on your face, because the next second had Taehyung frowning and stepping forth to cup your face in both his palms.

“Hey, hey, what is it?” he murmured very softly, swiping his thumbs at your cheeks to wipe off the wetness trickling down your eyes. “Shh, it’s okay, come on,” he soothingly whispered before collecting you in his arms.

You rested your forehead on his collarbones, pulling your lower lip in to grab a hold of your emotions as you wound both your arms around his shoulders. “I love you so much, Tae,” you mumbled into his skin.

He inhaled and then exhaled, almost as if in relief. “I love you too, baby. I love you too,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of your head.

Pulling away, Taehyung held you by your upper arms and bent to peer into your eyes. His olive green Cuban collar shirt swayed with his movement, giving you a delicious glimpse of his toned chest. Realising how highly inappropriate it was to be thinking lascivious thoughts with tears in your eyes—when your boyfriend was trying to comfort you—you swallowed and focussed back on his eyes. 

“Now, tell me. What happened this morning?” Taehyung questioned you with a boundless softness in his gaze.

You cleared your throat. "Can we – can we move this to your room?"

Taehyung nodded, readily, wrapping his elegant fingers around your elbows to lead the two of you into his room. 

As you settled on the edge of his bed, your eyes caught your top from last night's outfit placed neatly folded at the top of Taehyung's dresser. You pursed your lips.

“So.” Taehyung sat down next to you on the bed, bumping his shoulders into yours.

You licked your lips, gathering courage. “I…this is gonna sound bad, babe, and, um, insulting even, but…” You turned to meet his eyes, desperately searching for any recognition. But you were met with cluelessness, and a subtle hint of apprehension. You sighed. “I — I had too much to drink last night, Tae.”

You felt him stiffen. His eyes gave away nothing. You waited for a couple heartbeats, expecting some indication that he was catching onto what you were trying to imply. Taehyung said nothing, though, and his face remained unmoving.

You looked down at your lap, wringing your fingers together. “I don’t know if I had too much, or if the combination made it so, but… I don’t—” You cleared your throat when your voice broke, chancing a glance at your boyfriend who was still as a statue. “I don’t remember a thing from last night. It’s all…a blur.”

Taehyung seemed to have stopped breathing, too, he’d gone so still. Very anxiously, you lifted your gaze to look at him.

You almost wished you hadn't, though. He looked shattered. Crushing disappointment was all over his face, hitting you like a lead arrow, and he wasn’t even looking at you. 

You felt like running away, your cheeks and ears burning in embarrassment. You tried to put yourself in Taehyung’s spot, employing your trusted tactic to discern how someone else must be feeling, but your head was too fuzzy with the unease you felt. You were mortified.

Taking a staggered breath in, you stood up on shaky legs. “I’m — I’m sorry, Tae,” you uttered, unsure if you were heard. “I really wish—”

“It’s fine, it’s okay. I understand,” Taehyung cut you off, suddenly, obviously trying to save face given the tight smile he had pulled up to flash at you beneath his saddened eyes. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, shaking your head very slowly. “No,” you said. “It’s not okay, Tae. I — I wanted to make it memorable, too. Cherish the memories for life, however cliché might that sound. But I… I really blanked out, Tae.”

Taehyung’s brows got a slight crease in them by the time you were finished. But his eyes—those damned pools of love that you’d gotten so used to seeing boundless love in—looked strangely defeated. It almost felt like you’d done more than not remember a night of sex. 

But then you reprimanded yourself by underlining how it wasn’t just any night of sex—it had been the first time you and the love of your life became one. Knowing how sentimental Taehyung was, it had to have hurt him tremendously. This time you were very easily able to put yourself in his place and realise that you’d be pretty pissed if he had no recollection of something precious to you. You took a step away, suddenly overwhelmed by immense guilt. 

“Did nothing come back to you?” Taehyung asked, lips pouted and eyes rounded. “After so many hours, too?”

You shook your head, slowly. “I really tried, baby.”

Taehyung looked unconvinced, taking you by surprise. 

He didn’t, by any means, think that you were lying about it, did he? You wouldn’t put it past your boyfriend’s overthinking brain.

“I think I — I need a break,” you blurted out, watching in horror how any remainder of color left Taehyung’s face. Jungkook’s words came back to you: saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum.

“A break?” Taehyung gawked at you.

You quickly shook your head. “A breather. Space. Some — some time to get over my embarrassment.”

Taehyung looked confused, but you couldn’t bear to wait and extend this conversation. Twisting in place, you rushed out of there, on your way to your own dorm, this time. 

Taehyung sipped on Hoseok’s cheap beer, unseeing gaze stuck on the TV as some football match played on the screen. Next to him, Seokjin and Hoseok sat with their own bottles in hand. They were, decidedly, much more aware of the game than he was. 

“Gah! That was a red card, come on!” Hoseok suddenly exclaimed at the referee.

Seokjin snorted. “This referee is blind.”

“Or sold,” Hoseok grumbled.

Taehyung blinked, unable to focus on the game however hard he stared. Shaking his head, he took another gulp of the bitter liquid.

His soul had almost left his body when you'd said you needed a break. You wanting to be away from him after last night would have been his biggest nightmare come true.

But then you asked for space. To get over your embarrassment.

Why were you embarrassed? He couldn't, for the life of him, decipher that one. Did you really regret last night that bad? Had you changed your mind? Or was it something else altogether?

But what the hell could it even be, then?

Hoseok cleared his throat, drawing Taehyung's attention to the redhead. "You could try out a new painting, Tae. It'd be a nice outlet, and, y'know? They say you create your finest art when you got a heavy heart."

"Pretty sure that's not what they say, Hobi," Seokjin deadpanned.

"Something along those lines, hyung, catch my drift." Hoseok scowled at Seokjin. “Art’s supposed to take your mind off stuff, right?”

Taehyung exhaled, proceeding to chug down the rest of the drink in his bottle. "I can't," he murmured. "Angel is…" He stopped, shut his eyes and exhaled. "She's been my biggest muse ever since I met her, hyung. I can't paint when we're fighting."

Seokjin noisily exhaled, puffing his nostrils up. "Then maybe you could—ah, I don't know, invest in a different sort of art?"

Taehyung frowned at the guy in confusion. Hoseok, though, seemed to have gotten onto something. His head of flaming red hair bobbed erratically. "Yes, yes! Great idea, hyung! You should come with me to the rehearsal hall for some time, Tae. It's been ages since you've been there. It'd be a good distraction, take your mind off all this disappointment and hurt."

Taehyung clicked his tongue. "I'm not disappointed. I'm—I'm just… just hurt."

Seokjin sighed. "You mean you aren't even the slightest bit irked that she used the excuse of missing memory to evade your…well. You know." He gesticulated with a hand around the other. "You are, aren't you?"

"Not really." Taehyung frowned and shook his head. "I mean, well. yes. Of course, I would've preferred if she didn't try to evade it and just talked to me. But maybe she really can't recall anything, I'm not entirely sure. I mean, what's the difference, either way? It all boils down to the fact that she has backed off. And that is what's…" He broke off, taking in a shaky inhale. "What's hurting," he finished on an exhale.

They all went silent for a while. Seokjn hummed. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You love dance and you love Hobi’s routines, so… it could be therapeutic to you. But don’t force yourself, we’ll think of something else.” 

Taehyung exhaled, swiping a hand down his face. He really did love Hobi’s routines and it really had been ages since he’d been to the rehearsal hall. “No. No, I want to. I’ll join you tomorrow, Hobi hyung.” He passed the man a half smile, and got a full back. He huffed out a breath. “You guys wanna crack open something stronger than this?” he asked the two older guys, gesturing to his empty beer bottle.

Seokjin raised his hands in surrender. "I've got work, tomorrow."

But Hobi, the resident booze-man, grinned like a cheshire cat.

Your day had been hell, and your night was going to be, too.

After ignoring your calls for an hour, your best friends had texted you back telling you they were too busy to take your calls. They would have known, of course, what you’d talk about and prioritized their personal businesses above it.

You weren’t bitter about it, or anything…

Okay, you were. You were really really bitter.

Because Munchkin was at a party, trying to rope in some guy she’d had her sights on for a while. Needless to say, she was gonna be busy for the night. And Namjoon was working on some project for extra credits for his class tomorrow.

Your relationship being at the verge of splintering was, apparently, less important than a coveted hookup and extra fucking credits.

Your mother had sent you her customary checking in texts asking about your well being, and you'd made a whole hypothetical situation to ask her if temporary amnesia could be cured with some brain exercise.

Did you drink too much at that party you were going to? Are you okay?

You huffed a breath out, irritated but at the same time feeling really loved at your mother's accurate deduction of the situation. You texted her you were okay, she asked about Taehyung's well being, you said he was okay, too, and at the end she suggested you see a doctor if this felt too uneasy.

You thought about it for a while, but then realised a doctor wouldn't take you seriously. 

yeah right, mom! if docs started treating everyone with temporary amnesia on campus, he'd be dealing with nearly the entire student population

The conversation with your mother certainly failed to help in any way. You had no solution at your hands and your mind wasn't taken off it, too.

You stress-ate a pint of choco-chip icecream for dinner and watched reruns of Victorious on your laptop. You cried when Beck and Jade broke up. And then you slept with your laptop still running the show in the background.

You had a fitful night’s sleep, riddled with horrible nightmares switching between you begging Taehyung to tell you what you’d forgotten but him just crying because he was so hurt that you forgot in the first place, and Taehyung never wanting to talk to you again because he thought you were lying about forgetting your special night.

You finally sat up in your bed at close to six am. Having had enough with the mess in your head, you decided to beg your best friends to help you out, one more time.

Seventeen minutes past six of the morning saw you on a conference call with Namjoon and Munchkin.

“I went to bed at four, bitch, have some mercy—”

“And I didn’t sleep at all, I’ve been working on the project the whole night, and—”

“Guys!” you wailed. “Please help me out here! I am at my wit’s end, I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and I don’t know who else to talk to! I swear if I did, I would not be bothering you two like this!” You exhaled when they’d both quieted down. “Not that you’ve been much help, so far,” you added under your breath.

“I did not sign up for being insulted first thing in the morning!” Munchkin protested. “And Joon, what the hell is up with all your late night working sessions, lately? Don’t you get enough time during the day?”

The comment had you momentarily distracted from your own issue as you furrowed your brows. “Good point. He’s been spending more odd hours than usual at the library, too,” you said, recalling how Jackson had told you about Namjoon’s frequent nightly visits to the library.

“What? I—I do work during the day, guys,” Namjoon jumped to his defense, “but… the work’s a lot, okay? Also, almost the entirety of my Sunday went into comforting Angel. Being an economics major just eats up your time, okay? And—and I really need a couple extra credits—”

“Stop, you’re rambling,” Munchkin interrupted, sounding bored.

“And obviously lying,” you added with a shrug, even though they couldn’t see it.

“What? What? I’m not—”

“Honestly, Joon, nobody has time for your theatrics, okay? If you’re sneaking around with a girl—although I’m willing to bet my nail extensions you’re not—it’s cool. Do whatever,” Munchkin sounded half asleep, but what she said rang true with you, too.

“Absolutely. We won’t pry, and won’t judge.”

“It’s not a girl, guys, come on—”

“Already bet on it.”

“You mean it is something, then?” You squinted.

“Wait, how did this conversation go from Angel’s crisis call to a semi-intervention on me?” Namjoon protested, bringing you back to the ground.

You groaned. “Oh, yes. No, sorry, we don’t have time for diversions, right now. Help me resolve my crisis first.”

Munchkin clicked her tongue. “I still really fail to see what the big deal is? So drinking gave you amnesia like a total weirdo. Yeah, okay, it kinda sucks, but it’s not the end of the world! You two love each other! Move past this! Make new freaking memories, and get over it!”

You bit down on your lip. “I… I would have done that, eventually, but… you guys don’t know what happened last night.”

“Yeah, we do. Sort of. You left thirty seven messages in the groupchat, so we get the gist,” Namjoon reminded you.

“Okay, so you do know. So. Guys, it’s become a big deal because Taehyung has made it into one. His behaviour last night…” and you launched into a retelling of your whole encounter with Taehyung at his dorm.

For the better part of an hour, your dear best friends listened to you go on about how Taehyung seemed heartbroken because of your missing memory, and how you felt he didn’t even fully believe you when you said you didn’t remember anything. You also brought up, time and again, how this one incident was gonna end your relationship. 

“Okay, okay, hold on!” Namjoon finally interrupted your rampage. “This is all rubbish!”

You stuck your bottom lip out, turning to your side in your bed. Wendy had been out the entire night, last night. You wondered what she was up to because she wasn't the type to sleep around or go to parties. Maybe she had a sleepover with some of her girlfriends. You honestly couldn’t strain your mind over this on top of everything else, so you shut your eyes. 

“Firstly, Taehyung isn’t gonna break up with you because he suspects you’re lying about the memory loss. That’s just stupid and unlike him, and I’ve known him longer than you,” Namjoon continued. “Also, I still think the key to this whole issue is communicating. You need to open your mouth and ask the guy what happened last night. Don’t be demotivated by his saddened face, push through.”

“But… you know, Jungkook said to me that sometimes saying the wrong words can be worse than keeping mum. And I literally said the absolutely worst combination of words I could to Tae, last night! Almost made him think I was trying to break up with him. How shitty—”

“I bet he’s not even thinking about it right now. I bet my hair extensions on it,” Munchkin interrupted with a snort. “He’s probably sleeping off another hangover. Boys always end up drowning the conflicts in their lives in alcohol.”

You rolled your eyes. “As opposed to what you do? And stop betting your extensions on things.”

“But, she’s kinda not wrong, Angel,” Namjoon intervened, “you’re definitely overreacting a bit. Jungkook has hardly ever known what he’s talking about, all through his life. You’re letting his words affect you? All you can do, right now, is have a decent conversation with Tae where you hold his hand, look into his eyes and ask him to tell you what exactly happened last night.” He paused. “The night before, now, I guess, ’cause it’s morning…”

You sighed, opening your eyes to blink at Wendy’s empty bed. “I don’t know, guys… He looks so freaking shattered and disappointed every time I try to talk to him, it just feels like a slap to the face.”

“Ugh, stop thinking so much about everything,” Munchkin groaned. “And if talking to him seems like such a humongous challenge, then talk to someone you know he would have confided in.”

You sat up at that, eyes open wide. “Jin! Jin oppa! Tae shares everything with him, and he even went straight to his place after I left his dorm, too! He would know everything.”

“Now, now,” Namjoon began with a nervous lilt, “I don’t think it’s such a great idea to ask around when you could ask—”

“Shut up, Namjoon, it’s a fantastic fucking idea,” Munchkin cut him off.

“Yes. Yes, it’s a fantastic idea!” you exclaimed, checking the time. “It’s past eight, he would’ve left for the restaurant. I can make it after my Scriptwriting class and catch him during his lunch hour! Thank you, guys, thank you, so much!”

“Great to be of service. Now let me go back to sleep, I’m skipping all my classes today,” Munchkin muttered into the phone.

“For the record, I still don’t think it’s such a great idea—”

“Nobody cares, Namjoon, go back to sleep. You have a boring-as-fuck class in less than two hours.” With that, Munchkin disconnected your three-way call.

You tossed your phone to the side and laid back on your bed. This could actually work out. You could ask Jin to fill you in on what’s been going on in Taehyung’s head, and then go talk to your boyfriend with full preparation.

Noon couldn’t come sooner.

Jin’s face was pretty expressionless when he got into his usual lunch booth and met your eyes instead of his girlfriend’s. He didn’t look surprised, at all. He literally didn’t even blink, just gave you a once over and reached for his bag to fetch his lunch out. That should have been your warning sign, but blinded by your own selfish goal, you missed it.

“Oppa, hello,” you respectfully greeted him, wringing your hands in your lap. “I hope you don't mind me dropping by unannounced, but I wasn’t sure you’d be welcoming if I told you beforehand. You know why.” You looked down at the table, at Jin’s lunch of some salad and a smoothie. “I—I think you do, at least.”

You waited for Jin to say something, but he simply kept chewing. His eyes looked at you so blankly, he almost seemed to be looking through you. This was nothing like the Jin you knew. Either he was in a really disturbed state of mind, or he was really mad at you for what happened between you and Taehyung. 

You suspected it was the latter.

“Um,” you couldn’t find the right words to say. “I—I tried talking to Tae about this, but he gets really upset and unbelieving and I… I lose courage.” You swallowed. You were losing courage now, too. “So—so, oppa, did he… Taehyung, he… what did he say about last night?” You bit your tongue. “I mean the night before. Hobi—Hobi oppa’s party’s night.” You focussed your gaze at your sweaty hands resting in your lap. “I drank God knows what combination of alcohol, and…and can’t seem to recall the events that followed us leaving the party. Taehyung is really worked up about it all, so…” You looked up to meet Jin’s flat stare. “Will you tell me what happened that night? What—what Taehyung’s been so worried about?”

Jin sipped at his smoothie, smacked his lips, and had just opened his mouth to say something, when a familiar voice rained down on the two of you from the side. “Well, this is fabulous!” 

You jumped, snapping your head to the side to see Jin’s girlfriend standing close to your booth in her waitress outfit, lunchbox in hand and rage on her face.

“So, now you have engagements during lunch, too. Great. Just great.”

“Unnie, I…” You trailed off as the woman silenced you with a sharp glare. Tossing another one at her boyfriend, she twisted on her heels and left the break room. “I… what did I do wrong? She—she did recognize me, right?” you nervously asked the stoic wall sitting before you.

“Taehyung is upset because you’ve been hiding behind the excuse of this fictitious memory loss—that doesn’t happen in real life, mind you—to get out of the promise you made to him while drunk,” Jin told you in a slightly high pitched, obviously enraged, and nearly unrecognisable voce. 

You gaped at him. “I really do not remember, oppa! Why would I want to forget about my first…” You slowly came to a halt as it hit you. “Wait, what did you say? The promise I made to him? What promise?” you rasped, bewildered.

Jin scowled at you. "What first time were you going to speak of? I don’t know about the intimate details of your relationship, and I don't want to, because that isn’t material here.” You ducked your head as your cheeks pinked. “You two drunkards were getting all emotional about loving each other a lot and wanting to stay together forever, so Tae proposed the idea of sealing it with a ring.”

You gasped. “I—a promise ring?”

“Mm hmm,” Jin hummed with pursed lips. “And then, when you got sober and realised you shouldn't have made that commitment in a haste, you ran out on him, instead of telling him straight up. And since then you’ve been confusing him with mixed clues instead of properly talking to him about what you want.” Jin’s jaw was set. “Why can’t you just have a proper talk, huh? Why do you women have to be so mysterious and expectant about things? Use your freaking words, for one damn time in your life! Men can’t get into your head to guess shit! Say it, and maybe we’ll be able to resolve it! Use words to describe what you actually want, and maybe I'd be able to get it done!”

Jin was breathing hard, his eyes were blown wide and a few veins in his forehead looked close to popping. You swallowed, feeling nervous, confused, dumbstruck and a tad bit scared for your life, at the same time. “Uh… you?”

Jin blinked, and the hazy, mad look lifted from his gaze. His lips parted and he sighed very noisily. “No, not I. It’s just… I started to project my personal issues onto you. Sorry about that, kid.” He forwarded a hand to pat your shoulder in apology. “You got what you came here for, though, right?”

“I… yeah, I guess. Although…” I cannot believe that that is what I forgot. No wonder Taehyung looked so downtrodden.

Gosh, you were a fool!

“Thank you so much, oppa!” you announced to Jin, getting up with a new spring to your steps. “I’ll get going, now.”

You bounded out of the restaurant. You literally could not believe what you’d just learned. Smacking a palm against your face, you shook your head at yourself. 

You concentrated, again, this time to recall conversations from last night instead of actions. And surprisingly enough, some of the fog cleared away as you started recalling things…

…you are beyond toasted in this shimmery polyester top and leather shorts you’d worn as your costume. The minute you step into Taehyung’s room, you are scrambling to get out of them.

Your boyfriend chuckles as he locks the door after himself. “You’re more than welcome to take it off, and more, babe.”

Your mind has gotten kind of hazier than you’re used to. But knowing how Tae always makes fun of you for being a lightweight — which you’re really really not, Tae just holds his liquor better than you do — you avoid bringing up your state of mind. You laugh at his teasing remark.

Within seconds, you have thrown off your top and shorts, and are snuggled between Taehyung’s covers. He himself has stripped down to his boxers. You give a lazy smile as your eyes rove his torso. “What happened to wearing pajamas when we cuddled?” you tease, sleepily.

Taehyung gets in bed next to you, rolling over to pull you to his chest. He smirks down at you, complete with his vampire makeup. “Too balmy tonight. And too tired to find pajamas.”

You giggle, burrowing yourself into the warm, soft skin of his chest. You poke a finger into his pectoral muscle.

“Ow!” he yelps.

“You’re muscly, babe. Those oversized clothes hide you well,” you observe, licking your lips as your hands smooth over his chest and stomach.

“And you’re sexy,” he responds in a rasp, eyes stuck on the cleavage exposed by your bra. “Do you usually sleep with this on?” he asks, snapping the strap against your shoulder.

You wince, shaking your head. “It’s too hot to wear a shirt, so…”

Taehyung pulls you in closer, staring deep into your eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Despite all the ridiculous makeup, your heart skips a beat at his intense stare. You nod.

His hands slide behind you to unhook your bra. You gasp when the clasp is released. “Relax, baby. It’s just me,” Taehyung whispers to you in a soothing voice. “I won’t even look if you ask me to. You know that, right?”

