#way to do stuff with zero warning i guess

[relto]

finally figured out what i have to do, that exact moment the sshd server on the machine i was working on died.

[sailorsoons]

Giving Season (c.sc & l.c)

PAIRING: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

SUMMARY: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

WC: 5,632

AU: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

GENRE:  Smut

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARNINGS: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. 

A/N: This was originally posted as a request fill for @daechwitatamic and as a belated birthday gift back in December. I love you Mojo Jojo Dojo Siwa Casa House

A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

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NERVOUSNESS CREEPS UP AS YOU WATCH CHAN OPEN UP HIS GIFT, EYES ZEROED IN ON THE WAY HIS DEFT FINGERS PEEL BACK THE WRAPPING PAPER CAREFULLY. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

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[seungfl0wer]

*Confession Or Dare*

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader (fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Virgin!Chan, Cursing, P in V, Multiple Rounds, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Fluffy loving ending. Slightly Proofread. Sorry if I forgot any.

Request can be found here! Hopefully this is good :( I wrote it while in the car and half asleep so it honestly feels like a fever dream lol.

-🩵

Felix had invited you over for game night again. The last time you were over you were complete shit faced and ended up cuddled up to Chan. Nothing happened but when it’s mentioned it always makes him blush so much.

Chan was such an attractive man and knowing it made him blush always gave you butterflies. This highly gorgeous man becoming all flustered when it came to you.

The night started off as normal, you all playing games drinking and munching back on Felix’s cookies. Minho suggested playing truth or dare which everyone roared about. Last time you guys placed this Jeongin ended up streaking down the road and you found out Jisung masturbated 3 times that day. You know. Normal stuff for friends.

“Felix truth or dare?” Jeongin asked with a devilish smile.

“Dare” Felix replied with an eyebrow raised.

Jeongins smile grew as he spoke “I dare you to go to the fridge and eat one of those spicy peppers of Minhos with no drink”

Felix’s whined “are you trying to kill me?” He said getting up heading to the fridge. “What if don’t? What’s the punishment?” He asked looking at the pepper with a gulp.

“If you don’t you can’t game for the next 2 days” jeongin challenged.

Felix groaned taking a big chunk out of the pepper swallowing it fast. His face grew red as the heat started to kick in coughing at random.

“Y/n truth or dare?” Seungmin asked you, felix dying in the background.

“Uhm truth?” You said looking at Felix not wanting that to happen to you.

“What’s the freakiest thing you’ve ever done in bed?” He asked the other boys waited for your answer wide eyed.

You sighed before answering “Hmm at the park on the bench, sitting on my exs lap as people passed.” You said almost to nonchalantly.

Everyone just kinda stared at you, faces red as they listened. Chans face was beat red as he shifted a little his slightly hard cock poking up at your words.

You stared at everyone “what? You asked I just answered” you giggled.

As the game went on Chan couldn’t stop thinking about it. His head swirling with thoughts of you, how soft you must feel. How hot it would be if you’d do the same thing with him.

“Earth to Chris” Felix said teasingly as he waved his hand across his face.

Chan blinked “ah sorry was a bit zoned out” he said with a chuckle.

“Truth or dare” Minho said, as he said early but Chan was to lost in his thoughts to hear the first time.

“Oh let’s go with truth I guess” Chan said nervously.

“How many people have you slept with?” Minho asked.

Chans eyes went wide “well uhm- zero” he said softly.

Everyone’s eyes went wide staring dumb at him. “There’s no fucking way- you’re a virgin??” Changbin said as Minho started to laugh.

“I mean I’ve done things just not- just not sex” he said feeling a bit embarrassed now. He looked over at you, you were staring at him with a soft blush.

The boys continued to teased him for a few minutes not understanding how he could be. “Chan you’re- well you how can you be a virgin dude?” Jisung asked.

Chan shrugged “i don’t know just never felt right with someone” he said softly. He looked over at you again. He’d give anything if he could do it with you. He’s had such a crush on you for a while. He wasn’t sure about his feelings until the day you two ended up cuddling together.

He’ll never tell you but you admitted you had a crush on him in your drunk state. He only half heartily believed you wondering if you were just out of your mind drunk.

A few hours had passed and your buzz had wore off, however you still didn’t want to drive home. You were just gonna crash on the couch until Chan offered you his bed again. You smiled excepting of course, this time you were actually coherent and in the right mind to remember.

“Thanks for letting me crash in here again” you said with a smile.

“Of course, the couch is so hard.” He said with a laugh.

As you both crawled into bed you sighed, Chans bed was so comfortable and it just smelled like heaven. You could feel him become a bit tense as you pushed your body back against his. You smiled to yourself a bit feeling him becoming hard. You moved again this time on purpose, you could hear him moan softly. The sound sending jolt through your body straight to your core.

“Chan” you said softly. He let out a soft hum in response. “I can help change that you know? I mean the whole virgin thing. If you wanted to..” you blurted out.

He almost choked on air as tried to wrap his mind around what you just said. “I- you really want to?” he said in a croak.

You nodded, making him groan in response “oh- ok I would love to but just know I’ve- I’ve never done it before so might not be good” he said his face as red as tomato now.

You smirked “don’t worry handsome you can use me till you get the hang of it” you said voice low and hot. You pushed yourself back onto Chan more feeling how hard he was already. “Channie need you” you said voice faint head already empty.

He groaned eyes fluttering “yeah? What- what do you need?” He said as he leaned his body against you. “You I need you, please f- fuck Me” you said trying to be as sexy as possible.

His hands wondered to your hips pulling you against his cock harder. He started to rut against your ass letting out small sounds. He could honestly cum like this, the feeling of having you so close and knowing you wanted him? His mind was fuzzy.

You pulled away swiftly pulling your shorts down to your knees pushing your now bare ass against him. Chan let out a deep whine he quickly did the same his hard cock smacking against your ass.

He pushed his cock between your folds, humping into your soft thighs. His hands gripped around you wondering your body now. “Fuck y/n are you positive about this?” He asked again wanting to make sure.

“Mhm.. so fucking sure please use me channie” your words came out as a long moan the feeling of him making your cunt clench. You needed him just as bad, you had some many thoughts of this. How he’d look, sound, taste everything.

“You’re soaked already” he said his head now in the crook of your neck. He left soft kisses to your neck as he moved more letting all your juices coat him nicely. “Can- can I put it in?” He asked his voice sounding desperate.

As soon as you nod he was trying to push the head in. He felt embarrassed when he kept slipping letting out a whine. “I’m sorry” he said softly before aligning himself up right to finally push in. The smallest bit in he was already gone. “Sh-shit. You’re so fucking warm-“

He fucked into you sloppily, feeling you so tightly around him. “Can- can I play with your pretty breasts?” He asked. You smiled at his request “You can touch anywhere- anywhere you want I’m all yours”

Your words stirred something in him, his thrust become deeper as he played with your tits his lips attached to your neck. He was leaving wet kisses as he sucked pretty little marks on you. His hand came down to play with your pussy as he fucked into you.

The way your pussy pulled him in, clenching around him was to much. “Y/n fuck- you feel to good- I’m gonna cum” he said in a high pitched whine.

He was filling you up, hitting all your sweet spots. How could this be his first time? Fuck he was so good at it, he just felt perfect like he was made for you. “Ah channie cum it’s ok” you said pushing yourself back to meet his thrusts.

“I don’t want it to end- fuck- but you feel so good- ah fuck you’re so warm so fucking warm” he kept rambling as his high was coming close. “Y/n I can’t- to good- you feel to fucking good oh my god!” His voice sounded strained.

He came in that moment hands pulling you close as possible as he pumped himself deep into you. “Fuck y/n- fuck!” He moaned. The feeling of him cumming pushed you over the edge his hand never stopping on your clit. You came with in a few minutes of him. If he didn’t just cum he would have again at the feeling.

A few moments later both of you were breathing better not panting as much you could see his cock already hard again. “How are you so hard already?” You questioned.

He shrugged a bit “maybe cause I came so fast? I don’t know” he chuckled embarrassed a bit. “Can I ride you?” You blurted out looking down at him. He groaned at the question but nodded. You straddled him, letting yourself sink into his length.

“Ah- ah fuck- y/n I- fuck” his words were incoherent as you bounced on his cock. Your hands laid on his chest as you used his cock. Leaning down to kiss him sloppily tongues fighting for dominance.

It didn’t take long for him to cum again. Especially this way. The way you were using him, bouncing that perfect body. Those delicious tits bouncing and the taste of your tongue on his. It as so much you felt so good.

He pulled you to him after everything, holding you close as you both tried to catch your breaths. “Y/n.. you didn’t just do this cause I was a virgin right?” He questioned. You sighed a bit “no.. maybe I like you and wanted to be the one to help you experience it first the first time.” You admitted.

His heart thumped fast at your confession. “I like you too..” he said softly his hand rubbing your back. “Really?” You asked looking up at him.

“Yes, of course I do” he said with a smile. Your eyes went wide and a small blush creeped across your face. “So uhm- would you maybe wanna go on a date?” He choked out. You nodded happily kissing his nose.

And that was it, that’s how you two started now going on almost a year the boys still tease him about everything. Little do they know how well he fucks.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat

[sixosix]

SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes��and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

[blue-jisungs]

360

[ song inspo ! ] 360 by park jihoon

[ author's note ! ] 3 6 oh zero take a shot for meeeee

[ summary ! ] when you and your husband get called as a backup, youd never guess how that 'date' would end ...

[ warnings ! ] suggestive + allusions to sex sigh SOURY!!! since its agent au theres violence, guns and shooting, blood, mention of drugs n gangsters, kidnapping n stuff, reader is nauseous, joke or two about dying (? i promise it makes sense), swearing, sliiightly angsty i guess :3

[ word count ! ] +- 4k

seungcheol watched you carefully as you wandered around the kitchen. you grabbed two cups and turned around to join him on the couch. 

just by his smug look in his eye you could tell he was thinking about something. 

you put down the steaming cups on the coffee table and crossed your arms, standing in front of it. 

“what?” you asked, a playful smile forming on your husband’s face. 

“nothing. just admiring my wife” he hummed and as if his legs weren’t spread enough, he pushed them a little wider. he patted his thigh with a boyish grin. 

“c’mere. i missed you” he whined, brows furrowing in a pleasing expression. 

“seungcheol, you remember what happened last time. i will not explain to the doctor once again how you strained your leg” you grunted, recalling the last time when you… well, safe to say, in a rush of emotions forgot about cheol’s injury. then you had to rush to the hospital, both of you almost half naked and your state leaving very little to the imagination. the doctor nagged seungcheol to slow down with physical activities and you had to shush your husband before he blurted out something that would embarrass you even more. 

“ah, i’m better now. just come here” he giggled and pulled you onto his lap. you shifted and rested your knees on both sides, not putting all of your weight on him. “it’s just us. we should enjoy the free time we got” 

“mhm. i feel like you’re getting bored rotting inside the house” you hummed, arms wrapping around his neck. seungcheol looked at you with hearts in his eyes, shaking his head. 

“no, not at all. i love having you all to myself” he replied and before you realized, he pulled you down to rest on his lap. you just rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head in disbelief. 

due to his injury, he was put aside from his duties. and you, being his wife, had to take care of him. 

both you and seungcheol were agents. your job required a lot of running and just being physical. so naturally he wasn’t able to execute it. 

time passed and he started getting better but his doctor advised to rest for another month. 

that way he also developed many new hobbies. crotcheting, making candles, pottery, baking… you could swear he tried everything. 

“i could get used to it, you know” he sighed, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck. his soft locks tickled your skin as you played with the hair at the back of his neck “i love our job, i really do. but spending time together–“ 

your right one interrupted the peaceful moment, you and cheol pulling away at the same time. he looked at you shocked and you leaned back to grab the phone. his hands remained on your hips the whole time. 

“yeah?” you answered, putting the phone on speaker. 

“hi, doves. hopefully im not interrupting?” jeonghan asked in a slightly teasing voice. 

“yeah, actually. we were making passionate love” seungcheol grunted and you just smacked his arm, giggling. 

“don’t listen to this man child. what’s up?” you scoffed and just flicked his nose. 

“i know you can’t do shit but we’re running low on people. jun and hao got sent to china and we’re just helpless. we need you, y/n. it’s a serious matter” jeonghan’s voice was stern, a little pleading. 

“got it. i’ll be at the base in thirty” you said and were about to get off your husband’s lap when he took your phone 

“im going too” 

“what?!” you and jeonghan yelped at the same time. you smacked his shoulder yet again. 

“you heard me. i’m the captain, after all. we’ll be there in fifteen” seungcheol ordered and hang up. 

you saw his eyes darken a bit – you knew that. adrenaline rushed through his veins, he was itching to be back. 

“you’re insufferable” you grunted and went to change into your work clothes. 

“for fuck’s sake… and what are you even doing here?” jihoon crossed his arms, eyeing seungcheol up and down. 

“told him not to go” you grunted and didn’t even bother to look at your husband. you had to weapon up real quick “his doctor too” 

“i can run, chill out. it’s not like start breakdancing. my injury is 99% healed” cheol grunted, the atmosphere in the room already tense. 

“i’d rather have kyungmin take your spot” chan snickered, trying to ease the tension. kyungmin was his nephew who just started his training to be a special agent one day, just like him… and you. 

“hey, leave kyungmin alone. he’s my baby” you grinned. you really loved that kid, he was just like a happy virus. the sole sight of his cute face made you want to squish his cheeks and bite– 

“okay, let’s just go. y/n, you’ll lead the group. seungcheol, you’ll take her side, i’ll explain the details on the way” jeonghan massaged his temples and left the room. 

“someone’s pissed” cheol teased. jeonghan took over for the time being of seungcheol’s absence and it seemed like he already wanted to have his leader back. 

as a group of special agents, your tasks and duties varied. sometimes it would be protecting someone, sometimes taking down criminals… a new day, a new surprise. 

“okay, we got called as backup. there are hostages and they are the main priority, alright? one of them is the health minister’s daughter. the location is an abandoned factory, the kidnappers just wanted money. however, we got informed that they are the local drug gang we’ve been trying to locate ever since you and cheol got time off” jeonghan explained once in the car, eyeing you in the mirror “they are really reckless and unpredictable. there was no connection between the daughter and them and despite their illegal actions, they still decided to show themselves and kidnap her. because of that the minister sent a government group too, they’ll help us too” 

“don’t worry, i’ll protect you” seungcheol said, the buzz of adrenaline in his veins making it hard to stay still. as if himself alone could replace the whole additional group. but… 

he missed this. he missed the thrill of danger, the action, the tension. he just loved this job way too much and no amount of crocheted socks or baked cinnamon rolls could replace this. 

“take a shot for me, hm?” you hummed, cupping his jaw. seungcheol’s face scrunched in a soft smile. 

this saying was what got you closer. when you were new in the crew, you and cheol didn’t really… enjoy each other. so you two would often bicker and joke about letting the other down (which was cruel if you thought about it but on the other hand… you had no feelings towards him whatsoever. how the turn tables). after your first successful mission, you said it too when you were celebrating. so seungcheol drank a shot, holding eye contact with you. something deep about his gaze turned the phrase more intimate, turning into a promise of protecting the other with your own life. 

“you’re gonna manifest it one day and i’m gonna kill myself if one of you dies” dokyeom suddenly spoke up and you just snorted, turning your head towards him. 

“you’re being dramatic” you snickered, resting your head on seungcheol’s arm. 

“no, no. he’s right. we missed you like crazy, you’re kinda like a parental figure to me” chan stuck his head out from his seat behind you, sending you a toothy grin. 

“don’t get too used to this. this drama queen still needs to rest” you pointed at seungcheol “but, jeonghan, tell us more about the drug gang. leaders, weak points maybe…?” 

seungcheol and you left the car, not going too far. jeonghan handed you both a walkie talkie and then moved a bit away to test it. 

“coups, do you copy?” jeonghan checked. you haven’t hear your husband’s code name in a while. 

suddenly, it all hit you. you’re back in the field, gun and knives attached to your hip. your bulletproof jacket on your chest, heavy boots hugging your feet. there’s life on the scale, and you’re responsible for saving those hostages. 

a wave of nausea washed over you, bending in half. 

“fuck, y/n, are you okay?” seungcheol asked; his voice shook a bit, taken aback by your sudden reaction.

“i got nervous all of a sudden, i might throw up” you groaned, clutching your stomach. 

“hey, it’s okay” he kneeled down next to you, eyeing your pale face. rubbing your back in a reassuring motion, he didn’t notice others sending you worried looks.

“i’m fine” you muttered and took a few deep breaths, the sick feeling fading away. 

your husband didn’t take his eyes off you, nodding reassuringly. 

“do you want some water?” he asked, big bambi eyes staring at you. 

“no, thanks. i just… the realisation hit me, i wasn’t prepared mentally to come back so suddenly. but i’m fine, don’t worry” you smiled softly and patted his arm “i promise”

“you better because you come in like, in ten. you have everything? remember: hostages are the priority” jeonghan’s smooth voice suddenly boomed from behind you and you just nodded. a loud churn turned in your stomach, your breakfast suddenly wanting to escape. 

but you swallowed hardly and rushed to your spot. seungcheol followed you and before you had to head in, he pressed a quick kiss on your lips.

the old magazine was quite a messy location but luckily you were able to pass through it unnoticed if you tried enough. 

on jeonghan’s signal you went in, leading the group. dividing into small groups to locate the aim, you placed your feet surely on the ground. 

wonwoo and jun who were with you were as quiet as mice. 

“got anything?” vernon’s voice rang in your in-ear. you replied quickly, deciding to check the rest of the corridor you got and to return to one of the squares. 

it was overgrown by various plants, clearly a sign of abandonment of this place. it had a couple of benches, most of them ready to fall apart upon a small movement. it was probably an area where the workers could take a break, back in the day when the factory was working. 

it had four exits, by two of which your group came in. 

“what now?” chan asked jeonghan through the walkie-talkie and just when there was a buzz of an incoming answer, you heard seungcheol’s voice. 

“a movement at twelve, i saw through one of the windows. we’ll be there in a moment” 

in a flash you aimed your gun at the door in front of you, waiting for them to open. 

seungcheol could see the square thanks to most of the walls not surviving the test of time and simply falling apart. and also most of the windows were broken due to some hooligan’s actions.

“get ready, don’t shoot yet” you ordered, shifting the weight of your body on your right leg in a defensive position. 

and surely, the metal doors soon clinged open. 

your jaw tensed when you saw one of the gangsters, holding a hostage. and a gun to their head. it was a boy, he looked as if he could be kyungmin’s age. it made your brows furrow. 

“took you long enough. we were starting to get bored” the man grunted. they knew you were coming, they definitely had a plan. you swallowed, unsure what to say. however, the man was faster. 

“who’s the leader of this pathetic little group?” he asked. 

you proudly stepped out, not wasting a second. the aggressive man just pushed his gun closer to the hostage’s head. 

then, seuncheol entered the room, aiming at the man as well.

“drop the weapon and follow me” he snarled “unless you want my colleague to shoot the minister’s daughter” 

“y/n…” jeonghan warned you, not even sure why – he knew you wouldn’t listen. 

you slowly kneeled down and tossed your gun on the grass, raising back up with your hands in a defensive posture.

“i’m going with her” cheol’s voice boomed behind you, shortly followed by the sound of a dropping gun. 

no one noticed but the gang member realized the bligning golden rings on your fingers. a teasing smile bloomed on his face as he nodded.

“welcome” he just mumbled.

“let me see her” you ordered and the man just turned around, silently telling you to follow him. 

“don’t do anything stupid, you’re unharmed! both of you!” jeonghan hissed through the in-ear. 

seungcheol’s heart sped up and he looked at your group through his shoulder for the last time. 

“the other group has to follow them, now! use the right wing, don’t get caught. use the second exit, the one i showed you on the map. go!” jeonghan ordered.

“what’s your plan? you’re surrounded” you blurted out. the man just snickered. 

