#< i'm not padded bu he is ^^

[daycare-of-the-fallen]

overwhelming positive response.... here you guys go :) he's just a tiny little fella!! <3

[mattmurdeaux]

One of my favorite things: When Charlie just wows people on set with his stunt work prowess whenever he decides to be Daredevil in real life:

"Charlie is an unbelievable physical athlete. We were shooting the scene, and he was like, "Ah this is what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna do a handstand, and I'm going to do press ups on a handstand." He just got up and he just did it, it was like, "What? Wow!" - Marc Jobst, DD S3 director

"Charlie did about 80 percent of the sequence himself...to be able to stay in the moment and emote and be able to actually go through this action sequence with no breaks for 11 and a half, do the highly emotional scene in the middle of it, and then keep going into another action sequence...he's the MVP, without a doubt." - Alex Garcia Lopez, DD S3 director

"At the end of the scene, I was supposed to exit. So I asked them if they could throw a cushion out the window and then, without telling anyone, casually went out that way during one of the takes rather than the door."

"You wouldn't believe how much Charlie actually does. Half the time you see DD flipping, everyone thinks it's me, but it's actually Charlie! He learned how to do a palm spin in a matter of minutes. He also threw a front flip ax kick inside a bus! The guy is amazing." - Chris Brewster, Charlie's stunt double

"When he jumps off the roof in the episode, he did that by himself and shocked everyone. He was like, 'Can I have a little pad?' Then suddenly, he flipped off the roof, and we were all like, 'Did Charlie just do that by himself?' - Kat Coiro, director

"Same thing with Charlie. I mean, he comes in and he wants to do everything. He's a legend, and he's able to come in and learn the fight in a day." - Marc Scizak, stunt coordinator

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPOST TOUR NAP * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　Where Y/N and Chris finally have their first afternoon-post lunch nap after a whole month of Surprise Party Tour.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　none.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: Had my first afternoon nap today after years without one and had this idea 🤭.

It was somewhere around 3:07 p.m., maybe 3:11 if you counted how long it took for the dishwasher to hum to life in the kitchen.

It was dark - even though the sun still shined high up outside, paired with the soft whirring of the AC above their heads.

Y/N had gotten there first, obviously. She’d brushed her teeth right after she finished her plate, slipping into her - Chris's - favorite oversized pajama shirt. Now she was all cocooned up on the left side of the bed, curled inward with the blanket pulled over her head.

Her phone was somewhere on the floor, forgotten, her face still faintly warm from the leftover sunburn from their constant walks from one gas station to another when the boys' bus tour made its road pauses.

Chris finally padded in.

Barefoot, teeth freshly brushed, hair slightly messy. His shorts sat low on his hips, and he stretched his arms up with a deep, lazy sigh before walking over to the bed and lifting the blanket.

"Food was s'good, babe." He mumbled as he climbed in, voice gravelly and thick, words coming out like they were too heavy to carry, letting them roll out slow and warm.

Y/N, already half-asleep, turned her head just a little, barely cracking an eye open to find him through the golden light.

"Yeah?" She whispered, a small smile playing on her lips, her voice light and smushed into the pillow.

Chris let out a small hum, the sound vibrating in his chest before slipping out, all content and sleepy.

"Mmhmm. Missed your food s'fucking much this past month."

She chuckled softly, but didn’t answer, because Chris was already tugging her closer.

His big, warm hands found her under the blanket like it was second nature, sliding beneath her shirt with zero resistance, just to feel her skin.

Cold fingers, warm belly.

She twitched at the contrast and let out a little breathy laugh, which made Chris grin lazily.

"Sorry, sorry. Hands are cold." He said, even though he didn’t move them away. He just pressed them flatter, warmer now, against her waist, then her hips, then settled at her lower back. "Need to be close."

Y/N melted, humming lowly.

He tugged gently, so naturally, pulling her entire body toward his like he was some sleepy human magnet. Legs tangled without even thinking, one of his knees slipped between her thighs, the other looping behind her leg and keeping her still.

He was warm. Not hot. Warm. Like a heated blanket but with a heartbeat and muscles.

She snuggled in, arms folding up between them, tucked right against his chest. That spot between his ribs and exactly where their bodies almost smushed too close to breathe, but neither of them cared.

Her nose bumped his. His lips ghosted her forehead.

Chris let out another one of those soft groans, the type that wasn’t really a groan, more like a sleep-noise. Low and scratchy.

He shifted just a bit, getting even comfier - if that was possible - and then exhaled. His puff of breath hit her skin, hot and sweet-smelling, like leftover toothpaste and warm seasoning from earlier.

"This is heaven." He murmured.

She nodded into his chest, her arms pressing him tighter, nose brushing the curve of his jaw now, smiling faintly with the small hairs finally starting to grow freely after a whole month of constantly shaving.

"Missed this."

"Yeah." He agreed, sleepily. "Couldn't take another day of sleepin' like a fucking crushed jelly."

Y/N giggled, barely a sound, all muffled and soft, because how the hell did he thought of that?, and he smiled without opening his eyes.

He moved his head a little, awkwardly searching for her mouth, his chin bumping against hers too many times before finally meeting her soft lips, mouth barely moving but still pressed to hers.

Then he moved again.

One right on her cheek. Another on her nose. One more by the corner of her mouth that lingered longer than the rest. His lips were plush and slow, not rushed, just affectionate. Like he wanted to memorize her without actually waking them up.

She shifted her head again until their faces were ridiculously close, noticing how she was now laying on his pillow with him. Their noses brushed, again and again, in tiny, sweet nudges like they were dancing. And Chris, eyes still closed, leaned in and kissed her fully this time.

A lazy, slow-sinking kind of kiss, if this can even be called a kiss. All lips and sleepy love.

"Love you." He whispered, right into her mouth, like it was a secret.

"Love you more." She replied, and he smiled again, because that always made him wince a little - he never won that one, and she knew it.

They stayed like that. Breathing each other in. Her fingers curled into his shirt, just gently fisting it like she never wanted him to move.