You do. But you also do. Want him to look, and more. As the garment is pulled away from your body, slowly, Taehyung’s eyes remain stuck to yours. Your own water at the love, admiration and respect you feel for him in the moment. Actually, not just in the moment. Always.

A sob escapes your lips. You rush to wrap yourself in his arms, again. “Baby?” he sounds worried. “What—what happened, sweetheart?”

“I just love you a lot, Tae,” you speak into his skin in a nasally, snot-filled voice. “A lot. You’re my most precious gemstone in the whole world. Never leave me, baby. Never ever.”

Taehyung presses a multitude of kisses to the crown of your head, and you feel wetness seep into your shoulder when he nuzzles your nape. “I love you too, my babylove. And I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

“Promise?” you mumble. “This is forever?”

You feel him nod against you. “Forever, baby. I promise.” He pulls away from you, eyes still on your face as he wipes away your tears and the obviously ruined makeup if his own is anything to go by. “Do you want to seal it? With a promise ring?”

You gasp. This is the stuff from teenage romance novels that you’ve always dreamed of. “I… Yes! Yes, Tae, oh my God, yes, yes, please yes!” you happily chant, grabbing both his hands and wringing them around as you roll in the bed.

Taehyung chuckles, calming you down by pulling you in for a kiss. The familiar heavenly feel of his pillowy lips has you quieting down and kissing him back. His palm slowly travels up the curve of your waist to curl around the side of your breast. Your breath hitches.

Taehyung brushes his tongue against your lower lip, and pulls back. “Is this okay?” he asks, giving a slight squeeze.

You almost squeak at the sensation, rapidly nodding your head like a dummy. Smiling, he captures your lips again and massages his palm over the peak of your breast, squeezing when you moan into his mouth. You lose yourself in his taste and touch.

His lips travel lower to your jaw, peppering kisses on their way. You release a sigh of bliss, hands carding through his hair. His teeth scrape over your collarbone, quickly latching onto the skin of your neck. You cannot hold back the whine that leaves you, sensations travelling down to the bottom of your stomach.

“Mine,” he breathes into your skin, sponging kisses over the bite he has just left. “Only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you breathe out, rolling on your back as he presses his face against your sternum.

“You’ve made me the happiest man, bub,” he breathes onto your chest, a finger drawing patterns around your navel as he cuddles into you. “I’ll get you that ring and prove myself to be the best boyfriend, in the world. I’ll love you more than you ever thought was possible.”

Tears trickle down your eyes at his words. “And I’m gonna be the best girlfriend in the world to you, baby. You’re my dream come true. My real life prince charming.”

He doesn't say anything for a while, just hugs you tighter. His lips feathers soft kisses to the tops of your breasts, and a hand plays with imaginary patterns on your stomach. And then you feel his head getting heavier. You want to ask him if he’s sleepy, but you cannot even open your eyes with how heavy they’ve gotten. You breathe out as he holds you closer, and slowly drift into sleep...

Your eyes watered as the scenes played out in your head, everything you’d been unable to recall gradually coming back. You realised you’d been going about it the wrong way, trying to recall your passionate moments, when it had all been an extremely emotional affair.

You bit your lip as you called Taheyung’s cellphone. You were gonna beg for his forgiveness and then kiss him silly. You loved this boy so much, oh God.

The phone was picked up after three rings. “Hi, kiddo!”

You blinked at the unexpected voice and greeting, but then recognised it to be Hobi’s. Oh how you wished you could yell at the guy for making your life miserable by mixing drinks at his damn party. You exhaled, though, and tried to clear your head. “Hobi oppa, hey. Where’s Tae?”

“At the Kappa rehearsal hall with me!” Hobi cheerfully told you. “We’re doing a k-pop routine today. You know how he gets with those, right? He’s been practising this one move that he can’t get right for so long, ugh. Do you need a message conveyed?”

You frowned to yourself. It had been a while since Taehyung visited the rehearsal halls. Was he trying to distract himself from the disaster you’d brewed up for him? Very likely. “No, no, I’m gonna…” You stopped yourself. Maybe an element of surprise would work better. “I’ll call later, when he’s done,” you said, instead, already mapping a way down to the university campus and the rehearsal hall as you hailed a cab.

You received Hobi’s text on your way, stating that they were all leaving for the ice cream parlor opposite the building and that you may contact Taehyung now if you wanted to. You were kind of grateful they’d all left the rehearsal hall. You weren’t sure how you’d call Taehyung aside in an echoing hall with mirrors and Hobi’s dance team. And what would you do if he refused you? You weren’t prepared for that kind of humiliation. An ice cream shop, you could do.

On reaching your destination, you exited the cab, determined. You looked up at the striking capital K embossed in gold atop the Kappa rehearsal hall. Then you turned to look across the street and spotted a quaint, cosy looking ice cream parlour painted in beautiful pastels. You crossed the road with hurried steps.

You took a deep breath in. You were gonna apologise your butt off, and then kiss him in the middle of this very place if you had to. God, you felt so guilty! You were gonna make this right.

As you pushed the door open, the entry bell tolled, alerting the girl behind the cash counter of your presence. As she flashed you a bright smile, you realised she looked familiar. She had a really kind face. Maybe you’d seen her around the campus, maybe she was one of Wendy’s friends. 

You stepped in and returned her greeting with a small smile of your own. Then you looked around to spot Taehyung and Hobi’s group. Hobi caught your eye first, standing out with his fiery red hair.

You walked over. “Hey… everyone,” you greeted the table, awaiting Hobi’s reaction and hoping he’d be kinder than Jin. Although half of Jin’s ire seemed to have come from his personal troubles which you really had known nothing about beforehand. You smiled when Hobi’s surprised eyes met yours. “Hi.”

“Oh! Hey, kid!” Hobi greeted you with a huge grin, easing your worries. “You, uh, you came here, whoa!”

You gave a bashful shrug, awkward because you didn’t recognise anyone other than Hobi on the table.

And then you did a double take at the table. You didn’t recognise anyone, indeed! Where was Taehyung?

Hobi noticed your searching eyes. “Oh, Tae went back to the hall, he’d left his phone. He’ll be back in five.”

You exhaled. That wouldn’t do. “I’ll catch him back there, no problem.”

Hobi shrugged his shoulders, without question. “He’d be in hall G.”

Nodding him a quick thanks, you took off, leaving the ice cream shop, and crossed the road back to the rehearsal hall. As you stepped foot onto the linoleum floor of your university's most coveted rehearsal hall, you realized you’d never been here before. Past the revolving gates, you encountered a small reception area where you had to show your college ID to get yourself checked in.

When the man passed your ID back to you over the counter, you made your way down the corridor which was lined by various gates that were numbered alphabetically. These were probably the individual halls. The corridor, you noticed, ran quite long. God, how huge was this place?

On reaching the door marked with a G, you stopped. The door wasn’t fully shut like all the others you’d walked past, right now.

You gave it a slight push, peeking in. Taehyung’s shapely butt greeted you as the guy leant over on the floor, rummaging around for something. Probably his phone. You gaped at the sight for a few extended seconds, before realising how you were being a creep.

You cleared your throat and gave the door a firmer push, opening it wide enough for you to step through. Taehyung’s wide eyes met yours in the mirrored wall he was sat before. You sucked in a sharp breath as his attractiveness smacked you in the face, yet again. Dressed in plain black joggers and a loose fitted t-shirt, he should have had nothing on your white colored high waisted shorts and pale blue button up, and yet he looked like a freaking Greek God, while you...well. You really just looked like a potato trying to play dress-up in front of this guy, swear to God.

He straightened up, running a hand through his dark hair, his eyes following your movements through the mirror as you stepped in. His gaze seemed apprehensive and he really didn’t seem to be in the mood to speak, anytime soon. “Hi,” you whispered through a scratchy throat.

Taehyung’s eyes travelled down your body, making you blush from the inside out as they lingered on your legs. “Hey,” he finally said, audibly exhaling as he sat down, this time, to rummage through some towels and water bottles lying on the floor next to the wall length mirror. “You done with your breather, overnight, then? Can you give me a ring? I can’t find my phone.”

You bit your lip at his caustic tone and taunt. And also at the lack of an address. No babe, no angel? You’d really hurt him. “Uh, yeah, sure,” you quickly said, holding back the flood that was filling up your heart as you fished your phone out from your pocket.

The buzz of a cellphone’s vibration filled up around you. Taehyung bounced back to his feet, attentively kicking off a soaked towel, and there, on the floor, you saw his phone. You disconnected the call as he picked the device up. “Thank you,” he mumbled, breaking your heart with the formality and the repetitive lack of address.

He walked up to you on careful steps, eyes scanning your face as if accessing something. You breathed in. “Tae, can we talk?”

His eyebrows did a thing where one of them rose and the other lowered, very slightly. You nearly creamed your panties. “Depends,” he gruffly said, looking away to inspect his phone. “Are you gonna run off in the middle of it, again?”

You winced, ducking your head in shame. “No. No, absolutely not. Never again, I promise,” you mumbled. You looked up and caught a brief glimpse of his shattered expressions before he pulled on his mask of indifference mingled with slight bother. You felt like shit. “I’m so so so sorry, baby,” you said without any ado. “I acted like a complete idiot and—and really hurt you.”

Taehyug’s whole body seemed to deflate. With his lips pursed and eyes shut, he shook his head. “That you did, babe. That you did.”

You clamped your lower lip between your teeth. “Forgive me? Please?” you breathed out in a really desperate voice, ready to beg on your knees if you had to.

Taehyung opened his eyes with a tired sounding, noisy exhale. “It’s… well, of course, I’ll forgive you, Angel. You’re the love of my life,” he said with a small smile while his eyes still emanated immense sadness. He looked so heartbroken and lost that you just wanted to give him a tight hug. “But, baby. Why? Why did you go through all this trouble of faking memory loss? You ran out on me twice within twelve hours, you know. It hurt like a bitch that you couldn’t just talk to me about wanting to back out. I would’ve understood, baby. You were drunk and emotional, and I—”

You gasped when it hit you. Faking memory loss? Wanting to back out? Oh no. “Tae!” you interrupted him, stepping forth to put both your palms against his chest, resisting the urge to splay them and push them into his toned flesh. “You’ve still got it wrong. I didn’t fake any memory loss, baby. I genuinely did not remember. I promise. I didn’t lie.”

Taehyung frowned, looking confused. “What? But…why did you leave like that in the morning, then?” he asked in a soft voice, looking vulnerable as his hands came up to loop around your wrists.

Your skin as well as your heart warmed at his familiar touch, and this time you did splay your fingers out a bit on his pectorals. “I…” You felt your cheeks and ears heating up when you realized you’d have to actually tell him what you’d assumed you’d forgotten. “Um, Tae, we—uh, we were nearly naked when we woke up, you remember?”

Despite the situation, a corner of his lips ticked up and his hands left your wrists to wrap around your waist. “Uh huh, vividly. What of it?”

You felt the heat climb down your ears, to your neck. You looked down at his beautiful collarbones to avoid the intensity his eyes suddenly shone with. “Well, it — it made me think that maybe, you know… stuff might have happened between us. Um, you know…?”

When you felt his hold slacken, you looked up to find Taehyung gaping at you with his jaw dropped really far down and eyes as round as golf balls. “You thought we had sex?” he squeaked, face contorting in horror. “No…you thought you forgot that we had sex,” he corrected himself, horror growing on his face as you pursed your lips in silent acquiescence.

“I felt horribly embarrassed,” you quietly confessed, making his grip on you tighten again. “Our first sexual encounter was — well, is going to be something I remember and cherish for the rest of my life. I hated myself for blanking out on it.”

“But you could’ve asked me!” he desperately said, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“Yeah, about that.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I kinda did, but somebody just gave me suggestive glances and confuddling freaking words that concreted my doubt of us having had sex!”

Taehyung grimaced. “Yeah, I was tryna tease, but it came back to bite me in the butt.”

You rolled your eyes with a small chuckle, sliding your palms past his shoulders to grip his neck.

“As it stands, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at you with parted lips and big, innocent eyes. “I shouldn’t have doubted you like that.”

You looked in his now regretful eyes with love bubbling in your chest. “How could you ever think I would wanna back out, baby?” you whispered, leaning in close enough to taste his favorite strawberry milkshake on his breath. “You really are my most precious gemstone in the whole world, Tae,” you relayed your words from that night, making his eyes widen. “My dream come true. My real life prince charm—”

With a growl Taehyung captured your lips in his. You melted in his embrace, nails digging into the back of his neck as you drank your fill of him. Your lips moved in sync, the most natural rhythm in the world to you. You had missed this, missed him so much, in just a day. You really couldn’t live without this boy. He was your whole world.

His tongue swiped past the seams of your lips to delve deeper, and you allowed him entry with a deep moan, going lax in his arms as he plundered your mouth. You felt him move you around, and then a cold surface was pressing into your back. Taehyung sidled up to you, his planes molding smoothly into your curves. You sighed into his mouth, tasting him to the fullest as you ran your own tongue over the ridge of his upper teeth. His chest vibrated with a groan, making you shiver.

You closed your teeth around his lower lip and sucked, making him gasp and push against you harder. His own teeth scraped against your upper lip. Goosebumps spread all over your body.

His arms left your waist to pull at your own, slowly travelling down your shoulders, to encircle your wrists and pin them next to your head. He pulled away with a heaving chest, and you gasped in a large breath. Your eyes fluttered open.

He looked good enough to eat with his eyes shuttered, dark hair brushing his miles long lashes, and lips cherry red with your kisses. “I love you so so much, my babylove,” he whispered, strawberry scented breath washing over your face.

You inhaled his essence. Your eyes watered at the love reflected in his own. “I love you, too, Tae. I love you forever.”

Pinned between him and, you could now tell, the mirror, your heartbeat quickened when he licked his lips. Without another word, he leant down to sponge open mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Tae,” you breathed out, “we’re in...publi—ah!” you broke on a gasp when he licked a strip up to your jaw.

Your eyelashes fluttered as he came back up to look into your eyes with his own darkened in lust. “You didn’t cover the marks, did you?”

Your breathing almost stopped at his deep octave. Nearly trembling in his grasp, you shook your head. “I w—w—wore a shirt to… hide ’em,” you managed to breath out, going insane under his heated stare.

He let go of your arms to unbutton the collar of your shirt. You looped your fingers through the waistband of his joggers, chewing on your lower lip when he undid another button. And another. And then another. “You look really fucking sexy today, by the way,” he grumbled into your neck, leaning in to lave his tongue over the deep purple marks he’d left there. “Love the shorts.”

You bit back a whimper when his teeth scraped against the flesh just beneath your collarbone. 

“I happen to remember another mark,” he spoke into your skin, nose dragging down your sternum and sinking into your cleavage. One of his fingers came up to drag against the top seam of your bra. In a swift motion, he scooped the cup down to free your right boob. One of his fingers came up to encircle your nipple, making it peak immediately. Humming in satisfaction, he moved the shapely digit up to rub against the mark you remembered he’d left there. “Would you look at that.” His voice was now a growl, hot breath warming the skin of your breast as he spoke. “My baby looks so pretty.”

That was your last warning before Taehyung was engulfing your peak into his mouth. You stopped breathing. Frozen in place, your thighs tingling at the sensation and your core clenching in anticipation, a breathless heave left you when his tongue flicked against the pebbled nipple. You desperately clutched onto him for dear life, one hand grabbing hold of his shirt at the waist and the other coming up to grip a tuft of his hair. “Tae...hyung,” you whined, eyes screwed shut as he sucked hard.

He let go of your boob with a pop, only to tease his mark with kitten licks. You were gonna die. 

One of his hands glided over one of your thighs, hooking under your knee to lift your leg up and slot himself further into you. Your eyes flew open when you felt the stiffness between his legs. He felt hard. And he felt huge. Gulping, you tugged at his hair to pull him away. He separated from you with dazed eyes, blinking rapidly as if to focus on your face as he breathed through his wet, rosy, parted lips.

Sexy fucking beast.

As you looked into his crazed eyes, he pressed harder against you, pushing his length against the crotch of your shorts. You whimpered, your fists tightening on him when the zipper of your shorts bumped into your clit. Taehyung’s eyes lit up with interest. He repeated the motion. You threw your head back, giving up when he picked up pace, rubbing against you with his own breathing laboured.

Sweat beaded your forehead, and his hand came up to support the back of your neck, palm of the other still holding up your leg to provide him with the required leverage. You let out a guttural moan when he leant in to lick at your nipple with the flat of his tongue. “Tae…” you sighed, attempting to collect some semblance of your sanity, but failing.

Taehyung sped up, almost rutting against you, and you rolled your hips against his to match the pace. His mouth latched onto your neck, shooting off sparks down to your core and fueling the fire bubbling in the pit of your stomach. You were about to combust. “My baby,” he grumbled into your ear, scraping his teeth against the flesh behind it. Your entire body shuddered. “Only mine,” he growled again.

You nodded blindly, gasping when he bit down on your flesh. His hand suddenly left your neck to brush down your front, tweaking your nipple, and settled onto the waistband of your shorts. His eyes met yours through the haze of lust you two were choking on, and you gave him a nod of consent. He deftly unbuttoned the garment, hips not ceasing for a moment as his fingers glided down your abdomen. 

The first contact his fingers made with your clit was explosive. Your back arched off the wall, mouth falling open on a silent scream. He nudged against your bundle of nerves twice, before moving down your wetness to sink two of his gorgeously slender fingers into you. You had been flooding your panties since the moment your eyes met. Both his fingers slid right in. His hips stuttered to a halt, lips falling open on a gasp. Your hand left his head to clutch at his shoulder, pulling him in further when he let go of your knee.

“You are soaking, baby,” he breathed, awe and surprise spilling off his throaty timbre. His fingers curved in you, rubbing against that spot inside of you that had taken you months to locate properly. He did it in under five seconds, and now he was playing you like a violin. You were gonna die!!! Your eyes fell shut again. His fingers were merciless, massaging your insides and pushing against your warmth. “Yes, you like that? Do you like that baby, hm?”

You managed a broken nod, gasps layering on one on top of the other. “T—Tae…Tae…”

“Come on, my love. Let go,” he whispered, swiping his tongue over your trembling lips before latching onto them.

A stroke of thumb against your clit, and you fell apart with a vibrating groan into his mouth. The knot tightening in your stomach suddenly expanded into a tsunami of sensations that travelled down to every single nerve ending in your body. Your walls clenched around his fingers as waves over waves of blinding, white pleasure crashed into you. Your legs jittered beneath you, spasming beyond your control.

It took you longer than a few seconds to come back to the land of living. You were not used to this.

You opened your eyes excruciatingly slow, as if waking up from unconsciousness. But when you did, Taehyung had already extracted his hand back from you, righted your bra, buttoned up both of your garments, and was now licking your wetness off his fingers with his eyes shut. The sight made you thump back against the wall, jolting his hand that was holding onto your waist and making him open his eyes in surprise.

You looked at him from under your lashes, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. “What…” you panted, “the hell…”

Taehyung had a starved look in his eyes when he met yours that, despite just having had the best orgasm of your entire life, made you wanna throw him on his back and ride him to the high heavens. “I take it you liked that,” he murmured, cradling your waist in his arms.

“Liked it? Are you insane?” you scoffed. “Taehyung, I…” you heaved a breath out, picking up your leaden arms to rest against his shoulders. “I couldn’t breathe. It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt,” you whispered, feeling vulnerable and at the same time protected.

Taehyung, contrary to your expectations, gave you a sincere smile instead of the smirk you’d envisioned. “Makes me the happiest man. I love you so much, you know?”

You giggled, pulling your lips in. “I love you, too, you insanely insanely sexy man,” you teased, making him scrunch up his nose in embarrassment. Something poked your thigh when you shuffled closer to him, and you gasped. “Babe, what about you… your… um.” Your wide eyes pointed down at his nearly fully erect member. 

Taehyung gave a laugh. “Well, we can always go back to the dorms and take care of it together,” he suggested, making your cheeks flame up and your battered pussy reignite in excitement. “I was dry humping you like a thirteen-year-old. Couldn’t let our first sexual encounter be about that.”

“You were lucid enough to think about all that?” you asked him, genuinely curious.

“No, that was a lie.” Taehyung gave you a bashful shake of head. “I was a goner, babe. I just…” His tongue came out to lick at his lower lip. “I just had this sudden urge to feel you. Couldn’t control it.”

You shakily exhaled. “Your fingers are amazing. No, you are amazing,” you mumbled, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips. You suddenly pulled back with your eyes wide. You looked around the hall, frenetically. “Wait, this place doesn’t have cameras, does it?”

Taehyung laughed with his lips pursed. “Of course not, darling. Who do you think I am?”

“A really sexy guy who missed his girlfriend?” you teased again, and this time, he kissed you in retaliation.

Pulling away, he looked at you with stars in his eyes. “Wait,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket for something.

You had a guess what it could be. 

Pulling out a plastic case that obviously housed a ring, Taehyung sucked in his lower lip as he looked at you. Pinning you against the mirror, he popped the box open between your faces. Your eyes left his to look at the ring — a simple, silver band with a dainty knot embossed on it. Your eyes watered.

“It’s beautiful,” you mumbled through a clogged throat.

“My angel, my other half, the love of my life,” Taehyung whispered, paying no heed to the tear that travelled down his cheek, “do you promise to be mine forever?”

You sobbed. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you nodded, frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise. I promise to be yours forever.”

He plucked the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Sobs wracked the two of you as you hopped into his arms, tucking your legs around his waist when he lifted you off the floor. “I love you so much, oh baby,” he sobbed into your neck.