“you’re a dumb bitch if you think i’ll tell you that” 

“motherfucker” you heard cheol’s hiss and just sent him a nagging look. the man either didn’t care nor didn’t hear.

soon enough after entering and passing through some rooms and corridors, the guy lead you to a room on the second floor. 

the hostages were tied there, sunlight shining through a half broken window on their frightened faces. 

“now that was dumb to follow us all alone. we’ve got two more to our collection. well, you definitely won’t be as worth as her” the man spat on the floor next to a blonde girl, nudging her with his foot. 

“tell me how much you want. we can solve this without hurting anyone” you pleaded, eyeing the guards in the room. then, you casted an eye over the hostages. huh yunjin, the daughter of the minister. jeonghan showed you her pictures. you also saw two young boys, a man who you saw before and a woman… with her baby. 

a baby. 

your jaw clenched. your husband noticed that and only sent you a calming look.

“a woman of business. now we’re talking” the gangster huffed and followed your line of sight. he smirked upon noticing you’re looking at the small baby. 

“i see them! second floor, west side. the hostages are on the middle, there’s more or less five people. i can’t see the whole room” you heard jihoon’s voice in your in-ear - he took the sniping spot alongside dokyeom and seungkwan.

“how much do you want?” you asked, finally looking up. the man suddenly started laughing, grabbing his walkie-talkie. 

“i’ll show you something, listen closely” he smiled disgustingly and started talking to the walkie-talkie “rooftops, how we’re feeling? did you take down those ants already?” 

“on it, sir” the buzz sent shivers down your spine. they had snipers too? 

wait, rooftops?

“oh shit–!” jihoon’s yelp rang in your ear. 

“jihoon-ah!” jeonghan’s voice was full of fear and you felt your heart speeding up when your friend didn’t reply. 

you stared at the aggressors, your chest rising up and down. 

the silence was so loud, your racing heart tearing apart. should you save the hostages and remain calm or should you– 

“fucking asshole missed” 

a shaky sigh left your lips and you glared at the leader of the gang. 

“what do you want?” you hissed, jaw clenched. your hand was itching to reach for your hidden weapon. 

“see, misses… life is not all about love, money, fame. although it is fun that way” the man tsked, circling around the hostages. they were looking at you pleadingly. 

you shifted your fingers, calculating how much time you have. if the snipers could take the rest of the guards down before you reach out for your hidden knife. 

you caught seungcheol’s stern gaze, he could read you like an open book.

“don’t” he mouthed. you just cursed mentally and raised your eyes to the sky. 

“you know, we’re doing it because, well… money. but also, i got a little bored” the man spoke up, standing still and observing you two. 

jeonghan was right, this guy is a psycho. bored? he was bored and decided to give those poor kids trauma. 

“but thanks to you my game just got a whole lotta entertaining!” he opened his arms widely with a grin. you wanted to rip it off his face.

“hang on in there, we’re almost there!” jeonghan said. he could hear everything that was going on, including your rapid breaths. 

“because if i’m not mistaken… you’re married, hm? lovebirds… quite a romantic date idea” he chuckled slyly, fox-alike. 

the sound of a gun reloading made you take a step closer to seungcheol. 

fuck. 

you usually take off your wedding rings. exactly for the risk of such a situation. and also because it was more comfortable to hold a weapon with a free hand.

“so, mr. husband. choose. her…” the gang leader pointed his gun at yunjin, her eyes glossy. then, he painfully slowly aimed his weapon at you. right between your eyes “... or her” 

“fuck. where are you?” jeonghan asked the group. 

you stopped breathing, ringing in your ears getting hard to bare. 

“her, pick her” the daughter of the minister whined, almost begged. tears pooled in your eyes - this poor girl wanted to save you.

“yunjin, listen to me. you’ll live. don’t panic” you reassured her, shaking your head. 

seungcheol stayed silent, swallowing hard. in theory, the choice was easy: you; he’d always choose you. 

but he didn’t want anyone to die. especially this young girl that still had her whole life in front of her. he knew the trouble everyone could get in if anything happened to her. both you, him and his whole team. 

“come on” the gang member teased. 

“shoot me” 

you whipped your head at seungcheol, mouth falling agape. he was serious.

“cheol, what the fuck are you even talking about!” you yelled, trying to grab his hand but the loud tsk made you halt. 

“a man of honor…” the guy started.

“boss, i see a group of people approaching the room” his walkie-talkie speaking made you freeze. you’re doomed. 

“see, normally i’d make you suffer a bit more. maybe even give you time to say your last goodbye. but since your team is coming, i have no options left” the guy grinned and moved his gun at seungcheol, lowering his hand a bit.

then it all happened in a blink of an eye, your heart fuelling your limbs. 

when seungcheol didn’t feel any pain but he heard the gunshot, he thought it was the adrenaline blocking his sensors. only when your body surged forwards to cover him, it was too late for him to react. 

along with your painful yelp, the door swung open and your team came to rescue you and the hostages. 

with the rest of your strength you reached for your hidden knife and threw it at one of the guards who was getting ready to shoot. 

“hey, hey. y/n… fuck, are you stupid?” cheol kneeled down, panic in his ebony irises. he held your body, sticky blood covering his palms. he was freaking out, only being able to observe how your eyes are starting to lose their light.

“take a shot for me, remember?” you smiled softly, bringing your hand to his cheek. 

“no, no, no. that’s why he was supposed to shoot me! we… you, i… you can’t–” he breathed out, tears filling his eyes. 

he didn’t realize the fight that was going on, luckily jihoon and the rest of the snipers were taking care of your backs. the voices around him blurred out; fell silent on his ears as he was only focused on you. 

your eyelids drooping, your limbs getting lighter. he held your wrist that was cupping his cheek, the other hand looking for the wound to stop the bleeding at least for a moment.

“i love you, cheol”

the light in the room was unbearable. but so was the silence. the horrible, bone shattering silence. 

“how is she?” jeonghan asked quietly, stepping into the room with a doctor, mingyu. 

seungcheol just swallowed, shrugging his shoulders. your face was pale, your arm bandaged. he already wiped the dried blood off your cheek. most importantly, you were breathing. 

“good question” seungcheol murmured, squeezing your hand. 

mingyu looked at his papers and clicked his pen, humming. 

“i’m fine, actually” 

jeonghan’s soft gasp was followed by your husband’s yelp. he lurched forward to hug you, careful not to cause any pain to your arm. 

you giggled into his shoulder, wrapping your free hand around his back. 

“you gave us a heart attack” jeonghan snickered and the doctor just smiled. seungcheol leaned away a bit and you brushed off the hair from his forehead. visible relief was painted all over his face. 

“sorry. couldn’t let my hubby die before me” you snickered and jeonghan just tsked in disapproval “also, how…”

“everyone is alive, sound and safe. well, except some of the gang members. we captured the leader, who did manage to escape but… um, your husband put the pedal to the metal, let’s just say that” he snickered.

“good. very good. i’m glad they are all safe” you smiled and interlocked your fingers with cheol’s.

“if i may interrupt…” the doctor cleared his throat and you all nodded, allowing him to read his notes “everything is fine. you got shot in the arm, luckily above the bone. you did lose a lot of blood but everything, as i said, is fine. the baby too”

“that’s good” you grinned and halted, your smile fading. you blinked twice, furrowing your brows. seungcheol didn’t seem to understand “wait, what baby?”

now it was mingyu’s turn to frown. jeonghan’s eyes were as wide as plates.

“you’re pregnant, mrs choi. i thought you knew?” he frowned, observing the pure shock on your faces.

“i... we… baby?” seungcheol choked out, pointing at himself and then you. 

“well that’s how babies are made, right?” the doctor snickered.

“oh my god, you weren’t joking with the passionate love making” jeonghan groaned dramatically and you just fellt your face go red. 

“no! i mean… wait, how… how… which week…?” you asked, looking at your husband. he was still clearly processing it.

“ninth week. it’s normal that you couldn't see the belly” the doctor explained and just smiled softly “well, i’ll leave you alone now. if you have more questions or want to do extra check up, or usg for the baby, just let us know. and congratulations, i suppose” 

he sent you a toothy smile and left. 

you could see cogs turning in jeonghan’s head.

“so that would mean… three months, more or less… oh, ew, someone was celebrating their birthday!” he fake gagged and your eyes widened.

“you’re gross,  get out!” you laughed and he just snickered.

“i will. let me spread the news tho” he smiled and left. 

seungcheol kept staring at you, lips parted.

“cheol?” you asked softly, sitting up. his fingers traced the cold metal of your wedding ring in an absentminded motion.

“y/n… we’re going to be parents” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. 

he let them flow, smile breaking on his lips. 

“we are” you agreed happily. sure, life was messy with your job - and maybe it was a sign to change your profession to something less life risking. but during cheol’s injury you got a taste of the time alone. 

it was nice. peaceful, embodiment of love. 

and now, there’s gonna be an additional member of your small family. maybe it won’t be as peaceful as it was with just the two of you. but it’ll definitely be worth it. 

seungcheol leaned in and cupped your face, surprising you with a passionate lips. wet tears stained your cheeks and you weren’t sure anymore if they were yours or his. one thing was certain, though: they were tears of joy. 

your life will turn 360 degrees now but with your husband by your side, you know it’ll be perfect. 

svt masterlist | event masterlist

taglist. @mirxzii ,, @primoppang ,, @l3visbby ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @planetkiimchi ,,

@weird-bookworm ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,,

@eternalgyu ,, @rubywonu ,, @haecien ,, @mine-gyu ,, @nonononranghaee

[chris-bandicoot]

Headcanons | C.S

warnings: fluff, slow burn, I think that's all...

bg info: cute things you and Chris would do before you guys started dating.

Playful Competition

You and Chris always end up in little competitive situations—whether it's video games, who can come up with the funniest joke, or even something silly like who can guess the lyrics to a song faster. It’s never about winning, but the way he gets that glint in his eye when you win is adorable.

Comfort in Silence

You could both be sitting in silence, doing your own thing—he’s on his phone, and you’re reading or scrolling through your own stuff—but there's this peacefulness in it. There’s no need for words; it’s just the simple joy of being in each other's company.

Accidental Compliments

Sometimes Chris will say something like, “You look cute today,” without even thinking about it, and immediately gets flustered when he realizes what he just said. He tries to act casual, but you can see the little blush creeping up on his face, making it even cuter.

The Way He Listens

When you talk, he really listens. He leans in, gives you his full attention, and sometimes his eyes widen when you say something he finds interesting, showing just how captivated he is by everything you say.

The Quiet Acts of Kindness

Chris isn't always obvious about his affection, but there are those small, thoughtful gestures: remembering your coffee order, always asking how your day went, and maybe, just maybe, fixing the little things you didn’t even notice you needed—like adjusting the strap on your bag without saying anything.

Dorky Little Conversations

You’ll both end up having these ridiculous, hilarious debates over the dumbest things—like whether pineapple belongs on pizza or which superhero would win in a fight—just because the banter between you two feels effortless.

The Shared Stare

When you’re in a group and everyone’s talking, he’ll often just pause and look at you from across the room—just enough to make you smile, just enough to make him smile. It’s like a silent little “I see you.”

Lingering Hugs

Every hug lasts a little longer than it probably should, but neither of you ever mention it. There’s always this split-second pause before pulling away—like you're both silently hoping the other doesn’t let go first.

Stealing Glances

Chris constantly sneaks little looks when you're not paying attention. If you're laughing with someone else, fixing your hair, or even just lost in thought—he’s watching, and he doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Nick teases him for it.

Shared Laughter

Whenever something funny happens, Chris’s first instinct is to turn to you. He doesn’t even fully laugh until he hears your laugh or sees that crinkle in your eyes. He lives for making you laugh.

"Accidental" Touches

Pinkies brushing when you walk next to each other. Knees touching under the table. Him handing you something but his hand lingers on yours for a second too long. It’s subtle—but electric every time.

Inside Jokes

You two have this growing list of inside jokes that make zero sense to anyone else. Chris will send you a one-word text like "blueberries" and you’ll both be laughing for ten minutes.

Late-Night Talks

You guys stay up texting about everything and nothing. Sometimes you’ll send a random voice memo because you're too tired to type, and Chris plays it back more than once just to hear your voice.

Protective Energy

Chris always walks on the side closest to the street. Holds doors open without thinking. Notices when you're cold and quietly shrugs off his hoodie to hand to you (movie ass scene), acting like it’s no big deal even though his heart is racing.

Playful Teasing

He’s always teasing you in that affectionate way, trying to get a rise out of you—messing with your playlist, poking fun at one of your interests—but the moment someone else tries to do the same? He’s instantly defensive.

The Look (Someone make a movie/book and use this creepy ass title)

When you say something sweet, deep, or just really you, Chris gives you that look—the one that lingers a little too long, where his eyes soften and his smile fades into something way more serious… and he usually looks away first.

Everyone Knows but You Two

Literally everyone around you sees it. Matt, Nick, your friends—everyone is just waiting for you guys to realize you're already kind of acting like a couple. They're basically hiding your relationship from you.

a/n: This kinda ass ngl. Ik I keep saying this, but I literally have only been posting the worst times I can possibly post at. Like it's fricking 5 in the morning, I haven't slept for almost 2 days, I have a long ass exam today, and I have to wake up in 5 hours for class.

masterlist

[astralis-ortus]

i'll keep you in a photograph

✱ crush!sm x fem!reader

— it's just a silly little crush.

w.count → 2.5k genre → romance warning → minor cussing, appearances by other 4/8 skz and itzy's ryujin, menace lee know in action, also no use of y/n whatsoever at all a.n → time to celebrate because we're finally debuting a seungmin fic!🎊 i wasn't even planning for the fic to be this long, but i guess it is what it is, lol. also! do let me know if you would like a part 2 to this fic! ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

you've never been much of a sports fan in the first place.

the burning ambition, loud cheers, and massive crowds—it's just simply not your thing. really, you have nothing against the people who loves sports, but if given the choice between a vip ticket to the next biggest sports match and a week-long, peaceful getaway at the countryside,

you would absolutely chose the latter in a heartbeat.

hence,

with that image of you in mind,

imagine the surprise amongst your group of friends when you told them that in your right mind, with zero drops of alcohol flowing in your blood, you had stepped in to be one of the volunteer game photographer for your campus' next baseball game.

"i don't believe you," felix shook his head, golden locks swaying in unison, "what do you mean you just want to? you don't even like going to popular cafes—how are you supposed to deal with a baseball crowd? do you even know how massive that game would be?"

"pretty sure someone forced her," ryujin sighed, lines between her eyebrows still clearly visible beneath the stray strands of hair as she faced hyunjin on her right, "told you those people at the photography club seemed suspicious. why didn't you listen and joined with her? they won't be able to take advantage of her like this if you're there!"

"guys—"

"why is it my fault?" hyunjin protested, quickly pointing his manicured nails in your direction, "she's the one who signed up to the club without any of us knowing! it's not like i didn't want to join the club too—they already closed the form before i could try signing up!"

"hey—"

"you could've gone earlier!"

"how am i supposed to know?"

"you could've—"

"guys!"

the bickering between the two immediately ceased as the three pair of eyes now locked in your direction, visibly surprised at the tone of your voice. to be fair, you do understand why your friends are acting the way they are, but god, they're starting to sound more like a couple of overprotective parent and a childish sibling at this point.

"no one forced me, i promise," you sighed, quietly fidgeting with your fingers under the cafeteria table. you do admit it's far too weird for you to be doing all this, but you have your reason. "i'll be fine, you don't have to worry about me too much. i'll be okay."

"besides," you quickly continued upon noticing the persisting worry in your friends' eyes, "it's about time i start doing new stuff like this. i don't want to feel like i'm wasting my last years as a student and graduate with regret. okay?"

only then does your friends' eyes seem to soften, worry now replaced by relief.

"if you say so," felix became the first one to smile, hand gently patting your shoulder, "but don't go overboard with it, okay? try to go to the practice sessions first so you could gauge the situation for game day."

"felix's right," both hyunjin and ryujin added at the same time, quickly glaring at each other before focusing back at you.

"i can go with you to the practices," ryujin volunteered, frown lines already replaced with a beaming smile, "i happen to know one of the assistant coach, he'll let us watch if i ask him!"

"pretty sure you just want to see that legendary pitcher—ow!" hyunjin quickly rubbed out the sting from ryujin's slap on his shoulder, and between her glare, hyunjin's protest, and felix's laugh,

no one seemed to notice the faint shade of blush, slowly creeping on your cheeks.

the fresh spring air of seoul eagerly fills your lungs—quietly reminding you of a distant memory when life was nothing more than running around the field of your grandparents' countryside home. you might be a quiet kid, but that never stopped you from exploring every nook and cranny you could find around the vicinity of the well-maintained traditional house.

today, however,

you're planning on making a new memory for yourself.

as it turns out, ryujin does actually know the assistant coach for the campus' baseball team. chris, as he introduced himself, is also a personal trainer at the gym ryujin frequents, explaining the unexpected connection—much to hyunjin's dismay, though, who was really looking forward for a new reason to tease ryujin. both you and felix could only shook your heads, each wondering when (or if) the two will ever stop bickering with each other.

the first few practice session you attended with ryujin was a lot more fun than you had expected it to be. maybe it was ryujin's friendliness that helped lowered the players' guards down around the new faces watching, but everyone seemed very welcoming to the addition of you and your camera around the perimeters of the field.

you, on the other hand, also got to learn about where and when to snap the best pictures, along with the terms to help you understand better about whatever is going on in the field during the game. had felix not popped the idea to watch these practice sessions, you probably won't be able to do your best for the upcoming game day, and you definitely will need to treat your friends to some chicken and beer later as a thank you.

for today's practice round, however,

you're left all alone.

you don't blame ryujin—she has her own class related stuff to tend to, and besides, her coming with you for the first few times were already more than enough. you've grown far more comfortable being around the considerably sized crowd and you know your ways around the place should you need some time away, but all in all, you know you're doing a lot better now, thanks to ryujin's help.

"oh, you're here!" chris were the first one to spot you, waving with his dimpled smile on display, "ryujin told me you'd be on your own today. will you be okay?"

"of course," you mirrored the older's smile, finally standing next to the casually dressed assistant coach at the edge of the field, "she's too worried, but i'll be fine. it's not like i'm the one running around, hitting the balls anyway."

chris cracked a laugh at your joke, relieved that you don't seem to be as tense as you were when he first met you. "well that's great, then," he hummed in content, smiling in your direction, "feel free to walk around the usual space, today's practice won't be as hard the ones before so you should be able to get better shots."

and surely, you did.

like the usual round, chris had to monitor the practice and hence, you're left to explore the media pit on your own. you greeted some of the players you've gotten acquainted with while they wait for their turn, and you also managed to snap some new shots to submit to the campus website and journalist club. it might be a volunteer event, but hey, you have to be strategic with your portfolio, right?

"at this rate, your crush might as well be broadcasted from the speakers, you know."

the sudden voice coming from your left nearly made you drop your camera.

"what crush?" you throw a protest—albeit sounding more like a squeak—at minho, the other assistant coach you've gotten acquainted with through your time at the field. "i'm just doing my job here," you continued, shaking your head before again raising your camera,

while also attempting to mask the rising tempo of your heartbeat.

"you can't fool me like you fool the others," minho chuckled, lips tugged into a lopsided smile while he crossed his arms in amusement, "i can clearly see where your lenses are pointed, so there's really no use in lying to me."

crap.

"you're just saying nonsense to bother me," you huffed, trying to keep your cool behind the camera while attempting your best to hide the flush on your face from minho. even if you're about to get your cover blown, you'd rather not get it done by the menace that minho is.

sure, it hasn't been long since you've been introduced to minho, but for reasons only god and minho himself knows, the guy seems to just weirdly pick on you out of the blue and as it turns out, he's quite a psychic too.

"well then if that's not the case," minho shrugged, quietly extending a palm at you, "can i see the pictures you've taken today?"

"no!"

and only after you saw the maniacal smirk plastered across minho's face as you clutched the camera close to your heart that your realized,

your cover is blown.