Eventually, they didn’t moved anymore. The nap rolled in like a wave, the type of nap where you don’t even notice you’ve fallen asleep until you’re waking up hours later and the blanket’s slipped halfway off the bed and one of you’s drooled a little, but you still don’t wanna get up.

Because, finally, there was nothing else in their heads at that moment.

Just Chris to her.

Just her to Chris.

© vanteguccir

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

"I still can’t believe that you aren’t freaking out!?"

Lizzie didn't even bother to open her eyes at that question.

She was laying sprawled out on the massive garden swing her father had built nearly two decades ago, with Mara curled up on her stomach like a massive judgemental heating pad. It helped some against the muscle aches that her latest seizure had left her with, and not really at all with the the feeling of tiredness and like she had been hit by a bus. 

Which was the reason why she was laying around on the garden swing and not actually help her father and Tasha’s mother with their…weekly gardening. 

Tasha poked her and Lizzie just sighed. 

 Tasha was completely and utterly unapologetic about interrogating her and Lizzie wasn't in the mood to actually answer her best friend slash pseudo sister slash whatever the heck you called the daughter of your godmother when your father was also her godfather.

Their little family it was, even when it wasn't the most normal one. Lizzie's father and Aunt Lou had grown up down the street together...had gone to school together, later on to university...and had been best friends all throughout that. They had each gone on to get married, and had Lizzie and Natasha weeks apart. Tasha's father had been died when she had been 2...and Lizzie's parents marriage had spectacularly imploded by the time she was 6 and after that...well. It had always been just the four of them.

"Because I'm not freaking out," Lizzie finally said with a deep sigh. She was trying to take another nap, but Tasha's incessant questions weren't exactly helping.

"You should be freaking out," Tasha said, completely disregarding Lizzie's need for peace. "Lando Norris, formula one driver, is reading your book!“

"And he's probably just reading it as a curiosity," Lizzie said, trying to rationalize things. She didn’t think that lando was actually going to finish the book. Romantasy was not the kind of things that a guy like Lando Norris would read for fun…and maybe that would make their eventual break up easier.

Even when there was a part of Lizzie that was melting about the fact that he had wanted to get Mara a gift for her birthday.

Still.

She drew her fingernails through Mara’s short chocolate brown fur. 

Tasha, however, wasn't having any of it. She gave Lizzie an unimpressed look. "Did you miss the part where Oscar Piastri is also reading it, because his girlfriend loves your series?"

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but Tasha wasn't done yet. "We are talking about two formula 1 racers, who probably have tons of friends and maybe even more formula 1 drivers who are reading you book! They might even recommend it to the rest of the grid! And you don’t care! Who are you and what have you done to my Lizzie?!"

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh at that, opening her eyes to look at Tasha energetically gesturing, blonde hair flying around as she twisted to look at Lizzie. 

"Maybe I am freaking out a little bit," Lizzie admitted drily. “I just don’t have the energy to get all animated right now.”

Tasha harrumphed. “This is like the most interesting your life has been in years!“ Tasha said brightly. “First cafe guy, now F1 drivers that read your books! How is cafe guy by the way?”

"Fine," Lizzie said vaguely.

Tasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" Lizzie could see the beginnings of a smirk in Tasha's eyes, and she already knew where this was going.

“He’s traveling for work,” she answered truthfully. It wasn’t a lie…and she wasn’t ready yet to admit to exactly who she was dating. She was pretty sure that Tasha was going to have a heart attack if Lizzie came around the corner with “Oh, you know the guy I am seeing? It’s Lando Norris.”.

“He saw me posting for Mara’s birthday and is now insisting that he’ll get her a gift,” Lizzie said softly. 

Tasha's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously? He's buying a gift for your dog’s birthday? That’s the cutest fucking thing I have ever heard."

Lizzie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, can you believe it? It's kind of sweet, actually."

"It's definitely sweet. So sweet that I am gonna throw up," Tasha agreed, a knowing glint in her eye. "And it definitely doesn't sound like just a fling to me."

Lizzie pressed her lips together at that.

“Uh oh,” Tasha said drily. “What’s going on in that head of yours Lizzie Lou?”

Lizzie sighed. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

Lizzie hesitated again, scratching Mara’s ears as a distraction. “It’s just… my mum left when she couldn’t handle my epilepsy. If she couldn’t stick around, how can I expect anyone else to?”

Tasha’s whole face scrunched up in immediate protest. “First of all, fuck her. Second of all, that’s not on you.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not fair to put that on someone else, though. What if I love someone, and then they realize it’s too much?”

Tasha poked her in the forehead. “Then they don’t deserve you.”

Lizzie let out a humorless laugh. “You say that like it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple.” Tasha flopped onto the swing beside her, throwing her legs over Lizzie’s lap. “Look, I stick around. Mara sticks around. Your dad sticks around. My mum sticks around. We don’t do that because it’s easy. We do it because we love you.”

Lizzie slumped against the swing cushions. "I know, I know. You all love me. But that's different."

Tasha rolled her eyes, reaching down to whack Lizzie on the head. "Don't be an idiot. It's not different. Not one bit. We love you, and that's why we stick around."

"But it's just you guys," Lizzie argued, her voice muffled against the pillow, she buried her head into."Family is different. This is like, romantically sticking around."

Tasha scoffed. "Oh, so family love is stronger than romantic love? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Lizzie lifted her head to give Tasha a look. “No, you idiot. It’s just...it’s different, alright? Family is supposed to stick around. It’s like...a given. Romantic love...is supposed to be fun, and easy, and not have all these...issues.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. Because the perfect relationship is one where nothing ever goes wrong and everything is sunshine and roses. That sounds like a load of horseshit to me.”

Lizzie groaned, burying her face into the pillow again. "You know what I mean. Obviously, relationships aren't always going to be easy. But...epilepsy isn't just a minor issue. It's a pretty big deal. A lot to handle."