“I love you, too, my love, I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, after crying for a while, admiring how cute the ring looked on your hand, ensuring that Taehyung wasn’t even the slightest bit hard, and nearly leaving his phone behind again, the two of you exited rehearsal hall with your entwined hands swinging between you. 

“So,” Taehyung suddenly commented, a sly smirk on his face. “Bet you can’t get amnesia about coming for me in Hobi hyung’s rehearsal hall, huh? Even if you tried? Mission accomplished!” 

You gasped, raining down smacks on him right there, on the side of the road. He was gonna tease you about your wrong interpretation of that night, forever, it seemed.

“Hey, I was kidding!” Taehyung exclaimed, sheltering himself with his arms. “Let’s go ask hyung what he mixed with the vodka that gave you amnesia in the first place!” 

You stopped with your attack. That seemed like a great idea. You were dying to ask the man that, yourself. “Let’s.”

As you two walked back to the ice cream shop, your ring glinted, reflecting sunlight. You looked at Taehyung who was grinning to himself. 

You were the happiest, today, that you had ever been in your life.

note: angst by the virtue of miscommunication is my fav sort of angst to write. in the original draft, this story was to end when OC got back to Tae's dorm to sort things out, but then my mind said naAAHHH. mORE ANGST!!! lmao, anyways. thank you for reading! jin's story should be up next, if all goes according to plan. wait around~ 😘💕

© bangtae-sohotddaeng | 2021

[mxvladdy]

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter 7

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 7,150 (being succinct is for wimps)

Warnings: Language, SMUT - this is your warning, no under 18s please.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

What the artist owes the world is his work, not a model for living.

Harry Crews

Chapter 7

Waking up comes to you slowly and languidly,as if the day was kind enough to filter softly into your eyes through a vaseline focussed lens, not unlike the ones shone onto Ingrid Bergman’s face and projected through Marcus’ iPad last night. Unlike your usual routine of falling out of bed and drifting with eyes still shut tight, in the direction of the kettle to make that all important cup of tea as your alarm sounds, you have instead woken as the first light of day paints the room in soft Degas pastels. Your sleep is normally quite fitful and filled with dreams that you wish didn’t cycle through your head for the rest of the day - but today feels different. Maybe it’s because your pillow is breathing.

Hang on, your pillow is breathing.

Shit, you fell asleep on Marcus.

How fucking professional, you absolute numpty!

Somehow during the night it was no longer just a case of you leaning into his shoulder but rather that your limbs had become confusingly entangled. From what you can work out, you must have both slid down the length of the sofa as whilst your head is still nestled on his shoulder, your forehead has now edged closer to the constellation of freckles on his neck. The steady percussion of his heart cradled within the gentle rise and fall of his chest is directly pressed against yours. Not crowding you despite the precariously narrow ledge you’re both huddled on, just fitting together like the most exquisitely cut puzzle.

For fuck’s sake, woman, what have you gotten yourself into this time?

You have one of the brightest minds in art history and are renowned for solving criminal activity but right now, you have zero idea as to how you will disentangle your limbs without both you and your boss showing willing.

But do you really want to?

There’s also a part of you that just wishes you could stay here- warm, safe and snuggled deeply in his chest. Jasper had always been so bony- all sharp edges and lean whereas Marcus offers a softer and more solid warmth as his body curls languidly around yours. His sleepy strokes and unconscious squeezes send little tingles throughout your body and whilst you’re utterly certain that nothing has happened other than the sheer exhaustion of two adults completely wiping out, you don’t feel ready to shatter the illusion of there being something more.

With the freest limb that’s slung over Marcus’ back, you try to wriggle some feeling into your fingers- psyching your body up to move. In an exchange of roles from the previous day, you stroke his cheek, tucking a curl of hair behind his ear before murmuring gently in his ear,

“Hey.”

Thick eyelashes start twitching before you notice an eye opening, darting around the room before coming in to focus upon your face, “Hey,” a shy grin slowly grows on his face, “I guess I didn’t get to put the comforter on you last night.”

“What?” In utter confusion, you push the back of your head into the cushion of the sofa so that you can angle your head to look more into Marcus’ face.

“I heard your breathing getting heavier last night n’ I thought of how you covered me the night before. Kept thinking I’d manage to do the same for you but you were so soft and warm, that I must’ve drifted off soon after,” his chuckling morning voice still painted with a sleepy rasp.

Giggling and grinning broadly at Marcus’ almost sweet gesture, you gently tease, “Well look, the quilt you nearly put on me, stayed on all night! Didn’t kick it off once.”

“Listen, thanks for not making this as awkward as it should be. No, no, no, I mean it,” Marcus emphasizes emphatically, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes implore you to believe him, “Not sure there are many people, who can wake up next to their new boss after less than 48 hours together and still crack jokes at their expense.”

Finally, working out a way to partially wriggle yourself free, you manage to push yourself into an almost seated position. A small groan and a flush runs through Marcus’ cheeks. And just before he flings his arm across his face to try to obscure his expression, you catch a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

In a low, gentle voice, you try to comfort him, “Come on, you have nothing to be embarrassed about- it’s a normal reaction. I’m going to shuffle across you, if that’s ok? I think it’s the only way we can get out of this tangle without both of us ending up on our arses on the floor.”

You take the small nod from Marcus as confirmation for the manoeuvre and start to crawl over him. Aiming to lift your hips up and away from the source of his embarrassment as possible, you end up overbalancing and tumbling to the floor in a heap of awkward limbs and laughter.

“Hey, you ok?” Marcus’ sleep creased face peers over the edge of the sofa down at you.

It’s now your turn for embarrassment to flush through your very being as you lie there staring at the ceiling rose and cornicing, “Ah I can’t ever pass up an opportunity to demonstrate just how clumsy I am,” you admit thickly through your eyelashes. Perhaps your limbs hadn’t been quite as ready as you’d hoped to carry your weight as you slowly shuffle yourself into a seated position on the deliciously deep pile rug that had cushioned your fall to the floor.

“Although, I may need to ensure that these rugs are kept around me at all times as at least there are no bruises this time. I swear my body is a map of mystery bruises,” you admit as you inspect the skin under your pyjama legs, pointing out inexplicable yellowing bruises.

“Well, Andy can look into that for you around the office,” Marcus says playing along with a wink, surreptitiously enjoying the little flashes you were revealing of your body, “Shame we’ve gotta leave today. I’m beat - but it’s been fun.”

“I’m not sure I’d have ever returned if it wasn’t for your insistence,” you admit, surprised at how the pain in your throat has already lessened to a mild dull ache.

“Guess we’d better get packed up and head off to the airport then.”

You observe Marcus’ bottom lip drop into a small pout, that delicious crease in the middle jutting out as if he was a petulant child rather than a man in his mid forties.

Oh how you’d love to suck...STOP IT! HE IS YOUR FUCKING BOSS, ANUSHKA MEERA LEAH PIERCE!

With an awkward wave and a quick turn of pace to hide the heat coursing through your face, you hightail it out of his room, stubbing your toe as you yank the door open far too viciously,

“SHIT ON IT!” You loudly curse, hearing the sofa creak as Marcus’ weight lifts from it. Not wanting to stick around for his latest sweet gesture when you don’t bloody deserve it, you painfully hop into the cool anonymity of the corridor to nurse your swollen toe.

Fucking smooth, Nush. REALLY fucking smooth.

✪✪✪✪✪

SLAM!

Marcus stands there, still slightly bleary eyed and dazed after experiencing some of the worst emotional whiplash he’s ever felt. How do you go from being genuinely sweet over feeling the morning glory of someone you barely know poking you in the belly to virtually running from the room and hurting yourself in the process to supposedly go pack your suitcase? Your words and actions seem so divergent- in total opposition to one another. Almost as if your brain and being are constantly at war with each other.

In one breath, you’ll tease him mercilessly, amaze him with the depth of your knowledge and the next you’ll shut off completely as if sharing even the time of day, would destroy you. You jump away from him as if it wasn’t the coffee that burns you but his touch and then, you lean into him, snoring sweetly with your face buried into his chest. He wants to shake you and scream WHAT DO YOU WANT in the same way that Ryan Gosling does in The Notebook, but life isn’t a romantic film. Something he’s never truly accepted.

Scrunching his eyes and scratching his head, rubbing the deep crevices that littered his brow, Marcus wonders what his next move will be. Should he run after you to check your foot? Wrap you in his arms and tell you that it will all be ok? Risk you running further from him? Unsure of whether your door would even open to him, Marcus sighs deeply before taking a few steps away from the sofa and tumbling face forward towards his as yet unslept upon bed.

Get it together, Pike.

How much of your constant pestering pushed Teresa away? It’s not a cute quirk, it’s fucking needy - and you need to stop before everyone runs from you.

Burying his face into the comforter, Marcus releases a deeply frustrated growl into its thick squishy noise-absorbing softness before using the springs of the bed to flip himself onto his back. Feeling his pulse throbbing a nervous beat in his neck, he shuts his eyes. All he can see is you. He can smell the tiniest imprints of your perfume and shampoo upon his t-shirt.

You’re fucking feral, Pike.

Feeling the blood rush to his groin as images of your face, bra strap and legs dance through his head, Marcus slides a hand under the waistband of his joggers to give himself a soothing stroke. He enjoys playing with himself as much as the next man- rubbing, stroking, cupping- but right now, all he can imagine is your hand being wrapped around it. Your hand gripping his cock - your skin so fucking soft - building up a rhythmic pleasure as you stare deep into his eyes.

Oh, fuck it.

With a quick arch of his hips, Marcus pulls down his pants in one smooth motion to allow himself full access to his dick. The immense pressure building and tightening as he works the shaft developing a pleasing rhythm whilst he is thinking of you. Filling in the gaps of the parts he hasn’t yet seen of you. How when you’d drifted off last night, he’d patted your hip and realised after feeling no ridge from where the elastic should have been that you had no panties on under your pyjama bottoms. The thought of your pillowy soft, warm, wet flesh so close to his fingers had made him grimace and groan last night when he couldn’t act upon it.

Now by himself, he gives into his basest wishes. Imagining licking, biting and stroking down your body, sucking on your nipples before lifting your hips to lower you onto his dick, sinking deeper and deeper inside you, feeling your warmth and wetness encase around him. Scraping his nails lightly across his balls, up the shaft and across the tip, he throws his head back as he thrusts harder into his fist. The first wave crashes over him pumping jet after jet of cum over his belly as his back arches up away from the soft mattress, his mouth crying out your name.

Dazed. Spent. Marcus lies there for a while, his hands and belly sticky from his release. Allowing the tiredness to wash back through him, his eyes close again- torturing his brain with images of you lying back with him. Being able to stroke your hair and press kisses into your sweetly almond scented skin. Hugging you tightly to him.

Never letting go.

Oh, you are utterly fucked, Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

Lying upon your tummy, head resting on your arms, you rest upon your bed thinking over the events of the past two days. Burning yourself, burning others, coming back to France, panic attacks, confessions and oh, finding a piece of well faked art- nothing too taxing. The exhaustion is so exquisite as it courses through your veins. There is one thing you’ve tried to exclude from your list- the Voldemort of kindness- he who shall not be named.

Marcus Fucking Pike

When you’d seen his bank card, you’d noticed the F sitting between the M for Marcus and his surname of Pike. It had momentarily tickled you to think of what the F could stand for. You totally know that with his track record for openness, he’d have told you in a heartbeat but it was more fun to wonder. For now, it will stand for Fucking as from what he’d demonstrated of himself he can be really Fucking nice, a Fucking tease about your totally non-existent snoring and Fucking hot.

Stop it, Nush.

You’ve been there, seen that, done it and got the fucking t-shirt. You do not want to go down that road again.

Rolling yourself off the bed, landing with a little more grace than you had off the sofa previously, you set to grabbing everything- throwing it all into your rucksack haphazardly. You’d underpacked, not wanting to cart a wheelie suitcase with you, leaving you with fewer clothes than you actually needed for this trip. You don’t have a clean outfit for the office today. Shit. The dress, although pretty smart for work, wouldn’t be terribly comfy on the flight back and there are some small splatters decorating it from where your coffee shot out of your mouth from laughing hard. You’ll have to head home before travelling into the office today, meaning a later night to catch up with the work you’d not complete earlier. Cursing your inability to pack well and organise your life, you throw on your dress and hope that your cardigan covers the worst of the stains.

Dragging the Tangle Teezer through the motions of pretending to tame your mop before securing it in a high ponytail, you head towards the bathroom that is situated on the adjoining wall between Marcus’ and your bedroom. The old fashioned tap handle with its smooth enamel touches spins easily between your fingers with none of the guttering, spluttering and sudden gushes of cloudy water that yours does at home as you wet your toothbrush, ready to brush your morning breath away. Buzzing fills your bathroom as you set about starting your day, your eyes dancing around the room looking at the cool tiles, the elaborate cistern on the toilet- all very fitting of a Victorian era bathroom. Not your style in the slightest, but it suited the styling of the hotel well. You hated when buildings were stripped and gutted of their original features, fitted with cookie cutter IKEA furniture. Chairs should be a little creaky, floors uneven and tables a little rickety- no perfect lines. A bit like that gorgeous missing bit of beard from Marcus’ face- perfection in imperfection.

Stop it, woman.

Spitting the foamy bubbles into the porcelain of the sink, you turn on the tap to rinse it away. Spinning the handle to the off position, you grab the cleanser that Claire, your eldest brother’s wife, had convinced you to start using and to be honest, it certainly helped the hormonal breakouts when it was that time of the month.

Tearing the cotton pad packet open, you grab two of them, squeezing a blob between them, then squishing them together so that it makes a cleanser pad sandwich. It reminds you of those potions you used to make as a child out in the garden mixing any berries, leaves and soil, or in the bath where you used all your dad’s shaving foam and your mum’s stupidly expensive creams, oils and lotions, mixing wild concoctions that would stop your brothers from coming into your bedroom or your mum rolling her eyes at your grades.

Rubbing the cool ointment in soothing circles over your skin, a strange sound seems to come through the wall. From Marcus’ side. It’s muffled but did it sound like your name, or were you imagining it? Confusion creases your forehead- why wouldn’t he just call or text if he needed you, unless he’s hurt? Deciding that the only way to put your mind at rest is to ring and make sure that he’s ok, you scroll through the names on your phone until you hit Sir Agent Marcus Pike. Hitting facetime, you gaze around the room as you wait for him to pick up. A lopsided smile on a slightly flushed face arrives on your phone, “Hey! You ok?”

“Yeah, I was just ringing to check if you were- I thought I heard you say my name when I was in the bathroom,” you gently question, noticing Marcus’ face twitch awkwardly as his eyes widen, “I was just worried that you might be bleeding out in there. Can’t really have that happen twice or people will start to think it was me that did it!”

Covering his mouth, scratching his scruff with his fingers, Marcus tries to think quickly, “Urm, I was… just trying to um get packed up and I stubbed my toe. You probably heard a pained grunt- sorry,” Marcus shakes his head, flaming cheeks giving away his lie.

“Oh we’re a matching pair, now!” you giggle watching Marcus’ uncomfortable twitching and the way he keeps running his hand through his hair, not entirely convinced by his story but glad it isn’t anything more serious.

“Anyway,” you announce wanting to move the conversation along, “I’ve booked us a taxi to the airport- you’ve got about twenty minutes until it arrives.”

A genuine smile creeps across his face- his eyes creasing into half crescents, “Thanks Nush. Hadn’t actually considered how we’d get there. I promise I am capable of running this team.”

“No worries, Marcus. See you down in reception?” that delicious smile and a slight nod greets your question before a quick goodbye on both sides.

He bloody hadn’t stubbed his toe but what the fuck had he been doing? Eyes widening as a realisation crosses your mind.

He hadn’t, had he?

Giggling away to yourself at the very thought, you finish grabbing your things before flicking the switch on the kettle and opening those beautiful French doors so their gauzy curtains float like ribbons in the slight breeze. One more coffee on that glorious balcony before you head back to London. So that’s two major developments you have gained in regards to work- one faked picture and that Marcus Pike is a shit liar.

✪✪✪✪✪

The journey back to the UK had been pretty uneventful other than Marcus trying to take your bag from you whenever possible. A sweet gesture but entirely unnecessary when it is literally a rucksack with five light items inside and you are more than capable of carrying it unless he was secretly worried that you’d injure someone else by swinging around too quickly or something. In the end, it was just easier for him to hold it rather than bickering like an old married couple in the middle of Stansted airport.

“Just gimme it, Nush. You can concentrate on working out where on Earth I’ve parked my car- this is the info I’ve got from the email ticket,” Marcus pointedly says, passing you his phone screen.

“You don’t have to give me a lift. I have to go home first as I didn’t pack enough clothes to cover me for today too,” you own up, “You get yourself to work and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours. I promise I’ll work late tonight to make up for it.”

Marcus shakes his head, “You hardly strike me as someone who does half a job. You’re in Blackheath too, aren’t you? To be honest, I could do with grabbing a few bits from home before going back into town, so it won’t be going out of my way.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary- I know that I’m not the easiest person to be around and you’ve had to pretty much live with me for the past twenty-four hours,” you check noticing Marcus’ wince when you mention your difficult personality, “Ooof that bad huh?”

“You should stop talking about yourself in that way, Nush,” he gently soothes, lifting your chin with his thumb so that he can pick your eyes up from where they have fallen to the floor, “From what I’ve learnt about you in the past couple of days, you are an incredibly intelligent, occasionally clumsy but warm human. It has been a pleasure to have this opportunity to get to know you better and get to see the level of your skills so early on.”

Shifting uncomfortably in your coffee stained clothes, a smile crossing his face as he adds, “Can’t take a compliment can you? Ah well, that’ll have to be in your performance management plan- something for you to work on.”

“Ah hah! I’ve worked it out- your car is in the third bay, second row in Green Zone,” you triumphantly cackle.

“Lead the way, Nush. Let’s head home.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Roughly forty-five minutes later, you are kicking the base plate of your door to get the damp to release its powerful grip. Realistically, you had no need for a lock as the fluid retention of the wood would stop the most committed burglar in their tracks and unless you angled the kick just right, ah that’s it- home. You lean over the edge of the walkway to wave at Marcus, who is waiting below for a signal that you were in. He flashes his lights in acknowledgement of your gesture before smoothly reversing from where he has pulled in, watching his car disappearing from your estate, there is a tiny ache but you try to push it away as realistically, it is utterly ridiculous. You’re going to be seeing him in an hour for a lift into work.

After a scorching shower, a squirt of perfume and donning a pretty wrap dress with brightly coloured tights and your trusty cherry red Docs, you’re ready. Lying upon the sofa with your head upon a cushion, your knees bent and feet up on the arm rest, you flick through the various emails and messages that have slowly trickled in over the course of the morning. A sharp rap at the door, shakes you out of work mode.

“Hang on,” you yell through the door giving it the special shake and wiggle before muttering a prayer to the door gods to open first time, “Sorry, it’s the damn damp!”

A very smart, besuited, booted and bespectacled Marcus has a look of total alarm, “I’d say to get that checked but I’m guessing you already have?”

“Oh multiple times of pestering my landlord- apparently it’s on a list. Has been for at least three years,” you answer irritatedly, “Anyway, it’s my best security feature- no one can get in or out.”

“I didn’t realise you wore glasses. They look good on you,” you admire the black frames enjoying the flush being brought to Marcus’ cheeks before teasingly adding, “Ohhh, now who can’t take a compliment!”

“Get down your ass down those stairs, Ms Pierce, I’m pulling rank,” Marcus winks, lopsidedly grinning at you, “We have to at least pretend to do some work today.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus opens the door to the office for you- ever grateful to his wonderful manners, you slide into the office first and inwardly groan at the pile of files that have seemingly made themselves at home on your desk.

“Oh there’s my girl!” Andy’s arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, encasing you in a bone crushing hug, “Missed your face yesterday but I’m guessing you’ve had no time to think of us poor souls slaving away here whilst you’ve been gallivanting across the French countryside? How was the hotel room? Enjoy the view?”

Feeling a little ambushed by your friend’s questioning, you blink hard to steady your thoughts of the glorious view you awoke to this morning, “Yeah, it was lovely!”

And warm. And soft. Snored quite sweetly too.

“I know what a mardy bum you can be if you don’t have something nice to look at when you wake up,” Andy adds with a gentle shrug. He then turns his attention to Marcus, who’s shifting uncomfortably behind you, “Welcome back, Sir. Good to have you back here.”

“Thanks Andy. Um, I’m going to get set up,” Marcus says as he steps out around from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. The warmth exists there for a moment before he’s already passed your desk and opened the glass door to his office.

“Coffee’s already waiting for you on your desk,” Marcus swings back to look utterly amazed at his PA, so Andy qualifies this, “I get reception to let me know when all of you arrive so that you can focus on the important things.”

“By the way, Nush and Marcus, before you get swallowed by case files,” Andy addresses you both as you lower yourself onto your chair, “we’re all heading to the Model Market on Friday to find some food and drink before drunkenly throwing some moves to my cousin who’ll be behind the decks. It’s only Wednesday and it already feels like a week!”

Dian sneaks over to your desk with a pastel de nata, “I heard these are your favourites so here’s something sweet to start off your day right.”

Your lip trembles and tears start to form as she passes you this sweet treat, “Thank you. They are my favourites. You are a truly lovely human, Dian.” You reach across the table and squeeze her hand.

“Oh I’m alright, I guess,” she winks one of her anthracite eyes at you, beaming widely, “I am just looking forward to finally spending some time with you in a context that doesn’t involve work. It’s so hard leaving a place that you’ve got your people who you vibe with and then you upend yourself to live somewhere new, where you’re totally on your own and have a job where you work odd hours!”