[ weeks ago ]

honestly, you don't think you'll be joining any clubs this year.

it's not that you don't want to—you actually do, considering you're the only one of your quartet who still hasn't really decided on anything to do outside of your classes, but nothing seems to be piquing your interest just yet.

staring down at your phone, you're trying to find your last resort—the photography club. to be fair, you're not a major photography geek in the first place. yes, you do like taking pictures and you do go out of your way to learn the basics of photography, but that's about it. despite everyone telling you that you're good at it, you've never viewed photography as something more than just a hobby.

"it should be—ow!"

the sudden force against your shoulder sent your phone straight to the hard surface of your campus building's floor, inviting several gasps to be heard between the decorated walls—including one of your own.

"shit—i'm really sorry, are you okay?"

before you could even react, a hand had reached for your phone and quickly dusted the screen off before offering the device back to you. "i'm really sorry about this, i'm in a bit of a hurry and i wasn't looking. are you okay? is your shoulder alright?"

in all honesty? no, you're not okay.

"yeah, it's okay. i'm at fault too," you grimaced, noting the dull ache on your shoulder while reluctantly grabbing your phone, hoping for the safety of your screen, "i'm so—"

any remaining air left in your lungs seemed to get caught in your throat as soon as your eyes found the pair staring right at yours, catching you off guard. even under the navy ballcap he's wearing, the depth of his eyes had successfully lured the remaining pieces of rationale beyond you.

"look," he continued, snapping you out of your trance, "i'm in a hurry right now, but if by any chance i accidentally broke your phone, you can come find me today at the baseball field at 5pm and i'll take full responsibility. sounds good?"

your head had nodded even before you could even entirely process what just happened to you—were you just bewitched by a guy in a navy ballcap?

"alright, good," the figure finally broke out a smile, already taking his steps to the direction opposite of yours, "thank you! i appreciate it!"

and just as you realized you haven't gotten the mysterious guy's name, you caught a glimpse of the small embroidered name at the back of his jacket before he disappeared at the end of the hallway.

kim seungmin.

[ present day ]

you're so going to kill minho.

after the stunt he pulled off earlier, it didn't take you a second to take off from his crime scene, tightly holding your pandora's box of a camera while you try and find a spot to hide from minho—but most importantly, from seungmin.

you know seungmin probably won't realize that you were gone, but the horror that minho might've spoiled your little secret to seungmin himself made you a little bit nauseous.

in your defense, you weren't expecting anything to happen between you and seungmin. sure, you joined the photography club solely because you've seen their coverage during previous baseball season and were hoping you could be one of the people to document seungmin's journey as a u-league player, but that's it.

it was just a silly little crush—nothing more.

"uh, hey."

the speed it took you to look at the figure standing across nearly got you to pull a muscle—and if it wasn't enough, the fact that seungmin is indeed the owner of the voice calling out to you were ready to be the cherry on top.

"minho hyung told me to give this to you as an apology," he offered a can of coffee, smiling at you depite being visibly unsure about what he's currently doing. "i thought he should've gave this to you himself but, you know, minho hyung is… yeah, he can be kind of weird."

you couldn't help but laugh at seungmin's comment, accepting the surprisingly warm can as you shrugged, "he is weird. thank you, though, for giving me this in his stead. you didn't have to."

"don't mention it," seungmin smiled—and again, your heart skipped a beat. "i'm on my way too, anyway. it's cool."

"on your way?" you questioned, words already rolling off your lips even before you could process your own thoughts. to be fair, the spot you ran away to were exactly the opposite of the baseball fields' exit gate—which doesn't make sense, if seungmin were on his way out.

"sorry—i didn't mean to pry," you quickly backtracked before seungmin could answer, already preparing to leave the shaded bench you've been staying at for the past 40 minutes or so. "i think i better leave. thank you again for—"

"wait!"

your eyes doubled in size when seungmin stepped in your way, preventing you from moving further. it seemed like he's also surprised at himself, judging from the way his eyes had mirrored yours.

"i, uh," clearing his throat, you noticed the hesitance in his face before seungmin then pointed at the phone in your hand, "is your phone working just fine? nothing broke?"

…oh.

oh?

"you… remembered?" you took a step back, nearly tumbling back at the bench had seungmin not grabbed your wrist, equally as surprised as you are. only after you convinced him that you're okay is when seungmin willingly dropped his hold on your arm.

"well, of course i remembered," seungmin nervously chuckled, subconsciously rubbing his nape, "i was the one who sent your phone flying, so… i feel responsible. i mean i was glad you didn't came that day since it meant your phone was okay and i've actually been meaning to ask since i realized it was you who came to take our pictures, but…"

you quietly anticipated between the pause, granting seungmin the time to explain as he shrugged and continued,

"i kind of feel like a creep if you didn't remember me since i realized i didn't actually give you my name that day."

so he did realize…?

frankly, it felt like your brain is short circuiting—so seungmin remembers you? why? was he just curious about your phone? was he waiting for you to come? why would he feel like a creep? what is happening right now?

"and since i didn't get to give you my name that day," seungmin continued, eyes reflecting a newfound determination amidst the persisting worry,

"can i get your number this time?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina behind the cut, who asked for something with Tucker and is getting “but it’s weird that it happened twice”. I wrote, like . . . twice as much of this as I meant to, haha, I kinda hit a groove here. Sorry for giving you /checks smudged writing on hand/ twice as much clone angst and teenagers in stressful situations having to handle life-threatening issues that are way out of their league with zero support from anyone who should be helping them? Yeahhhhh, nobody got on THIS blog for either of THOSE things, hahaha. Content warnings: clone degradation, chronic illness/pain, threat to the life of a minor, medical emergency. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Access: zero-four-three-zero-four prime!” Jazz shouts–the emergency-open code for the lab door, which Tucker hasn’t heard in a while but definitely has not forgotten–and the door’s already snapping back into the wall as she hits the bottom of the stairs, but she’s running so fast she still hits her shoulder on it as she runs through the doorway. Tucker is slightly worse at running, so manages not to have that problem, but he heard how hard her shoulder hit. 

She didn’t drop the Ecto-Dejecto, though, because, like–Jazz. So yeah, no surprise there. 

“DANNY!” Jazz cries–or “DANI!”, because admittedly that is unclear sometimes and can get especially unclear in crisis situations, which this absolutely is–and Tucker runs through the door after her and sees her on her knees on the floor right next to a tangled pile of barely-corporeal bodies. Dani’s crumpled down small in Danny’s arms, flickering in and out of intangibility and visibly melting, and Superboy’s still holding her hand and hasn’t let go, and is flickering in and out in perfect sync with her. Danny’s a beat behind every erratic, unpredictable flicker, but managing to keep at least mostly on the same level of tangibility as Dani’s. Enough that she’s not falling through the floor, at least. 

Yet. 

“Dani, you just–just for a sec, okay, you just have to concentrate enough to stabilize for a second for the epi–” Danny half-babbles at her, and Jazz’s hands flutter helplessly above Dani, her eyes wide and panicked and Danny’s voice cracked and panicked, and Dani’s skin is melting, her body is melting, her face is melting, and Tucker is useless and needs to–needs to– 

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the chrome, huh, boo?” Superboy says, and Dani–

“H-huh?” she stammers, and her flickering–skips, and– 

“The chrome. There really is a fuckton of the stuff,” Superboy says, looking around the lab and cocking an eyebrow. “How do they keep it all shiny like this? Like is there a polishing schedule? Like a daily rotation?” 

“M-man, I dunno, I dunno how y-you clean ch-chrome,” Dani manages with a stuttered laugh, and her flickering stops, just for a second. Stops on tangible, just for a second. 

But like Danny said, a second’s all Jazz needs to jab her. 

Jazz jerks out with the epi of Ecto-Dejecto and stabs it into Dani’s thigh, and Dani yelps as the needle pierces through her jeans, the yelp cutting off into a stifled hiss, and Tucker desperately needs her to not phase out again before the whole shot injects and is totally goddamn useless to help her do that, and Superboy says, “I guess we could google it or whatever? That’s what I usually do for the normie shit I don’t know shit about.” 

“W-what, no c-chrome in your lab’s home-sweet-home?” Dani asks with another stuttered laugh, and Superboy grins brightly at her. 

“C’mon, boo, you know I never cleaned that place, I only ever fucked it up,” he tells her jokingly, and she laughs shakily, and Jazz exhales, and pulls back the empty epi. Dani’s melting face shivers, and quivers, and slowly, slowly starts, like–unmelting, and Superboy squeezes her hand and leans down in closer to her and peers over the top of his sunglasses at her with a wider grin. “Hey, boo. There’s that pretty face again.” 

Dani laughs wetly, then ducks her head with a strangled little sob of a sound and turns tighter into Danny, burying a sob against his shoulder. Tucker doesn’t know if it’s pain or stress or–what, exactly, but Ancients, he hates the sound of it. He hates it. 

He knows it was a tripled-up dose in that shot. The concentrated mix. Jazz told them she was loading a triple for next time. So like, unless they used it while he was gone–unless they did that, it was a triple dose. 

It was a triple dose, and even after a triple, Dani’s still taking this long to fully come back together. 

Tucker really wants to like, go puke or have a freakout or something, but that would not actually be helpful right now, and it definitely wouldn’t fix anything. And like–and he needs to fix this, because that’s what he’s for in this damn fraid. That’s like–that’s just what he’s for period. 

He doesn’t know how to fix this. He just–he doesn’t know. And he’s supposed to know. He’s just–supposed to. 

“It hurt worse that time,” Dani croaks, then laughs helplessly past another sob; around another sob. Danny’s grip on her tightens, and Tucker sees how hard he swallows. He whips out his PDA again, and the reflex is just–

“How much worse?” he asks, ready to type in whatever she says. “Like–scale of one to ten on the pain scale, last episode and this one.” 

“It just fucking hurts, Tucker!” Dani yells into Danny’s shoulder, then chokes on another sob, and it just sounds angry. Danny’s jaw tightens and he squeezes his arms around her, and she sobs in actual fury. “Vlad was too stupid to make me right and I’m gonna fall apart because he was so stupid and it just fucking hurts, okay?! It hurts!” 

She hasn’t let go of Superboy’s hand, and he hasn’t let go of hers either. 

“I–yeah, I know,” Tucker says, and his throat just–burns, it feels like. “It just–symptoms, okay? We need to track those, remember?” 

“I don’t care!” Dani yells. “It’s stupid, it’s stupid, I don’t care, Vlad made me wrong and I’m wrong and this isn’t–this isn’t gonna work, I’m not–!” 

“Dani,” Danny says, his voice tight and strangled as he hugs her closer and buries his face in her shoulder too. She just sobs again. “Dani, I swear–we’re not gonna give up. We’re gonna figure this out. We’ll figure this out even if Tucker has to kidnap, like, the whole freaking Justice League.” 

“I mean I have some theories about the process,” Tucker admits, mostly because he’s hoping it’ll distract her, and Dani sobs out a laugh, and then just sobs. 

“It hurt so bad,” she chokes. “It still hurts. It hurts so bad, it’s so bad, Danny!” 

“I–yeah, I know,” Danny says roughly, his own voice coming out a little choked too. “I just–I know, Dani, it’s–it’s–I’ve got you. We’ve got you. Whole fraid. I swear. We’ll go back to Frostbite for the eighty billionth time, we’ll go raid Vlad’s stupid froot loop lab, we’ll–we’ll figure something out. We will.” 

Tucker is actually, like, going to go insane, he’s pretty sure.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Unbirthday

A/N: Although I am now two entire weeks late (I am the actual worst) this was written as a birthday gift for @something-tofightfor, because she is the fucking best and I love her guts. Rachael, I hope you enjoy this silly little story. Since Frankie Morales is apparently a "fictional character" and isn't "real" I couldn't wrap him up and send him to you, so this was the best I could do. Sorry it became an unbirthday gift - but it sort of works with the story that way. Anywho, here's hoping that this trip around the sun is a GOOD one!

And if it's your unbirthday today, happy unbirthday to you, too!

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol, and Frankie's shoulders and back making a shirt work very hard.

Summary: Spending your birthday in a brand new city goes from zero to sixty thanks to a co-worker who is determined to become a friend... and thanks to the breathtakingly handsome guy she introduces you to.

You had only been at your new job for a few weeks when your birthday rolled around, so when you walked into your office and flicked the lights on that morning, you were shocked to find a balloon tied to your chair and a white bakery box holding an assortment of cupcakes atop your desk. 

What? Who did th-

“Surprise!” 

You spun around to see a handful of your co-workers gathered in the doorway behind you, bright smiles on their faces as they wished you a happy birthday. 

“Oh, shit!” You let out a laugh as your hand came up to cover your mouth, prompting more laughs from the others. 

This is so nice, I wasn’t... Despite the fact that on your very first day at the firm, the office had been celebrating someone else’s birthday, you hadn’t expected anything for yours. Because I’m still brand new here, they hardly know me. You got along well almost immediately with the people you worked with, which was fantastic. Still, the fact that they embraced you quickly enough that they would want to do something for your birthday came as a genuine surprise that gave you a small rush of warmth. 

Not that you needed it. January in Tampa was certainly not January in the midwest. You hadn’t felt a chill since you took the transfer, a fact that you made sure to text your shivering friends back home every few days. But even though it was a balmy 68°F and you were wearing short sleeves under your light sweater, the added warmth of your colleagues’ kindness was more than welcome.  

Dropping your hand, you beamed at the group which had grown by two more associates from the interior architecture department down the hall, Mel and Casey. “Thank you all so much! You guys really didn’t have to do anything at all. I-” 

“Oh, stuff it, of course we did!” Gloria, whose office shared a glass partition with yours and with whom you traded exaggerated expressions while on client calls, stepped forward and threw her arms around you. “You’re the best transfer this office has ever had, we lucked out when we got you! Of course we’re going to celebrate your birthday.” 

You chuckled, giving her a quick, loose hug in return. “Gloria, did you do this? Also, weren’t you a transfer from the New York office?” 

“I was. Like I said,” she released you and stepped back, grinning. “You’re the best transfer we’ve had. Happy birthday, Ohio.” 

The rest of the group called out individual well-wishes before filing back to their own offices and cubicles, leaving just you and Gloria.

“Thank you,” you said again, reaching out to quickly squeeze her arm. “It really means a lot to me.” You sighed, finally putting down your bag and shrugging off your sweater. “I’ve been loving living down here, but the past few days, I don’t know, I guess I’ve been a little homesick. I don’t usually do a ton for my birthday, but this is the first one where I won’t see any of my family or my friends from back home so…” You gestured to the bakery box sitting next to your keyboard. “This was just really nice of you.” 

“You’re welcome.” She scrunched her nose. “Thanks for being ten thousand times better to work with than that dipshit you replaced, Kevin.” 

You snorted. Though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the notorious Kevin, you’d heard enough about him to know that his presence in the office was definitely not missed. “No problem, though from what I understand it’s a very low bar.” 

“Which you leap over with the ease and grace of a…” She circled her hand through the air. “A… Oh, I don’t know, whatever the hell leaps gracefully. I’m a landscape architect, not a poet.” 

That made you laugh again. “Speaking of which,” you pointed at your computer screen. “Are you ready for that conference call with the city planner? J.R. approved our designs, so-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she cut you off, nodding. “All set. Designs for the new park. Not looking forward to dealing with Sweetheart McGee, but-” You rolled your eyes as she used the nickname you’d given to one of the men you’d been working with from the city planner’s office who called the to of you “sweetheart” every time you’d spoken to him. “But it should be a smooth call. More importantly, though-” 

You had a sneaking suspicion that whatever was coming next wasn’t, in fact, more important than the biggest project that the landscape department had in house at the moment. Gloria had a tendency to use the phrase “More importantly, though…” to segue into a conversation about whether or not you wanted to get coffee delivered or which shoes you thought she should wear to her cousin’s wedding or if you thought Greg from IT was cute or not because she could totally set you up with him if you did.

And you were proven right as she finished her sentence. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” 

Shrugging, you shook your head. “Nah. I’ll probably just order in and finally finish unpacking the last of my stuff from the move. There’s a sushi place around the corner from me that I’ve been meaning to try, so… Why are you looking at me like that?” 

The way she was looking at you was a mix of the way you might look at the last puppy in the window at the pet store, combined with the confusion one might display while trying to solve an extremely advanced math equation. 

“Because you cannot just go home and eat sushi by yourself on your birthday.” She held up her hand then, face returning to a neutral expression. “Unless that’s actually what you want to do. And if it is, I won’t judge.” But? “Buuuuut.” She pressed her lips together. “If you want to get out and do something fun? 

You cocked your head to the side. Maybe. There was no harm in seeing what she had in mind. If it wasn’t your speed you still had your backup plan. And I should really get that shit unpacked, but… It doesn’t have to be tonight. “What are you suggesting?”

Gloria’s eyes lit up as you asked, her smile widening. “Well, Benny’s… You met my boyfriend, Benny, last week when he picked me up, remember?” You did, so you nodded. “It’s actually one of his and his brother’s friends’ birthday today, too, or, it was yesterday, but they’re going out tonight because one of them was working last night I think? I don’t know. My point is, it’s just going to be a casual thing down at Duffy’s, and if you want to join, you absolutely should.”

You were about to decline when you asked yourself why you shouldn’t go. 

First of all, you seemed to be on the fast track for an out of office friendship with Gloria. The two of you clicked right away, and though you’d only spent time with her out of work once, you could easily see it happening more and more. And I want that. You had solid friendships back home and scattered far and wide, and those people meant the world to you. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to form a few friendships in your new home, too. 

There was also the fact that the bar she’d mentioned, Duffy’s, was only a few miles from your place. It was actually where you and your sister went for drinks after she helped you move the last of your things into your condo. She’d driven down with you to keep you company on the trip, then taken a flight back home. But before she did, the two of you spent a day exploring your new neighborhood and ended up at Duffy’s. Though you were excited about your new job and the new start in a new place, you were still a little unsure if you’d made the right decision. But when you walked into the well-loved and weathered beach bar that night, something told you that everything was going to work out just as it should. 

And if for some reason that harmonious feeling you got upon entering Duffy’s was a one time thing, you could leave and be home in under eight minutes. And tomorrow’s Saturday, so… Fuck it. 

“You know what?” You nodded, a grin curving up your cheek. “That sounds great, Gloria.” 

She let out a small gasp and clapped her palms together once. “You’ll come?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded again, your grin growing into a full blown smile. “What time?” 

 “Ah! I’m so happy!” She genuinely was, and it made you feel good to know that she was looking forward to getting to know you outside of work. “I think Benny said nine, but I’ll ask him to be sure and then get back to you.” She clapped her hands together again and sucked in a breath as though something just occurred to her. “Oh! And you’ll get to meet Yovanna! I told you about her I think? Anyway, she’s dating Santi, one of the guys in the group. She’s great, you’ll like her.” Gloria chuckled. “And she’ll like you, too.” 

“I hope so!” And if not or if it’s awkward because they’re friends and I’m new… I can just go. 

“No, she will, trust me.” Gloria furrowed her brow and nodded. “You two are actually pretty similar.” She smirked. “You don’t take shit and neither does she.” The slightest hint of mischief sparkled in her eyes as another thing dawned on her. “Wait, two of the guys are very single right now and one of them-” You were trying to stop her right there because you weren’t looking for a setup, but she didn’t let you, simply speaking just a touch louder so all you could do was laugh. “One of them is Benny’s brother, and the other is-” 

You finally got her to stop by waving your arms and forming them into an X shape, still laughing. “Gloria. Stop. I’ll come out because it sounds fun. But I’m not looking for a matchmaker.” 

She held up her hands in surrender, a sheepish smile in place. “Fine. I’m just trying to give you all the information ahead of time.” She winked. “Just in case.” 

“Okay.” You winked back, giving her a thumbs up. “Consider me briefed.” 

Before Gloria could say anything else, Mel’s voice came through the speaker on your desk phone, saying your name. You pressed the button that let you respond. “What’s up, Mel?” 

“Brandon Grant from the city planner’s office is on line one for the conference call with you and Gloria.” From across the room you heard Gloria groan, then looked up to watch her mouth “Sweetheart McGee already?” with a sickly frown on her face, and you had to close your eyes and cover your mouth so you wouldn’t snort into the speaker. “Can I put him through?” 