Tasha ran her fingers through Lizzie’s hair, her touch surprisingly soothing. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like epilepsy doesn’t complicate things. Of course it does. But you’re acting like you’re some kind of burden, like you’re less deserving of love than anyone else. That’s bullshit, Lizzie. And you know it.”

“It’s just a shitty deal for anybody to take,” Lizzie mumbled. “He could have any other girl, any other girl that doesn’t get seizures, that doesn’t need a service dog.”

Tasha smacked her upside the head again, harder this time. “Shut up. God, you’re so bloody stupid sometimes.”

Lizzie winced, rubbing the spot where Tasha had hit her. "Ouch, that hurt."

Tasha snorted. "Good. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you."

Lizzie huffed, shoving Tasha’s legs off of her lap in retaliation. “I’m just being realistic here.”

“No, you’re being pessimistic,” Tasha retorted. “You’re basically assuming that this guy is going to run away as soon as things get difficult.”

“Well, what if he does?” Lizzie asked, her voice small. “What if he realizes that I’m not worth it?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Then he’s a total idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you anyway. And there is a million other good guys out there who would happily take his place.”

“I don’t want a million other guys,” Lizzie grumbled, feeling like a petulant child. “I want that one, I think.”

Tasha gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you do. But you’re sabotaging yourself before you’ve even given him a chance. Give him credit, yeah? Maybe he’s not as shallow as you think.”

Lizzie sighed, knowing that Tasha was right, but still feeling scared. "But what if he doesn't get it? What if he can't handle it when I have a seizure?"

Tasha shrugged. "That's a risk you take with any relationship, epilepsy or not. But you won't know until you give it a chance."

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest but Tasha cut her off. "Shut up. Don't give me any more of your stupid reasons. You just need to let it happen, alright?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew Tasha was right. "Alright, fine. I’ll try. But if it all goes to crap, I’m blaming you."

Tasha grinned. "Oh, I’ll gladly take the blame if that’s how it goes. But I think it’ll be fine. This guy already sounds way nicer than any of the guys you’ve dated in the past."

Aunt Lou’s laughter rang through the garden and Lizzie turned to watch her father and aunt laugh about something or other. They looked younger like that. Carefree. Unburdened.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” She asked Tasha with a sigh.

“Nah. They’ll be living in denial in 40 years when we visit them in their old people’s home,” Tasha said drily. “You know. Still having biweekly scrabble nights and making each other playlists filled with love songs…and sharing a vegetable garden.” 

“Girls! What are we thinking for dinner?!” Her father called loudly as he helped aunt lou to her feet.

Tasha shot Lizzie a small grin, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Think we can con them into ordering takeaway?"

Lizzie snickered, the tension in her shoulders relaxing at the familiar banter. “Worth a try. You do the talking.”

“Always do,” Tasha said with a mock salute. She hopped off the swing, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and tugging her up as well. “Come on. Let’s go get some pepperoni pizza.”

[bbokicidal]

"As We Are" | SKZ [Hyung Line]

A two-part series (Hyung/Maknae Lines) inspired by Seungmin's new solo song on the Hop album, "As We Are" - where he leaves behind one passion to pursue another.

Genre: Fluff/Angst Pairing: SKZ Hyung Line x GN!Reader

아아, 조금 더뎌도 Even if I wander through the pitch-black, distant darkness 때론 어둠 속에 헤매이더라도 Let's run together until we reach that world, you and I

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Bangchan ɞ˚‧｡⋆

"I'm going to make you proud one day," Chris can't bring his voice above a whisper as he leans his forehead against your own. His cheeks streak with fresh, hot tears - burning down his skin and leaving salty trails in their wake. They break against your palms cupping his face and wet your skin until you wipe them away with your thumbs, as comforting to Chris as you always were. "I know you will, baby." Your own voice is choked; Full of soft sniffles at the knowledge that your boyfriend would be leaving and that you'd probably never see him again. "You're going to do so amazing," You lift your head, finally meeting his eye as he hiccups and sucks back a few tears. "And I can't wait to hear your music playing around the world. Just..." You sigh out and as Chris sees your eyes glitter with more tears, he wraps his arms tight around your shoulders to hug you close. He has maybe one more minute he can spare before he has to board his flight to Seoul - Where he'd be residing for God knows how long, working as a producer - showing his talent to the industry. "Be safe for me," You sigh into his shoulder, "I'll always be waiting here for you."

눈이 내리고 바람이 세서, 온몸이 떨리는 순간에도 Even when snow falls and the wind is so strong that my whole body trembles 뿌릴 내리고 가지를 뻗고, 하루 더 하루 더 기다리자 Let's spread our roots, reach out our branches, and wait one more day, one more day

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Lee Know ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Minho tugged on the handle of the suitcase, watching it spring from the box and up into his hand before locking into place. He blinks as the soft sound of padding on the hardwood fills his ears, looking up and letting his lips part at the sight of you - standing in front of him, still in your sleep clothes and searching his eyes for answers. He held his jacket under one arm, hand on his suitcase while the other held his phone. Shoes on, hat on - dressed comfortable for the bus ride to the airport and then flying countries away. All for a dream. You let out a small breath at the sight and Minho offers a shy smile where his lips barely quirk upward at the corners. "I'll see you soon, princess." Your body moves on it's own, brushing in closer to him until you could press a gentle, sleepy kiss to his lips. One that he'd never forget - because it would be your last together. For a really long time, at least. Minho smiles down at you once more. "I will see you again, princess. I promise."

As long as we stay, never go away 세상 가장 푸르른, 그런 날이 오길 꿈꾼다 I dream of the day when the world is vibrant and green

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Changbin ɞ˚‧｡⋆

"So this is it." Changbin turns from where Chris takes his duffle bag from his hand, letting go of the strap and facing you instead. He lets his eyes trail over your soft expression - sullen, a bit tired: sad to see him leaving for tour. He knew this would be the last time he'd see you - ever. You weren't his anymore after he stepped up into that bus, the two of you agreeing that long distance just wasn't something you could work through. Two years of relationship gone for a dream - and you really, truly couldn't blame him with his current booming success in the industry. He deserved to live the highlife with his new family. Changbin nods slowly, blinking a few times before extending one arm. You seem to instinctively melt into his front, hugging onto him. But it isn't tight, or warm. It feels distant already and if he's honest, he hates it. His arm wraps over your shoulders with care and he can feel you sigh against his chest. The moment he feels his shirt growing damp is when he knows he has to pull away, hand cupping your cheek to wipe your eyes free of tears. "It'll be okay."