A sudden hit of guilt pumps through your veins, “I am so sorry, Dian, I hadn’t thought of that. I am so lucky to be from the same city that I now work in- I should have taken you to Borough. I will, and I promise I will show you all the little nooks you won’t have seen around there.”

“I was very jealous of Marcus stealing you away. Ridiculous when it was just for a day but I’d really like to get to know you. I feel like we could be friends,” Dian squeezes back, “Harper has family and friends here already, and I swear I overheard Kiri talking about a rugby team he has joined and meeting up with some mates from uni.”

“Yup- that’s probably true- plenty of Aussies and Kiwis in London but sadly not so many Canadians! Right, we’ll do this old school- come over to mine at seven on Friday, I’ll put some wine in the fridge and we can pretend we’re teenagers getting ready for a night on the town,” you quickly scrawl your address on a piece of paper, pushing it across the table towards Dian.

The smile on Dian’s face is the prettiest thing you've seen for a while. It seems to extend from her eyes to the very depths of her soul. Her reaching out to you makes you think of Marcus. Perhaps he could do with a friend here too- maybe another pizza and classic film night? Even though it had only been two nights, you feel a pang of disappointment at the thought of him not being there with you this evening. Ridiculous. Get a grip before you risk curling up on a sofa with him again.

As Dian returns to her desk, you are faced with the mountain of paperwork from yesterday’s adventure. Shutting your eyes to try and focus your brain, you try to figure out where to start- the report? Logging the video feed? Filing the pictures? Writing up the notes from the meeting?

“Already napping on the job?”

You open one eye to be met with Marcus’ amused face.

With a slight shake of your head, you dismiss his teasing inquiry, “Trying to figure out where to start. I’m not sure quite how we managed to achieve so much in a day but it allllll nowwwww neeeeeeds to be loggggggged, bleurgh!”

“Let’s start at the very beginning,” Marcus says with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“A very good place to start,” you sing along, channeling your best Julie Andrews, highly amused by Marcus’ reference, “Actually- as my brain’s not quite in work mode yet, I should ask you before I forget. I was thinking- do you fancy making the pizzas and classic film night a thing? While London is always full of people, it’s easy to feel quite lonely until you find your group of friends.”

A genuine smile slowly crawls across Marcus’ face as he drinks in your offer, “I mean, it's just a thought. Of course you don’t have to and I’m not sure that my old sofa is anywhere near as comfy as the one in Lyon…”

“I’d love to,” Marcus grins at the fluster in your voice, was he happy to spend more time with you? “Let’s get something in place…”

“Nush- sorry to interrupt, Marcus- I have a highly animated woman called Élodie on the phone asking for you. Can I put her through?” Andy asks, “Seems like she has the lab results back for the possible Soutine.”

Lifting the receiver for your phone whilst whispering to Marcus that you’d catch him later, you lean into the backrest and spin yourself comfortingly from side to side, « Coucou chérie, ça va? Vérifie si mon numéro de téléphone fonctionne? » Hi my love! How are you? Already checking if my telephone number works?

«Coucou mon chouchou! Bien sûr- tu ne peux pas me quitter encore! Il a été complètement falsifié. Sur la toile, sous la peinture, se trouve une autre image qui me rappelle quelque chose qui a été peint par un ado troublé! » Hey my love! Of course- you can’t leave me again! It was completely faked. On the canvas under the paint, another image was found that reminds me of something a troubled teenager would paint! The words tumbling hurriedly from Élodie’s mouth into her phone.

You giggle remembering the angst-ridden art and poetry you’d created as a mopey teenager and are filled with amusement that someone might improve them by putting faked masterpieces on top.

« D’accord! Donc la radiologie l’a prouvé - mais qu’en est il des échantillons de peinture? Une joie avec ceux-ci? » Ok! So the X-ray proved it but what about the paint samples? Any joy there? Now spinning on your chair as far the cord would allow you, your mind wonders how on Earth it could ever have ever been thought to be real.

« Tous les échantillons montrent des peintures modernes telles que la phtalocyanine bleue et verte. Les résultats de la datation au carbone sont attendus plus tard dans la soirée, mais j'avais hâte de t’appeler! Je t’enverrai les résultats par e-mail dès qu'ils apparaissent» All of the samples show modern paints such as phthalocyanine blue and green. The carbon dating results are due later this evening but I couldn't wait to ring you. I’ll email you the results as soon as they appear. Élodie continues, « Comment s'est passé votre dernière nuit et le voyage de retour avec votre magnifique patron? » How did the last night and journey home go with that lovely boss of yours?

« Je raccroche le téléphone maintenant, femme ridicule, » I am hanging up the phone now, you ridiculous woman. You reproach your friend playfully.

Hanging up, after sending hugs and kisses to Jacques too, you see that your computer has now decided that no more updates need to be made. Perhaps it’s time to get started on that report…

When you read you begin with ay bee cee…

✪✪✪✪✪

The flurry of activity continues to hover around your desk and slowly your colleagues peter out in search of lives lived outside of the office space. In fact, you don’t notice the ageing of the day until Marcus goes to leave the office, “Hey, are you planning to sleep here tonight?”

“Had more sleep last night than I usually do so I am riding this high until I drop,” you snort without removing your eyes from your screen as you furiously type away, “You off home?”

“Gym first- gotta burn off the pancakes I’m going to have for breakfast tomorrow,” Marcus says as he fiddles with the strap on his laptop bag.

“That’s not the way that food intake and exercise should work. Food is for nourishing your body and exercise is for making it strong. Don’t get sucked in by that bullshit, Marcus,” you wag your finger at your boss, still hammering the keyboard with your other hand, “You have nothing to worry about, the way you look.”

You finally look up to see Marcus shyly smile, rocking from heel to toe in his highly polished brogues, his eyes on the toe of his shoes. Drawing a deep breath, he looks back up at you, nodding towards the report on your screen, “D’ya think you’ll be able to present that to the team tomorrow?”

“Yeah, just had the results from the carbon dating come through so I should be ready to speak to everyone tomorrow morning at the briefing, if that works for you?” You answer just as tiredness starts to take a grip on your body.

“Perfect. Can I offer you a lift home or are you staying a bit longer?”

“Staying,” you confirm, glueing your eyes back to the screen.

“Well, goodnight Nush,” Marcus wishes you warmly, as he makes to walk away from your desk.

“G’night Marcus. Try to sleep in a bed tonight.”

A throaty chuckle fills the cool office air before disappearing as the door shuts behind him. Bathed in the blue light of your screen, you try to jog your memory of which point you were about to make in your report but sit there utterly stumped due to the distraction.

Marcus Fucking Pike.

✪✪✪✪✪

“So what’s the big deal about this colour exactly?” Harper cuts directly to the chase, “Explain it like I’m five because as you are well aware, this is not my area of expertise.”

You always wonder how far back people need to know of a colour’s history to explain it well enough. Do you take it back to cave paintings or perhaps start in the Renaissance? Perhaps somewhere between the two?

“There was a blue that was known as the colour of the heavens. It’s called ultramarine and is created by crushing lapis lazuli. Now, lapis is only found in one country- Afghanistan, but it’s been used since antiquity to create this beautifully, insanely intense blue. The blue that you see in Tutankhamen’s mask, that’s lapis. Having been used by the Ancient Egyptian and Babylonian empires, lapis then fell out of favour as the Romans associated it with the woad used by Barbarian hordes.”

Tapping his pen on the table, Kiritopa nods in agreement,”Like Braveheart?”

“That’s a wee bit later in European history but a similar idea. Think more Boudicca- the Iceni tribes uprising against the marauding Romans,” Dian points out kindly before nodding encouragingly at you to continue.

“The use of ultramarine then slowly diffused through Europe thanks to the Crusades in the 13th and 14th century but even then, it was still an incredibly precious commodity and solely available to the richest of the rich. That’s why you only ever see it in pictures of the Virgin Mary, emperors, popes and other dignitaries. When a patron requested Ultramarine to be used, the contract would have to be super tight specifying exactly where it would be used and how much.”

“So over the years, scientists have attempted to replicate this paint to create a substance that’s more commercially available but when we try to make paints, we’re dealing with chemistry. When manufacturing paint, you’ve got to make sure that it’s a stable, preferably non-toxic product because well, we all know what happened to the Radium Girls.”

“It took until the first half of the twentieth century for the scientific community to create CuPc. I think it was 1927 when they first created a reaction between copper, cyanide and 0-dibromobenzene, finding that one of the byproducts was an intensely blue powder. This blue powder ended up being first manufactured in 1935 but it still wasn’t readily available until the sixties because Yves Klein tried in the fifties to create the blue used by Giotto and still didn’t manage to produce anything nearly as stable or non-toxic.”

“How does this all link up to this forgery in France?” Harper questions bluntly, clearly desperate for you to get to the point.

Blinking hard, you take a moment to steady yourself as Marcus’ eyes flit between you and the Australian agent.

“Kind of wishing that I’d asked you to explain it like I’m twenty five, might have reached the point by Christmas,” she mutters under her breath.

“Stop packing a sad, Harper. Nush has heaps of skills in this area,” Kiritopa shoots a glare in the Australian’s direction, “Keep going Nush.”

You go to open your mouth but Harper just can’t help herself, “There’s a skill in being succinct.”

“There’s also a skill in not being rude but you’re not managing that are you?” The look on Kiritopa’s face announcing that he is pretty much ready to kill.

“Whoa - guys…” Marcus chooses now to join in?

“Look,” you acquiesce- your heart racing in your throat, raising your hands to try and calm the situation, “Harper’s right, I’m blathering. I should have gotten to the point far sooner. The crux of the situation is that the paint found on the canvas in Grenoble dates from the sixties whereas the artist died in the forties.”

“All of the evidence points to it being a fake- carbon dating, x-rays- the lot. This was an easy find but I think we should be prepared for harder to spot ones,” after throwing paper copies of the lab results in the centre of the table for everyone to grab, you sit back in your chair. Your posture screams for everyone to leave you alone, burying your face in the agenda. Multiple sets of eyes look upon you but you refuse to meet them, feeling furiously obstinate and wholly uncommunicative in the moment.

As the meeting grinds to a close, you finally lift your eyes to find that Marcus’ regard has barely left you- only looking away when you catch him. Urgh, he’s going to be nice about this too. But it isn’t Marcus, who reaches out to you. It’s Kiritopa. Kiritopa, who wordlessly reaches his bear-like arm across the table and squeezes your hand before getting up and leaving the room. The gesture fills you with a grateful warmth and you decide to scarper from the meeting room before Marcus says something and makes you cry.

Time to put on my big girl knickers and get back to work.

✪✪✪✪✪

Friday passes in a blur of calls about a new possible forgery meaning that you can only pull silly faces at Dian from across the room. Kiritopa seems hugely excited by the prospect of a night out, chattering about how he’s invited some of the guys from his rugby team to meet up with him there later. Harper is her usual distant self, head down, beavering away- not really paying much attention to anyone or anything around her.

Where’s Marcus?

You throw a scrunched ball of paper at the PA’s head to get his attention, but entirely miss him, “Andy is Marcus not coming in today?”

Picking up the paper and without even looking up, he throws it back, hitting you square in the forehead, “Car trouble. Any issues, message him.”

Eventually, you hear his confident gait walk into the room. Looking up, you send him a smile which soon fades when you see what a mess he’s in. Hair sticking up all over the place from a stressed hand constantly running through it, a slight gleam of sweat across his skin and an oily mark on one cheek, shirt untucked, jacket draped over one arm, tie askance and lowered due to the top two buttons of his shirt being undone. All of him, in fact, looks undone and defeated.

Without thinking, you jump up from your seat, walk over to him and hug him tightly. With this action the other agents look up and see the state their boss is in. Marcus, whilst initially surprised by your gesture, leans into the hug and lowly whispers, “Thanks. I needed that,” before giving you a tight squeeze, releasing you and slowly trudging towards his office.

“Shit start to a Friday, Sir,” Kiritopa offers, “I’ll get the first round in tonight- you look like you could do with a beer.”

“Fuck, yes, I need a beer but as your boss, that’s my job,” Marcus forcefully asserts, “You can get the second round in.”

You make to slink off back to your desk but Marcus catches your hand, rubbing the skin lightly with his thumb, “You ok?”

“Yeah- just wanted to check on you. You look a fucking state,” you declare through an amused grin.

Marcus chuckles at your observation. “Not the best start to a day,” he grimaces, “I miss anything major this morning?”

“Not apart from the boss arriving at midday looking like he pushed his car all the way here,” you gently tease, “You know we have something called public transport in London- you should try it some time!”

“Yeah, I’ll have Andy look into that for me,” Marcus nods in mock-contemplation, “Hey, um, are you coming out tonight? With everyone, I mean?”

“Uh huh,” you concede reluctantly, “I’m not really a fan of nights out with colleagues but I think we could all do with a glass of something and some good street food in our tummies. What time are you getting there?”

Marcus scrunches up his nose, “Around seven but you know this job- it might be then or some time in September!”

Giving you a wink as he buttons up his collar and straightens his tie, Marcus turns towards his office and you head back to your desk- both with a renewed wish to get finished up and out of the office tonight.

Taglist: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @danniburgh @lunaserenade @leonieb @tardisfangurl @mouthymandalorian @disgruntledspacedad @zukoyonce @pedropascalito @absurdthirst @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @green-socks @lv7867

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

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Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

~

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

~

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

~

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

~

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

~

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

~

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

~

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

~

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

~

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

~

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

[selflesstwin]

❛  01 .   a  kiss  to  say  hello . !

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐀 ;   𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 . | @wrathbound

       “ Kaoru? Are you listening? ” The hand of a friend moved in front of their eyes, obstructing their view of the demon who disappeared into another room. With his presence missing from the space, the exchange student finally zeroed into the conversation once more. Still, their mind wandered and when she finally finished wrapping up, they excused themself and promised to meet up later. An urgent matter came up, that’s what they said. To anyone else, that would have been a complete lie but for Kaoru, it was very serious. 

       Pulling the door towards them, they stepped into the silent library and scanned the area for a moment before exploring. The silence, the smell, the sound of others studying, pages being turned, idle chatter... Kaoru loved it all. A place where knowledge rested. So many hours spent looking through books not available in the human world. They could get lost in the different worlds but that desire was put aside for something more compelling. Finally, they moved around the area and looked through half of the aisles before they landed on the reason that they even ditched their friend and entered their favorite place. 

       Funny how they had been going up and down the library with quick steps but upon seeing him, everything slowed down. They never planned ahead and that was on them. So, as they took slow steps, they ransacked their brain for something to say. And yet, nothing came up for them once they finally stood beside the other. Head tilted slightly upwards so they could meet his gaze and when silence filled the space, they panicked. That same old feeling returned. Heart beating against their chest, butterflies wanting an escape, the desire to... 

       Taking the book from his hands ( but making sure to save his page ), they put it aside and reached for Satan’s shirt, gripping the fabric and looking into his eyes for one second longer before closing the distance between them. Their lips finally met his. The desire, the same one that had come up for them whenever they spent even a second with him. When the thought of Satan invaded their mind, that same desire showed up. The longing, the urge, the desire to kiss him. They wanted it more than anything but feared indulging in it and losing him. Fear always held them back. The thought of Satan finding them boring, repulsive, annoying, undesirable... It broke their heart. So, they held back and never confessed their true feelings. But now... They couldn’t help but show an ounce of what they felt through a simple kiss. Would it ruin what they had? Would Kaoru lose a dear friend? Would Satan hate them? They’d wait and see. 

       When they finally pulled away, their hand loosened and fell after smoothing out the part that had wrinkled thanks to their hold. It was difficult to look at him after that. Taking two steps back, they stopped and fiddled with the bottom of their skirt as they tried to find their voice. “ ...Uh, just wanted to say hi. So, hi. ”

[quickspinner]

On the Edge of Dreams - LBSC SFC

Written for the LBSC sprint fic challenge. If you’d like to join in follow @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers for more information!

Challenge rules:

Pick a prompt and write for that prompt in up to three 15 minute sprints. No writing outside the sprints until you have completed all three! After the 3 sprints are complete, you have 24 hours to edit (which can include some new writing to smooth transitions, etc). After those 24 hours, post what you’ve got!

Prompt: "Oh no, s/he’s hot!” 

More information on the challenge here!

It was a simple order. Nothing complicated about it. A large dark roast with room. He’d ordered it a thousand times, could do it without thought. Or at least, so he would have said until today. 

But the truly stunning pair of blue eyes across the counter from him was blinking in confusion, thanks to the incomprehensible mixture of French, English, and Scots he’d just spouted.

His eyes zeroed in on the lovely set of lips as they parted, hesitated, and then spoke. “I’m sorry, I...didn’t quite catch that?” 

Luka blinked and cleared his throat, feeling the blush heating up his face as he dragged his gaze back up to meet hers. “I’m sorry, it’s—I’m not a morning person. I think I left my brain in bed.” 

She smiled, and damn if she wasn’t the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on, perfect skin and gorgeous eyes and those lips were— 

Speaking to him. Shit. “—all the time. Do you want to try again?”

Luka somehow managed to give his order correctly this time, and nearly fainted at the giggle she let out as she picked up the cup to write his order. 

His eyes flicked to her nametag. Marinette.

“That’s my name,” she said, and Luka’s eyes shot up to her face again. “I asked for yours?” 

“Sorry,” Luka repeated hurriedly. “Luka. My name’s Luka.”

“Can you spell it for me or is that too much to ask before you’ve had a chance to drink it?” she asked with a playful wink, and it was really a wonder his knees didn’t give out on him. 

“Sure,” he said weakly, and spelled it for her (correctly, mercifully). She smiled at him and turned aside to start making his drink. Luka also turned away slightly in the other direction, pretending to look in the pastry case as he tried to catch his breath and get his bearings again. Damn, wasn’t this just his luck, face to face with a beautiful girl and him in wrinkled clothes and mussed hair looking like—well, he hoped he looked like he’d just pulled an all-nighter, and not like he’d been doing something far seedier. 

He checked the time, and had to blink a couple of times before the numbers came into full focus. He really needed that coffee.

“You’re an angel,” he groaned as she set it on the display case in front of him. 

“Careful, it’s—” she winced as he put the cup to his lips, but Luka was long past caring how hot the coffee was. He took a burning gulp and made a face before offering the girl— Marinette , he remembered—a lopsided smile. 

“If I don’t get it down now I’m going to pass out on your steps,” he joked, and his smile grew a little wider when she laughed. 

“You look it,” she said, propping her elbows up on the case and peering at him over it. “I hope the coffee helps. Can I offer you anything else?”

“I wouldn’t say no to a place to crash on your floor,” Luka joked, moving over to add cream and sugar to his coffee. “But it’d be kind of a waste to work on that damn paper all night and then pass out before I have a chance to turn it in, so coffee it is.” He snorted softly. “Who wants paper copies in this day and age anyway, really?” he muttered, and then blushed when he turned around to find the girl giggling at him over the top of the pastry case. 

“Well, good luck,” she said, leaning her chin on one hand. “Make sure you double-check the mailbox number before you put it in. Ask me how I know.” She made a face.

Luka laughed as he went to the door. “Good tip. Thanks for the coffee, Marinette. I’m sure I’ll see you again.” 

He fumbled the door handle when she smiled—and blushed. 

He made her blush.

Luka wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed by the goofy grin on his face or the way he tripped on the ledge of the door on the way out because he hadn’t looked away from that adorable blushy smile. 

At least he managed to keep his coffee from spilling.

***

Three more times he visited the bakery that week, but each time he ordered his coffee from an older lady with a kind smile. She was nice enough, but Luka had been hoping to see Marinette again.

He came in the next week without much hope, but perked up as he saw Marinette behind the counter. His smile faded slightly though as she stood swaying on her feet. Her hair wasn’t messy but definitely not as tidy as before, and he could see the slight creases of makeup caked around her eyes as he approached, covering dark shadows, he was sure. Luka was at the counter and had to call her name twice before her gaze snapped up to his and she blinked rapidly. 

“Oh,” she gasped, “I’m so sorry. Um, what can I get you?”

Luka ordered (correctly, and entirely in French this time) and added, as Marinette moved sluggishly to pick up the cup, “Should I make that two? You look like you need it more than I do this morning.” 

Marinette shot him a tired smile that was still unbearably cute. “I probably do. I was working on a project all last night and I really couldn’t ask Mom to cover another shift for me, she’s been taking my shifts all week. It’s done now, so I can struggle through and—” She paused, staring at the cup in her hand. “Sorry, what am I making again?”

Luka chuckled and leaned on the counter as he repeated the order. She finished writing it on the cup that time, and Luka thought she breathed a sigh of relief at the simplicity of it. 

“I’m serious,” Luka told her, and she looked at him in slight confusion. “I really will buy you a coffee if you need it.” 

“Oh, that’s very kind, but I’ve already had some. Just waiting for it to kick in. I actually don’t care much for coffee most of the time but it was definitely necessary this morning.” 

She set the cup on the counter in front of him and smiled. “Thanks for being patient with me, Luka.” 

“It’s not like it’s hard,” he said stupidly, a little dazzled. She was adorable, even half-dead. “I hope you get some rest,” he added, as he took his coffee to add the cream and sugar. 

“I will,” she shrugged with a tired smile. “Eventually.” 

Luka took his coffee and left. 

***

The next time he went to the bakery, he nearly ran into Marinette coming out of the door.

“Woah,” he said, catching her shoulders to keep her from falling. She put her hands out automatically to keep herself from impacting his chest. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she said quickly, snatching her hands back and blushing to the roots of her hair. “Wow, you’re um. Strong. Sorry, I’m so sorry, I was going way too fast and I should have been looking and I didn’t hurt you, right?” 