You cleared your throat and shot Gloria a look. “Can you just give me one minute before you put him on? Tell him I’m on the other line, just so I can log in and get the project files open and get situated.” 

“No problem,” Mel answered. “He’s early, anyway. Just buzz me back when you’re ready.” 

Thanking Mel, you clicked the button to end the call and then let your hands fall against your lap as you faced Gloria. “Alright, you ready to get this over with?” 

“We are really going to deserve those drinks after dealing with this guy.” She sighed, then headed for the door, only to appear a second later on the other side of the glass wall. She sat at her desk and started up her computer, then looked over at you and nodded once. 

You buzzed Mel back and then you were on the line with Brandon Grant, the man stepping right into his nickname upon greeting. 

“Good morning, sweetheart, how you doing today?” 

You cringed, forcing a smile into your voice as you answered. “Oh, you know! Another day in paradise! Are you ready to go over the landscape designs for the new park?” 

For the next hour you and Gloria took Brandon through the possible layouts, explaining why certain plants and elements were chosen, and answering all of his questions while simultaneously keeping a count of how many times he referred to either of you as “sweetheart”. By the time you hung up, the count had reached twelve and he’d thrown in a “hun” as a bonus. 

We definitely deserve those drinks tonight.

But even though he was a pain in the ass to deal with, Sweetheart McGee has chosen one of the three designs you’d proposed, and as long as it was approved by the city council, it would be your first project to move into construction since switching locations. Which is pretty cool. 

You sighed, leaning back in your desk chair as you peeled the paper off of one of the cupcakes from the box your co-workers had left you, reading over your calendar to see what was next on your schedule. Taking a bite, you hummed in satisfaction. Damn, that’s good. 

It was only ten in the morning, but it was already proving to be a better birthday than you hoped for. As much as you tried to focus on work for the rest of the day, you couldn’t help but feel excitement about the prospect of going out later that night. 

Because… It means I could really have a life here. Not just a job. Friends and good times and… You really didn’t want Gloria to try to set you up with anyone. But if it happened naturally? 

Well, if that were the case, you’d be open to anything. 

Sometime after your lunch break, Gloria heard back from Benny and confirmed the time with you, the woman insisting that you let them pick you up despite your protests about how close the bar was to your place. 

“You really don’t have to do that,” You tried one last time. “I don’t mind driving myself, and I don’t want to intrude on your date night or anything.” 

Gloria waved you off and clicked her tongue. “It’s not date night, it’s birthday drinks with friends. I promise you Benny doesn’t mind, and I definitely don’t.” 

Oh, what the hell? It was clear that Gloria was trying to make sure that you felt included, even though you wouldn’t know anyone there aside from her and her boyfriend, whom you’d only exchanged a few words with. You appreciated how welcoming and inviting she was, and knew that she meant well, having been new to the area herself only a year earlier. I can still call an Uber if I have to leave early, and that way I don’t have to worry about having more than two drinks. 

“Okay,” you said, finally giving in with a sigh full of faux exasperation that turned into a laugh. “You win!” You told her that you would text her your address, and then Mel was calling you through the intercom, letting you know that another of your clients was waiting on line one. 

“And I have Annie Fulton from Florida Polytechnic on line two for Gloria,” Mel added. “So if you could tell her to leave you alone and get back to her own desk that would be swell.”

Snorting out a laugh, you looked over at the co-worker who was quickly becoming a friend, only to find that she was laughing, too. “Well,” you said, “You heard Mel. Get out of here.” 

“Alright, alright, I’m going.” She backed out the door, calling out one last thing before she was visible on the other side of the glass wall again. “Can’t wait for later!” 

As you prepped the files for your next call, you realized that you couldn’t wait for later, either.

– – – 

Pope and Yovanna were just getting out of their car when Frankie turned into the lot at Duffy’s, his truck’s headlights sweeping across the other parked cars to reveal that both Millers, as well as a few guys he worked with down at the airfield, were already inside. 

Gang’s all here, I guess. 

He pulled into the spot next to Pope, the other man waving at him through the windshield, his free arm wrapped around Yovanna’s waist. She waved, too, giving him a smile that brightened her whole face. Turning off the ignition, he waved in return, then glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror, removing his hat and smoothing his hair down before yanking it back down over his curls. 

Good enough. Not trying to impress anyone anyway. 

As soon as he opened his door, he was greeted by Pope’s voice. “Ahí está el viejo!” 

Before Frankie could respond, Yovanna smacked Santi on the arm. “And who are you calling old, hmm? Estás pisándole sus talones.” Frankie laughed at that, reaching past Pope to give Yovanna a hug first. “Happy Birthday, Francisco,” she said, kissing him on the cheek and giving him a squeeze. 

“Thank you,” he replied, grinning at her as they separated. He turned to face his friend then, giving him a nod. “And she’s right, pendejo. You’re catching up. If I’m old, what does that make you?” 

“Still younger than you,” Pope responded with a chuckle, slapping Frankie’s back before slinging an arm around him. 

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Frankie rolled his eyes. “C’mon, let’s get inside before Benjamin comes looking for us.” 

The night out was happening at Benny’s insistence. Up until two days earlier, Frankie had no birthday plans and he had been just fine with that. Forty three wasn’t exactly a major milestone. And with the way things had only just started to really settle following their return from South America - the reinstatement of his pilot’s license, the finalization of his divorce, getting shared custody of his daughter - he hadn’t had time to think about smaller, more trivial things. Least of all, celebrating his own forty third birthday. 

But Benny claimed that a new beginning at the end of the shitstorm was the perfect time to celebrate. 

Which Frankie thought sounded a little like one of Will’s speeches blended with Benny’s optimism and garnished with a twist of Pope’s persuasiveness, but at the same time, he kind of saw the point that his friend was trying to make. 

It’s less about my birthday and more about… He swallowed, flexing his right hand and then loosening it and letting it fall to his side. More about everything that comes after. 

The after. That was something that Frankie could readily celebrate. The fact that he, that all four of them, had survived the biggest mistake that any of them had ever made and could still fill their lives with good things, big and small. That was something he could drink to. 

Besides, it’s not actually my birthday today. It was yesterday. 

That didn’t stop Benny from letting the whole bar think otherwise. 

“Hey! Happy Birthday, Fish!” The younger of the Miller brothers exclaimed as Frankie, Pope and Yovanna stepped inside. He raised both arms, a full pitcher in one hand and a stack of empty glasses in the other. Behind him, Frankie saw Will stand from a table where he had been sitting with Gloria before making his way over to say hello as Yovanna made her way over to take Will’s place at the table. But who is that other woman? 

You turned then, laughing at something that Gloria had said. And even though he could only see half of your face from the angle of where you were sitting, he felt an instant attraction at the way that laugh brightened your eyes. I don’t know who she is, but I want to. 

“There he is,” Will said, clapping him on the shoulder with a grin. “Happy birthday, Morales. What are you now, sixty? Sixty five?” 

“Cool it, Ironhead, I’m only three years older than you.” Frankie responded, feigning offense and shrugging Will’s hand away. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Will laughed as Benny passed a full beer to Frankie. “We’re all on our way to the old folks home.” 

“Speak for yourselves,” the younger man interjected, filling and passing a glass to Pope, too. “Gloria and I are still thriving in our thirties, so-” 

“So that means you’re paying for drinks?” Pope chimed in through a smirk as he gripped his glass. “Wow. How generous of you, Benny.” 

Benny rolled his eyes. “Ha, ha.” Setting the pitcher down, he raised his own glass and the other three followed suit. “To Frankie. Cheers to being another year wiser than these wiseasses.” He cocked his head in Will and Pope’s direction. 

“Now hold on a minute, Ben, I-” 

But Frankie didn’t let Pope get the rest of his protest out before clinking his glass to the three that were waiting. “No, I think that was a perfect toast. Thanks, Benny.” He took a swig of his drink, and even though he hadn’t really wanted to come out, he was already glad that he had. Nights out with the guys weren’t rare occasions, not by a long shot. But he was still grateful that he got to have them. And tonight’s just getting started. 

Yuri and Ed from the airfield filed over then to wish Frankie a happy birthday, followed by a few other friends and acquaintances that Benny and Will had spread the word to. After about an hour of mingling, he finally made his way over to the table where the rest of the group was sitting, dropping into a seat next to Gloria. 

“Happy birthday, Frankie!” She spoke over the music and chatter as she leaned over to give him a loose hug. 

“Thank you, Glo.” He smiled at her as he pulled back. “It’s nice to see you, thanks for coming out.” 

She waved a hand as she reached for the handle of the pitcher, Benny scooching it towards her without breaking from the conversation he was having with Will and Pope. “Of course! Wouldn’t miss it.” She poured herself a half glass of beer, then wordlessly asked if he wanted a refill, too. 

Nodding, he held his glass in place. “Thanks,” he murmured, looking over his shoulder as she topped him off. “Hey who did I see you talking to before?” And where is she now?

A mischievous grin stretched across her lips as she looked up at him and set the pitcher on the table. What is that look for? “A friend from work,” she responded, telling him your name. “A single friend,” she added.

Frankie huffed out a short laugh. “I’m not- I didn’t-” 

“I know you didn’t.” Gloria winked at him. “I just want you to have all the information,” she added, knocking the rim of her glass to his. 

“Well…” He raised his glass to his lips, smiling behind it. Well… That’s good to know. “Okay.” 

“Oh! And it’s her birthday, too, so I invited her out.” 

What? And she didn’t have other plans? “Oh. Well, I’m glad you did,” he said, setting his drink on a cardboard coaster and letting his fingers slide down the chilled glass. “The more the merrier.” 

He looked up and in the direction of the restrooms just as you and Yovanna came through the hallway that led to them, and when he did, he locked eyes with you. Fuck, she’s beautiful. He felt his smile grow again at the sight of you, especially when he noticed your slight intake of breath as your eyes met his. He watched Yovanna say something into your ear that made you cover your face and laugh, and then she raised her hand to wave at him. 

I wonder what she said to her. He raised one eyebrow along with his hand as you dropped yours from your face. The remnants of your laughter were still written all over your cheeks and again he felt an undeniable pull, a desire to get to know you. Because I want to see that smile again. And I want to put it there. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Pope tapping the table in front of him. “Hey, ground control to Catfish.” Frankie blinked, turning his attention back to his friends. “You’re not going deaf on us, are you? I asked if you’re in.” 

Picking up an unused coaster, he flung it like a frisbee at Pope, who batted it down in one smooth motion. “Just selectively.” 

“Ha, ha.” Pope rolled his eyes. “So does that mean you don’t want to go to the Lightning game on Wednesday?” 

“The Lightning?” Frankie took a sip of his beer, eyebrows drawn together. “Since when are you a hockey fan? Do you even know anything about hockey?”

“Oh, believe me, he does not.” Yovanna laughed as she dropped into the booth bench next to Pope, her arm going around his shoulders so that her fingers could card through the hair that curled behind his ear. He turned to face her, both of them wearing ear to ear grins. “We watched the game last night and he had no clue what was going on the whole time.” 

“I didn’t,” he admitted, garnering snickers and snorts from both Miller brothers. “But I’m learning.” He shrugged. “The tickets are from work. We just signed a contract with Amalie Arena so I’ll get tickets a few times a year. So I figured why not broaden my horizons?” 

“It’s not the easiest game to understand right away, but if you give it a few games and actually pay attention, you’ll catch on.” Another voice joined the conversation then, and everyone turned towards where you stood at the edge of the table. “I have a friend who’s a big fan so I’ve watched a few games with her.” Giving a small shake of your head, you laughed. “I still don’t know all the rules. It’s a wild sport, but it’s fun.” 

“See?” Pope gestured at you with one hand. “I don’t have to know the rules to have fun.” 

“Oh, good.” Frankie placed his palm flat on the table. “So your short attention span should be just fine then.” His friend’s response was to flip him the bird, the rest of the table laughing before falling back into conversation as Frankie stood and faced you. “Hi, sorry I didn’t get to introduce myself yet. I’m Francisco.” He shook his head. “Frankie. Let me grab you a chair.”  

– – – 

You hadn’t even finished your first drink yet, so you knew the rush of warmth you felt in that moment had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with Frankie’s slightly lopsided smile. 

Fuck, he’s handsome. He pulled a chair away from an empty table and plopped it next to his. And chivalrous. 

“Thank you.” You sat, returning his smile with one of your own, and telling him your name as Gloria slid your glass across the table from where you were sitting before to your new seat between Frankie and Yovanna. “And happy birthday.” You lifted your drink in his direction before taking a sip. “Thanks for letting me crash your plans.” 

“Thank you.” His grin spread wider, lifting his cheeks into his eyes. “Happy birthday to you, too.’ He tipped his drink so that he could clink the rim of his glass to yours. “And you’re welcome. I’m glad Gloria invited you.” 

Your eyes darted over just in time to see Gloria shoot you a wink over Frankie’s shoulder. “Yeah,” you said, still smiling, your heart beating just a blip faster. “Me too.” 

Over the next hour and a half that became even more true as you fell easily into conversation with the group. Gloria had been right about you and Yovanna clicking, and the guys were just as easy to get along with. Since there were other people there for Frankie’s birthday than just the seven seated at the table, he got up a few times to go spend some time with them, too, but each time he came back he returned his focus to you, either commenting on something that you were telling the others, or asking you questions if you weren’t part of the larger conversation happening. 

You told him about your job at the architecture firm, and about the transfer that brought you down to Tampa in the first place. Will and Benny chimed in when you talked about how different winter was where you were from, the Indiana born brothers claiming that they’d love to see Frankie or Santi shovel their way out of a Midwest blizzard. 

“Why?” Frankie grimaced. “That just sounds like it hurts.” 

You’d laughed at that, nodding. “It does. I love the snow and I don’t really mind shoveling but…” You sighed. “I won’t miss the whole body aches after doing it.” 

“Facts,” Gloria agreed, nodding sagely. “Shoveling snow is not fun or easy.”

“You lived in a co-op building in Queens, Glo,” Benny responded, tightening the arm he had around her and giving her a skeptical side eye. “You didn’t have to shovel anything.” 

“I did not,” she confirmed. “But I watched the snow removal guys and they definitely did not look like they were enjoying themselves.” 

Everyone laughed at that, and then the conversation branched in a different direction. But Frankie didn’t follow it, turning to you and circling back to your recent move. “So aside from the weather, are you liking it down here?”

Smiling, you nodded. “I am. I’m still getting my feet under me. Learning where things are and which take out spots are good and all that.” 

Frankie hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Try Tino’s on Gateway Boulevard if you like burritos,” he suggested. “And if you like sushi you should try Ginkaku on-” 

“-North Evans?” You asked the location at the same time that he said it, your eyes widening. What are the odds? “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to try there.” You chuckled under your breath. “I was actually going to stop there tonight on my way home from work, but then Gloria told me I couldn’t spend my birthday eating sushi alone, so…”

You trailed off as someone near the bar called over to Frankie, telling him that they had to get going. He twisted in his seat to respond, saying that he’d be over in a second, and you found yourself staring at the way the movement made the fabric of his shirt stretch over his broad back. Damn. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Gloria and Yovanna giving each other looks that you were fairly certain had to do with the way you were looking at Frankie, but you didn’t care because when he turned around again, his deep brown eyes locked with yours and nearly knocked you sideways. 

“Sorry, I just have to go say goodbye to a buddy of mine from work, and-” 

“No, don’t apologize! Of course.” You cocked your head towards the bar. “Go ahead, Frankie, I’ll be here when you get back.” 

He took a breath, then swallowed and nodded, eyes still on you as he stood from his seat. “Okay. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned and headed over to the bar, and you were met with a view of his back again. 

Tearing your eyes away in an attempt to be more subtle about your attraction to a man you had met less than two hours ago, you cleared your throat and finished your drink. 

Your attempt was for naught, though, because even though Gloria was engaged in an intense conversation with Benny, Will and Santi, Yovanna was looking at you with a smirk. “I told you,” she said, one eyebrow raised as she lifted her drink to her lips. “I saw the way he looked at you before. He’s definitely interested.” 

I hope she’s right. Heat flooded your cheeks as the thought crossed your mind, and you knew you likely looked flustered, but you shook your head and let out a scoff. “I- He… Yovanna, I’m sure it’s just-” You shrugged. “A birthday hookup or-” 

Her head moved side to side then, her dark curls swinging from her ponytail. “No. That’s not Francisco.” She glanced over at Santi, the man throwing his head back in laughter and clapping Will on the shoulder, a warm smile that softened her sharp eyes on her face when she turned back to you. “The two of them are very much alike. They don’t waste their time on things that they don’t think will be around tomorrow.”

As though on cue, Santiago leaned over to press a kiss to Yovanna’s cheek. “You good?” He murmured the words against her skin before pulling away. She turned to nod, scrunching her nose. “We’ll get going soon, yeah?” She nodded again, the man dropping another kiss to the opposite cheek. “Okay.” 

He turned back to the others then, but you noticed that his hand stayed on her thigh as she returned her focus to you, saying your name. “I know that you just met me tonight, too, but you can trust me on this. Besides-” She tapped her phone and you looked down at the time on the screen. “Tonight is not really his birthday, and it’s almost not yours anymore, either. So it can’t just be a birthday hookup.” She widened her eyes and pressed her lips together, reaching for the pitcher in the middle of the table. “I’m going to have one more drink. Do you want one?” 

Before you could respond, you felt the weight of Frankie’s grip on the back of your chair as he lowered himself back into his own seat. But it was the trail of his fingertips across your shoulder as he withdrew his hand that made you suck in a breath and wonder if Yovanna was right. Realizing that you hadn’t answered her question, you blinked and nodded. “Um, sure. Just half a glass, though.” 

Because if she’s right? I definitely want to stay clear headed for whatever might happen. 

You thanked her as she poured for you, and then turned to Frankie, licking your lips as you smiled. “Did you catch your friend before they left?” 

“I did.” He said it with a nod, then tilted his head to the side. What? Narrowing his eyes, he opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated, taking a breath instead of speaking. What is he- But then he straightened his head again and you saw - and felt - his eyes flick to your lips and then back up. Oh, shit, he- “So you said that you were originally planning on checking out that sushi place tonight but Gloria said you couldn’t spend your birthday eating sushi alone, right?” 

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and nodded. “Yeah.” And I’m glad I listened to her. 

He sighed then and you got the feeling that he was working himself up to say something. “Well,” he let out a sheepish laugh and reached up to grip the back of his neck, thick fingers nudging the edge of his hat. “That place is open ‘til 2 on the weekends. If you’re hungry, we could go grab a bite.” Wait, is he… Is he asking me out? He shrugged, dropping his hand and giving you the same lopsided grin he gave you when he introduced himself to you. “That way you won’t be going by yourself and-” 

You poked your tongue into the side of your cheek. “And technically by the time we get there it won’t even be my birthday anymore, so-” 

Frankie nodded, grin spreading. “So Gloria won’t have a leg to stand on.” 

A thousand tiny butterflies swarmed through your stomach at the thought of spending more time with Frankie one on one. Oh, I am so fucked. Taking a breath, you looked at him and what you saw only confirmed that thought. Frankie was the most attractive man you’d ever been this close to. And he’s asking me out. There was only one answer, as far as you were concerned. 

“That sounds great, Frankie.” You held up a finger. “On one condition.” He lifted an eyebrow in question, so you went on. “We take it back to my place to go, because I have a bunch of birthday cupcakes leftover from the office this morning, and-” 

He laughed, leaning in to rest his elbow on the table, getting close enough to say something that no one else would hear. “So you’re saying if I play my cards right, I might get to kiss frosting off your lips?” 

Oh, holy fucking shit, Frankie. 

You gasped then, Frankie pulling back to see the reaction on your face, the expression he was wearing one that you would remember for a long time. Finally, you cleared your throat and answered. “That is exactly what I’m saying, Francisco.” 

His eyes flashed when you used his full name, and with his next breath, though he was still looking at you, he addressed the rest of the table. “Hey guys, this has been fun, but I think it’s time to call it a night.” 