그때 내 옆에 너가 있어서 이렇게 버틸 수 있었다고 Having you by my side made it possible to hold on through those times 기나긴 시간 외로움 없이 결국엔 이룰 수 있었다고 We could achieve it without feeling lonely through the long journey

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Hyunjin ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Hyunjin stared out the window of the bus as soon as he sat down, backpack in the seat beside him and headphones around his neck. The trip to the airport would be long, grueling - but then he'd be on his way to France to paint for a art institute he'd been in love with for the longest time; And he wouldn't be coming back for a long while. Now, though, he looks out at your soft smile, your eyes locked with his through the glass. It's hard for him to take in - the fact that you're not getting on the bus to go with him and share in his endeavors but he understands you have a whole life to live, even if he's not in the picture. The bus jerks to life and slowly begins to roll forward, Hyunjin's eyes widening. He watches as your figure begins to become distant and he can't stop himself from jumping out of his seat, rushing to the front of the aisle. "Wait, wait!" He gasps. The driver, although disgruntled and a bit annoyed, opens the doors to let the man out. And he takes off back towards you, sneakers hitting the sidewalk hard as he runs right back into your arms. You gasp out at being held by him one last time, holding onto him with care as he buries his face down into your neck and breathes heavy; Shaky, warm, and just a little scared. "I'm never going to forget you."

그렇게 우리, 그날에 우리 This is us from that day 세상 가장 푸르른 미소로 서로를 바라보자 Gazing at each other with the brightest smiles in the world

Taglist: @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren

@oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @inlovewithstraykids @seungminsbest

@edit-me-prettyplease @hyune-ssne @butterflydemons @satosugu4L

@skz8love @annafee_bou @dreamyyyyystarrr @franbowesax @4skz4ever

[digiflora]

✦ ⠂⠂୨୧ DO YOU WANT SOMEBODY LIKE I WANT SOMEBODY?

ಇ roommate!jing yuan, roommate!sampo, roommate!gepard x reader ︴wordcount :: 1.7k ︴contains :: nothing crazy, sampo with tattoos, in gepard's part reader drinks wine like a White Woman TM ︴part one ︴requested by @elsy34 @sydneyy-l @fairiesdobesparklin @w9vyy

ఌ︎. | JING YUAN

you've quickly come to realise that your roommate is a workaholic

his punctuality, his strict regime of getting up at 6 and coming back at 6 seems to be the only constant in your life

the little mumbled apologies to inanimate objects as his too-large frame squeezes into your dingy shared bathroom causes you to roll over in your bed, a little smile growing at his sweet antics

then after about the 20 minutes it took him to shower and get ready, as well as fix himself - and you, you've noticed recently- breakfast before he's out the door as quietly as he can manage

then you're out of bed a bit after he leaves, yawning idly as you make your way out of your room, smiling fondly at the intricarely prepared fruit and yoghurt bowl that jing yuan had left you, along with a little smily face drawn on a post-it note

you eat it slowly, savouring the taste of it as you slowly wake up, before naking your way into the bathroom to freshen up

it's warm from the shower jing yuan had taken earlier, and the combination of his products and cologne that he had also sprayed almost envelopes you in a hug as you brush your teeth, your eyes noticing the little doodles left by the steam on the mirror

"out of milk" - :( is what jing yuan had decided to write this time, along with his attempt of a drawing of a milk carton

you giggle at the wonkiness of it, making a mental note to add it to the shopping list later

and you do your own little routine too, leaving a little later than him and coming back a little sooner on account of the fact that your job was a lot closer to your apartment than his was

and this next part- when the work day was over- was your most favourite part of the shared little routine that had been forged over the weeks you've spent living with jing yuan

you hear the key turn in the lock as your roommate lets himself in, a teasing "honey, i'm home" accompanying the slight shuffle of him taking off his coat and shoes

you cast him a wave from what you're doing tonight - this time, it's your turn to cook dinner - and you turn your attention back to the stove as you hear jing yuan pad over to you , peering over your shoulder and humming in approval at the choice of food

that brief closeness in proximity tantalised you with the same warmth and smells of his cologne that had been so comforting in the morning, and you felt some of your own stress melt away as you kept stirring the contents of the pan

and in this pseudo domesticity, you found comfort in your roommate, as he began to set the table for just the two of you

ఌ︎. | SAMPO

where to start with him omg

you don't know what to think when you first move in

he seems so scary with his hair and his tattoos and his cigarettes

but he's sweet, too, and his face lights up a little every time he manages to make you laugh

and hey, maybe he wouldn't be too bad as a roommate

after he figured out that you aren't a smoker yourself, he makes sure to always smoke either before he came back to your shared space, or out on the balcony far away from you

"those things will kill you, y'know"

your protest is lighthearted, and sampo smirks as he brings his lighter to the end of the cig dangling from his lips