Luka nearly laughed at the thought. “No, I’m good,” he smiled, letting go of her shoulders. “Are you?” 

“Fine,” she squeaked, turning redder by the minute. 

“You sure?” Luka couldn’t help asking, tilting his head slightly. That shade really couldn’t be healthy.

“I’m fine, everything’s fine, I slam right into hot guys all the time, not a big deal at all and definitely nothing to get embarrassed and start babbling like an idiot over, nope, I’m all—all good.” She whined and put her hands over her face. 

Luka had to take a second to get his bearings after that flood, but then a slow grin spread across his face. “Well, I can’t say I’m lucky enough to have to catch a hot girl all that often, but so far I’m not minding the experience.” 

Marinette sputtered something completely unintelligible, and Luka chuckled, reaching in his pocket and fishing out a card. It was nothing fancy, just a slim black and white card with a website and instagram information on it that Rose had printed up at home, but today he was glad he was carrying them. 

“This is the band I play with,” Luka said, giving her the card. “I’d love to run into you at a show sometime.” He grinned. “Literally or figuratively, either works for me.” 

He stepped aside to clear her path as Marinette stared at him. “Maybe we can get not-coffee afterward.” Luka winked at her and went into the bakery, and then, glancing behind him to make sure he was clear, he covered his own face and fought down his internal panic at his boldness. 

“Can I help you?” said an amused voice, and Luka jerked slightly before dropping his hands and staring at the older lady behind the counter—Marinette’s mother, he suddenly remembered with embarrassment. 

“Um, yeah. I mean, yes, please.” 

At least...that was what he meant to say. The confused look on the lady’s face mirrored Marinette’s from a couple weeks ago. 

Luka sighed.

[bangtancentricsblog]

jjk/qw: 1

➣ a little something that came about because of Jungkook’s outfit and the way he was mad feeling himself on day 2 of on:e

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff(?), implied smut,

❒ alternative universe: mafia,

❒ rating: 18 +

❒ word count: 1.9 k

warnings/disclosures: no edit we die like men, a little bit of violence, implied smut, Jungkook is tall, dark and handsome, Hoseok is done with your shit, spanking, violence kink?? Is that a think?, cameo from yoongi, joongki must die I don’t think I missed anything but yeah let me know if you see anything!

main ml • AO3

There isn’t much that bothers Jungkook, not by a long shot. He’s a particular kind of man; he takes everything with a grain of salt so he usually isn’t bothered by anything a simple grunt has to say about him. He is however annoyed at the way this grunt speaks of you. All the nasty things he’s got to say about you, how he thinks a cock hungry slut like yourself is fine with anyone as long as they can fuck you stupid. And Jungkook doesn’t like that one bit as he runs the tip of his tongue over his lips. It does nothing to quell the simmering anger that sits beneath the twitch of his fingertips. He can hear a few snickers here and there others throwing in their own thoughts.

Hoseok can see the glazed look that fills Jungkook’s eyes the longer their subordinates speak ill of you. He’s known the younger long enough to understand his limits and this was a limit. It’s a peculiar thing to Hoseok the way Jungkook is with you, he’s soft and sweet but not all the time. And Hoseok will admit he’s walked in on his fair share of your sexual escapades to know that you and Jungkook were something completely different. If he were to compare your relationship to anything he’d say a modern day Harley Quinn and the Joker except with a whole lot less crazy. You two had your moments but he hadn’t seen anything too extreme, yet. The fact was Jungkook ran the biggest underground operations in the world and you, well you were his biggest asset.

Hoseok knew you were good at your job, better than most almost as if you’d been born for it. Now he isn’t saying that you don’t play the ditzy slut well because you do but he knows you’re much, much more than that. You let the underlings believe you’re nothing but a dumb bimbo who likes to sit all pretty in Jungkooks lap when he so pleases. Let them believe you’re nothing but huge tits with a pussy made of gold to have their boss keep you around like he does. It’s laughable really, especially to Hoseok because he knows you.

He knows that Jungkook is the brawn, the face of the operation but you were the brain. You were the reason Jungkook now sat in a gilded throne like the king of an empire when he came from nothing, and he’d done it all for you. Because if Jungkook was king then you were the queen, his queen and Hoseok respected that. So who is he to try and stop Jungkook from harming easily dispensable nobodies? Truth is he could care less but recruiting is slow right now and he doubts Jimin would have anyone ready to replace the empty positions. He’s sighing before he can think better of it, but as luck has it you come waltzing in.

There’s a distinct click clack that comes from your Louboutin heels every time you step foot in the massive warehouse Jungkook runs the operation from. In fact the previous voices have gone quiet as you easily make your way to the back headed straight for the second floor where Jungkook sits and oversees the work of those beneath him. The long sleeved v-neck bodycon dress you wear molds to your figure in a way that grabs the attention of all of those who’d been previously lusting after you, but this outfit is for Jungkook.

You waste no time taking your rightful place in his lap, both legs thrown over his thighs as you sit sideways to better wrap your arms around his neck. Today he’s wearing red, a silk patterned shirt tucked into his pants with nearly all the buttons undone. His chest is out little glimpses of ink peak out from where the shirt lies open for your viewing pleasure. His fingers have found the slight sliver of skin that lies just above the top of your thigh high boots and below the hem of your dress. He’s quick to draw patterns on the only skin available to him, your gaze falls to the necklace that sits pretty at his collar. A thin silver chain you’ve seen once or twice, it makes him look sexier.

“Hello Hoseok.” you chirp never taking your eyes off Jungkook.

“____, to what do we owe the pleasure?” he asks.

“Can’t I just enjoy the company of my boyfriend and his right hand man?”

“No, there’s always something with you.” he sighs gaze moving to Jungkook who has begun to mouth at your neck as you giggle into his ear.

“You guys are weirdly attached at the hip, it’s kinda gross.” Hoseok shudders, before snapping his attention to the sound of voices making their way closer to them. Jungkook, it seems, has also noticed the new arrival pecking your cheek one last time before he’s staring long and hard at one of their subordinates. A boy in his early twenties, Joongki he thinks his name is, personally Hoseok can’t stand him. The boy thinks he’s a hotshot because Taehyung had been nice to him a few times, and had managed to complete a job fairly quicker than some of the others. Had heard him boast that he would definitely be moving up in rank soon, maybe even to the same rank as Yoongi, which was laughable really considering Yoongi did a lot of one man jobs and was good enough to have been recruited to the CIA.

But he supposed a boy could dream, it would take him decades to get to Yoongi’s pay grade and even then it would never happen, not with the way you disliked him. Maybe it’s his arrogance, maybe it’s his swagger (or lack of) but something about his recruitment hadn’t sat well with you. You’d played your dumb bimbo part well when he was around giggling up a storm with him really boosting his ego because it was fun to watch him think your laugh was something he’d said and not actually him. Because as far as you could tell he was a goddamn joke, a real chump and one that they should’ve gotten rid of sooner. But you trusted Jungkook and the boys, so if they kept him around it was for a reason. You’d yet to see it though, today was no different.

Joongki saunters into the room, nose to the sky which already sets you off. Then he’s giving you a once over, the ugly shit brown of his eyes darkened as they zero in on the hemline of the number you’re wearing. You want to wrinkle your nose in disgust because eww you’d never. Then he’s greeting Hoseok and Jungkook like they’re friends, as if he’s on equal standing with them. But what really pisses you off is the way he greets you, the lecherous ‘hey doll’ he let’s slip past his lips makes your blood boil. Heat rushes to your cheeks, warming your skin to the point that Jungkook has to squeeze one of your thighs to reign in your anger.

“Joongki, why are you here?” Hoseok finally asks swallowing thickly, as tension fills the air.

“I’m a higher up now so I’m entitled to the second floor.” He grins, your eyes meet Hoseok’s in confusion, who had promoted this clusterfuck of a human?

“Who promoted you?” Jungkook asks, expression pinched.

“No one directly but Taehyung mentioned a rank promotion a few days ago and I’m the only one worth promoting.” You laugh, an ugly gut busting laugh that fills the halls and startles the others that occupy the floor.

“You stupid, stupid boy.” You say in between hiccups. His eyes narrow at you.

“What would a fucktoy like you know? You’re just here because Jungkook likes an easy fuck.” He spits. Oh what a poor fragile ego he has, you think with a smirk.

“Oh honey I’m more than an easy fuck.” You stand now, easily stepping into his space, in your heels you're a few inches shorter than him. Today was the perfect day for these, you think.

“Yeah, you fancy yourself a housewife? Sorry but whores like you could never be a housewife.” You land a solid blow to his cheek, stupid disrespectful kids. Your hand throbs, the warmed metal of the rings you wear press into your palm as you curl your hand into a fist again. You raise your fist ready to hit him again when a hand wraps around it, pressing into the split skin of your knuckles pulling a hiss past your lips.

“That’s enough, you hurt your pretty hand.” Jungkook says, prying your fingers from the tight fist you hold. Your gaze meets his anger burning in their depths, because this kid was so damn disrespectful. He needed to be put in his place, you refused to let a turd like him talk to you like that.

“Put your bitch in her place.” Joongki spits and Hoseok let’s his eyes fall closed because he doesn’t need to see what comes next.

*

You shove Jungkook against the wall, lips finding the skin of his chest easily. He groans carding his fingers through your hair, tugging on the ends a bit. He’s not surprised that you’d pulled him out the room after he’d beat the shit out of Joongki, it’s one of those things you’d liked about him way before you’d built up this empire. It’s never occurred to him to ask just what you liked about him beating someone up, but he wants to ask now. He wants to know what makes you so much more eager to take his cock, you’re nipping at his jaw, hands tugging his shirt from his pants. He moves to unbutton it but you stop him with a whine.

“Don’t take it off.”

“Hmm?”

“I like it like this, looks sexier.” You sigh, pressing your lips to his a little too desperately.

“Like this, fuck me like this.” You whimper rolling your hips into his. He smirks as you fumble with tugging his pants and boxers down to free his dick. His hands slide under the hem of your dress pulling your panties down, letting they slide down your legs. He pushed the skirt up around your hips landing a solid smack to one of your cheeks, you let out a choked gasp relishing the sting as he smooths his palm over the area. He’s going to thoroughly fuck you, he thinks smirking as you whine needily pressing your tits tighter to his chest.

*

Yoongi stands in the hallway when Hoseok makes his way out the room. He feels like he’s aged years just being in there for that long. He hates when he has to deal with the two of you.

“I saw the lovebirds scurry that way.” Yoongi offers, nodding his head in the direction of the sole bedroom in the warehouse.

“I figured, how’d the job go?”

“Fine, better than expected I had wanted to talk things over with ____, but she’s busy.” He laughs good naturedly.

“Yeah, those two can be domestic as fuck sometimes.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is dangerous. I’ve seen both of them do some pretty crazy shit.”

“Makes you wonder if maybe they’ll ever settle down.” Hoseok sighs.

“This isn’t a family kinda life.” Yoongi mutters, turning on his heel and leaving Hoseok on his own.

[andimackshitposts]

Can you write jyrus at cyrus’ house and they are acting all couply in his room and someone comes in. I just want to see Jonah’s reaction.

I’m back from the dead! I’m sure no one will read this, but I feel like I owe it to myself to finish my jyrus prompts….Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story! I turned this into a secret relationship fic. 

It was late on a Saturday afternoon, and lazy late summer sunlight flooded Cyrus’s bedroom. It lit the room in shades of orange, and warmed his skin, as he sat on his bed. His head was leaned on his boyfriend’s–boyfriend, his heart thudded at the thought–shoulder. He leaned up, suddenly, and pressed a kiss to Jonah’s cheek, because that was something he could do now, and grinned. The sunlight caught in Jonah’s eyes as he smiled back, illuminating flecks of gold among the green.  

“What was that for?” Jonah asked, still beaming. 

Cyrus shrugged. “I dunno. Because I can? Because I’m so happy?” He wanted to say because I love you, but he knew it was too soon. They’d only been together a few weeks. Just because Cyrus had been falling for Jonah since the day they met, didn’t mean Jonah was necessarily on the same page. 

Jonah blushed an adorable shade of pink. “I’m happy, too.” And then Jonah moved, pushing Cyrus off his shoulder, so he could lay back on the bed, and motioned for Cyrus to follow. Cyrus did so, nestling his head in the crook of Jonah’s neck, which they’d recently discovered was the perfect fit. Jonah smelled like apricot shampoo and fresh cut grass and it took every ounce of Cyrus’s self control not inhale as deeply as humanly possible. He reminded himself that his pillow would still smell like Jonah later. 

Jonah put his arms around Cyrus and pulled him close. Cyrus loved this, this simply existing in the same space, cuddling and kissing and just. Being. He would’ve stayed in Jonah’s arms forever, if it was possible. But at least they had this time together. At school, things had hardly changed between them, save for secret hidden looks, because Jonah wasn’t out yet. And that was fine, Cyrus knew that coming out was different for everyone, and he was more than happy to give Jonah the time he needed to do it on his terms. But it was still hard. It was hard that he couldn’t talk to his best friends about his new boyfriend, about his relationship. It was hard that he couldn’t hold hands with his boyfriend while they walked down the school hallways. It was worth it, he knew, because Jonah was an incredible person, and being with him, really, truly being with him was the best thing that had ever happened to Cyrus. And it was these moments that reminded Cyrus of that. 

They were lucky, Cyrus knew, that their parents were all accepting and supportive. That was the only reason they had this time together. Cyrus knew he could tell his mom that Jonah was coming over an hour earlier than Buffy and Andi, and she would know exactly what he meant, and she wouldn’t bother them. He was extremely grateful for that. He wished his friends knew, but for now, this would have to do.

Cyrus checked his watch and sighed. They only had about 5 minutes until the girls showed up, or at least, until Andi showed up. She was irritatingly early to everything. Cyrus sat up and started to straighten his hair and clothes, to hide any sign of what they’d been doing for the last hour. 

“Why’d you stop?” Jonah asked, frowning. 

“We don’t have much time before the girls get here,” Cyrus explained. “And if we want plausible deniability that we haven’t been, you know, canoodling, for the last hour, we have to look presentable, alright?” 

Jonah snorted. “Canoodling?” He shook his head. “God, you’re adorable.” 

Cyrus blushed, but stood his ground. “You will not flirt your way out of this. You’re the one who wants to keep this a secret, anyway.” 

Jonah sighed. “Yeah, you’re right, but,” he reached forward and grabbed Cyrus’s wrist, pulling him backwards so he was on top of Jonah, chest to chest, and nose to nose. “Right now, I want one more kiss.” 

Cyrus rolled his eyes, but propped himself up on his arms, and complied. Their lips met gently at first, sending a warmth rushing through Cyrus’s entire body. Cyrus expected it to be a short kiss, but as he tried to lift his head back, he felt Jonah’s hand on the back of his head, pulling him down again, and while he could’ve resisted and pulled away, he didn’t really want to stop, and the more Jonah kissed him, the more he forgot why he wanted to stop in the first place. Jonah’s lips were soft, but firm, and eventually they parted, and he bit down on Cyrus’s bottom lip, eliciting a moan. One of Cyrus’s hands found its way into Jonah’s free hand (the one that wasn’t cradling the back of Cyrus’s head), and he interlocked their fingers. If Cyrus could’ve lived in one moment forever, it would’ve been that. 

“What the hell?” A voice, more than a little irritated, broke them apart. It took Cyrus’s fuzzy brain a moment to process the source of the voice, and once he had, he wished he hadn’t. Because there was Andi, standing in the door to his room, with a hand on her hip, looking…not angry exactly, but confused and maybe a bit hurt. 

“Andi!” Jonah practically yelped, trying furiously to smooth the wrinkles out of his clothes, to fix his hair, as if he could somehow hide what was just happening. 

“Please don’t be mad,” was all Cyrus could manage, anxiety gnawing in the pit of his stomach. 

Andi rolled her eyes and stepped further into the room. “I feel like I just walked in on Jonah cheating on me or something. But I didn’t. Jonah and I haven’t dated for years. I don’t own him, or whatever. He’s a person with agency.” She turned to Jonah. “If you want to makeout with Cyrus, that’s okay. You know that’s okay, right?” 

Jonah nodded, still completely frazzled. “I know, I know. I just, things were always so messy between us, and I didn’t… I didn’t know how to bring it up. I haven’t even told you I’m bi yet! And I just…It was easier to keep it a secret.” 

Andi nodded. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Cy! You have a boyfriend! And it’s Jonah freakin’ Beck!” She was smiling now, which was a relief. 

“So…you’re okay with this?” Cyrus asked, not ready to believe it just yet. 

Andi rolled her eyes again. “Even if I still had feelings for Jonah, which I really, really don’t, we haven’t dated in years. My feelings about your relationship wouldn’t matter. As it happens, all I feel about this development is happiness for two of my best friends!” 

Jonah and Cyrus let out simultaneous sighs of relief. “Thank God.” Cyrus said, at the same time that Jonah said, “Buffy doesn’t know yet, either.” 

Andi raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed that Cyrus was able to keep that from her. He must really like you a lot.” 

Jonah blushed. 

“I do,” Cyrus confirmed. “But mostly I just don’t want to take his coming out away from him. It should be his decision.” 

“That’s fair.” Andi nodded. “More than fair, even.” 

“So…” Jonah hesitated. “You won’t tell anyone?” 

Andi made a motion of turning a key over her lips, and then throwing it over her shoulder. “My lips are sealed, I promise.”

“Thank you.” 

“Now, tell me,” Andi grinned. “How the hell did this happen?” 

Cyrus laughed. “Buffy’ll be here soon, so how about we give you the short version?” 

Andi sat down next to Cyrus and nodded. “Short version is good with me.” 

“Well, a little over a month ago–” 

“I’m sorry, it’s been over a month?” Andi broke in. “Are you kidding me? And you’ve been keeping it a secret this whole time? Do your families know?” 

Jonah nodded. “They do. I’m just not ready to be out at school.” 

“You know your friends won’t care, right? Me, Buffy, Marty, Gus, Amber–we’re all here for you. None of us would out you, or judge you, or be anything but over the moon happy for you, for both of you. You both deserve to be happy.” 

Jonah smiled slowly. “I’m starting to figure that out.” 

Cyrus squeezed his hand gently, and returned to the story. “So, long story short, remember when I had to bake all those cupcakes for that charity bake sale?”

“Oh my God,” Andi grinned. 

“Jonah offered to help me, and we finished around midnight, and we were both exhausted, and we all know what Jonah is like when he’s tired.” 

Jonah flushed. “Shut up.” 

“Aw,” Andi chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed that you have zero filter after 10 PM, it’s endearing, I promise.” 

“So, anyways, he just slipped up and called me ‘cute’ and I didn’t let it go until he admitted that he had a crush on me,” Cyrus felt himself blushing at that. “And I obviously felt the same. So here we are.” 

“That’s so cute.” 

Cyrus blushed further. “I guess it kind of is.” 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and they all knew Buffy was there. They heard Cyrus’s mom letting her in, and telling her to head to Cyrus’s room. 

“Hey, Cy?” Jonah said. 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I want to tell Buffy.” Jonah looked at Cyrus nervously. “I think I want to tell all our friends.” 

Cyrus smiled and pressed a kiss to Jonah’s forehead. “Whatever you want.” 

And then Buffy was there, in front of the three of them. 

Cyrus looked at his boyfriend. “You ready?” 

Jonah nodded. “Ready.”

[minhomas-tmr]

The Lies I Tell Myself - Chapter 3

Thomas couldn’t stop pacing, and with the amount of times he ran his hand through his hair, by the time Minho actually stepped into the room, he looked like a wreck.

Minho didn’t say anything at first, eyes going straight to the state of Thomas’ hair, which by this point, resembled a bird’s nest. It also made Thomas look utterly fuckable. Minho grinned, unashamed at the thought and well..he was a dick, so he made sure to bring it to Thomas’ attention.

“You look like you just had sex…”

Thomas stopped mid-stride, an action that almost tripped him over his own feet, catching onto the dresser in the nick of time. “What?” his voice sounded an octave higher than usual. Clearing his throat embarrassed, he tried again, “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Minho gestured to all of him. Thomas gave him a look of confusion so Minho walked up, and turned Thomas around to face the mirror.

Realization grew on Thomas’ face, but whatever was on his mind, overruled the embarrassment. Minho noticed right away and dropped the direction he wanted the conversation to go.

Instead, he turned Thomas toward him gently, hand staying on the guy’s lower back. “What happened. Why are you so worked up?”

“OooohmyGod! I can’t do this. She going to-she’s going to know okay? She’s my mother, Minho!! Mother!! She’s—she’s gonna take one look at me and think what a loser s-son she ended up! So pathetic that he had to go and get himself a fake boyfrie—“

“Shut up.” Minho said softly but firmly. “We’ve gone over everything, thanks to your annoyingly anal attention to detail. Seriously you didn’t need to know my cologne or what gel I use for my hair…”

Thomas started to open his mouth for an excuse? Explanation? Guilty confession?

Minho didn’t care.

“Listen. We got this. I’ve kept your clothes on the bed for tomorrow. It’s only an hour and half flight, so I suggest you sleep it off. There’s zero hassle to get the venue; the email said a taxi will be waiting for us at the airport with a sign of our names on it. We get in, we go to the hotel, and then we can do whatever the fuck we want until the welcome brunch, okay? Thomas?”

Thomas, Minho noted was distracted. Shocker. He was like a dog with a cat’s personality. Thomas was looking at the outfit on the bed like he’d never seen clothes before.

“Now what?”

“I would never wear a polo shirt…” Thomas supplied. Minho rolled his eyes,

“You do now,” he said with finality. “I want my boyfriend to look as hot as I do—“

“Conceited much?” Thomas snorted.