Within a few minutes the tab had been paid - Will, Benny and Santi insisting on splitting it between themselves - and goodbyes were said. But despite what Frankie had just said, you knew that your night was just getting started.

.

.

.

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[delopsia]

ride the lightning | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 7,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, slice of life, Rhett's shoulder injury, showering together, outdoor sex, unprotected sex, food, absolutely zero plot to this one. Brief Summary: What's more fun than a post-rodeo party? Running off and having your own personal rodeo right before the storm hits.  

"You've got to quit eyeing those cowboys," Autumn's already chiding you, her words distorted by the glass resting against her bottom lip. 

Hesitant, your gaze drifts back to her. Weren't quite done scanning the room, but if you don't stop now, then you'll lose the luxury of feigning stupidity. "What do you mean?" 

"You're not slick!" She pauses, taking a sip of the liquid gold that fills her cup, the taste so bitter that her nose wrinkles. "I see you looking over there." 

"Because I'm looking for someone," you chirp, your nail tapping against the table as you begin to look around again. 

There was no way that wasn't his truck out in the parking lot. You'd know that aftermarket lightbar anywhere. But you don't see him. Not by the jukebox or the pool table. Hell, he's not even with his buddy Archie over there beside the empty water trough. 

"It's that bull rider from the rodeo, ain't it." Autumn's hit the nail on the head, and she knows it. Swirling the ice in her glass, grin growing wider with every second that passes. "You sure have a type."

It's not as if you could ever defend yourself from that accusation, but you're leaning forward, voice low as you whisper. "Yeah, like you don't have a thing for blue-eyed blondes."

"Blue-eyed blondes with money." She tips her glass at you as if to further her correction. It's not until after she's downed another greedy gulp of beer that she opens her mouth again.  "At least we have the eye thing in common."

All the men in the world, and here you two have picked men that happen to be neighbors. Arch enemies at that. Classic, century-old feud stuff. At this point, they don't hate each other for a reason; they do it for tradition.

You reckon a family hobby would be healthier, but that's not your dog, and it's certainly not your fight.

...not yet, at least. 

"At what point are we obligated to hate each other?" Dipping a finger into your drink as you speak, mindlessly swirling the ice until it forms its own little whirlpool. It's pretty to look at. Blue in color, with a little cherry and framed in a dainty glass, but whoever mixed this gave you all tequila and no juice. 

She hums, looking at something behind your head. "Whenever someone coughs up a half-mil."

Your finger stops, feeling the alcohol keep spinning past your finger. The cherry stem scrapes your skin. "Our friendship is only worth half a million to you?" 

"No," her eyes finally dart back to you, glinting in the light, "but that's how much is in Luke's checking account."

You don't even want to know how or why someone would have that much money ready to spend at a moment's notice. Or, better yet, where the hell that money came from.

Whatever is behind you, Autumn seems pretty interested in it, and you've got a good enough guess that it's the face of a man you're not interested in seeing. If you make eye contact, he'll take that as an invitation. 

Music sparks to life, blaring from a pair of cheap speakers somewhere on your left. You vaguely recognize the start of the song, but you're too busy scanning the crowd to pay attention to the lyrics. There are so many cowboy hats that you can't even cling to your usual method of finding him. Fuck, and hardly anyone has taken off their rodeo chaps. How are you supposed to—

There he is, beside the coolers. Red solo cup in hand, full of what you can only assume is more cheap beer. 

He's already looking at you, the corner of his lip lifting as you meet his gaze. 

"Speaking of," Autumn's already beginning to get up, the plastic table jolting as her hip bumps into it. "I just found who I was looking for."

"Have fun," pausing to glance at who she's so focused on. You're not sure why you expected it to be anyone other than Luke. "Try not to show up on the Abbott ranch with another hangover."

"No promises!" And just like that, she's left you. 

If history is anything to go off of, she'll charm him into driving her around in one of those fancy sports cars again. You've got a feeling that she's gonna be up in Jackson before sunrise, nestled in a fancy hotel for the weekend. 

"'s this seat taken?" 

You recognize that voice.

You've got to tilt your head to see him. Towering over you like some kind of giant, all broad shoulders and scruffy as can be, rodeo dirt still decorating his unshaven jaw. He hasn't even bothered to change out of his flannel, the ripped upper sleeve falling open to reveal the thick bicep lurking underneath. The left one sits a little awkwardly. Higher. An old injury aggravated by tonight's ride.

You want to climb him like a damn tree. 

"Maybe it is." Coy.

"Oh really?" His head cocks off to the side, hair falling into his face. "Who's it for?"

You've already got an answer brewing, but you hold it on your tongue for a moment, feigning thought. "His name is Rhett."

He hums. "Never heard of him." 

Silence. 

And then—

Rhett's laugh twists through the air like a melody, the plastic chair squeaking as he all but falls into the poor thing. One of these days, he's gonna do that, and it'll snap in two, but today doesn't seem to be that day. 

His hand motions toward the lone drink resting on the table, with its obnoxious blue color and lone cherry still swirling from when you toyed with it. "What's that?"

"Something terrible," you're already lifting the glass, holding it out for him to take. 

It's strange seeing him sipping from a dainty cocktail glass. Looks so much smaller when it's in his hand. You're not even sure if he notices the severe lack of juice, entirely unphased by the tequila that greets him. The cherry slips between his parted lips, the stem catching between them. 

"I thought you didn't like cherries?" Your head tilts to the side, curious. 

"I don't." His brow furrows, all too focused on something that you can't see. "But I like doin' this." Before you can begin to process what he's just said, his mouth opens, a tied cherry stem resting on top of his tongue. 

And here you thought you'd seen it all from him. "Is this your new party trick?" 

"Somethin' like that," the stem falls, landing somewhere that you don't see. Maybe you would know if you weren't too busy watching him lean forward, eyes sparkling with something he has yet to share. "Hey, do y' wanna get outta here?" 

"Not having fun?" Your answer is yes, but you're not sharing that yet. 

"I am, but..." then, lowering his voice, as if there's a risk of someone hearing him over the booming music, "'s more fun when it's just us."

You don't know where he's planning to go after this, but you're sold.

"I still can't believe you!" The squeal of the passenger door nearly drowns out your giggles, plastic grocery bags rustling as you climb out of the truck. 

You haven't the slightest clue which bag has the popcorn and which contains the chips, but the weight of the drinks is painfully obvious, the plastic handles rubbing uncomfortably against your arms. Curse the cashier for cramming all the bottles into one bag.

"Yeah, like you ain't never distracted me so you could pay for somethin'." Rhett's still laughing, that big cocky grin plastered across his face.

"But I never pretended I lost my keys!" Raising your voice for added effect, rounding the back of the truck. 

He's already beaten you here, opening the beaten tailgate. "Maybe ya should've." Wink.

Your eyes roll so hard that it hurts. "I'll remember that for the next time we get snacks."

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, pushing just hard enough to make you sway. "You'll forget." 

"I'll forget." Immediate acceptance. You've sung this tune so many times that even you know that you never follow through in the end. 

The back of his truck is a damn mess; square bales of hay, two empty gas cans, the shredded remnants of a flannel, a handsaw, and you think that's a bag of chicken feed over there in the back corner. The tailgate is the only open space for you to set the bags on, and it's only now that you realize how many snacks you've actually gotten.

"We probably should have gotten dinner at Odessa's instead," you find yourself saying as you poke through one of the bags. Where in the world are those candies you got?

He reaches past you, plucking a stray screwdriver out of the mess that is his truck bed. Something tells you that he's been looking for that. "What makes ya say that?" 

"Look at all the junk we got!" Opening up one of the bags for him to see, as if he wasn't there when you both picked out and bought these things. 

But Rhett just shrugs, "Don't see nothin' wrong with it."  

Hypothetically, it shouldn't take you that long to find your candy. There are only five bags, but even as you poke through them all, you don't see that brightly colored packaging anywhere. But you know they were rung up. They're on the damn receipt! So where the hell...did you miss them somehow?

By the time you find them sitting in the front seat, nestled up against Rhett's lost bag of sunflower seeds, he's already set up the blankets. Thick, old things layered on top of each other as a makeshift cushion, protecting you from the rocky ground lurking beneath the grass. One of the downsides of choosing a pasture to lounge in, you suppose. 

He's already sitting on the corner of his makeshift blanket nest, half-lidded eyes drinking you in as you settle down next to him, your knee clumsily knocking into his thigh. You'd pay attention to him if you weren't too focused on this box of candy, pushing your thumb under the thin cardboard edge, forcing it open. 

Weight appears on your shoulder. 

Those Western romances always talk about the allure of a stoic, gunslinging cowboy, weathered by the elements and the human definition of fearless. They always fail to mention the cowboys who blink up at you like a puppy, too shy to verbally beg for a piece of your snack. 

"Do you want something?" Dipping your fingers into the box, pulling out one of the candies.

Rhett hums. Not quite a yes, but not quite a no, either. It's one of those sounds that you've heard enough times to know what it means, already lifting the first piece of candy to his lips. The scruff of his chin tickles your skin when he takes it.

Blind, your hand feels along his face, stealing away the overwhelming warmth residing there, drinking in the soft drag of his facial hair, finally at that perfect length where it no longer feels like sandpaper but has yet to begin looking like the beginnings of a beard. His tongue presses on the soft inside of his cheek, pushing against your fingers.

"Quit that!" You squeal, yanking your hand back.

"'s it really feel that weird?" His head tilts, and you don't need to look to know that he's peeking up at you.

"Yes!" And there might be more to add to that, but you're pushing one of the candies into your mouth, the sweetness effectively shutting you up. Remaining quiet even as he tilts his head to press a prickly kiss to the side of your neck, such a simple gesture that should not have your lower belly twisting with something familiar.

You've got to think about something else. Something that doesn't involve jumping on and biting him like a flea. Sucking hard on that little piece of candy, eyes scurrying for something to look at. But all you're finding is darkness and more darkness.

No lampposts or porch lights or flickering campfires, just the pale glow of the moon and the speckling of stars hanging in the sky. There are so many of them up there. Almost looks as if someone has dumped a bottle of glitter atop a roll of never-ending black velvet fabric, twinkling proudly against their backdrop of nothingness. 

The weight on your shoulder disappears. Leaves behind an absurd sense of coldness as he gets up to fetch something from the truck. Odd, how you never seem to realize how warm he is until after he's gone. 

Even the poor lighting can't hinder you from taking him in. The rodeo spurs clinging to his muddied boots. The leather chaps that hang low on his hips, with the thin little buckles in the back that squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. You know there's a reason for them to be there, but the irrational part of your brain reckons they exist solely to make you dizzy. 

"Are you ever going to take those chaps off?" You find yourself asking, after a moment, dragging your gaze away from his ass. 

Rhett freezes, his hand still wedged in the plastic bag as he looks down at his own two legs. "Eventually," he pauses, cracking open one of the cans. You haven't a doubt in your mind that it's one of those spiked lemonades he's recently discovered. "Whenever my shoulder loosens up enough t' let me mess with it."

"Need help?" Words firing off your tongue before you can process what they mean.

The black and yellow can lifts to his mouth, poorly concealing the upward turn of his lips. "I ain't never said no to you undressin' me, doll."

One little sentence, and you've forgotten about your candy entirely, letting it fall onto the blankets without any care for whether or not it spills. You've hardly got to move; settling onto your knees is more than enough. He steps forward, standing right on the edge of the blanket, that oversized buckle glimmering in the moonlight. Your fingertips brush over the edge of it, dented from the hoof of last week's bull.

"I thought the clasp broke on this?" Audibly tapping a nail against it as you make your way to the much smaller buckle hanging underneath. Not thin or frail by any means, but the contrasting sizes isn't doing it any favors. 

Your fingers hook beneath the belt, tugging on the tiny strip of leather until he gets the hint.

He grunts, boots shuffling as you drag him forward. "Nothin' a little weldin' couldn't fix." 

It's easier to see the awkward hang of his left shoulder from down here, tense and lifted higher than the right one, like someone's wound the muscle too tight. Maybe that dislocation would have healed correctly if he agreed to that hospital visit. But...here you are.

All you've got to do is pull the leather strap backward, and the prong pops out of the hole. For such tough-looking chaps, they sure come off easily. One weak tug is all it takes to have them falling down his legs, falling as quickly as you'll let them, hands gliding down the sides of his thighs and past his bony knees, eating up as much time as you can.

It's a shame that you don't need to undo the buckles around his thighs, too; you wouldn't mind the tedious process of helping him buckle them back up, either. But it's too late for that. You've already gotten the leather past one of his boots, working it over the other just as quickly. 

Even as you set those old chaps to the side, Rhett doesn't make much of an effort to move, standing idle as you fold them. Eyes locked with yours, transfixed by the simple image of you on your knees, right in front of him. You know what he's thinking. You're thinking it, too. Memories so prominent in your mind that you're already beginning to act on them.

Something booms in the distance. A deep noise that rolls through the pasture like a warning of something more to come. You think that's lightning, you see, flickering in the corner of your eye, but you're not paying attention. You can't. Not when your hands are moving on their own whims, gliding up the sides of his thighs. 

Rhett's hum echoes into his half-empty can. Seems to carry for miles. "Didn't realize we were gettin' another storm."

His breath hitches. Eyelashes fluttering. 

Your hand drifts across the tent in his jeans once more. Warm. Growing heavier with every passing second. "Think we have time?" You ask as if you don't already know the answer. As if there isn't a sudden heat flushing between your legs, the voice in your head impatiently demanding that you hurry up and pinch open his belt.

"'n here y' say I'm the one with a problem," but just like that, he's sinking to his knees. Face to face, all too quickly. 

"It's not my fault that you look like...that!"  Floundering for an escape from the situation you've created all by yourself. 

One side of his mouth quirks upward, that lopsided smile so bright that it ought to put the sun to shame. Wind rips past, nudging his hair out from behind his ear and into his face, but it does nothing to hide his pretty face. Scruffy as it may be.

It must be the breeze that nudges you forward because you don't feel yourself moving. But you're leaning forward, mouth blindly clashing with his. A little too far to the right at first, and then his hair is in the way, and...

oh.

You've missed this. 

It's hardly been a few hours since the last time, but your heart argues that it's been a lifetime and a half. One little chaste peck, and then another, and another, and another, until you cease to part ways altogether. Those big arms wind around you, his palm pressing into the small of your spine, drawing you up against him.

And you're melting into him like ice cream in the summer sun, any semblance of control vanishing alongside it. Hands roaming up the broad expanse of his chest, tickling against his neck, curling around his prickly jaw, tangling in the curls resting at his nape. Your touch is nothing special, and yet he groans into your kiss anyhow. 

Callouses catch on the soft skin of your lower back, his hands shamelessly wandering beneath your shirt. Pulling it off is tempting, but Rhett's lemonade-flavoured tongue is licking into your mouth, and the wind whispers that you don't have the time for that kind of luxury. Not if you don't want to get rained on by another one of Wabangs popup storms. 

But you do have time to reach for his flannel, dragging your finger through the buttons, audibly snapping apart at record speeds. He needs to wear pearl snap flannels more often.

"Shit," he's gasping against your lips, breaking apart for the slightest of seconds, "'s a lil cold."

The world spins around you. Back hitting the ground with all the grace and ease of a newborn deer. A bolt of lightning tears across the sky, set off by the burning hands that appear on your hips, tugging at your waistband. Your body lifts, and they're gone. You're not even sure what has become of your shoes. Don't recall feeling them come off, but your socked feet are sliding against the blanket, fighting for purchase. 

Rhett's eyes snap shut, squeezing so tight that his forehead wrinkles with the effort. 

"What hurts?" You already know that look. Already have a vague idea of what could be bugging him. 

"Shoulder," speaking through gritted teeth, not bothering to ease up, as if relaxing his jaw could bring on another wave of pain. "moved it too fast." Slower this time, he leans forward, hands falling onto either side of you, and—

"Shit." He's hissing under his breath. Sounds more like a snake than a man. There's no way that he's going to be able to put weight on that left arm, not with his shoulder visibly twitching, sent into an angry spasm. 

"This isn't gonna work," you whisper, chasing the dwindling hope that your words will reach his ears but not his already sore ego. 

Rhett hasn't even opened his eyes, but he's already shaking his head. Stubborn to the end. You know what he's going to say before it even leaves his mouth. "Hold on, if you give me a second..."

You've already got an idea. "Lay on your back." Your hands find his chest, gently pressing until he gets the message, limbs awkwardly tangling as you exchange positions. Straddling his plush thighs, settled a little bit lower than you'd intended.

It's not quite what you originally had in mind, but you've never been one to complain about riding a cowboy, already beginning to reach for his belt buckle. You don't know how you found this difficult when you first got together; all it takes is the slightest motion, and it pops open. Then comes his belt and the crooked zipper that struggles to run down the tracks.

His hips jerk, thighs smacking into your ass. "Not that I'm complainin', darlin'," there's a weakness to his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. Like he's run a marathon in the time it took you to blink. "'s there somethin' rilin' you up?"

"No." Then, smiling, "Just you."

Blue eyes dart away. Looking off to the side. "Oh."

If it were lighter outside, you think you'd catch a whisper of a blush coloring his cheeks, but your vision has been reduced to dark blobs of color. Can't even tell what color his boxers are, even when your hand dips through the front of them, blindly reaching until—

Rhett sucks in a breath. 

It's hardly been a few minutes, and yet he's already so damn heavy. Thick in your grasp, a bead of precum running down the underside of his tip. Your thumb swipes across it, dragging it back up to his plush cock head.

"You're already so wet, cowboy," you muse, lazily tracing circles around his slit. There's so much of it. Dripping like a damn faucet, so much precum that you can see the glisten of it in the darkness. 

Thunder rumbles to your left. Closer now. But you just can't help yourself. 

Your mouth finds the underside of his cock. Pressing kisses onto the vein that runs along there, working your way up from his base. Tongue lazily poking out to swirl around his head, so used to the saltiness of his precum that you hardly even notice it. One of those advantages that comes with knowing him like the back of your hand. 

Like how you know that the delicate scrape of your teeth will make him—

"Ah!" Sharp. Pitchy. The closest thing you'll get to a squeal, the kind of sound that has your thighs trying to squeeze together, suddenly warm. 

Something in your jaw pops as you take him into your mouth. Sucking lazily, like you're savoring a piece of candy, not even making an effort to stop the drool from slipping past your lips. The wetter the better. Because you're pretty sure you know the answer to the question you're about to ask.

"Condom?" Pulling off of him with a soft 'pop.' 

Rhett's head tilts toward the truck, brow furrowing, visibly thinking for a moment. Then, his lips flatten into a line. "'s in my jeans at home."

Thunder rumbles once more, urging your already racing thoughts to scramble even faster. Pulling out could be an option if not for the fact that it's never worked out for you in the past, always seeming to forget in your final moments. Riding in that bouncy passenger seat with his cum leaking out of you has never been the most comfortable thing. Cleaning up is the worst, but...

Fuck, you really can't seem to make yourself care about any of that.

Rhett's belly flexes with the effort to sit up, his right elbow bracing his weight. A familiar blob of black peeks out from beneath his open flannel, that old bucking bull tattoo. Under the thin veil of darkness, it's easy to convince yourself that it's brand new. That the poor-quality ink hasn't caused it to fade quicker than it should have. 

A kiss presses to your cheek. "What're ya thinkin'?" 

"A little mess never hurt anyone," you don't know if you're talking to him or yourself. Maybe both. 

You don't realize how close you are until your noses clash, knocking together as you squirm up to settle in his lap. His left hand finds its way to your hip, burning against your chilly skin. Doesn't do anything more than rest there, touching you for the sake of touching you. 

It's a bit crude, reaching down to pull your underwear to the side rather than pulling them off entirely. But then you're guiding him up, and his dripping tip is dragging through your folds, and you can't think about anything else. 

"You're just as bad as I am," Rhett's laugh is so much bigger than any of that distant thunder, rumbling through you in delicate waves. 

"Like this hasn't been a known fact for years," and for that statement of his alone, you're stringing this out even longer. Bringing him back up before he can begin to sink into you, selfishly rubbing him against your clit, sensitive from lack of attention.