"it's not like i'm gonna live forever"

it was the little things, after all

and little by little, your differing lifestyles began to integrate

you come to learn that sampo had a knack for remembering the details

you had been called to cover a coworker's shift at the last minute, one that would end a lot later than you're accustomed to

and since you took the bus to and from work, you were really not looking forward to taking it on the way back, when it would be pitch black outside with mostly drunkards to keep you company on it

and that dreadful thought had been put off for the time being

but with your shift drawing to a close, you stop your work momentarily to check what the buzz from your phone was

hey

i'm outside

come out when you're ready

-sampo

your eyebrows knitted together in confusion

you had told sampo when you would get off work, but you definitely hadn't asked him to pick you up after it had ended

but you were never one to turn down such an offer

you finished closing up, before leaving the building

you spotted a couple cars left parked on the side of the road, though all were empty with the headlights off

you clutched your phone, about to text sampo and ask exactly where he was l, before you heard a shout of your name from somewhere to your left that had you spinning on your heel

and you didn't know what to expect when sampo said he was here to pick you up, but it certainly wasn't this

you approached sampo, eyeing the motorbike that he was leaned against dubiously, mentally cursing yourself for assuming that he would drive a car, because of course sampo just had to do something more dangerous than that

sampo straightened up as you drew close, smiling and handing you a spare helmet, laughing at the uncertainty on your face

"if you hold on to me, you'll be fine, c'mon"

ఌ︎. | GEPARD (PT. 2)

it was hard to tell where you and gepard stood right now, ever since that night

on the one hand, you were still friendly around each other, and nothing had really changed behaviour-wise in either of you

yet on the other, your brain was constantly plaguing you with the memories of how his fingers had felt against your thighs, fingers in his hair and scratching at his scalp as he melted against you

it wasn't technically romantic, but it sure as hell had felt like it

and maybe it was just the wine that you had been drinking that night, but there's certain moments where you catch a certain hungered look in his eyes that makes you think that maybe, just maybe he was feeling the same inner turmoil that you were

but life goes on

work was getting busier for gepard, and much to your chagrin you were seeing less and less of him

maybe that was for the best, to give you the space and time to get over the silly little crush that you had on your roommate

"but you don't want to," that little pesky voice in the back of your head whispered to you

you shook your head a little violently to clear it, deciding that a distraction was in order

you had an unopened bottle of wine and a new series to binge screaming your name right now

and so you settle on your couch, putting on the show, letting yourself sigh into the cushions and welcoming the little headache that would ensue after you finish your first couple glasses

you noticed, with some amusement, that this was basically the position that you were in when gepard had laid on your thighs

these thoughts would be harder to avoid than you realise

you managed to immerse yourself into the show somewhat, too engrossed to hear the front door open, much like how it had happened that night

but your attention is transfixed to the screen, not to the sight of gepard as he walks in, yawning and practically making a beeline to where you sat on the couch

and then you realised he was there, when the cushions dipped underneath his weight, his arms thrown against the back of the sofa, one resting behind you

there's a pang of ... disappointment? that you feel when you realise that he hadn't sat in front of you once again, but you push that aside, scanning your roommate's face ij concern

he looks paler than usual, deep eyebags underneath his dulled eyes, and a glance at the time has you double taking as you see that it's past eleven

"your overtime pay must be through the roof," you try to joke, and you get the feeling that the half smile gepard responds with is the most that he can muster right now

and again, like there is some other being urging you to do so, you find yourself acting without thinking about consequences or what it might imply

"do you want a massage?"

gepard doesn't even have the energy to look surprised, merely nodding

you motion for him to lie flat on the couch, and he does so a little too quickly, not giving your tipsy self enough time to stand up before his head falls onto your thighs

oh, you think

he looks really pretty like this

his feet are dangling a little off the end due to his too-tall stature meeting the too-small couch, but you do your best to make him otherwise comfortable

he's on his front, arms now snaking their way around your hips and legs like he's done this so many tines before, and you could have sworn that the man even nuzzled his cheek against your soft skin before lying still

your hands hover for a second, unsure of how exactly to start and not expecting it to even get this far, butterflies in your stomach be damned

your fingers gingerly meet the junction where his neck joins his shoulder, immediately prodding a knot of tension

you do your best to rub circles into his skin, feeling out the muscle underneath to target

you were no professional, but the way that gepard was sighing contentedly from your touch made you think that you were doing something right

it was a few minutes of this silence, his breaths beginnign to even as you wirked your way down his back, doing the best that you could over the material of his shirt stretched thin across his back

the slight loll of his head alerted you that he was asleep, along with the softest puffs of air from his mouth that blew against your thigh

you continued for a bit more, wanting to do your best to get the knots out, before you felt the tug of sleep at yourself as well

the rhythm of gepard's breathing was constant and soothing, and you dismissed the worries of what to do about you and him and this predicament tomorrow- when you both wake up on the couch

gia's notes :: much anticipated continuation of the roommate hsr series yippeee ^_^ gepard is back 💯💯 also i only realised like... near the end of jing yuan's part that his ass is NOT a workaholic but... whats done is done ig 😔 shoutout to me not having played the 2.0 update yet,, or the game at all recently tbh ,,,

-‘๑’- honkai star rail masterlist

[whimsyraincoats]

boy meets girl; jess mariano

cute imagine with jess meeting a certain other gilmore daughter! not sure if it’s a series yet, we’ll see! part 2 up on my page now!!!

words: approx 1.6k

Walking through the doorway, the dark haired boy couldn't think of anywhere he'd want to be less. Just that morning, the woman who introduced herself as Lorelai, had told him that she had two daughters about his age. He can't be completely sure as he wasn't exactly 'actively listening' but by the time his brain had caught up to what his ears were hearing, the idea of twins living in such a town like Stars Hollow had him thinking everyone was cartoon characters. Jess Mariano couldn't picture anything other than identical twins in matching outfits, with the same comedic, animated personalities as the whole town.

Following the source of the noise and clatter into the kitchen, against his will, Jess shared a small greeting to the first of the matching set, Rory. Seemingly, the calmest and least annoying of the group yet, he noted. After being subjected to talk of lemons and being quizzed to no end about his dietary requirements, Jess slipped away from the chaos to what he believed was the living room. Taking in its state, he noticed the odd arrangement of the table and decided that it must not be its permeant place. He glanced down at his watch from beneath his dark grey hoodie sleeve, and looks at the time. Simultaneously, the boy's ears pricked up at the sound of David Bowie that came from up the stairs.