“I’m stating a fact.” Minho deadpanned.

“Okay fine, I’ll wear that but I’m NOT wearing your jacket! This isn’t a highschool movie...”

“Fair point,” Minho threw his Varsity jacket away from the ensemble. Digging into Thomas’ closet, he found a black blazer hidden in a corner. “There!” he threw it on the bed. “Now show me what you’re planning on packing.”

“Just my usual tees and jeans,”

Minho squinted at Thomas, trying to work out if he was being serious or not, “And the wedding? What are you wearing then?”

“This will do,” Thomas gestured to the outfit on the bed, “I don’t have anything else, to be honest.”

Minho rubbed his face tiredly. Was Thomas serious? Even if he hadn’t been to a wedding in a while, he had seen movies right? This was ridiculous.

“Okay that’s it! We’re going shopping,” Minho declared, “and wear something decent. I don’t want the attendants thinking you’re some homeless person that walked in accidentally.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad!” Thomas protested his style.

“No,” Minho shook his head and stepped out so Thomas could change, “it’s worse.”

— “I look like an idiot!” Thomas whined from inside the stall. Minho didn’t respond, scrolling down his phone.

They were at an outlet mall on the outskirts of Glade Ville because Thomas was on a scholarship and didn’t have no job, so Minho would be footing the bill, and there was no way he was blowing a three shift’s worth of earnings on one jacket.

Still, he had a part-time job at a cafe and a decent taste in fashion. Maybe not up with the times, but who needed those when you had classics?

“Minho?”

The uncertainty in his roommate’s voice, made Minho sigh heavily. “Thomas seriously it’s a button up, not a three piece tux,”

“You have one of those for me to try on, don’t you?” Thomas’ muffled voice, said sullenly.

“Fuckable, remember?” Minho said just as a store attendant walked by. She did a double take and awkwardly shuffled away, blushing furiously.

“Minho—“ Thomas cut himself off, clearly giving up on his protest and stepped out of a stall, dropping his hands on either sides of his body awkwardly. He was wearing a powder blue button up paired with navy blue slacks. “Please tell me this is the last one?”

He sounded so hopeful, it was adorable. Minho’s way of response was to gesture beside of him, where he’d collected a couple more outfits. The brunette’s shoulders dropped visibly.

“Why?”

“You have zero decent clothes for a wedding, Thom—it’s like your not even trying. And that blazer and dress pants were laughable, seriously I can’t believe you were planning on wearing that to the wedding!”

“I hardly think people will be paying any attention to what I’m wearing!” Thomas ignored the nickname and began pacing in front of Minho—his new thing apparently—fingers running repeatedly through his hair.

At first Minho said nothing but from experience, the more Thomas got lost in his head, the harder he had to work to get him out of it, so Minho used it to his advantage.

“Yes, perfect!” he stopped Thomas’ hands from spiking the hair even more, and ran his own fingers through to comb down the sides, successfully achieving that perfect tousled look. “Some gel to hold it in place…” Minho mused aloud as he reached for his phone in his pocket.

He aimed the camera app at Thomas, noting his posture, “Okay, stand back against the stall there, hands by your side. Jesus, what are you, an old lady? Back straight, chin up and...Thomas for the love of god look at me!!”

Minho took a couple pictures including one showing the full outfit, a close-up and a side profile picture, all with constant demands for Thomas to look into the camera.

Though there was one of Thomas shyly looking at the floor, eyelashes fanned out on blushing cheeks. Minho would have loved to play capturing that one as an accident, but then…how to explain the five other shy and quiet Thomas in various dressy outfits? On top of that, try as he might, Minho couldn’t stop the urge to get his hands on Thomas. There was little to no excuse why he wouldn’t let the attendant knot Thomas’ tie or straighten the jackets he tried on.  

Thomas though through everything, obediently modeled Minho’s hand picked shirts, ties, dress pants, jackets and blazers. Even the shoes. Complained quite a bit sure, but only in jest. After all they both knew no matter his opinion, Thomas was going to put it on.

While he was trying on a different colour of a same design pants, Minho browsed the store for options for the wedding day itself. That’s when he came across the bold number. A bright red three-piece suit, Minho found it in Thomas’ size and turned to the carousel for a nice greyish blue collared button-down.

Seating himself back on the bench by the stall, he waited for Thomas to come out. One cursory glance and Minho decided the outfit Thomas had on, was perfect for their occasion. The light grey checkered pants and jacket with a deep maroon dress shirt, would have any girl or guy drooling.

Utterly fuckable.

He didn’t share this however, simply held out the three-piece for Thomas, not missing that startled but resigned look.

By the time Thomas was done up, Minho had paid for the outfits he’d chosen, including a couple items for himself as well, carefully tucking the receipt away. They were going to be away for a maximum of five days and wearing each outfit once, so it fit well within the 30 day return policy.

Minho’s smirk at his genius plan slid, when the other boy stepped out, fully dressed in that hot number. Minho unconsciously licked his lips at the vision Thomas made.

“I know you know your shit, but isn’t this too much?” Thomas was the one who broke the silence, seeing as Minho was just staring at him.

“Oh it wasn’t a contender,” Minho shrugged with an easy smile, as he walked towards him, “just wanted to see you in it.”

Thomas should have been upset. He should have been irritated that Minho was wasting his time by making him try on things he wasn’t even wanting Thomas to wear.

But he wasn’t.

“And?”

“You look handsome,” Minho said honestly, smoothing out the non existent wrinkles against his shoulders, just so he would have something to do with his hands. Again with the touching!! He didn’t move away though, “very handsome.”

Their gaze held for a long moment, not a trace of amusement in Minho’s, as he stared into Thomas’ wide doe eyes.

“Do you need help with anything?” came a sweet voice close to the entrance into the change rooms.

Thomas and Minho visibly jumped apart, belatedly realizing how indecently close they had been standing. Minho cleared his throat awkwardly and Thomas turned away from them to hide his red face.

“W-we uh—we’re good, right?”

Thomas glanced back at Minho’s stuttering with a raised eyebrow. Uncertainty wasn’t a quality one would usually associate with Minho.

He also realized the words were the same, but the meaning felt completely different. As though he was telling the blonde girl they didn’t need her assistance, and at the same time, asking him if they were cool.

Like the knowledge of Minho genuinely finding him attractive hadn’t broken his brain.

“Yes. Y-yeah, yeah sure.”

Minho constantly said suggestive to him but it always had a teasing lilt to it, accompanied by a smirk, solely for the purpose of embarrassing him.

This though…this was unfamiliar.

It felt intimate, kind of like when they danced at the house party last week; too close a distance for roommates who were supposed to be friends. Friends didn’t dance like that. Friends didn’t unnecessarily smooth non-existent wrinkles either—yes he’d noticed.

It took a moment to realize Minho was talking. “Wait, what?” Thomas interrupted.

“I was saying, I’ve already paid so we’re done for the day, shank.”  Minho bent down to grab their bags, and Thomas very pointedly didn’t look at his ass.

Unfortunately, that meant he made eye contact with the attendant instead, who had stayed past her offer. She looked between him and Minho knowingly, a smile playing on her lips.

Great. More people witnessing this disaster waiting to happen. When he turned back to Minho having nothing else to distract himself from, he found Minho not looking at Thomas, but again at the outfit he still wore, like he was trying to memorize every stitch and slope of the suit.

He could feel the heat on his cheeks, watching Minho’s slow appraisal of him. It was a rush, knowing he could have that kind of affect on Minho of all people.

Honestly, he’d wear this ridiculously expensive suit everyday, if it would get Minho to look at him like that.

Feeling uncharacteristically daring, Thomas unbuttoned the jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders with more grace than he was aware he possessed. The waist coat followed in the same manner, neither boy saying anything, Minho’s eyes tracking Thomas’ nimble fingers and Thomas’ eyes tracking Minho.

He wanted to test whether Minho meant what he said, a Wanna take the rest of it off? on the tip of his tongue, but he chickened out.

Minho seemed genuine but he could have been joking too. Sure there was the implication he was attractive in this get-up—he wasn’t blind after all—but it could have been a bro thing too, right?

There was no way a star like Minho would go for Thomas…

“I’m hungry,” Minho said abruptly, taking a step back. “You should change,”

So Thomas kept his mouth shut, changed the rest of the way in the stall and took the bus back to the apartment with his flatmate.

A flatmate very out of bounds!! Why was it getting so hard to remember that?

—

A/N: Lovelies!! Back again with a new chapter where my boys are still idiots ;)  Had it sitting in my drafts just waaaaiting for the final edit lol Wedding Shenanigans next!! love much, nenz

[awake-not-today]

SUBMITTED BY SPARKLE HEART ANON FOR KOOKIE ANON 💖

Kinks/warnings; size difference, cum eating, cock worship, breeding, noona, blow jobs, bondage, thigh riding, switch!kook, switch!reader, unrealistic sex in the form of cervix penetration, unprotected sex, probably inhuman amounts of cum???, swearing, male and female oral, muscle worship, creampie, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, fingering, edging, pussy slapping, pining, corruption kink in you squint, praising, mind break, lots of dirty talk, fluffy ending, stomach bulge, cock ring, degradation, overstimulation

tortoise and the hare

If you told the you from a year ago that to mark your first year in Korea you’d currently be under the boy you had, until your first orgasm of the night anyway, previously only seen as a little brother she’d probably call you crazy. And yet here you were desperately clinging to the ridiculously toned biceps of one mister Jeon Jungkook, aka the best friend and roommate of your former friends with benefits Namjoon, and begging him to fuck you harder as he grinned down at you.

Fucked silly.

That’s how you were going to describe tonight to your friends over lunch the next day. This impossibly cocky boy was fucking you silly and to be completely honest with your Catholic guilt you’d have it no other way. Soft kisses were placed along your jaw and neck before being turned into hickies you knew you’d be carrying for a week. All you could do was moan and wrap your legs as tight as possible around his stupidly tiny waist while he pounded into your tight heat and your brain turned to mush at the onslaught of pleasure.

A little over a year ago you’d been pen paling your new friend Nari when she’d invited you to her wedding. You had come two weeks before the ceremony to help with any last minute things and to explore a new country. It was during your two weeks that Nari managed to convince you to instead stay for a few more years. Agreeing you went about filing more paperwork than you ever have in your life before getting your five year visa. You were lucky that your job had a branch in Seoul and allowed the transfer. You adore your job in historical conservation and were proud of how far you’ve gotten in your career at only twenty-four.

It was how you met your second friend Namjoon. A student teacher from the art department at a nearby school he was wandering the galleries when you both turned the corner at the same time quite literally falling for each other. The first thing you noticed were his dimples and how smooth his voice was as he apologized over and over. You assured him that it was fine and no harm done. The second things you noticed were how tall he was compared to your 5’2” frame and just how good his english was.

After buying you a coffee to again apologize it didn’t take long before the two of you became friends and eventually leading to friends with benefits. You’d be lying if you said that man didn’t know how to behave in bed. This is also when you first met Joon’s roommate and friend Jungkook. Slightly younger than you by three years he was a student athlete on the basketball team at the same school Joon taught at and was studying physical therapy. Joon had signed up to mentor freshmen and been partnered with Kook. They’d be inseparable ever since. Student teacher and student relations be damned.

Your first meeting was less than ideal. You’d just left Joon’s room after waking up from sleeping over after sex when you came face to face with his roommate. His very shirtless and sweaty and drop dead delectable roommate. You had stared at his chest for far longer than appropriate before his embarrassed cough brought you back to your senses. Hastily apologizing you introduce yourself before making a quick exit cheeks burning. You avoid their place for the next week claiming busy schedule.

The second time you meet you’re out on Friday for girls night and drunk off your ass when you bump into Joon, Kook, and their friends. It wasn’t long before your entire groups were mingling while you ended up in Kooks lap. Giving him a kiss on the cheek when leaving. The next morning he sympathetically handed you Advil after Advil while you threw up. After that the embarrassment of the first meeting was gone and replaced by your drunken kiss the pair of you settled into an easy friendship.

Kook remembers your first meetings very differently. The first time he saw you he was convinced you were an angel. Messy hair and wrinkled dress be damned you looked amazing. As soon as your eyes met bells went off in his head and he knew for sure that you were the one. He was pretty smug about how you couldn’t take your eyes off his body, but unfortunately you had left embarrassed and he didn’t get to introduce himself properly until a few weeks later. He dropped coffee off at your work one day and properly said hello easing the embarrassment of the first two meetings.

You came around their apartment a lot after that since it was closer to your work than your place and he got used to having nearly zero boundaries between you two. You had no qualms about sitting on his lap, using his height to reach things, playing with his hair while cuddle up, and even dropping kisses on his head sometimes. He figured out pretty quickly you thought he was too young for you and he accepted that. Hated it but accepted it. You two fell into an easy friendship and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. He’d just have to wait patiently for you to see him in a different light.

That moment wouldn’t come until your first year in Korea had passed. You all went out to celebrate at Nari’s insistence and while Joon left early on to follow some brunette Kook stuck by your side the entire night. He’d had a few hookups and brief girlfriends over the year to scratch the itch but he wanted you and he was determined to finally have you. He held you up around the waist as he helped you into your own apartment where you tiredly kicked off your high heels. You weren’t drunk, but you were dead tired. Turning your back to him you asked sweetly if he’d get your zipper for you.

Shivering at the strong hands covering your back you felt him slowly unto your little black dress and turned to give him a huge grin in thanks before walking down the hall to your room. You reappeared a moment later with clothes for him to change into. Eventually you came out and flopped onto the couch next to him curling into his side in your sleep shorts and tank top.

“Have fun tonight?” he asked thanking the gods that you weren’t wearing a bra and trying not to be obvious about it.

Sleepily you nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for coming out tonight.”

He gave a low chuckle and flipped through netflix. “Anytime.”

It was quiet for a few moments before he spoke with forced casualness. Tonight he was going to use your perceived innocence of him against you. “Hey noona?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I practice eating you out?”

You sat up abruptly to look at him not thinking you heard him correctly. “Excuse you?!”

He shrugged, not even having the decency to look ashamed. “There’s this girl I like and I want to make sure I make a good first impression.”

Not technically a lie. He did like a girl, you, and he did want to make a good impression, just on you. He looked at you and stuck out his lower lip slightly. You spoiled him and let him get away with so many things he was fairly certain you’d say yes.

Ah there it was. That moment you hesitated.

“Please noona?” he whined. He dramatically flopped into your lap looking up at you with practiced innocence ad puppy eyes. “Don’t you want me to be happy?”

You snorted at that and rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

He sighed and looked at you. “Noona.” he looked disappointed. “If this doesn’t end well, I'll never be able to show my face on campus, be forced to drop out due to bad grades, then spend the rest of my life bouncing between you and joon-hyung.”

Playing with his hair you again rolled your eyes. “Maybe you should have been a drama major.” you teased.

He huffed at you while you thought. It had been a while since your last hook up and if you were being truthful you had in fact thought about kook more than once late at night. But he just seemed so young and uninterest in you those feelings never went anywhere. Besides one lesson wouldn’t hurt, would it? Gently pushing him off you agreed. Letting out a small scream at suddenly being hoisted in the air over his shoulder you missed Kook smirking the entire way down the hall to your bedroom like he’d won the universe.

He gently tossed you onto the middle of the bed before stripping himself of his shirt and while you were distracted he managed to get your shirt off. Moving down to your shorts he quickly rid you of them delighted that you hadn’t worn panties. “Noona.” he teased. “Expecting something?”

Blushing you slapped his shoulder and was about to snark at him after finally tearing your eyes from his very well defined ab muscles when his mouth was on yours and all thought went out the window. Briefly you wondered just how inexpieranced was he actually was because fuck did he know how to kiss. Lost in the feeling of his soft lips moving against yours you could only look at him with a dazed expression as he pulled back to stare at your body. Fuck he had dreamed of this moment for months and now here you were all ready and willing for him. He could feel his cock start to harden in his sweats while he pushed you gently down and placed small kisses down your chest until latching onto your right nipple.

Groaning you threaded your hands in his hair eyes slipping closed as he bit and played with the moon shaped piercing. Once it was all pebbled and sensitive he switched to your left and played with the star piercing. Glancing up he moaned at the sight of your blissed out face.

“I t-thought you only gon-na eat m-me out.” you gasped.

He shrugged and shot you a sweet smile. “Just want to make sure i do this properly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and were about to say something until he bit down on the nipple in his mouth and you let out a loud moan arching your back. Fuck that was hot, he thought eyes transfixed on your face. Releasing your nipple he continued on his way down your stomach leaving small bites before reaching his prize. Gently he used his fingers to spread you apart smirking when he saw how excited you were. Practically dripping like a flood.

“Look at me.” he commanded you voice slipping an octave.

Startled at the change you did and with no warning he licked a stripe from the bottom to your clit. Hands immediately went to his hair encouraging him to keep doing that as your moaned above him.

“Please.” you whispered already sounding fucked out.

He loved that.

Continuing his task he dived back in and began eating you out like a man starved. Never in your wildest dreams had he thought his plan would work out so well and now that he had you naked and writhing under him wanting more he wasn’t about to let you down.

After all he did have only one chance to make a good first impression on you.

Whimpering above him your mind was going a mile a minute. You thought that you’d have to coach him through this, but now he was making you evaluate everything you thought you once knew. Did he even need the practice? A well timed harsh suck to your clit assured you that no he didn’t. So what was his angle? Lost in pleasure you idly wondered if maybe he did have feelings for you, but you shut that thinking down before it could bloom. If any point Kook was interested in you then surely you would have noticed. The boy wore his heart on his sleeve after all. Groaning you could feel your orgasm fast approaching.

“Kook.” you begged. “Please i’m so close.”

He glanced at you face shiny with your juices looking unfairly innocent through all of this you thought. He lightly traced a finger at your entrance glancing at you. You nodded quickly your permission but he only smirked at you and pulled away making you whine.

“No noona you’ll have to use your words.” he lightly pressed against your entrance then went back to thumbing your clit.

That cocky bastard.

Shifting your hips in search of more friction you gave in. “Please Kook i need your fingers in me.”

Looking at your fucked out state and how hard your chest was heaving as you breathed he couldn’t help but feel a little proud. “Okay noona. Since you asked so nicely.”

His mouth latched back onto your clit and ever so slowly he stretched you open. First one finger, then two, then three leaving you moaning even louder your hands in his hair begging him to not stop. “Kookie please i’m so close.” you babbled. “Dear god faster.” hips bucking up as you moaned.

He drove into you harder until he felt you tense as your first orgasm of the night rashed over you. You arched your back pressing your mound further into his face desperately trying to ride it. He continued to finger you through the aftershocks as you breathed heavily looking down at him tiredly. “I-I think you’re g-gonna be fine kookie.” you praised, panting.

Crawling up your body again he smiled and claimed your mouth once again for a few minutes letting you come down from your high as you tasted yourself on his lips. He loved the feeling of your chests together feeling right at home hovering above you and settled nicely between your legs. Eventually he moved back down again and started back up his ministrations. You whined and tried to move away but with no warning he brought his hand down on your pussy right on your clit.

You yelped and looked at him wide eyed instinctively trying to close your legs, but he landed another hit and another until you left your legs open and your head was swimming in the pleasure-pain mix. Distinctly you could hear him chuckle and hover over you again his mouth leaving hickies all over your neck and collar bones.

“Did you really think the night was over so quickly noona?” he questioned sweetly. “I’ve wanted to have you like this for so long.” He confessed against your neck. His eyes met your shocked ones. You opened your mouth several times to speak but he beat you to it.

“I’m not a kid.” he said lowly making you shiver right down to your core. “I am a grown man noona and I’d like to show you just how grown.”

He kissed his way back down to your pussy without another word and kept your hands placed firmly at your sides while he returned to eating you out. All you could do was pant his name while your head swam with pleasure and confusion shifting your hips up into his mouth.

“So needy noona.” he teased. “I’ve imagined what this would be like for so long but it’d far exceeded my expectations.”

Your head was going a mile a minute but you managed to sit up and bring his mouth back to yours. You could be deceptively strong too. “I’ve been thinking about you like this too.” You confessed. “I just always thought that I’d be too old for you.”

“Noona.” he laughed breaking away. “You’re barely three years older than me. You’re not a grandma you know.”

You shrugged feeling a little silly and just a little aroused at being called noona during sex before moving down his jaw and sucking hickies along his neck. “God you’re gonna look so good for noona all marked up.” You said lowly and were rewarded with a low whine from him before he was pushing you back onto your back and diving back down. He kept your hands and hips pressed firmly down so you were unable to move away from his teasing tongue.

It wasn’t long before you were fast approaching your second orgasm. Just as you were about to reach your peak he pulled back grinning at you deviously. “You’ve been teasing me for far too long noona. Naughty girls deserved to be punished don’t you think?”

He waited until you calmed down before starting back up again and yet again pulling away right before you came. He did this for nearly thirty more minutes leisurely edging your poor clit until you were a soaking mess begging him to finally fuck you. He looked up loving the way you were on the verge of tears his name the only word on your swollen lips.

“Kookers please.” you begged. “I need you to fuck me and I need you to fuck me now.”

How could he possibly resist?

Rising to his knees he slid off the bed and stripped himself of his grey sweat letting his erection free. It slapped against his stomach and for a solid minute you couldn’t breathe. Standing a proud seven and a half inches with nearly three inch girth and a nice curve you were fairly certain he’d break you. Smug at your reaction he crawled back onto the bed, letting his cock rest against your stomach as he brought his crotch flush against yours groaning at the feeling.

“You won’t fit.” you blurted out eyes wide.