Lightning flickers. Rhett's hips shift, slipping back down your cunt, stubbornly nudging against your entrance. Manages to lift himself enough to create a blooming pressure there, the very tip of him slipping inside. 

Fuck, you're still aching from the bit of fun you had before the rodeo. Tangled up on the couch, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to the rapidly ticking clock. Or maybe the discomfort is from the severe lack of lube. Nothing but spit, precum, and your own wetness to soothe the drag of him as you begin to sink down on him.

"Mmph," Rhett's head tilts back, pale throat exposed. "How're you so—shit. How're you still so damn tight?"

On its own, something in your lower belly loosens, almost as if it didn't realize it was doing it in the first place. Allows you the fleeting courtesy of a breath of air before his tip fully slips into you. Heat jumps up your spine, swirling around in the back of your head. 

"I should ask you the same thing," your voice comes out weaker than what you anticipated, "why are you so damn big?"

And all that's done is make him laugh again. Nose nudging your cheek as he leans in to press another kiss to your lips, his smile too big for it to be anything more than a peck. But you want more, chasing after him as he tries to lean away, helpless to do anything but fall forward. 

Gravity quickens the glide of your body, his cock sinking further into you. The curve of him rubs into a set of nerves, never has taken very long for him to find them, thick length incessantly dragging against it. 

A heavy fist strikes the land to the west, the resounding boom washing over the surprised grunt that wrangles its way out of Rhett's throat. The only reason you catch note of it is from the way it rumbles against your bottom lip, pulling the corners of your mouth up into a giddy smile. 

All too quickly, you're fully seated in his lap, fitting against him like a puzzle piece. Bodies carved to fit seamlessly against one another, lost in the blending of limbs, tangling until you can no longer tell where one of you begins and the other ends. A shiver races up your spine, pussy involuntarily spasming around his thick cock. 

"Didn't think I was gonna be the one gettin' ridden tonight," there's no reason for Rhett to be grinning up at you like this, with that healing split in his lip and those glistening eyes. Mesermized. As if he's taking in the sight of a precious painting lost for centuries. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think he was looking at the stars behind your head.

But he's only looking at you. 

It's got you lifting yourself a little too quickly; haven't even begun to adjust to his size yet. "You'd better hope it lasts longer than eight seconds."

Something sharp digs into your knee as you lift yourself, but it's impossible to pay attention to. So fucking full of him that your every racing thought has wrapped itself around the shape of his name. Oh, and it's not helped by the burning drag of his cock; a little too big for you to be riding him without lube. 

You're sinking back down when his hips lips, snapping up into you midway. Fuck, you're burning alive out here. Growing wetter from that little motion alone, that tingling heat climbing your spine and settling into your cheeks. 

"Impatient," you're huffing, lacking any bit of the conviction you'd hoped you would have.

"Them bulls buck, y'know," that smug grin of his falters as your hips swivel, readjusting yourself, "'m just playin' my part."

So annoying. 

So, so annoying.

Something about the change in an angle has him rubbing up against something he hadn't before, air catching in your throat as he presses directly into it. Shit, it's too early for your thighs to be shivering like they are, and it's all you can do to flatten your palms against his chest, forcing yourself to remain upright. 

"Keep—mmh keep doin' that." Stupid cowboys and their stupidly pretty whines. Has no right to be squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head back and forth like he's trying to shake the feel of you out of his head.

And he just keeps rubbing against those little nerves, over and over and over. Stars sparkle across your vision, so many of them that you can no longer tell which hang high in the sky and which stem from your own imagination. Whether or not that's thunder or the hammer of your own heart, you're not even remotely sure. 

A stray hand meanders up your back, his touch so feather-light and ticklish that it's got you arching away from it. Unintentionally angling him into those soft little spots even more, your pussy clenching around him so tightly that you nearly freeze in place. 

You hardly feel yourself reaching for his wrists. Only recognize the feel of them in your grasp, thick and strong from years of manual labor, yet so willing to be pinned over his head. Falling into place like they always longed to be there.

"Fuck," Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, stifling a noise that you wish you could have caught, "so fuckin' pretty on top of me." 

"And here I thought you were marveling at the storm," panting into the open air like a damn dog, breathless all too quickly. As if the slow rise and fall of your hips is simply too much for you to handle. 

Rhett's biceps flex, muscle visibly rippling as the thunder crackles. "Nah," grunting, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, "could watch y' ride me all fuckin' day." 

God, what is it about sex that makes him so fucking talkative?

Your hand darts out to the side. Blindly patting the blankets until you find one of the candies that spilled out of the container, shoving it past his parted lips before he can utter another word.

His mouth wobbles. Torn between a smile and something he wants to say. Neither manages to win the upper hand, instead beaten by a secret third thing. Because now he's sitting up, wearily bracing himself on that good arm, eyes falling shut midway as he leans in to kiss you. Knocking into each other so abruptly that your teeth audibly clatter.

But the wind is twirling past you with a kind of ferocity that wasn't there before, and in the back of your mind you're convinced that you've inadvertently caused it to happen. Distant storm falling into a rage as you tumble forward, forearms resting on either side of his head, hands in his hair, drowning yourself in the lemonade and candy that paints his tongue. 

Something sparks behind your eyes. "Rhett..."

He doesn't respond. Doesn't need to. The lift of his hips is more than enough of a reply, so sudden that it rips a sharp noise out of your throat. A decade of bull riding has made him too fucking strong for his own good, pushing up into you with devastating ease. 

This...thisis something. His breath tickling your skin. Your chest against his, nails scraping at his scalp. Helpless to do nothing but whine as he brushes against those little spots once more. Long, heaving motions that jostle you with every thrust, your eyes already struggling to remain open. 

"Rhett," repeating yourself like a broken record, panting into his ear like you're getting paid to do it.

The ground shakes. Lightning strikes somewhere in the distance, volting through the soil, up through your knees, and into your belly. Or maybe it's not lightning at all, simply the dizzying sensation of his cock driving up into you with a sickeningly wet noise. You can't help the way your legs squeeze impossibly tight around him. Can't stop the familiar tingle from settling into your core, spreading down into your thighs. 

You don't remember when the babbling started, but you can hear the sound of your name twisting through the air, chanting beneath his breath like a melody. His prickly cheek rubs against yours, and you just know that it's going to leave your skin raw, but you can't bring yourself to pull away. 

"'m gonna..." the rasp of his voice has you clamping tighter around him. A whimper slips off his tongue. "I—"

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. One look is all you need. 

You are, too. 

There's no need for you to reach down and touch yourself. His cock alone is enough to have you crumbling like a house of cards, burying your head into the crook of his neck, unable to muffle every little noise he punches out of you. Downright merciless as he rubs into those sensitive little nerves over and over and over and—

A ghost of wind is enough to push you over the edge. Tumbling over the edge and into the abyss, the world around you going quiet as you cum around his cock. Not a sound breaking past your lips, head swirling round and round until you can no longer tell which way is up. 

You're only distantly aware of the sudden stalling of Rhett's hips, pushing up into you so hard that he lifts you up. Can't miss the sensation of his cock twitching, his cum spilling into your pussy, rope after rope of it, so much that you think you can feel it pooling inside of you.

A drop of rain hits your shoulder. Cold. Biting into your skin with its sharp little teeth. 

The storm is so much closer now, thick clouds hanging overhead, blocking out the stars entirely. Electricity arcs across the sky as you begin to lift yourself up before your body is even ready to move. 

Rhett's cock slips out of you with an awkward noise, slapping audibly against his belly. Shit, you can already feel it beginning to spill out, don't know how you plan to get home without making a mess of your clothes. 

A groan sounds from below you. "So fuckin' full of it," the soft tip of his cock presses back into you, and you don't need to look to know that Rhett's eyes are fixated on the obscene sight of his cum leaking out of you. "God damn."

"Well, don't...mmh, don't keep pushing it in," but your complaint is futile, and you're making no effort to try and stop him. No point in it, you suppose; it's not as if you can clean yourself up out here. 

He chuckles at that. You think the stars have secretly gathered in his eyes, sparkling in those deep blues. "Can't do nothin' 'bout it now."

"Hold on!" Your giggles echo through the kitchen, wet feet stumbling across the tile. "I can't move that fast!" 

But Rhett's hand keeps tugging you along, sliding around the corner and into the hallway. Water pours from his hair and shoulders, speckling across the floor, leaving a trail in his wake. A mess that you'd complain about if not for your own soaked clothes, so cold that you've gone entirely numb. 

Lights flicker overhead, power fading in and out as the storm rages on. Rain striking the windows so hard that you can hear it, even as you fumble down the hallway. Wet socks slide against the tile as you try to turn, your shoulder bumping into Rhett's. His hip smacks into the door frame. Your feet tangle. 

"We ain't never doin' that again," he's stumbling toward the shower, reaching for the knobs. Twists until he can't crank the hot water up any hotter. Something, anything to melt away the ice that's about to freeze over your skin.

You reach for the hem of your shirt, the fabric clinging to you like a second skin. "I thought you liked having sex outside."

"I do," he pauses, pulling the material over your head. It audibly hits the floor, the beginnings of yet another mess. "I don't like downpours 'n hail!" 

The red mark on his forehead is only just beginning to bloom, sure to darken as the night rages on. It's a little too high up to be blamed on a bar fight, but you're sure he'll find a way to play it off when his momma asks about what happened. 

Your pants are on the floor before he can finish getting his flannel off, not a care in the world for where they land. Your mind only has enough room for one thought at a time: hot water. A cloud of steam greets you as you step into the shower. The water has yet to hit your skin, and yet you can already feel yourself melting, the heat eating away at the invisible frost that has long since settled upon you. 

It's almost too hot, the spray seeming to burn little holes straight through your chest, and your toes sting. Such a sharp contrast compared to the heat that you wonder if it'll eat you alive.

A firm chest presses against your naked back, familiar arms settling loosely around your waist. "Y' jus' gonna leave me behind like that?" His attempt at sounding irritated doesn't miss your ears, but it dies before he can finish the sentence. Isn't helped by the kisses that appear on your shoulder.  

"If you can ride bulls, then you can climb into the shower by yourself," leaning back into him, your eyes fall closed. It might be the first time you've blinked since the rain began to fall, starting the moment you'd begun gathering the blankets into your arms. Mother Nature's punishment for not taking her warnings seriously.

Rhett hums, the vibration tickling the side of your neck. "Then." Kiss. "I should probably." Kiss. "Tell you." Kiss. "That we didn't bring any clean clothes..." Kiss. "Or towels."

...the towels. 

Your groan bounces off the tile walls and out into the hallway, probably even ventures past the closet and out into the living room. Why did it never occur to you to grab towels and clothes before you climbed in here?

"We'll rock paper scissors it after we rinse off," it's the same solution he uses for every conflict, but you find yourself agreeing with the idea anyway. 

He loses. Never deviates from playing rock, even when he knows full well that you will forever play paper. You're not sure if he's waiting for the day that you crack and play scissors or if he's intentionally losing, but you've got the sneaking suspicion it's the latter. He's way too content to dart into the hallway for towels, returning with more than either of you could possibly need.

"Did you grab every towel in the closet?" You laugh as you pull one of them around your shoulders, hugging it to yourself like a blanket. It's too damn cold in this house.

"No," then, grinning, "I left one behind."

He's gone before you've finished drying off, comes back one more time with your favorite pajamas in his hand, then disappears into the darkness of the house. Where he's gone, you're not sure; it's hard to tell when he never turns any of the lights on, navigating based on muscle memory alone. 

But you can hear the television turning on, your forgotten movie picking up right where it left off. 

"Rhett?" Calling out as you mosey out of the bathroom.

Damp carpet squishes beneath your feet, frigid and not at all what you expected to find yourself standing on. Only seems to get worse as you make your way down the hall, hopelessly soaked with rainwater. The old fan is already out, cool air blowing across the worst of it, licking at your heels when you step past.

Rhett's pale shoulders stick out like a sore thumb in the living room. All too visible as he moves around, hands audibly patting something down on the couch. Blankets. The ones off the bed, out of the closet, hell, he's grabbed the decorative one off the rocking chair. All to build an oversized nest, high around the edges, like he's trying to keep something out. So focused on the task at hand that he doesn't notice you until it's too late.

"Jesus!" His naked back jumps away from you as if burned by your kiss.

"Watcha buildin'?" Your speech mimicking his just a little more than usual, already leaning in to press a second kiss in between the knobs of his spine. Rhett twists in your arms before you can land a third, the swell of his chest mere inches from your lips now.

You'll smooch him here, too. 

"Our last line of defense," his giggle rides on the coattails of another roll of thunder. "Jus' in case that storm knocks out the power 'n steals our heat."

You don't realize his arms are around you until he's falling toward the couch, taking you right along with him, landing in a messy heap on top of the blankets. A box of candy rattles behind your back. Someone bumps into the remote, the movie pausing on the television screen. 

A piece of the candy bounces off your chin, narrowly misses landing back in Rhett's hand. You find it squished between your chests, pushing it between his parted lips. 

"Y' gonna keep force feedin' me candy?" He asks, that little candy rolling across his tongue as he speaks. Wonder if you'll be able to taste it if you kiss him. 

You lean in, nuzzling your noses together. "It's my new party trick."

His eyes roll so hard that you hope they'll get stuck. 

[tvdismylife]

Jason Todd ‘Red Hodd’: ABC

Warnings: mentions of smut and curse words

A (aftercare):

He’s not really good at it, but, he’ll try his best to make you feel comfortable. Some water, snacks and cuddles are his maximum

B (Body Part):

His favorite body part of yours has to be your tits. Not just in the sexual way, he’ll just have is head on your chest while you scratch his head. During sex tho? He’ll go crazy, he’ll suck, kiss and lick, while you moan his name mixed with blasphemies.

His favorite part or his? Abs. Why? 1) he’s proud of himself for how defined they are; 2) when you kiss him there he loses his mind. You want him to moan out? That will do the trick

C (Cum):

He isn’t really particular with it, but he’s not a big fan of coming inside of you. He’d rather make a mess on your tits

D (Dirty secret):

He’e in love with role plays. Especially cop/criminal ones (he adores those furr handcuffs)

E (Experience):

Not that much but knows how to please. He did mess around a bit. Not so much tho. You know, with all the training and Wayne stuff

F (Favorite position):

Missionary, a classic. Jason doesn’t really like all the complicate ones. And, he gets to look at your tits you.

G (Goofy):

Usually, he is fooling around, making jokes and not being serious. But, if he had a bad day, he’ll be more serious.

H (Hairy):

Doesn’t really care, he’ll ask you how you like it and that’s it.

I (Intimacy):

It may start as casual fucking, but oh boy. He’ll fool around, but still, he’ll be sweet.

J (Jack off):

He’ll probably jack off whenever he wants, if the situation allows it. You can’t even remember how many times you found him jack off in your shared bed, not that you mind.

K (Kink):

Bondage. He loses his fucking mind whenever you’ve got your fuzzy handcuffs.

L (Location):

Everywhere. Not even kidding. You can not forget that time when he convinced you to fuck him on Bruce’s couch (and how you almost got caught). So yeah, pretty everywhere

M (Motivation):

Lingerie, handcuffs, praise and degradation. He can’t decide if he likes better when you compliment or insult him.

N (No):

Crossing boundaries, that’s just a no. And traumas (this one explains itself)

O (Oral):

He loves giving, but…. receiving wins. It’s one of the hottest things you can do.

P (Pace):

Quick, no doubts. I can’t really imagine him being slow, he isn’t that patient

Q (Quickie):

Always. He lives off by them. X-mas at Bruce’s? Living room. Weekend-long hangouts with the Titans? His room. Bar? Bathroom. Let’s just say, he loves them

R (Risk):

Oh, he lives off by it.

S (Stamina):

Okay, I guess. He can go 4/5 rounds, then will tap out

T (Toy):

Isn’t really a fan, but is willing to try them on you

U (Unfair):

Loves it. Seeing you moaning while begging him to fuck you? Uhm yeah, he lives off of those moments

V (Volume):

He is really vocal, he doesn’t think it’s un-masculine, he likes letting you know how much you’re pleasing him

W (Wild card):

He l-o-v-e-s cuddles and PDA. You can’t remember how many times one of your friends told you to get a room.

X (X - ray):

He’s big but medium-length

Y (Yearning):

He yearns. A lot

Z (Zzz):

He needs some minutes to relax himself, but will fall asleep pretty easily (if you’re there, of course)

I’m begging you, request something. I’m having zero ideas, so, yeah. Drop a message in my inbox

[queen-of-the-avengers]

500

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're given a gift that will allow you to help others. You try to use this gift for good and you never make anyone feel like a charity case. However, when you meet Bucky Barnes, you know you have to do something or he'll live the rest of his life in pain.

Squares Filled: graveyard (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

The thing you love most about New York is not everywhere is like the city. If you travel far enough outside of it, it turns into any normal town like any other state has. You’re on your way to visit your parents at the New York State Veterans Cemetery since your father was a soldier in World War II. Your mother requested to be buried alongside him even though she was never in the military, and they let her.

It’s a four-hour drive from the city where you live, so you take this moment to yourself and think about your purpose on Earth. About once a month, you get like this because you’re not normal. You were born with the ability to see people’s pain above their heads in numbers ranging from zero to sixty. One is not in any pain at all and sixty is the worst pain a person can be in.

You’ve been to plenty of hospitals around New York, so you’ve seen people who are in a tremendous amount of pain, but no one has ever been above sixty. You’ve been on this Earth for thirty-three years and never have you seen someone with a sixty-one above their head. Why were you born with this ability? You’re not sure but you know you can do a whole lot of good with it. 

It’s why you became a licensed therapist as well as a social worker. You take on jobs that will help as many people as you can. While you can’t heal anyone physically like a nurse or a doctor, you can help with their emotional and mental trauma which is where most of the pain lies. You’re the only person without a number above your head but it’s likely your powers don’t work on you.

You look at the taxi driver and see the number twenty-five above his head. He’s seen some stuff in his life, that’s for sure. He must be a taxi driver to get away from it all, to just coast through life without having to deal with a lot of stress. You’re guessing but it’s not like you’re going to ask the man what kind of trauma he’s been through in his life.

He drops you off at the cemetery and drives away once you’ve paid him. You like to spend hours with your parents and tell them all that you’ve seen and the people you helped, and that usually takes a few hours at the least. You clutch your mother’s favorite flowers and walk into the cemetery, keeping your head down out of respect.

You sit down right across from their graves and break the bouquet into two so both your parent can have flowers.

“I helped a teenager last week escape his abusive parents,” you begin. “They didn’t care about him and often used him as an outlet for their rage. His pain was at a thirty. Thirty. At age fifteen. I went to go visit him in his new home and his pain was at a twenty-seven. He’s healing and I’d like to think I had something to do with it. I wish you guys were here to see this. It’s amazing to see someone’s number go down because of something I did.”

You look up and scan the area when you notice a man standing by himself near one of the graves. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you have to brace yourself on the ground so you don’t fall over. The man isn’t saying anything to the grave, just standing over it. Above his head is a whopping five hundred. If you saw someone with an eighty, you’d be floored. The fact that this man has a five hundred over his head… how is he still alive? It’s clearly not physical wounds that hurt him.

Who is this man? Even the most depressed people never go above sixty. You once got involved with a woman who was passed around in the sex trafficking ring and she didn’t even go above sixty. This man has five hundred.

Five hundred.

He says something to the grave before leaving, and you’re too shocked to get up and follow him. What would you even say to him? He had to have been broken down to the very last piece only to be put back together. Over and over again. That’s probably why he’s at five hundred. You don’t want him to feel like a charity case but you have to know that man. To think he’s walking around in such profound pain brings you pain.

“Mama, I think I found someone who might need my help. I’ll let you know how it goes next week.”

Since the cemetery is four hours away from the city, you’re hoping that he is from around here. You spend the next several days walking around Central Park just watching for that five hundred to show up again. You know exactly who the man was. You got a glimpse of his face as he was leaving the cemetery, and you knew he’d never leave New York. This is his home.