Curiosity and boredom getting the better of him, he climbed the stairs one at a time, planks creaking under each step. All aspects of politeness gone from Jess since he stepped off the bus earlier apparent, as he waltzed though the open bedroom door at the opposite end of the landing. His eyes surveyed the room as some excitement sparked there as he took in the posters, stacked CDs and endless amount books overflowing the shelves. The dark haired boy's gaze landing on where the music is coming from as it changes intro Big Exit by PJ Harvey.

Meanwhile, the brunette girl dragged a comb through her bangs one last time before placing it back onto the bathroom counter with a curse as she noticed the time. Happy with her final decision pertaining to her outfit, she hopped on one foot into the hallway as she pulls her knee high sock up her shin to its full length. Just as the dark haired boy turns to leave the bedroom he was currently standing in.

"Oh my-! Jesus Christ, way to give a girl a fright!" The girl heaves, with a hand placed on her chest. She eyed the boy as he opened his mouth to say something, not before a persistent sing song interrupts them.

"Reyaaa, Jess! Party's moved to the living room!" Lorelai enthusiastically announces up the stairs.

"Coming!" The girl yells over the banister before walking back over to the now-named mystery boy.

"Jess huh? Guessing you're Luke's nephew, right?"

"Nothing gets past you ay" Monotonal, Jess replied as he quirked his eyebrow.

"I'm Freya." Pair complete. "You know you're acting very nonchalant for a boy I just caught snooping in my room."

The boy in question scratches the back of his head slowly. "Wasn't snooping, just looking, admiring even. 'S a difference." His mind refused to believe his heart just skipped a beat as they both lined up in her bedroom doorway, only inches apart as Jess leans on the side of it. Her sparkly, brown eyes invoked a certain feeling in him when they made eye contact.

Freya gently pads across her floor to her CD player and speaker as she presses pause. "You like Bowie?" She questions.

"Yea, it's what made me come upstairs." The brunette turns to share a grin with the boy now hovering by her bookshelves. "Aren't we hooked on phonics?" Jess murmurs.

Letting out a chuckle she replies, "Do you read?"

"Not much." As he picks up a book to examine the cover.

"I could lend you that it's great!" She exclaims as she finally takes in the dark haired boy standing in her room. His grey hoodie nearly fully zipped, paired with dark jeans that rest loosely on his hips. His eyebrows furrowing as his dark brown eyes bore into a page in the book. She felt a blush creeping into her cheeks as she finds herself aware of how handsome he really is.

With a shrug, he put the book back, "No thanks."

Trying to hide her disappointment at the rejection, Freya tried to change the subject.

“Okay erm well I think we-”

“Do these open?” Jess cut her off as he gestured to the window.

“Oh.. yeah, just unlatch then push.” She said as she awkwardly stood by her bed,

“So shall we…?” The girl looked at him with confusion before what he’s referring to clicked.

“Oh, I promise you even if you could climb down, there’s nowhere to bail to.” Slightly bored at the interaction, Freya walked over to her door.

“Listen, I get you might have the need to do or say the opposite of whatever people, or in this case Luke, wants you to do, but I’m so hungry. And Sookie, while borderline insane, is a really good cook, so as much as I hate to say it, you’re on your own.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” The boy replied dryly.

“I know!” Freya replied softly with an amused glint in her eyes, knowing his response proves her point. “Come downstairs and eat and you can tell me all about you.” She flirted as she looked over her shoulder while holding the door handle.

Jess let out a smirk while he looked down at his shoes and shaking his head.

Taking that and his silence as a no, the girl stepped through the doorway. “Well, close the door behind you, or the…window? Which ever one you end up using.” She said with a smile on her lips.

Descending down the stairs, Freya couldn’t help but notice the warm curiosity growing inside her at the thought of the boy.

౨ৎ

Checking her watch, the brunette decreased the pace of her steps back to a walk as she headed for Stars Hollow Books. In a miscommunication with her, not so happy, Mom, she had been told the time rounded up, hence the original hurrying, but alas the girl will make it before the store shuts for the evening.

While walking, her mind wandered back to the mismatched stories of the last 24 hours. After having met Jess, although not massive on the manners or socialising, considering he had just moved was perfectly reasonable. However all Freya had heard for the last day from her Mom was the verbal abuse of his character. Even Luke’s too due to their recent fight that even trumps Sid and Nancy, just to add to the confusion even more.

She heard Jess come down the stairs a moment after her while she was passing plates along, but didn’t see him after that. Further developing the mystery that’s been stuck in her mind.

Fiddling with the plastic handle between her fingers, the girl walks out of the Market with a textbook and a folder she desperately needed.

Lost in thought, she crossed the road with her house as her destination, when a familiar voice snapped her out of it.

“Hey.” Freya snaps her head round to look at the boy who she seemed to have summoned by thinking about him.

“Hey, yourself.”

“What’re you doing out here this time of night?” Jess questions with raised eyebrows.

“Just getting somethings I needed for school, how about you?”

“Oh yeah same.” He dismisses.

“You know, it was quite the disappearing act you pulled yesterday.” The brown eyed girl brought up, after a moment of almost awkward silence between them.

“Huh- yeah, as tempting as your offer was, tupperware parties and potlucks really aren’t my thing.” He replied as he untucked his hands from his pockets.

“Just too cool for school huh.” She said, amused as she took him in, his puffer vest, his watch resting on his wrist and a coin he’s moving in his hands.

“What’re you doing?” The girl questions.

“Oh this-” Showing her the coin, answers, “Just another little disappearing act.” As he revealed his hand as empty of said coin.

Suppressing a giggle, Freya shines him a smile with creased eyes.

“Jess, if you ever want to speak to me again, please don’t pull that out my ear.”

After cracking a smile that unlocked a sense of accomplishment in the girl, replied. “Understood.”

“Hey, I like your shirt.” Jess complimented.

Looking down at it to check which one she happened to throw on earlier, she grinned once more. “Thanks! How much Beatles stuff do you know?” She asked excitedly, her eyes illuminated.

“Oh, only the stuff that everyone does, I wouldn’t have been lined up to be one of their groupies that’s for sure.” He joked.