He leaned down to kiss you gently. “Trust me beloved it will. Condom?”

You barely heard the question way to focused on the monster that was about to be in you. “You’re clean right?” you asked. He nodded. “So am I and I’m on the pill.” He looked at you blankly head cocked to the side.

“I want you to fuck me raw kookie. I want to feel you bare.” you were blushing furiously at the words having never said them before.

Above you kook groaned. “Beloved you’re going to kill me.”

Grabbing the lube from where you directed him to it he dumped a libral amount onto his fingers before sliding all three of them into you at once. You groaned at the burn but it felt so good. He added another finger and continued to finger you until you were shaking and looking for more. He withdrew and grabbed his cock hissing at the pressure. God he wasn’t sure how long he’d last once he was finally in you. And raw at that. This was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Grabbing your hips he slid in half way sighing at how you immediately clenched around him moaning. He waited a minute to let you get used to the feeling before he resumed sliding into you inch by inch until his cock bumped against a barrier that prevented him from pushing the last inch and a half into your core. Below him you panted and shifted your hips causing the head of his cock to rub against the barrier again.

“Cervix.” you gasped out barely able to form a full sentence finally understanding. “I-I think you’re hitting my cervix.”

Secretly he thought it was kinda hot that he filled you so completely that he could reach your womb. Briefly he had a fantasy of you not on the pill and how easy it would be to flood your fertile womb with his seed but he bit back those thoughts before he came too early. Unknownst to him you also thought it was kinda hot at how deep he was, but you weren’t thinking of getting pregnant right now. Gently he eased out until the head remained and made eye contact before he thrusting into you quickly setting a rapid pace.

The air left your lungs as you let out your loudest moan yet. You knew your neighbor would be complaining in the moaning but the only sensation you could think of was how fucking good it felt to have him pounding into you reaching sensative spots you didn’t even know you had. It was all you could do to wrap your legs around his waist and hang on for dear life begging him to go even harder.

“Geeze noona who knew you’d be so insatiable?”

Glaring at him you bit back, “if you don’t pick up the pace and fuck me so hard that i forget my name I’m kicking your ass out.”

It was an empty threat and you both knew it. There was no way in hell you were going to give this up after you finally got it. Annoyingly he only laughed and slid his hands under your ass to help lift your hips up until your legs were spread obscenely wide as your lower half was supported by his thighs and he was hovering over you sucking more hickies along your neck.

“As you wish princess.”

Not holding back kook let himself really pound into you and it wasn’t long until all you could do was moan eyes unfocused looking up at the ceiling drowning in the sensation of kook having his way with your pliant body. To be honest he could ask you to rob a bank and you’d probably say yes.

After all that teasing and edging your orgasm was fast approaching. “Gon-gonna come.” you moaned out.

That only encouraged him to try even harder rubbing up against your cervix as his cock had no other place to go. “Go ahead baby.” he panted into your neck. “Come on my cock like a good little whore.”

You whined making him grin.

“Yeah? Like being called a whore?” he asked rhetorically. “Does baby girl like it when I remind her of how desperate she was to have my cock inside her? Begging me repeatedly to cum in her pretty pussy. Such a sloppy girl.”

You were going to explode at his words you were sure. Damn near screaming out your orgasm you tightened around him lost in the white hot pleasure. That was without a doubt the best release you’d ever had before. You felt kook slowing down to give you time to rest but you shook your head.

“No. Want you to keep pounding me until you come in me. I want you to force me to come on your cock over and over until you’re satisfied.” you panted out avoiding his eyes suddenly shy. God what had gotten into you. You were never like this for the first time.

Kook stared down at you in amazement before kissing you deeply and sending up a quick prayer to any deity that was listening thanking you for coming to korea. He wasted no time resuming fucking you and this time it took only a few more times before he was burrying himself as deep as he could go and releasing into you. You both groaned at the sensation and laid there tangled up until he started to move once more still hard.

“Fuck I can feel your pussy quivering around me.” he groaned out. “It’s like it can’t get enough of my cum. Trying to swallow up as much of me into you as possible, yeah? Just wanna be filled with my cum all day?”

He filled that thought away for the future while you tried to say yes but all you could do was tighten up around his cock in response.

Shivering you could feel the cum slide out of you and down your ass. It felt almost nice in a weird slimy way. As he started up again your mind went blank unable to focus on anything but the pleasure he was giving you. Mouth open panting you were distantly aware of kook talking in your ear. You clenched again at being called a good girl and he smirked.

“Yeah baby girl? Like when i call you good? You’ve been so good for me that you deserve a reward.” his hand slipped between your bodies until he was rubbing your clit and abusing it until you came once more, but this time he didn’t let up until you came again after the last one in quick succession. Your mind was so drunk on pleasure and your body so pliant and willing to be fucked you almost missed it. It wasn’t until kook stopped suddenly and you whined at the loss of movement that he helped you sit up slightly and that’s when you saw it.

He had completely bottomed out in you.

That last one and a half inches that wouldn’t enter you had finally done it. You both lay there panting staring at this new development not really comprehending what had happened until kook tried to slide out but he got caught on something inside you and you knew what it was.

“You fucked open my cervix.” you gasped out stunned.

He looked a little worried. “Should we call the emergency room or?”

“I dunno this had never happened before.”

Kook would be lying if he said that statement didn’t fill him with a tiny amount of pride at being so big. You both laid there silently for a few minutes.

“Nothing hurts so I think you’re fine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” you wiggled your hips and moaned eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah no we’re definitely good. Please kookie bury your cock in me.” you whined.

Giving you a cocky grin he did just that. Pulling out and moaning as he was finally able to bottom out in you. He looked down marveling at the bulge his cock made against the outline of your skin. In all honesty it was really fucking hot.

“You know what this means?”

You shake your head as he picks up speed again and you’re drifting off into a world of nothing but pleasure.

“It means your body is becoming the perfect sleeve for my cock.”

You groaned feeling yourself get wetter at his words. Dirty talk, especially degradation, was a huge yes for you, but not many guys would go as far as you wanted them too. They always backed out not wanting to get really harsh with you, but kook wasn’t like that at all. He had no problem letting you know what a good slut you were and you loved it. Loved the feeling of being nothing but a toy for the man above you.

“Yeah, beloved? You like this don’t you slut?” his voice teased you. “You like it when I point out how well your slutty little body is molding itself to match the shape of my cock, huh?”

“Yes!” you nearly shouted out frantically nodding. God you wished you’d been brave enough to pursue him earlier. “Want to be your good little cock sleeve. Use me please.” you babbled. Above you kook swore, lowly growling.

He was in absolute heaven. Here you were the girl of his dreams, his crush, begging him to use you as basically a human fleshlight while he watched his cock sink into you with no resistance. For a year now he had pined after you thinking you’d never see him as anything but a little brother and now he was balls deep, calling you names that drove you crazy, going as rough as he could, and you still asked for more.

And damn was he going to give it to you.

Moaning into your ear he came in you for the second time triggering your orgasm as well. With a jolt he remembered that there was no barrier to your womb. He had directly come in your womb and fuck if that didn’t make him rut a little harder into you drunk on the feeling.

Unable to focus on anything you felt on the verge of passing out. You were so overwhelmed by everything you were feeling it was hard to recognize what was happening before your eyes rolled back in your head and you fainted. Looking down at you with a smile kook gently pulled out letting his spent cock flop down on your stomach and softly kissed the tip of your nose.

“Sleep well princess.”

He gave himself a few more pumps to land a couple lines of cum on your stomach satisfied at his marking of you before he got off the bed and on unsteady legs he headed to the bathroom. Taking a quick shower and brought back a wet washcloth and cleaned up all the cum on your body. Frowning at the large wet patch on your bed he gently picked you up and took you to your roommates room. She was gone for the week on a business trip so it wasn’t like she’d mind. He went back to the bathroom and came back to wipe down your body of all sweat and grime.

When he was happy with the results he took the dirty sheets from your bed and put them in the wash along with the mattress cover. Idly he wondered if he made you squirt and that’s why it was so wet. He made a note to explore that route at a later date before heading back and slipping into bed with you aftering taking a quick showers to clean himself up. You were so tired you didn’t even stir. Spooning you from behind he played with your soft tresses and placed a kiss on your cheek before snuggling into you and falling asleep.

The first thing you noticed when you awoke was a glass of water and two advil next to it. Time seeming to crawl like molasses around you. Trying to sit up you noticed two more things. One your lower body hurt like a fucking bitch and two there was a heavy arm around your waist. Swallowing down the meds and water you look down to see kook sleeping peacefully besides you.

Slow on the uptake you belatedly realized that you were both naked and then all the memories came flooding back. Blushing furiously at how kinky you’d gotten you groaned unable to face kook after this. What would he think of you? Going slowly you slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. You looked even worse than you felt.

There were hickies all over your neck and collar bones. They were going to be nearly impossible to hide for work you sighed to yourself. Going through your morning routine you returned back to kook still sleeping. Smiling to yourself you were fairly certain he could sleep through world war three. Staring at his sleeping figure you got an idea on how to pay him back for last night. Going to your room you got out a length of soft silk rope from its hiding place and a small black ring.

Taking both back to the sleeping kook you carefully and slowly climbed the bed and took his wrists in your hands. You always had liked how big his hands were and made a note to explore other possibilities with them later. Gently tying his wrists to the bed posts you made your way back down the bed and slid under the sheets until you had settled between his legs cock right in front of your face.

You hadn’t gotten a proper chance to look at it last night and damn if you weren’t going to take that time right now. Careful of your still sore lower body you settled down and took his soft cock in your mouth. Even soft he was still a hell of a mouthful. Bobbing your head and letting your spit slide down to help lubricate your way down you could hear him moaning above you coming awake.

“y/n?”

God you loved how deep his voice got first thing in the morning. Taking the ring you’d brought earlier you slipped it onto his cock near the base and smirked. Oh yeah you were gonna have fun this morning. Giving his cock one last suck as the blood came south you sat up onto your knees revealing yourself between his legs. In an instant his gaze darkened with lust at seeing you and you smiled innocently throwing the covers off and resettling yourself down on your stomach continuing to lick and suck at his cock like it was a sucker and glancing up at him.

“Good morning.” you greeted sweetly.

“y/n what are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked playing dumb. “I didn’t get a chance to show you my appreciation of what happened last night.”

You blew on the tip gently causing him to groan at the cool air and tug at the rope holding him still and at your mercy. Ignoring his noises you went about licking all up his fully hard shaft completely focused on acquainting yourself with every inch of it. Rubbing it all over your face loving the feeling, licking, sucking, and maintaining eye contact for finale you dove down until your nose was pressed against his stomach and hummed. The vibrations and hot warmth of your mouth proved to be too much and sent him into his first dry orgasm of the day. Panting he looked at you questionly.

“Cock ring.” you informed him. “It keeps you hard while preventing you from cumming.” You grin at him. “Which means I can play with your pretty cock for hours until you’re the one begging me to come.”

He groaned at that as you resumed your worshiping. “Besides,” you say casually running your tongue piercing right along the vein on his shaft causing another helpless moan. “I might have a slight oral fixation and honestly kook you have the best cock i’ve ever had the pleasure of servicing.”

You delighted at how red his cheeks turned at your words the blush even going so far down to cover his chest. It was cute how he was all commanding last night but now he was putty in your hands. You watched him amused as he struggled to compose himself as you happily deepthroated him. This went on for nearly fourty minutes of you mouthing and sucking at him until he was the one going crazy just like you’d said.

“Please baby girl have mercy.” he moaned out. “Just want to come down that mouth of yours.” his hips tried to buck up, but you kept them firmly pinned down to the mattress. He tugged uselessly at his restraints. You watched fascinated at how his muscles moved under his skin. God he really was built like some Greek hero.

Finally taking pity on him you released his cock from the ring and without warning deepthroated once more also sucking hard earning both a moan to rival your own from last night and his cum. You waited until he was done before pulling off slowly and leaning over him to show him the cum in your mouth before swallowing. His pupils were blown wide as his eyes never left your lips. You moved back down to his cock and took him in the mouth once more enjoy the moans above you. You cleaned any remaining come before letting him fall from your mouth and sitting up stretching out your tired muscles.

“Alright beloved you’ve had your fun, but now it’s time to untie me.” he tried once again to get loose, but your knots were too good.

“No.”

His head snapped up and he glared at you. “Oh?”

“You had fun with my body last night and now I get to have fun with yours.” you explained shrugging and you seated yourself on his thigh. You sighed at the pressure on your puffy lips. Kook couldn’t draw his eyes away from your wet pussy currently sliding along his thigh. His breath hitched as you moaned and began playing with your nipples.

He really loved those piercings of yours by the way.

You relished in the undivided attention his lust filled eyes were giving you. With no warning kook bent the leg you were currently on slightly drawing his leg up so his foot was planted firmly on the bed so you could grind easier on the angle and in thanks you leaned forward to kiss him. He sighed into his mouth and let you take the lead exploring his mouth as your pace all while the feeling of your wet pussy drove him crazy.

“Hey.” he started off as you broke apart for a breather. “There’s a game tonight. Wanna come and after we can, i don’t know, see a movie or something? Like a date?” he asked tentatively.

“Wouldn’t you rather celebrate the win with the team?”

He scoffed though secretly flattered that you already thought they’d win. “Believe me I’d much rather spend the time with you. y/n I’ve liked you since the very first moment we met.” he confessed.

You sat there stunned for a moment before kissing him again.

“Yeah.” you said grinning at him. “I’d love to go on a date with you after the game. And i’ve also been ummm thinking of well you too.”

It was his turn to grin at you revealing those adorable bunny esque teeth. God you loved this man so much. Leaning forward you met him in another kiss as you sped up your pace on his thigh and bringing your hand to your clit. You came with a loud cry before nearly collapsing onto him in your post orgasm haze. How you still managed to come after last night you don’t know. Speaking of last night.

“Sorry about all the dirty talk and stuff. I'm not usually like that.” you say a little embarrassed as you move to untie him having had your fun.

He snickered and flipped you over effortlessly once he was free. You stared up at him confused. “Trust me. Hearing you beg for my cock and agree that your body-” he trailed his hand down the valley of your breasts and down to your clit “-was made to fit said cock was the hottest thing I have ever heard.”

Your cheeks could rival the sun you were fairly certain. “Good. Because I loved every minute of last night.”

The grin on his face slipped as you once again used your deceptive strength to flip the pair of you yet again so that you were settled right above his cock tracing the abs below your fingers. Rubbing his hands along your ass and thighs he sat back and let you trace his chest and abs and arms to your hearts content. He loved the way you looked and admired his body.

He had been taking working out seriously in the last year to impress you after all.

Lulled into a false sense of security of your hands just trailing all over that he jolted at the feeling of the cock ring slide down his shaft again effectively keeping him hard. Startled he looked at you only to see you grin deviously as you slipped your wet and open pussy down on his cock. He had no idea as to when you’d opened yourself up, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“Now.” you said with an edge he hadn’t heard before, but it sent more blood going south. “Since you were so good for noona-” he shivered at the word the sensations going right to his cock, “-this morning I figured that you deserve a reward.”

You looked amazing as you rode his cock, he thought dazed. Pausing you glanced at him head cocked to the side all innocence. “Are you going to be good for noona kookie?”

He nearly broke his neck trying to nod fast enough and sighed with relief bucking up his hips as you started moving again.

“Good boy.”

[smolstrawberrychara]

Desert Radio

MonthlyKlance March Prompts - Day 1 - Beginning

A.K.A. The Beginning of the Fic! This month I’m doing one fic and relating the chapters to the prompts as well as the general aesthetic to the fic! Updates will be roughly every other day! It’s about cyberpunk, magic, deserts and radios~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964041/chapters/42429002

When Keith crash lands in a desert, his only way back to civilisation is to follow the signals of a radio show.

Alarms. Lots of alarms. Keith yanked the steering wheel upwards, standing nearly vertical with how far he was pushing his chair back and how fast he was falling through the atmosphere. Fire was licking up the windows, orange spilling across the dashboard and glinting off the pressure gauge that shook like a bug staring down a lion. Keith shoved a hand against his forehead, whipping back his long straggles of hair and flicking sweat onto the glass. He was going to crash. Engines were down. Wings alight. It was only a matter of survival now.

Keith let the wheel bounce back into place with a clank, hissing at the increase in wails given out by the dash. He slammed his hand onto the back wall, finding the seatbelt before yanking it down and strapping it tight across his heaving chest. Land was visible below – barely through the amount of flames whipping at the ship. Keith knew, he just knew, he should have refuelled at the last pitstop. But then there was the endless queue and that child who wouldn’t stop looking at him with his weird bug eyes. Keith favoured his chances at making it to the next planet rather than deal with that and an undoubtedly awkward conversation with the mother who thought her child was oh so cute.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

A red light flashed up signalling fifty feet to impact. Last chance. Keith took a deep breath before ripping out the emergency cord. Immediately, he was choked by the seatbelt. The ship practically froze around him as he hung off his chair in the centre like an abandoned puppet. He craned his neck and there above him, instead of blue sky, was a large white circle, blooming like a mushroom. Keith slumped against the belt. Thank goodness.

The ship took a more leisurely descent now, floating to the ground like a feather in the breeze. Keith sighed, swaying gently with the movements as his heart finally slowed down. He’d been in more crashes than he’d care to admit, but they never got easier. And this time for sure he thought he had been heading for the light.

The ship nosed the ground, rocking back and forth before finally toppling over with a shudder. Keith bounced back into his chair with a huff. Upright was an underappreciated state. He decided to sit in it a while longer, waiting for the blood to stop rushing down from his head. When he was sure his vision was no longer swaying, Keith unclipped his belt and pushed at the window. It creaked, hot against his fingertips, but popped open none the less. Cool air rushed against his skin and Keith smiled to himself, lifting his red-trimmed goggles to his forehead. This was a warm welcome. He climbed out into the fresh air, settling against the metal opening to just bask. The sun beat down on him from high in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud in the way to stop its warmth revitalising his every cell. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes. Space travel wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sometimes, Keith wanted nothing more than a mouthful of fresh air. And right now, breathing seemed like the greatest thing in the world. Just existing. It was strangely enough.

Satisfactorily calmed, Keith hopped out the ship, landing on a squirming, golden landscape. Sand spread from his feet in every direction, rising and falling in smooth hills all the way up to the sky. There appeared to be no buildings for miles and zero tracks indicating transport. By the looks of it, Keith had landed in the middle of nowhere. He clicked his tongue. Of course. He had to bust up his ship on the one planet without civilisation.

Turning back to the ship, Keith frowned. It was still smouldering, black smoke puffing around the crumpled edges of the bonnet. Maybe it was just aesthetic? He threw open the bonnet, and immediately staggered back. The smoke billowed, and he had to pull his jacket over his nose just to stop himself choking. That wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He waved the worst of it away, before rounding the back. The jets were covered in ash, one having melted from its usual cone shape into a sad u. Keith crouched down to take a closer look, poking at the wrinkled metal pooled at the base. It was safe to say, the thing was completely wrecked.

“Sorry Shiro,” he whispered, biting his lip. Keith’s brother had been very clear about one thing when he gave the boy his ship: ‘Don’t crash.’ And this had been the seventh time this year.

It wasn’t that Keith was a bad pilot. He had actually been top of his class back in school. No, it was that he was a bad human being. Well adult. Young adult. Trainee? The point was Keith could have avoided every single one of his crashes if he’d just acted with maturity. Or with a brain. He could hear Shiro’s lecturing now.

‘You know you should never fly past a fuel stop with less than half a tank.’

‘A guy looking at you smugly isn’t a challenge for you to outfly him.’

And the same old deep sigh paired with a long worn out voice saying, ‘Keith. If you’re not sure you’re allowed to fly in a certain area, for the love of God, just ask someone. Don’t crash into them.’

Keith rolled his eyes. Shiro may love him and all that crap but he really had to be deep in denial if he thought Keith was socially adept enough to face that kind of situation.

Keith stroked his hand against the black stripes of the ship. It was a nice ship. Shiro’s beloved Black. He’d given it to Keith as a kind of heirloom. Pass on the memories. And Keith had made a lot. He’d flown to hundreds of new planets, seen thousands of new stars and made about a billion more enemies. Well, it wasn’t his fault people found his to-the-point attitude rude. Or that a lot of planet’s had poorly designed infrastructure.

Keith sighed, looking out to the desert again. The life-saving parachute twisted against the ground, rolling with the wind. Keith decided to start simple and gathered it up in armfuls. Dumping it back in the emergency hatch, he told himself he’d fold it properly later. That was, if he even got the ship fixed. Looking over the beat-up metal he realised this wasn’t one of those repairs he could do on his own. He needed a mechanic, maybe even an engineer. At the very least he needed a tow.

Keith sighed, before clambering back into the cockpit. Picking up the mouth-piece from the communications hub, he punched the emergency signal. The thing didn’t even give a hint of a response, gaping at him like a guppy. Keith pushed the button again. Nothing. Keith rubbed at his forehead, fiddling with the adjusters on the flat square of disappointment. This would work right? Had to. How was he going to get out of here otherwise?

Keith tried again, pushing the button in as far as it would go. He knew it wouldn’t work but he couldn’t help but try. It was beginning to dawn on him that he may be in actual trouble here and he wanted to avoid facing reality for just a second longer. After a painfully long minute of pressing, the communicator still gave no response. Keith frowned. Then he threw the mouthpiece back into place its place and kicked it with his boot. The ship gave a judder, and Keith grabbed the seat as it sank deeper into the sand. Luckily, it only shifted an inch or two, but Keith had lost enough of his life on that shock to stay a sitting duck. He dove behind the seat to grab his rucksack before hurrying out.