You know who he is and after some research on him, you know why he has a five hundred above his head. The following Saturday, you’re walking around Central Park in hopes of seeing this man again. You’d like to think because he has a five hundred, he has his humanity back. He’s feeling the guilt of everything he’s done so you know he isn’t dangerous.

Two women job past you laughing at what one of them said, and you notice how one of the women has a two above her head while the other has a fifteen. Maybe the fifteen did something her friend doesn’t know about and the guilt is starting to eat her alive. A young couple is sitting on the grass with a picnic between them, and both of them only have a five above their head. They must be in love. An elderly couple walks past them with both of them having a forty above their heads. Guess love doesn’t always work out for people in the end.

Central Park gets around six thousand daily visitors, and none of them have a number above sixty. You’ve traveled across the country for your job and non one has ever surpassed sixty. Not until him. You walk further into the park where a cluster of benches are, and you stop when you see that thick five hundred number again.

There he is. Sitting all alone.

Now’s your chance. You walk up to him who barely acknowledges your presence.

“May I sit here?”

He looks up and sees the book in your hands thinking you’re going to mind your business and read silently. He doesn’t say anything but nods so you sit across from him and open your book. You pretend like you’re reading it when really, you’re looking at him from over the top of your book. He has gloves on his hands and it’s not wintertime yet.

There’s a reason why he is wearing gloves.

“My name is Y/N. What’s yours?” you ask gently.

“Bucky.”

“That’s an interesting name. Is it short for something?”

“My middle name is Buchanan. My friends call me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” You go back to reading only to put the book down several minutes later. “Do you live around here? Or are you visiting someone?”

“No, not visiting someone.”

He’s clearly not into the conversation but you’re not going to give up. He’s not another project. You’re genuinely interested in getting to know him. Sure, his number enticed you to want to talk to him but you’re going to treat him like you would anyone else. It’s going to take a lot more than one conversation for him to open up to you.

The next day, you find him sitting in the same spot with the same five hundred above his head. You walk over to him and don’t ask to sit down, you just do. He lifts his head and notices the book first before looking into your eyes.

“Hi, Bucky. Do you mind if I sit here again?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

Today, you let him get used to your company. You don’t say anything to him except for when you part ways at the end of the day. You want him to be comfortable around you otherwise, he won’t talk to you. Every day after that, you keep sitting across from him reading the same book, allowing him to feel comfortable around you.

“So, what’s your book about?” he asks on the fourth day of sitting across from him.

“It’s called The Maze Runner. I know, it’s for an audience a bit younger than me, but I love the movies. It’s about a young man who wakes up with no memory of who he is and is stuck with a group of boys who also have no memory of who they are. They’re stuck in this maze-like area and they have to try and figure their way out of it that no one has ever survived. There are three movies but there are five books.”

“Sounds interesting. I’ll have to read it.”

“Here,” you close your book and hand it over to him, “take this.”

“No, that’s yours.”

“This is my fifth time reading the series.”

“I can’t just take your book.”

“Then consider it a loan. Give it back when you’re done. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to come and talk to you again.”

Bucky smiles for the first time since you’ve met him, and God, what a beautiful smile it is.

“Thank you.”

“Look, I have to get going, but here is my number.” You write down your number on a spare piece of paper and hand it over. “If you ever want another good book recommendation or the second book in the series, give me a call. Or, you know, if you just want to talk.”

“Okay,” he nods.

You don’t have to look back to know he’s watching you walk away. The next time you see him is a couple of days later. He hasn’t used your number which is fine because you don’t want to rush anything with him.

“Did you finish it?” you ask and sit across from him.

“Yeah, I did. It’s really good.”

“I brought the second one just in case.”

You two exchange the books and he smiles at you.

“Thank you. Would you like to go on a walk with me? Just around Central Park.”

“Sure.”

A walk around the park usually takes two hours if you’re leisurely enough about it, and there is no rush to go anywhere else. You want to ask Bucky a million things about his life and where he came from but you don’t pry into his life. You can get that information online if you want to, but you want this relationship to grow naturally.

Though, you’re not sure you understand why someone like him can be this sad about who he is.

“So, this might be a weird question but how do you feel?”

“Why is that a weird question? I’m fine.”

“It’s just… you seem so sad sometimes.”

“Honestly? There’s not a whole lot to be happy about these days.”

“You’re alive, right? That’s a pretty damn good day to me.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I wish I wasn’t.”

“Well, if you weren't, I wouldn’t have met you. I think you’re a great guy.”

“That’s because you don’t know who I am. If you did, you’d be smart to run,” he sighs.

“I know who you are. I know about the Winter Soldier. I lived in DC when everything happened with Steve.” He looks at you and uncertainty swims in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ve read about what you have done. Hell, I’ve seen it, but that doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“It doesn’t?” he asks with a thick voice filled with emotion.

“Come on, there are a lot of people worse than you like child molesters and rapists. On that spectrum, you’re not so bad. What makes a person bad is the fact that they know what they’re doing is wrong and still continue to do it. When someone wakes up and stops doing what made them bad, that’s not being bad. When someone is manipulated into doing bad things but doesn’t do those things anymore, that’s not being bad. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?” you chuckle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckles back. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for the walk but I need to go now. I have to get to work. Can I take you out? You know, a place that’s not Central Park? I can show you my favorite bookstore with books like The Maze Runner.”

“I’ll text you.”

“Great. I look forward to it.”

You start to walk away from him knowing he is watching you walk off. When you get to the busy street, you look back and notice something that brings a bright smile to your face. That five hundred above his head? It’s now at four hundred and ninety-nine.

x

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[ct-multifandom]

Big day for annoying people (me)

The two new eps of ML were good? Like wow it’s been great so far except ep 3 was comparatively a flop imo. Werepapas was so, idk, enticing lore-wise but I don’t have much to say that other people haven’t except that they’re clearly NOT neglecting past plot points, making the tone too silly goofy all the time, nor retconning important stuff like some people worried they would. We have been FED. I’m sure Felix is involved in that ring bs somehow, but idk if his intentions are pure or not.

Warning for the only salty thing I’m gonna say on this post: I’m so tired of going into the fandom tag and seeing people whining about “bad writing” problems that literally never happened based entirely on their own incorrect predictions they made up to make themselves mad. Ugh anyway. This post is gonna be about small details I latched onto in Daddycop!

We got to see glimpses of Sabrina and Max’s rooms this ep! Max’s room looks like a Star Trek spaceship but the books on his bookshelf are kinda giving those reference books at the library of like, archived government documents or research papers iykwim whereas the books in Alya’s room look like manga. An interesting thing I noticed in Sabrina’s room is that she has a line of framed certificates on the wall, maybe academic awards or something similar

Did they ever say if Markov can see Kaalki or not? I’m sure they will eventually but idk which option I like better. It’d be cute if they were friends but it’d be pretty funny if he had to watch Max talk to the secret floating ghost who lives with them now and not question it

List of things Sabrina dumps in the trash: yellow nail polish, the brooch Chloe gifted to her/bribed her with in season 1, the cat ear headband from her Chat Noir cosplay when she and Chloe were roleplaying as him and Ladybug in season 3, a beret, maybe the one Chloe tried to bribe her with in s1, Chloe-style sunglasses, a Queen Bee doll, a photo of them together in the old animation, and a mug/tumbler? Maybe a gift from her as well idk maybe they’re selling Queen Bee-themed Stanley cups over there.

:((((( Aw Sabrina nooo I hate seeing her so sad and the way she lied to her dad so he would think she’s happy and has friends

I think this might be the first time the show referred to Fire Captain Hessenpy by name?

Marinette’s scooter has the T+S logo on it and a sticker that says Boulangerie Paris

Between eps 2 and 4 I’m getting the sense that Sabrina uses Miss Hound as an escape kinda like CN where she feels like she can become instantly likeable, trustworthy, helpful, and useful through the inherent credibility of being a superhero. She has anonymity, can sort of start over on a blank slate, and is automatically implied to be a good person since Ladybug entrusted her. I’m guessing we’re gonna see more of that blank slate idea with other characters and what they’ll do with it, but it’s telling that Sabrina decides to transform to resolve people’s minor inconveniences, especially when she’s feeling bad about herself. It’s like she’s proving a point to herself but also giving herself something productive to do.

The GIRLS Ahhhhh let’s go lesbians

Noticing a clear absence of Alix. Ik the special implied she has to keep hiding in the burrow from Lila but she’s all normal-looking in the intro and they can’t shelve her forever. I feel like something is gonna change to make her be able to return.

^^^ ALSO she’s the only hero with zero design updates and my theory is that the purpose of that is so she can do contrived time nonsense like going back to earlier seasons and going forward without contradicting anything or revealing which time period she’s actually from

I gotta say the side character writing has progressively been better and better throughout the show. Atp they really feel like actual people with their own opinions and motivations. In the early days they felt more like lovable NPCs who talked occasionally but now they’re real characters? With free will? I feel like I just watched Pinocchio get turned into a real boy

The pro-healthy eating censorship/propaganda/whatever in this show is so funny omg. Juleka: I brought fruit tea Mylene: wow that’s so much better than the sugary soda we had last time LMAO. To balance out Rose holding a bag of popcorn they gave Zoe two burlap sacks full of oranges which tbf I’d rather snack on those during a movie than popcorn but still. I saw a vid recently about gravity falls adding random bowls of fruit next to characters eating junk food because they were getting flagged as promoting unhealthy habits. I keep thinking about that moment in Ikari Gozen when Mari asks Kagami out for “juice” when any normal teen would’ve said “coffee” like nope no caffeine in my good Christian miraculous

Love Kagami being a pretentious film nerd go hang out with Nino

RED ALERT YOU GUYS Mylene has an inclusive pride flag pin on her overall strap. Like the rainbow flag with the trans triangle and the black stripe. It’s not subtle or anything it’s just right there wow. Damn

The pin above it reminds me of Timebreaker’s logo. I wonder what some of these pins mean

Ok last season they seem to have established that Sabrina became friends with Marc and Nathaniel who were both explicit Sabrina Supporters since their akuma episodes, so it feels sort of convenient that they were written out of the narrative for this ep. I do see the whole Girl Squad thing and how she feels excluded when all the girls in the group hang out together without her, doing traditional girl things like movie night sleepovers, so I do think it’s totally valid. Her having absolutely zero friends is hyperbolized though.

On that note I have to wonder if the school might have several lunch periods because none of the male characters expect Adrien and Nino were there. Or maybe they just stage the scene with whoever is convenient. They might have flexible lunch schedules and all the other characters are off somewhere else.

Rose mentioned a girl whose name I didn’t recognize and after rewinding i can’t tell what she said. Aglie? New character? Maybe she’s that black girl with pink hair who was sitting with Adrien, Nino, and Sublime at lunch

KAGAMI AND ONDINE ARE CANONICALLY FRIENDS this is like the Superbowl for me. I’m so excited for Sleeping/Princess Syren I need to see her.

God the girls were so messy in that scene where they didn’t want to invite Sabrina lol I kinda love it I can’t even be mad

Zoe, your lab safety is atrocious. Not only are you taking your goggles off while still in the lab, but then you *leave the room* and *touch someone* with your gloves still on?! Diabolical. What are they even doing, soldering computer chips?

Marinette when I catch you Marinette

Roger’s relationship with Sabrina is actually so cute even though he’s kinda misguided as a person GOD when he’s on his way to console his crying daughter and Lila enters his mind space and he’s cradling his arms like he’s clearly seeing her as his baby 🥺 nobody talk to me

Alexa play I bet on losing dogs by mitski. Myyyy baby my baby…

We got a glimpse of the baddest bitch in Paris Xavier Ramier I’m so happy

Sabrina shapeshifted her necklace into a brooch. Huh. I guess you can just do that

The power of believing in herself allowed her to yassify her own character design into a cuter and more fashionable superhero! This is basically just like real life if you think about it

Her ball has a doggy nose on it awww

Lila telling Roger to turn around so she could back him up and fire the anti akuma was badass okay

I’m not sold on the loud ass makeup they have a lot of the characters wearing so I’m glad we got to see the girls with clean faces at the end there. Wow they look so normal! I’m also loving the pajama designs. I had to pause and look at all of them.

Zoe had to stop and hit Sabrina with that rizz stare to make sure Sabrina wouldn’t be coming up with any platonic explanations for her behavior

I never thought I’d say these words, but I think a love triangle between Sabrina, Zoe, and Max would be fun. Imagine Zoe is into Sabrina, Sabrina isn’t exactly catching the hint and sees Zoe as a really nice friend, Sabrina kinda likes Max, and Max is like damn these bitches gay. Good for them.

The end card is so baby omg

I TOLD YOU GUYS Sabrina was gonna get a makeover and people were like uH No iTs JUsT An aNimATioN eRroR oF a ScRApPEd DeSiGn girl why the hell would they leave a scrapped design in the intro, and there’s no way they would accidentally not notice that much less repeat it

Mark my words white haired Caprikid is not an error either he’s real and he’s gonna collect all the chaos emeralds to get that way

A new diabolical twink has hit the scene. Ray’s pompous ass immediately reminded me of Preminger from Barbie. He looks like he rides horses. Like he tells people he’s into sports but then you find out the sport is just horse riding. Immediately invested. Who is this diva. I want him to get hit by a bus.

Ooooo Zoe was up to some Delinquent Shit in America this is so juicy. I looove when suspiciously perfect characters get revealed to be secretly fucked up that’s the best. I’ve always loved those types of headcanons, that she was expelled from her last school and moved to a different country all of a sudden for her mom’s PR. If you think about it, that’s exactly what happened to Chloe damn. Daughter commits PR disaster, do zero parenting about it, relocate daughter far away to start over with little consequence! I wanna see some parallels. I feel like she made it sound like she moved because she was getting bullied at her old school, but what if that was a lie, or at least a partial lie? You know shit’s serious when the exposition is in the post-post-endcard scene

The pacing of these episodes has been satisfying compared to previous seasons, especially 5. They aren’t trying to shove too much in, but there’s still a lot happening and fiiiinally a nice mix of plot and fighting. I was getting irritated by how rushed a lot of the fights were last season like might as well just not have them at all

Late edit: back to the pajamas because I forgot to analyze them, I have noticed that Juleka’s pants have bats on them :) frickin bats. They also have like… a crescent moon with something sitting on it? idk what that is. It’s like a pattern of cute spooky Halloween imagery. But the pants and her black lace tank top versus Rose’s sparkly pink unicorn onesie is adorb.

Zoe has a yellow tank and seems to be wearing her usual leggings under running shorts um? Outside clothes in bed? And her pink slides give the whole thing a sans undertale vibe. Oh what the fuck why do the feet of her tights have individual toes lmao. The horror. I hate it.

I can’t tell what Mylene is wearing except a black t-shirt that might have something white on it. OMG EDIT 2 ITS IVAN’S T-SHIRT FROM HIS OLD DESIGN YOU GUYS SHES WEARING HER BF’S OLD BAND TEE AS PAJAMAS. This is headline news myvan nation. She has maybe pink shorts and her slippers look like Uggs.

Kagami’s silk pjs look luxurious. I love how her clothes this season went from just preppy to being very obviously EXPENSIVE like she’s blending in with the gang but she’s still clearly rich af.

Sabrina’s pjs are a classic set with her usual argyle pattern on them. 10/10 would give her a warm glass of milk and read her a bedtime story. I wonder what she needs eye drops for because she told Roger she needs to pack them.

Excited to see more yay! I love the little details. It’s kinda a bummer that Sabrina spent most of her hero focus ep sobbing but we ball (see what I did there) and the end was so cutesy. So excited to probably watch episode 11 before episode 6

[junrenjun]

Understand

alpha!seungcheol x female beta!reader (side alpha!seungcheol x omega!jeonghan, with implied ot13 x reader)

genre: angst with a fluff ending

wc: 1736

warnings: mentions of injury, a/b/o dynamics, arguments

summary: seungcheol is pushing himself too far in his injury recovery. y/n calls him out and cheol says something he wishes he could take back.

a/n: couldn't sleep because this idea was stuck in my head. wrote some stuff down in google docs to get out of my brain and somehow ended up here. enjoy my first ever written fic i guess?

Seungcheol was getting fed up. Between not being able to work, not seeing the rest of his pack for most hours of the day, and having to deal with the pain in his knee, he was seconds from shutting down. You being home and scolding him like a naughty child for trying to be independent made it a whole lot worse. 

He knew you just wanted his knee to heal correctly, even if it took longer than he wanted it to. But he was impatient and he just wanted to get back to work. Working on standing without his crutches was something he should probably do with his doctor or physical therapist. But he was fine, they were going to work on it at his next session in a few days, so why not start a little early. The pain would be worth it if it meant he could go back to dancing sooner.

You however, did not feel the same, turning the corner into the kitchen and catching sight of him wincing in pain whilst holding onto a chair. “Choi Seungcheol! If I see you try to stand without your crutches one more time, I’m calling your doctor and having you put on bed rest.”

It shouldn’t have sent him over the edge. It was a threat with zero malice behind it, and he knew you wouldn’t really call his doctor. But for some reason, this was his breaking point. “I’m just so over everything y/n! I’m so frustrated with this stupid injury. I can’t work anymore. I can’t do anything that makes me happy and I have to watch the rest of the pack do it without me.”

You frowned. You knew he was upset with the injury taking him out of work for a few months, but you thought he would at least have some respect for his own body and health. “I know Cheol, I understand this is frustrating but hurting yourself isn’t the best way to address your feelings.”

“No y/n you don’t know! You’re the only beta in the pack, the only girl, and the only one who isn’t an idol. You don’t get to tell me that you understand because you don’t. Betas don’t understand emotions like alphas and omegas do.”

Seungcheol regretted it instantly. Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill past your waterline. Your scent soured and Seungcheol flinched as it hit his nose. He watched as you took a shaky breath before calmly replying, “no Cheol, I guess I don’t understand,” promptly turning on your heel to return to the bedroom. 

Sighing, Seungcheol grabbed his crutches from where they leaned against the kitchen table. He hobbled back to his room, flopping onto his bed carelessly. He didn’t even care about the pain in his knee anymore, too preoccupied with the pain in his heart. Frustratedly, he grabbed the pillow next to him, pushed his face into it and let out a sound that was halfway between a yell and a growl. How could he say something so stupid?

Seungcheol was too drowned in his own misery to hear your footsteps as they traveled down the hall and toward the front door. He wasn’t even aware you had left your room until the sound of the front door closing caught his attention. It was too early for the rest of the pack to be back from rehearsal, so it had to be you. The thought of you being so distraught that you had to leave the den was enough to make what was left of Seungcheol’s sanity snap. He pushed the pillow even farther into his face and sobbed until there was nothing left to cry.

.

Seungcheol groaned as the pillow was removed from his arms, letting the overhead light in his room shine harshly in his eyes. He almost let out a growl, warning the person who decided to disrupt his misery-induced sleep to leave him be, but the scent of his sweet omega left it hanging in the back of his throat. 

Jeonghan’s face appeared above him, finally blocking out the light that was threatening to cause a migraine. He heard the omega sigh in relief before saying, “well at least we know why you weren’t answering your phone. Do you know where y/n is? You smell like shit by the way.” 

Seungcheol just grunted in response. Jeonghan sighed and called out to Wonwoo, who Cheol assumed was in the main area. He didn’t listen in on their conversation, too busy trying to get rid of the buzzing in his head. All he could make out were a few repeated words: y/n, location, and phone.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol felt Jeonghan shift on the bed to lay next to him. He paused a second before saying, “I don’t know what happened between you two but if it makes you feel any better, she didn’t go too far. Just to the cafe a few streets down.”

Cheol sniffed. “How did you even know something happened?”

Jeonghan huffed before responding. “Neither of you were responding to our texts and calls when we were on the way home. Then we walked in and the main room smelled like upset beta and angry alpha. It didn’t take long to put two and two together.”

They laid in silence for a few moments. Seungcheol broke the silence with a broken sob. “I’m such a bad pack alpha,” he cried as he turned into Jeonghan’s side. 

The omega immediately closed his arms around the alpha’s side and released some calming pheromones. “No baby, you’re not a bad pack alpha. You and y/n have been around each other every second of every day since your injury, an argument was bound to happen eventually.” 