“Hey, speak for yourself, I adore them, I would’ve been pushing other girls out the way. I adore any British band to be completely honest.” Freya spoke with excitement.

“I know, your room isn’t exactly keeping that a secret you’know.” He referenced the multitude of Britpop, The Smiths and The Beatles posters spaced on her walls. Jess couldn’t help but marvel at the way her face flushed at the prolonged eye contact and his comment.

Snapping out of her trance, the girl glanced down at his arm and gently held his sleeve to check the time. The boy’s body grew alert at the touch. “Shit! I’ve got to go in a sec, I hadn’t realised the time.”

“Oh, well in that case, I’ll leave you with one last magic trick. He dramatically stated as he pulls a familiar book out of his pocket.

“You bought a copy? I told you I’d lend you mine!”

“It is yours.”

“You stole my book!” She accused, dumbfounded.

“Well, I just wanted to put some notes in the margins for you.” He handed the book over, as he tried not to let his mind linger on the way their hands touched.

“See, that’s not called a trick, that’s called a felony.” She jokes before furrowed in confusing as she flicked through the pages. Scruffy but purposeful notes scribbled down margins and in between lines of the pages, almost artistic.

Looking up innocently, “I thought you said you didn’t read much?”

“Well what is much?” The boy replied with a drawn out shrug and smirk. “Goodbye, Reya.”

Desperate to hide her slight astonishment, smirked as she began to walk away.

“Goodbye, Dodger.”

After a few paces, she looks back to be met with a smug grin. “Oliver Twist.”

The brown haired girl couldn’t help but share the grin while she nodded. Despite all the things she had heard about him in the last day, she couldn’t help but feel giddy at their interactions. No one had ever annotated a book for her, let alone shared a conversation with her that flowed that well. Holding the book in her hands, her fingers still moving the pages as she walks home, her mind ever presently on him and his gesture.

౨ৎ

an; i’ve read this so many times i think i hate it. hahaha jk and hope the dialogue is okay i was doing it from memory!!!! ignore the fact i used my own name pls it lowk works with the story😵‍💫😵‍💫 oh and part 2 is now officially on the way….

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 2

⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, friends lovingly threatening your life, fluff, slow burn. Context: You can't stop thinking about Daniel, but he's not at the shop in the following weeks. Your life falls back into the same boring routine, same dull pop music playing overhead while you pluck things from shelves. Some time later, you go out with some friends for a much needed night of fun and—Wait... Who just said your name? Word count: 2,066   │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hello lovelies! ♡(˘ ε˘ʃƪ) This story is consuming my life. Ahhh! I kind of wrote this part three different times because I had so many ideas on how they would meet again. This is the one I landed on because I'm a selfish little brat who is indulging my own fantasies within this story. I hope you enjoy part 2! I know it's very cliff hang-y and open ended, but keep your eyes peeled for part 3. Maybe it will be released soon. (•̀ᴗ-)✧ As always, my inbox and asks are open! I would really love to hear from you—be it just a hello or constructive criticism! I promise I'm nice!

The following weeks went by with no sign of the man who admired you like you were a goddess under the unflattering glow of fluorescent lighting. Instead, nothing happened; no dramatic turn of fate driving you into each other’s arms on the street, no spotting him at a bus stop, no surprise introduction to a mysterious friend that ended up having black hair and blue eyes.

Your weekly shopping immediately went back to the same boring lull as before. Though sometimes, when you were reaching for something on a shelf, you would catch yourself looking at the doors as they were sliding open, but it was never him.

Though this wasn’t some romcom movie, part of you secretly hoped for a kind of shift in the tide that leads you back to each other. Yet the weeks turned into a month, and you were starting to think you had dreamt him up at this point.

“I don’t know,” you groaned as you flopped back onto your bed, your phone held to your ear as you looked at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think this is the universe telling me that maybe I wasn’t meant to see him again or something.”

“Girl. Don’t be stupid.” You could practically hear your friend, Amanda, roll her eyes through the phone. “It’s been a month and a half, not a year.”

You rolled onto your stomach to let out a protesting grumble into your mattress. “But he was so hot.”

“You sound pathetic.”

“Maybe I am,” you moaned, kicking your feet against the mattress dramatically.

She scoffed, the annoyance leaking into her tone with each word. “You are not pathetic. You just… Need laid or something.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong. It had been a while—a long while—and the last guy was not impressive. It was maybe three minutes of uncoordinated thrusting before he collapsed on top of you, leaving you to take an Uber home unsatisfied and full of frustration.

You respond after a moment of silence, “Ouch… But fair.”

“I have an idea!”

You heard the sound of a door opening on the other side of the phone followed by the soft clattering of hangers. You knew what this meant, even before she said it.

“Bar?”

“No, that’s boring. I was thinking the club downtown. You know, the one that plays good music and doesn’t have that weird guy that sits in the corner staring at people.”

You laugh, already sitting up in bed, eyes moving to your own closet. You knew there was no point in protesting, your friends would show up at your door and drag you out in your pj’s if it came down to that. Also, to be truthful, you could use to let loose a bit.

“I mean, there’s probably going to be some guy like that there, too.”

“Whatever, Y/N. Don’t kill my vibe.” A moment of silence followed by a small gasp. “Oh! This is the perfect time to wear that dress I bought at the mall. You going to wear the red one you got?”

You thoughtfully hummed as you stood and padded towards your closet. “I don’t know. I feel like it hugs my belly a bit too much.”

“Don’t even,” she snipped, words dripping with almost unrestrained rage, “or I will hurt you.”

You chuckle, plucking the dress from your closet rather than protesting.

“It looked so good on you. Just put it on. I’m coming over so we can get ready together.”

You rolled your eyes, moving back towards your bed to drape the silky red fabric over the mattress. “You mean you’re coming over so I can do your make-up.”

“Duh.”

“Okay, fine. But you’re buying first round,” you said with a grin.