Landing back on the sand, he upended the bag, shaking its contents out onto the ground. It was a disappointment to say the least. Keith’s pathetic hoard of supplies pooled at his feet in more of a dribble than a mass. In total, there was:

Three tins of baked beans

A half-eaten cereal bar

One tissue (used)

A threadbare t-shirt he’d last used as a rag to clean up oil

Half a bottle of water

A lighter

One empty thermos

Its broken cup

And a pocket radio.

Keith cursed his lack of social skills. If he’d just gone into the fuel station he could’ve restocked. Then again, he wouldn’t have needed to, given his ship would have had enough fuel not to go plunging through a foreign atmosphere. Keith dropped to the ground. There was the emergency pack too. Signal flares, first aid kit, warning lights and traffic cones.  But Keith had enough dignity not to beg for rescue and enough sense to know that nobody else would be driving in the desert. Or at the very least, anyone driving by would probably notice a crashed ship without it needing to be lit up like a Christmas tree.

Keith sadly repacked his belongings, taking the water bottle out to refill it by the onboard tap. Then he took a long swig, practically inhaling the cool liquid, before refilling it again. He felt more alive after that. Like he could finally think straight instead of dehydrating in the blazing heat.

All he needed to do was find civilisation. He knew it had to be somewhere nearby, he had been heading towards a populated landing zone before the whole fuel-deficiency thing. He had no communicator so he couldn’t call anyone though. And he refused to use the signal flares. Those were for life or death situations and Keith was currently not in a life or death situation. Plus, in all honesty, he doubted anyone would see it in the vastness of the desert. He looked down at the bag. Maybe he couldn’t call anyone, but they could call him?

He reached in to grab the radio. It was a small thing – a red arch bleached peach by the sun with an inner yellow rainbow for the speaker. There were two knobs at the bottom and an old pixel display between. He slid the on button and the numbers 000.00 popped up. Twisting one dial, digits flickered past and a buzz erupted from the speakers. Well that was a start.

Keith shifted until he was sitting comfortably on the ground, back against the warm metal ship and knees bent to balance the radio. Then one by one he checked every station, hoping for a break in the buzzing. If he could just find a signal, proof of civilisation, he could track it. Then he’d be out of this desert and back to travelling the stars.

Hours. Hours must have passed. And all Keith had heard was static. His back ached and the sky was beginning to darken. The radio had revealed precisely nothing and Keith’s stomach was starting to rumble. He eyed his rucksack. Could he afford to eat the beans? His stomach gave a pathetic gargle and Keith decided he was too miserable to care. Lunging forward, his back popped as he reached out for the brown fabric. His fingers glanced against the top and he growled. He bounced forward again, stretching his arm achingly far. Just as he hooked his finger around the open zip, his chest knocked the radio. It rolled off his leg, landing in the sand in a dull plop.

Then there was a sudden eruption of noise. Keith jumped, whipping around. Music! The signal was mixed with static, but it was undeniable. Keith grabbed the radio, brushing off sand and staring at the numbers, burning them into his mind. He twisted the dial carefully, plunging the desert back into a buzz. Then he turned it back and with every click the music became clearer until it was undeniable. Guitar strums rang out across the desert, drum beat stirring up the sand as the bass pumped through his fingers. Keith could cry. It was so familiar. So welcome. He slumped against the ship, staring at the radio. Then the sound was fading, and a voice was fluttering along the cooling desert wind.

“That was Town Called Malice, by The Jam!” The announcer called, voice bright and cheerful and clear against the deepening sky, “and you’re listening to Desert Radio with Lance! Hope you’re feeling good!”

[shadowdianne]

OOOH! After that one you did with snow, can you have HOOK walk in on them? And he thinks he's still Emma's boyfriend, and doesn't even realise what they were doing until near the end, then freaks out

I’m afraid that in that other fic you’rereferring to I wrote explicitly that Emma broke her relationship with Hook whenshe realized she didn’t love him ^^’’ But I wrote a separate version of thatother fic. I hope you like it 😉

“Love?”

Emma closed her eyes tightly while groaning,her hands all but halting around Regina’s midriff as the brunette glanced ather, a groan of her own escaping her lips while the blonde muttered a series ofexpletives under her breath just as the dark-haired man called for her againfrom outside, his voice filtering through the cracks of the door as heapproached it.

Half-hidden as they were behind the living-roomcouch, Emma opened her eyes and stared into the brunette’s whose irises hadbegun to shine purple, crackling sparks rising from her fingers -which stillgrasped Emma’s biceps- towards the blonde’s own skin. Shaking her head, Emmapeeked from the back of the couch towards the entrance, visible thanks to theopen concept of the ground floor of the house.

“Love?” Regina’s voice held a bubbling laughthat got lost on Emma’s whimper as the pirate opened the main door of theblonde’s house, the scrapping of his boots at the entrance of the halleliciting another swirl of swear words from the younger woman while pushed bothherself and the brunette further into the couch’s cushions, half hoping theywouldn’t get caught. Beneath her, Regina rose one brow even further but keptsilent, the crackling of her magic dissolving just as Emma whispered “Please,don’t.” on her ear.

“Love, I’ve seen your car outside! Your fathertold me that you didn’t have to work today. Where are you?”

For a moment, it almost seemed that the piratewas going to start ascending through the stairs but his footsteps halted just afew inches away from the first step. Just enough for Emma to nuzzle deeper onRegina’s neck and whispering something very close to “Fuck” on Regina’s skinbefore she pushed herself away from the brunette, just in time for Hook to turnand frown, his sight falling into the grumbling blonde as Regina remained onthe couch, staring at the blonde from her still hidden position.

Feigning that she wasn’t seeing the glancesRegina kept on shooting at her, Emma tried to scrub away the red stains oflipstick Regina had peppered her neck with as Hook approached her, his good armtrying to hug her as the savior quickly moved at the couch’s side while smilinggrimly.

“Hook… What are you doing here?”

Her question was met with an owlish blink, thearm slowly falling at the man’s side as Regina kept on shooting daggers atEmma, the blonde trying to do her very best on not being obvious on hercontinuous glances towards what for Hook’s perspective was an empty couch. Itdidn’t matter however, since the pirate was solely focusing on Emma as hepouted slightly, holding his left arm close to his chest while he answered theblonde’s question.

“Don’t you remember? Today is our anniversary!From that very first dinner we had. I thought we could… celebrate it.”

The last suggestive bit was enough for Emma tosigh deeply as Regina coughed and sat up, her head peeking through the back ofthe couch while she turned and stared deeply into the now confused pirate. Unknownto him but visible for Emma, the brunette’s hands smoothed the wrinkles Emmahad created minutes before, ozone spreading through the room as she did so. Adetail the blonde caught but Hook, judging by his still empty gaze as shezeroed on Regina’s face, didn’t.

“Regina?”

Running her hand through her tresses andsending a glare to Regina even if the brunette kept on merely staring at Hook,Emma nibbled on her lips before taking a step closer towards the confused man,smiling quickly at him as she pointed at Regina with her right thumb.

“I think I already told you that that wasn’tgoing to be possible… anymore.”

Hook’s realization was slow and the two womencould almost see his brain coming up with the explanation of why Emma -despiteher best intent- still sported some telling stains of red lipstick all over herjaw and neck as well as half-unbuttoned jeans. Regina’s own grin merely grewwider as he opened his mouth, nothing coming out it while pointing at the twowomen alternatively from the middle of the room. A scene Emma knew that itwould later be funny but not as she stood and stared at him while trying hervery best not to fumble anymore or give away that her jeans weren’t the onlyhalf buttoned thing she had on her.

“You…”

Regina answered with a nod as Emma stood insilence, half wishing to be able to vanish Hook from the room before he exploded.The man certainly seemed able to implode as his face turned several shadesdarker while he pointed at Emma, completely flabbergasted.

“How? We are together! How you dare…”

Emma hold both of her hands in front of herwhile glancing at Regina, the brunette nodding almost unperceptively andreaching to her with her left hand upturned, a small reassuring look passingbetween the two of them as Emma focused back on the dark-haired man.

“Hook, I broke up with you a month ago,remember? When… I called the wedding off.”

The man took a step backwards, still flushed,and Emma could almost swear that his eyes were about to fall off his face as hekept on staring at the two of them. Seeing his reaction, Regina abandoned her placebehind the couch, her curled fingers creating a crackling set of purple sparksonly Emma focused on as the former queen kept on approaching the dark-hairedman.

Hook, obviously, wasn’t focused on that as hekept his accusatory finger on Emma’s face while the blonde kept approachinghim. Blinking and hunching his shoulders the pirate gaped before letting hishand fall, a look of utter despair quickly followed by rage crossing over hisface.

“You will pay for this Swan and when she -heglanced viciously at Regina just as the former queen rose one hand filled withpurple energy that made him falter for a moment before he went towards the maindoor of the house, stumbling slightly as much as he tried to don’t make it so.- leaves you I won’t be here for you to cry on me, remember that!”

The door closing behind him echoed through theentire hall and his screams could still be heard for a moment before Emmaturned towards Regina, a mix of tiredness and amusement shinning on her eyes asRegina extinguished her magic, the ozone in the air disappearing altogether.

“That went well.”

[linssikeittomies]

VR Chapter 2 - 5 hours

Have fun trying to pronounce each name! Later chapters will have the correct spellings, though I haven’t worked in a scene where the pronunciation is elaborated. Until then, pronounce everything however you like. Masterpost <- Chapter 1 Chapter 3 ->

--

After a short nap in a guest room upstairs I felt a lot better. That unreasonable freaking out in the street embarrassed me now, lemme tell ya. I was basically dreading the second I had to see another person again, knowing how hysterical I had looked. Look, I’m borderline famous for my cool, I’m like a teenage Jeevesette, that’s how cool I am.

So now that you know how extraordinarily rare it is for me not stay in control, we can move onto more important things. After my breakdown, the girl and the woman showed me upstairs to the third floor. That floor looked a bit more like an actual living space instead of a display of wealth, with a semicircle of comfortable couches and reading lamps in the centre of the very large room, two giant bookshelves against a wall, a grand piano looking thing and string instruments against the opposite wall, and paintings of varying skill level all over the place.

The guest room I had been given was incredibly bare bones compared to the rest of the manor. A queen sized bed with a plain headboard, a small bookshelf with only three books in it, a medium-sized dresser, an L-shaped desk pushed into a corner, and only one painting. It was a family portrait. Of the strict blonde woman, a foppish black-haired man, a toddler with sandy brown hair, and a baby with large green eyes and bright blonde hair. So yeah, I’m guessing it was the mirror-image girl (pretty clearly the strict woman was her mum now that my brain was functioning properly, they looked too much alike to be anything but close relatives) with the dad and a sibling. I thought it was a little weird to have a family portrait in a guest room, but it was a pretty painting. I love me some details, and the amount of tiny details fit into the clothing of the family was simply astounding. It wasn’t a big painting, but it still must have taken years to complete, what with all the folds of the clothing and the vast amount of embroidery and shimmering gems. No one’s skin was an even tone, the natural coloration and the lighting was taken into consideration, jeez, you could almost see the pores! And the flower the older sibling was holding even had a minuscule beetle hanging out on it, how cute was that?

But enough fawning over a painting, it was dinner time. I decided to bear my shame for the sake of my despairing stomach, opened the door, and saw a young man clad in a grey-blue bathrobe-looking thing. He bowed deep to me, his long ponytail falling over his shoulder. When he righted himself, he beamed at me, he was ecstatic to have me here. What a weirdo. And the blonde girl was also there, backed by a young woman with a blunt bob cut that suited her terribly, wearing the same bath-robe dress as the male servant. The blonde girl’s clothes were just as folk dress -inspired: a cream tunic and harem pants with bright red patterns and embroidery. Her wavy hair was gathered on a poofy ponytail on the side of her head. Her face was still eerie to look at, it really was like a photograph of mine from a few years back. Well, her eyes were a bit rounder and wider, and overall her face was a bit plumper, but you get the idea.

She said something to the servants, and they left to mind their own business. Then the blonde girl waved at me to follow her, all the way down back to the ground floor dining room, where the huge table was set. I hadn’t paid much attention to it the last time, but it was covered with several tablecloths – but not in any semblance of order. Just every imaginable colour and a lot of different sizes, some of them plain, some striped, some embroidered, just thrown on it. And okay, they had smoothed out any wrinkles, but not straightened anything. It was a mess of a dining table.

The strict woman and the foppish man were already sat, at the end as one might have imagined. The blonde girl drew out a chair for me from the side closest to them, and herself settled down next to me. Scullery maids, or whatever they’re called these days, started bringing out plates and cutlery, and I was glad to see that at least these people ate with forks and knives, I wasn’t that good with chopsticks and never even knew about other types of utensils. I was examining the lacy border of the porcelain plates when a young boy burst in out of breath, apologizing for being late or something, I would imagine, and sat down next to his sister.

Sitting in the middle of a family felt so wrong, why was my seat set here? I mean, it would be rude to change seats now but I wouldn’t have minded being sat somewhere else from the start.

There was some small talk, and valiant but truly useless attempts to include me. The younger brother looked at me warily from behind his sister, and was the only quiet one. He said a few words every now and then, and most of them were “Oona”, which seemed to be the girl’s name. The oldest sibling was nowhere to be seen, possibly a rebellious teen or out of town for now? Probably wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume she’d been sent to a boarding school, rich families like doing that.

The grub arrived on splendid silver trays, and interestingly enough comprised mostly of greens. Like 90% vegetables. There was some bread thrown  in there, and a cute little dessert pie, but only one roasted bird of some sort, too small to be chicken. Not sparrow-sized either. I followed the family’s example and piled on the greens, and only took a few slices of the bird. My watch said it was only four thirty, where were the filet mignons? I would have understood a light meal on the evening, but it wasn’t even getting dark yet. I think. The dining room seemed to be in the middle of the manor, all the windows were outside in the hallway, and my seat didn’t give me a view of one. Maybe my watch was broken.

Dinner was a noisier deal than the pre-dinner, oddly enough, but quickly finished. As the servants started collecting the dishes, the mum led everyone else to a study on the other side of the manor. The design of the place was pretty odd – the rooms were in the middle of the building, with the corridor running around them, so the study the family and I ended up in had no windows. There was one tall but thin bookshelf, and a large table surrounded by plush chairs. An old woman and a middle-aged man were sitting at the table with a small pile of books set to the side. They got up to bow to the family. The dad started talking with them quietly, while the mum finally decided it was time for introductions. Why those couldn’t be done at the dinner table was beyond me, but whatever. At least I could finally call them by name instead of position.

The mum was Alehleh. Easy enough name, kinda pretty, if a bit child-like. The dad was Soonee, you’d think also easy, but then he looked ready to cry when he heard me try it out. I really sucked at pronunciation, it seemed. The girl was Ritideea, not Oona, and her name was pretty difficult to say, but unlike her dad, she wasn’t bothered by the butchering of her name. The R rolled, and the stressing seemed to change every time she said it. But she recognized her name when I said it, so good enough. And finally the son, Keenahty. He was super shy, around ten years old, and looked as much like his father as Ritideea looked like her mother.

When I introduced myself as Mimi, they all smiled patiently but also shook their heads, and Soonee corrected me with “Rititeea”. I didn’t get what that was about, and had no theories. Soonee was crestfallen. Alehleh, apparently the head of the family, ceased the nonsense by calling the two strangers to action.

First went the old woman – she introduced herself as Kaorahtsil, and proceeded to speak. I didn’t understand a word, predictably. I wasn’t exactly on Earth anymore. But she changed languages two more times, expecting something, and I couldn’t explain she wouldn’t find a language I spoke a mere few light years away. So I just said “Hi, my name is Mimi, Earth is probably in another section of the universe.” Then she admitted to the family that mine was a language she didn’t speak.

Then went the man, Sessan. He didn’t try languages, but maps. That small pile of books was atlases. I leafed through all of them, already knowing England wouldn’t be in any of them, but wanting to please him anyway. Everyone was very surprised by this development. They had never met anyone who came from so far away. They couldn’t wrap their heads around how I got here. Sessan in particular insisted I must have come by ship, over and over, and it was only after I shook my head for the fifth time that I realized… I had zero clue what he was saying, but still knew he meant ships. Wow, wasn’t that weird? Was this that translation spell I vaguely remembered screaming about earlier? Pretty crude, not very effective, but a start!

Hey wow, would you look at that, I had gone from thinking this was a town of larpers to 100 per cent believing in magic. What the hell.

But the spell didn’t work both ways. I could somewhat understand the man, but he couldn’t understand me at all. Oh, he tried, again and again, first asking about ships, then flying(even though it was plain on his face he thought that was a laughable option), then he gave up travel altogether and instead tried to find out something, anything, about my home country. He picked up on the one-way nature his spell, frustrated and confused, but no one could explain it. After this he stopped the spell, leaving me completely out of the loop as the family held council. It took nearly forty minutes for them to come up with a possible solution, and none of them liked it. Ritideea was the one who came up with the idea, but despite that the only one who hated it even more was Soonee. And after a good half hour of arguing, they reached an agreement. And thank God for that, it was exhausting to just sit there as an outsider.

After that, the servant boy from earlier took me to my room, pulled a salty snack pastry out of hammer space and hovered behind me as I ate. What a creep. I had to shoo him out quite forcibly. A little later a tailor who liked grumbling to himself came in(allowing the servant to charge back in) and took more measures of me than I had imagined existed. He made a lot of notes, talked with the servant who smiled goofy the whole time, and grumbled all the way to himself. Then he took every single measurement again before getting the hell out. I didn’t need this crap at quarter past eight.

Ritideea knocked on the door, and wanted to give me a tour of the manor. Why not, it was a bit early to turn in. And the place was quite nice, it never hurts to look at pretty things.

The third floor was mostly bedrooms – a ridiculous amount of bedrooms. Each of the three wings had about five bedrooms, and their shared bathrooms. A few had their own, I supposed those were guest rooms. Starting from the base of the first wing, first there was a guest room, then a study, then from the corner Alehleh and Soonee’s bedroom, which shared its bathroom with Keenahty’s room. Then was my guest room, the bathroom, and Ritideea. After her was a store room, containing a veritable mountain of painting supplies and canvases of several sizes. There were even a few spare easels. Another sparse guest room ended that wall, after which the third wing started. Most of the rooms in the wings seemed to be in use, but none of their occupants were present. Gigantic manor and so few residents. Was it holiday season or something?

We went down the smaller set of stairs by the third wing, and came out to a hallway. This one also contained two nicer guest rooms, and a locked door to the third wing. What was more private than the residents’ bedrooms? Ritideea’d had no problem letting me peek in those. The other two wings had one guest room and one dormitory each. In the main part of the manor, behind the two guest rooms, was a library – my favourite room in the manor so far. Jam-packed full of simple shelves, themselves bursting at the seams from all kinds of books, like a struggling public library. It felt like home. Much better than the ridiculously huge, mostly empty ballroom. It was wood-pannelled of course, for that extra oomph of bragging. The grandest piano I had ever witnessed stood near the outer wall, and the loo was so fancy pooping in one would have felt like defacing an artwork. The living room with a big, round coffee table surrounded by plush pillows was a bit more to my tastes, but the balcony on the front of the manor offered the most boring view ever: a paved courtyard, the steel gate, and the streets and houses behind it. What sucked even more was that the larger balcony at the back of the manor was barely any better. These people just did not understand gardens. There was a pretty cool fountain at the centre of the courtyard, but as you might have expected, it was paved. There were some minor bushes hugging the walls, but nothing beyond that.

This time we used the bigger staircase, which brought us in front of the dining room. The ground floor had the weirdest floor plan ever – the rooms were in the center, while the corridor ran on the outside. The rooms got shitty lighting. Even the most open room, the drawing room at the end and adjacent to the dining room, with its three open archways had to rely on electricity. The kitchen didn’t even have a door to the corridor, the air must’ve gotten stuffy there quick. Ritideea let me take a look from the door in dining room corner, but since there were people working, I didn’t want to disturb them. We continued on, turned the corner, did not go to the third wing, and came to a Roman bath. The water was faintly pink, warm, and smelled of flowers. I might take a dip there sometime, even if it was clearly meant for the important guests. Some night when I couldn’t fall asleep, then.

The rest of the rooms on the main part of the mansion were the same kind of spartan meeting rooms that the interpretor and the mage had interrogated me in. The first wing had four very lavish guest rooms, both with their own ridiculously fancy bathrooms bigger than my bedroom, obviously for the important important guests. The second wing was much the same, except it also had an extensive jewellery display. Several kilos of precious stones and pearls, just sitting there. Hate to think how much money they wasted on the jewellery they did wear.

Come to think of it, the family dressed oddly humbly. Even Alehleh, the most high class and rich-bitch of them all, wore comparatively simple dresses and necklaces. She could have gone for ermine capes and ball gowns, worn fist-sized diamonds on both ears and a whole family of rubies on her neck, but she didn’t.  Sure, she did exude wealth, but you wouldn’t have guessed this much wealth. They were also pretty chummy with the servants, not dismissive and snobbish. Did that mean the actual masters of the manor were away right now? One of the lived-in rooms on the second floor had to her parents’, maybe they were the snobs. Though I didn’t remember any of the bedrooms being especially snobby. But who else but a tried and true snob builds a home like this to their family? Thus, someone had to be a snob, and I suspected Alehleh’s parents.

There was a lot of ground to cover in the manor, so I was sufficiently tuckered out once the tour finished. I couldn’t find a pair of pyjamas in the drawer, but I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in my underwear in a strange place, so I just took off my bra and left the button-up on. It wasn’t the most comfortable shirt to sleep in, but I still did fall asleep pretty fast.