Seungcheol buried his head farther into Jeonghan’s chest. He cried a little longer before he softly uttered, “I made fun of her subgender.”

Jeonghan couldn’t hold back his surprise. This couldn’t be the same Seungcheol that defended y/n’s subgender to all their fans when it was released that she had joined their pack. This couldn’t be the same Seungcheol that immediately switched her new primary care physician when he told her that she, “shouldn’t worry about birth control since her alphas were probably too busy with their omegas anyways.” This couldn’t be the same Seungcheol who made everyone wear blockers when they first invited her to the den, because he knew that betas were more sensitive to scents. Finally the omega released a small, “what?”

The alpha sniffled again. “I told her that she didn’t understand my problems because she was a beta. I didn’t mean it Hannie. I feel so stupid. What even possessed me to say that?”

Seungcheol felt Jeonghan release his hold a little bit, so that he could rub circles into the small of his back. “I don’t know why you said it, baby. But I know you didn’t mean it. The rest of the pack knows you didn’t mean it. I’m sure she does too.”

Slowly, Seungcheol pulled his face away from his omega’s chest. Jeonghan’s heart broke at the sight of his pack alpha’s broken look. “Has she come back yet?”

Jeonghan rolled over a little to look out the open door of their room. “I don’t think so. Wonwoo went to pick her up from the cafe and walk her back home. They should be back soon, I hope.”

Seungcheol just nodded and went back to sulking in Jeonghan’s arms. The omega couldn’t help but release more calming pheromones and continue rubbing his alpha’s back. He knew Cheol couldn’t help it, but his distressed scent was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He wished it would go away soon. 

A few minutes later, they both perked up at the sound of the front door opening and subsequently closing. Shoes were tossed on the tray by the door and before they knew it, you were standing in the doorway. The alpha’s scent brightened a bit. You paused when you saw Jeonghan in the bed with your pack alpha. He just smiled at you and began to pry himself away from Seungcheol, who let out a pathetic whine. 

Despite the day’s earlier events, you couldn’t help but softly smile at Cheol’s “less alpha-like” tendencies. Yet another reminder that he didn’t mean the words that left his mouth a few hours before. Seungcheol was not someone who believed in stupid subgender stereotypes. 

Jeonghan made his way out of the room, but not without leaving a small kiss on your forehead and a brush of his nose on your scent gland. A subtle reminder that he was here if you needed him. You took a moment to ground yourself before making your way over to the bed. “You smell like shit.”

He laughed. “You smelled worse when I made that comment earlier. But yeah, I’m sure I reek. Hannie said the same thing when he first came in.”

You smiled. His sense of humor was still intact at least. You took the lighthearted moment to cuddle up next to him and rub your wrist against the gland on his neck. “I know you didn’t mean it, Cheolie.”

Seungcheol sighed in relief. He believed Jeonghan when the omega said he was sure you knew his harsh words didn’t have any real meaning behind them. But it was still nice to hear the words from you on your own. “It wasn’t very pack alpha of me though.”

He heard you sigh a little. “No one is perfect. No pack alpha is perfect. You’re a human being too. You need to treat yourself like one Choi Seungcheol.”

He nodded as your words sunk in. He knew the double meaning behind them before you explicitly stated it yourself. “That goes for work too. You need to stop pushing yourself to recover faster. It’s just going to hurt more later on. I know you just want to get back to doing what you love but you need to love yourself first.”

His beta knew just the thing to say to tug on his heartstrings, huh? For the umpteenth time that day, Seungcheol sniffled. “I love you y/n. I wouldn’t want anyone else as my pack beta.”

You replaced your wrist with your nose, scenting him as you happily sighed, “I love you too Cheolie. No other pack alpha could ever compare.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

As you watch the man storm off in his wet jacket, you frown. Well, that’s a good way to make friends. Off to a great start, Ash. 

You wince but stop yourself from backing away as a blurry figure hazes in your peripheral. You look over at the girl as she silently holds out a napkin. 

“Oh, jeez, thanks,” you laugh nervously. “Can ya hold this for me?” You hold out your container as you accept the help. She’s the first person who hasn’t looked at your sideways. You keep hold of your coffee and sop up the mess. “I’m fucking idiot sometimes. I was so focused on the noodles.” You glance around at the tables, “shit fuck, this place is crowded, huh?” 

You crumple the napkin and reach for your container. You zero in on the girl. She hasn’t said a word. She looks anxious too. It sort of makes you feel better.  

“Quiet, huh? Well, shit, I just can’t stop talking,” you smirk. 

“Um…” she gulps. “I got a table…” she points over her shoulder.  

You smile, “thanks, that’s nice but… okay. I guess things can’t get any worse.”  

She bounces and turns, guiding you across the caf. You know how she fidgets. Definitely nerves. Maybe a freshman?  

“I’m Ash, by the way,” you introduce yourself as you put your stuff on the table and sit.  

“Auburn,” she replies. 

“Ash and Auburn. One more and we could be musketeers or something,” you joke as you push your cup to the side and open your noodles. 

“Oh, have you read it?” She asks. “The Three Musketeers, that is?” 

“Nah, but I watched the movie. Oh, shit, did you see the real shitty on they made with Orlando Bloom. Fucking loved it. Trash movies, totally my ish,” you yammer as you unwrap the chopsticks. “But maybe I should give the book a try.” 

She nods and taps nervously on her can of diet coke. She wears a gray gap hoodies and her hair is untamed. She’s a bit wild in appearance but you are in spirit. Besides, you don’t have any roomies to latch onto this year. 

“So, Auburn, what do you study?” You ask and shove a buttload of chow mein in your mouth. 

“Erm, computer science.” She answers and curls her shoulders inward. 

“Awesome. I’m doing photography. More of the creatie sort. I’m just tryna push through my degree and decide if I wanna open up my own studio or what,” you shrug. “You know, the computer thing is smart though. No one knows how the fuck to use one.” 

She nods and giggles. You don’t mind doing the yapping. That’s always been your problem but she seems content enough to listen. 

“You live on campus?” You ask. 

She nods. 

“Yeah, I got me an apartment. Couldn’t afford the fees they charge at this place, but it’s nice. You know, I thought I was gonna be sleepin’ with cockroaches,” you shake your head then shudder at the thought. “You ever had a cockroach crawl over you while you’re sleeping?” 

Her eyes widen and you laugh. 

“Don’t ask,” you sniff. “Anyway, Auburn, thanks for letting me crash your party. Hope I’m not annoying you too much. I got a habit of it.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assures you and picks at her fraying cuff. 

“You want some of them? They’re fucking bussin’,” you spiral a wad of noodles around the chopsticks. 

She shakes her head. Well, more for you. 

You sit with Auburn for a while. You only leave as you see the time and realise you need to go to the bookstore before your first class tomorrow. It closes in thirty. 

“Damn, gotta scram,” you say as you pack up what’s left of your noodles. “I’ll text ya.” 

“Sure,” she agrees and gathers up her bag. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, don’t let these other fuckers get to you. They ain’t too cool for school,” you wink and head off. 

You go to the basement and weave through to the bustling bookstore. You stop to search for the course code on your phone and walk blindly down an aisle. As you raise your head to search for 208C, you collide with an unexpected wall, a waft of stale coffee gusting up at you. 

You back up and look at the man as he snaps shut the book in his hand and sighs. It’s that same man from the cafeteria. Oh no. 

“Oh fuck, sorry, bud,” you say. “I was just looking for--” 

“You. Again,” he snarls. 

“Uh, yeah, hi, it’s me,” you confirm. “Look about before--” 

“Do you need glasses or something?” He accuses. 

“Er, no. 20/20 according to my eye doctor.” 

“Not a real question,” he sneers. 

“I said sorry. Really, I didn’t mean too.” 

“You know, it doesn’t matter what you mean, it’s what you do,” he retorts. 

“Wow, are you like a philosophy professor or something?” You ask. 

His nostrils flare, “I’m none of your business, stupid girl.” 

“Well, if I’m so stupid, you shouldn’t get so worked up about a question,” you roll your eyes and turn to the shelves to find your book. “Fuck.” 

“Disgusting,” he remarks. “Someone needs to wash that mouth out.” 

You ignore him. You’ve dealt with idiots before. The stupid frats call you a nerd but this guy wants to call you stupid. Men are too much to deal with so the best course of action is not to. You slide out a text book and double check your phone to match the code.  

The price tag nearly gives you a heart attack. It’s a coursepack. They don’t sell them sued. You resign yourself to the expense.  

The man lingers and you send him a wary look, “were you expecting something else?” 

He glares at you then shakes his head. He shoulders past you, nearly knocking the book from your hands, and you turn to watch him stomp away. Well, what are the odds you run into the same asshole twice? Maybe that means you’re the asshole. 

Big deal. Running into him a third time is a long shot. Besides, you’re less worried about some grumpy stranger and more uptight about the cost of the paper in your hands. You’ll be opting for fifty-cent ramen over the cafeteria special from now on. 

[echantedtoon]

Obsessed

(WARNINGS: Some toxic relationship stuff mentioned, death, possession with the mask, yandereish tendencies, possibly some innuendos, Dyo IS his own warning, implied past spicy times, technically the guy he's posessing is dead, blood mentioned, pregnancy, etc.

Inspired by @wolveria 's works and a random anon ask she had gotten.)

What was it that drew out the obsession in living things? 

Could it be a taste for something they never had before? A new sudden interest in something? A feeling of familiarity that they wanted to cling onto? Or was it just a sudden snap in the brain that screamed 'must have it'? She hadn't the foggiest clue. The very reason she was here was because she was fascinated with the thinking of the inhuman and call of the unnatural. Such was the reason that brought her here to this situation in the first place. 

She shouldn't have let it happen. GOD she shouldn't have let it happen! What was she thinking?! It was stupid. She knew better than to be lured in by sweetened words and let herself become entangled in something else that was only to be the downfall of her own self, safety, and sanity.

"Hey, Reid." The sounds of a voice snapped her back into the world from her stupor as she looked up from the papers standing still in her hands and towards the smiling face of a fellow female employee. "I heard you're about to go on maternity leave. We're gonna miss seeing you around the office."

Despite the feeling of dread pooling in her guts she managed to voice a steady tone and a smile despite her shaky hand. "Yeah. It's better for me since I don't need all the stress."

Luckily the fellow scientist nodded without any arguments. "I hear you. This place can give you enough stress to give you permanent anxiety. It's probably why they took you off the zero Three Five's case to avoid anything bad happening to you." With a small sigh she crossed her arms. "I don't know anyone who'd willingly just surveillance the thing."

The thing. The mask. 

The literal reason she was in this situation in the first place. The very thing she was avoiding at all costs. God why did she allow hik to sweet talk her into intimacy. She was lucky to have been able to avoid the place without much argument from the higher ups due to request. What request? Simple. A request to transfer to a less strainous job due to her pregnancy. 

The problem that had arisen because of the stupid thing.

It was a stupid mistake that shouldn't have happened. How was she supposed to know that it was possible for it to- ..God. if anyone found out then she'd be terminated immediately if she was lucky. Interrogated and then forced to be locked away until her child was taken away for them to do who knows what to them at worst. The only good thing to come from this is the fact that no one would have any suspicions to the baby's origins. After all how could they suspect it?

He was a mask.

A very dangerous mask, but one without a body and that's part of the reason why she couldn't believe the situation she was in. If it wasn't for the literal pregnancy attached to her then she probably would've written everything off as a bad fantasy. However it was impossible to write off cravings, constant morning sickness, and the literal swell of her abdomen as a figment of her imagination. 

"No. I guess not...Are you here for the transfer order for scp zero seven four?"

She nodded. "Yep. I need the orders to get started." At which she stepped forward and held out her hand. "Do you have them?"

With a nod she just held out a single piece of officially documented paper, signed by a higher up with their stamp of approval. "Here. Don't loose it. Im drowning in enough paperwork and insurance coverages as we speak."

With a smile on her face she received her part and departed. "Thanks, Reid. Oh. Congratulations on the baby by the way."

She simply held up a hand back with a smile on her face that dropped the moment the other woman left before she sighed, leaning back in the uncomfortable office chair. Hand coming to lay on the problem that was the unwanted passenger currently here for the ride. 

"You're going to be the death of me."

~~~~

Like the flashes of hellfire red lights flashed upon the freed and bloodthirsty creatures that reigned supreme of the mesh of concrete and steel that once made up their confined cells of torture. The whirring of alarms sounded overhead instead of warning the innocent of humans seemed more of a praised laugh to announce the arrival of the manic chaos that was to befall all.

Blood. As red as the lights and as copper as the metal was the main decoration for the parade of monsters descending through the halls and disemboweling the humans and in some cases each other. No one cares. Certainly not the beasts that now ran ramped with adrenaline and bloodlust in their minds.

An inhuman screech went off into the night as a stronger forced ripped away arms from torso. Eyes turned and stared into the bloodlust abyss of bloodshot eyes. A mix of shrieks echoed out into the darkened night above. So much blood spilt in that night that it might've even spilt into the moon illuminating red down on everything.

R E D

The color clouded vision beyond reasoning. Inhuman yells of pain and murder carved way by him. One by one. Body by body. Life by life. Flesh torn from bone. Blood cleaved from muscles. Arms from torso. Limb from limb. He was a beast tonight. The thirst for blood was not just a want but a need. For tonight he was not a man. Not a demon. Nor anything else comprehendible by human thought.

~~~~

A wave of relief from the stress after so long was finally hers after her request for the maternity leave was approved and sent to her almost right away. Almost as quickly for her request months ago to be transferred to a less strainous job. But she supposed the foundation didn't want the reputation of putting a pregnant woman in danger on their heads on top of the amount of questionable things that they already had done. 

As for zero Three Five, she at first didn't worry to much. He couldn't get up and walk around on his own and while he could've noticed her ..condition, she transferred from his case before she began showing and didn't tell him, so she was confident that he hadn't any idea of this. Which would be better in the long run. Who knows what might happen if he found out. 

Apparently there was quite the tantrum throwing down his way anyways. The timing of her leaving and him acting out wasn't a coincidence, she was smart enough to know that but that wasn't really a priority right now. Her main priority was trying to figure out what to do about this. Her first thought was possibly just giving it up to adoption services which still hadn't really left the table. After all it might be better id there was as least minimal contact between this child and it's 'Father' as possible. 

When she first found out about this it was panic and anxiety. Still is but less than it was in the beginning. She had the ridiculous fear that she might be forced to birth a mask but that was impossible and just the paranoia speaking. The sonograms of the child weren't actually any different than that of a normal infant but that didn't mean anything was normal yet. Would it possess any keter level abilities like the mask? Was it just a normal human regardless of its parentage? Would they get any physical features like that mask? Though there wasn't anything physical to really take after. Perhaps they'd be extremely pale like the white porcelain Zero Three Five was made of but she could just easily just say it was Albinoism to detour any suspicions. She already had a reasonable excuse if anyone asked about the father.

"He was just a fling I had. He doesn't know and honestly I don't know who he is."

No one really suspected. People had one night stands all the time and several of those resulted in unexpected pregnancies. So why would anyone give any grief if it just happened to her? Sigh. She really needed a break. The next few months off was exactly what she needed to help her figure out what to do about this. 

~~~~

The darkness both swallowed him up and closed off the ways both in front and behind him making each end of the pathay difficult to see with the already limited vision he had. Heightened senses were one thing he had been thankful to have retained from years of familiarity to his body and mind. Closing off all senses to be more enlightened to one's world in a different light. Each echo of his footfalls ringing in his mind as the airways of his body forced himself to absorb more oxygen out of the air and each heart beat thudding against his ribcage. Throbbing sensation reaching from his head to his feet with every passing second he was surrounded by the buzzing swarm of danger. Enlightened by the stings of fear. Danger. Dread. Doom. Like many wasps penetrating his most basic human emotions and swelling them up to the point of combusting dangerously all over the peeping, teasing darkness.

The soft silk touch of his host's clothes met his hand. It was easy to move...Easy to will it to move running along the soft fabric to something more smooth and hard. Both basic instinct wasps forcing him to do something so familiar to combat the combustible feelings. To grab at which to protect him and cut it away like a sickeningly sweet cake of misery and despair. Instincts wailing to protect himself from dangers he had yet to see. Had yet to reveal themselves to him. Hopefully to be chased away by the sounds of the bullets of the gun and held out into the darkness to cut it's tainting self down a notch. That his willpower will always prevail over it. Each burning room slowly passing a tainting gateway. Each with a promise of safety behind it and perhaps even it had occupants inside using it. taking up it's offering of safety from the darkness now dead to the world highly unaware of the masked host just roaming outside arm outstretched and staring down the one that dared teased him the most with it's fake promise of protection.

The host approached slowly, one hand still gripped at his gum, fingers strumming against the metal handle as if his nerves where itching to use it. Yet he remained stoic despite the clouds that where casting gathering to add to the storm inside his head. Upon closer inspection the scalpel in the door was too purposeful for this to be an improvised job, this job - this attack, this entire get away had been just a waste of his time so far. His eyes narrowed or would've if he was capable of that.

"Dam it. Where is that damned exit?!"

A inhuman scream tore through the area drowning out the other terrible screams and blaring alarm.

The blaring alarms hid well the sounds of his footsteps and the chaos of murder around him covered the intention of the desire and want which was the driving force of the shared minds that combined with one another to become one.

The screams rang into the air as his pathway was made, him walking through its wake of cadavers long since dead. The morbid sight earning a slight chuckle despite his annoyance with the situation. 

"It looks as if that lizard got here before I did."

Terror. Fear. Danger. Get away. Get away! All the pathetic ones scream. Like a car accident, terrible yet one couldn't look away from the incoming storm of tragedy. He was so used to such actions as he came with the reputation. The woman who continued to shriek in his way meant nothing to him. She was merely just an obstacle. An annoying hindrance to what he wanted-..No

.

What he N E E D E D.

And he always dealt away with obstacles. The old body was easily chuckled to the side, he not caring about where it landed or how the other ended up. Screaming. A true testimony to his being. Power. Force behind it and he knew that as screams filled out his eardrums and killed him into the comfortable lullaby of chaos incarnate. Arms rising and head tilted back in display for the passionate dance of bodies scattering blurred to his vision footfalls thundering like a rain dance of nature. A true place a demon would find peace. Eyelids fluttered shut as the sounds blurred out around him until he heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. But-

WHAT HE NEEDED WAS THAT DAM EXIT!!!

The fact that there was a lack of an exit messed with his irritation much more than it usually did but there was more urgency than before because of someone else who especially didn't like him found out about this little problem he'd gotten himself into and got there before he did...Well even just the thought of it happening was enough to drive him to insanity and rage and many other emotions he didn't want to unpack right now and didn't really have time to. As he paced past rooms with destruction already painted on it's walls and with the distant sounds of -... Footsteps drowned out by screams and alarms stopped in their pacing to back track. Poking his borrowed host's head inside a room. It looked like an office. The owner of which was long since dead slumped over against the wall. But what caught his interest was the thick window. Usually reinforced but now broken to the outside.

An exit and a new host all in one place.  How convenient.

"Hm. I think I'll take what's behind door number one.~"

~~~~

The peace of mind she'd gotten for once was short lived. As if she couldn't catch one break in this entire process. A breach. Just what she needed in this time. Her only saving grace was that she wasn't there when it happened. That probably would've been much more disasterous than actually taking this damned problem home with her. It was only inviting trouble...But she shouldn't worry, she told herself. Her home was a decent distance away from the sight and by the time she was due back most of the staff would probably be on leave anyways until repairs were made during damage control. 

So for now she'd relax and get comfortable on the couch and worry about just figuring out what to do next. Not as if she could do much with the equivalent of a bowling ball attached to her middle. Not until she was finally through this. 

However fate would've had other plans as they usually do.

When something from the outside of the room would've made their way in. Without warning the doorknob opening and swinging open by itself jolting her from where she lied, and horrified fear enveloped her when the body of her neighbor who was no more. Dramatically posed like a puppet following invisible strings.

"Honey!~ I'm home!~"