She agreed; then about 20 minutes later, Amanda was perched in your computer chair with her long auburn hair pulled up in a messy bun. You gossiped about some new guy that started at her job—no, not him—some blonde guy that was apparently a complete prick.

By 9 o’clock, you were standing in line with three of your friends, giggling and gushing about how glad you were to see each other. Everyone looked stunning, their tight outfits extenuating their perfectly slim figures; and you couldn’t help but feel like you stood out between them.

The unforgiving fabric of your dress clinging tightly to the curve of your tummy, the dips of your hips, and swell of your breasts. Its thin straps doing little to hide your plump arms, leaving your skin exposed to the night air. While you weren’t incredibly insecure, this dress was increasing the anxiety building in your chest by the minute.

You fell quiet, listening to the ongoing tale of the mysterious blonde man who started at Amanda’s job. Even though she was scoffing and rolling her eyes, she couldn’t seem to stop talking about him. Just as you opened your mouth to crack a joke, a voice cut you off.

“Y/N?”

It was small, unbelieving, and was vaguely familiar though you couldn’t quite place it. You turned, and like something out of a corny movie, your gaze was drawn upwards and onto blue eyes. Your heart sputtered in your chest, stomach filling with butterflies, as you look up at the man that had been invading your mind so frequently.

“… Daniel?”

He looked even more handsome than he did that day in the shop. His hair perfectly pushed back, other than the small curl that seemingly refused to fall in line with the rest—and his outfit? A perfectly ironed white dress shirt that stretched tightly over his muscles, a thin black tie hanging loosely from his collar, and black slacks gripping his thick thighs.

It was criminal how hot he was in anything from the sweatpants he wore when you first met to the cleaned up version that stood in front of you now.

His face was full of longing, his lips slightly parted as he studied you. He looked at you like you had unfairly been taken from him, like he never expected to see you again. His eyes flicked across your face, drinking in every detail all over again; and for a moment, it felt like you forgot how to breathe… Because he was real and he was looking at you.

“Y/N,” he echoed, savoring the way your eyes lit up when he said your name, his lips curling into a smile. “It’s great to see you again.”

“Mm… I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” you teased.

His eyes drifted to your dress. For a long moment, he remained silent, his face unreadable as he lost himself in admiring the shiny fabric extenuating your soft, plump figure.

“Why would I do something so stupid?”

The blush creeped up your neck as your eyes stayed on his; he wasn’t looking back in yours. No, his eyes were all over body, admiring your curves the way a man would admire a work of art.

A series of throats clearing coming from behind you snapped you out of your trance. As you turned towards your friends, you were met with eager grins. You couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubbled up in your throat before introducing everyone.

Daniel was sweet, greeting everyone with a friendly smile, but his eyes kept falling back to you. He couldn’t help himself; appreciating how your ass looked in your dress and admiring the curves of your nearly bare shoulders. It was unfair, really; how exposed you were yet completely hidden from his view.

Then he noticed it: how your hands subtly tried to hide the way the fabric clung to your navel or tried to hang at your sides just so to hide the way it gripped the dip of your hips. His eyes met yours again, and in that moment, all that existed was you.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured with hearts in his eyes.

You could hear your pulse in your ears as you realized that look would absolutely be your downfall; and he was thinking the same thing about the way your face flushed and lips quirked into a smile. Only where you worried, he worshipped. Before you could reply to his compliment, he was already speaking.

“So, I know you’re obviously busy…” He paused, shooting a short glance at your friends. He had been rejected once, sure, but he would happily humiliate himself if there was a small chance you would say yes.

He cleared his throat, angling himself towards you, and leaning in ever so slightly. “But I was wondering if I could tempt you into joining me for a late night snack?”

His blue eyes glimmered under the streetlights and you could see the hope glowing in them. The small distance between you filled with the smell of his cologne: musky, deep, woodsy. You had to stop yourself from shouting your agreement and bouncing on your toes, from giggling like a schoolgirl.

But you were supposed to be going to the club with your friends. You start to turn back towards them, but Amanda’s hand found your shoulder.

She leaned in close, her mouth close enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath on your ear as she whispered, “If you don’t go with him, I’m going to murder you.”

And that was all the validation you needed. Your eyes met Daniel’s again as your smile grew. You nodded in agreement and he was sure his lips would be stuck in the stupid grin that broke out across his face for the rest of his life.

“Great!” His voice came out more eager than me meant for it to, but he couldn’t hide his giddiness. How could he when you were standing in front of him looking like that?

He put a hand out as an offering. “How about breakfast? There’s a diner just up the street that makes the best pancakes.”

“Breakfast?” You laughed, placing your hand in his—and your whole body reacted to the contact.

Your breath hitched, body tensed. His hands were rough, calloused from obvious years of hard work; the warmth from his palm seeped into yours as his fingers coiled around your hand.

“What? You don’t like breakfast?” He smirked, shaking his head slowly from side to side as he clicked his tongue. “That’s a shame.”

“Oh, you know that isn’t where I was going with that,” you playfully snipped, lightly squeezing his hand as you scrunched your nose. “Besides… What kind of person doesn’t like breakfast?”

You waved to your friends as you were gently lead away from the club. Daniel didn’t release your hand, not for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips. His entire brain screamed at him to weave his fingers between yours, to pull you close to his side and never let go.

Yet he just smiled down at you, opening his hand for you to pull away. Though you really didn’t want to, you did; wrapping your fingers around the strap of your purse instead. Neither of you spoke on the short walk, instead enjoying a comfortable silence and stolen glances.

As the soft glow of the white neon sign for the diner came into view, you looked up at him to say something, only to make direct eye contact. You grinned, arching an eyebrow, walking closer to his side.

“Are you going to stare all night?”

“If you let me.”

It came out with no hesitation, a raw thought that he hadn’t even fully processed before it tumbled from his mouth… But he would have said it regardless.

Your face burned as pink stained your skin, even stippling the tips of your ears with color. You looked away, trying to subdue the smile that was fighting so hard to break out on your face that it made your cheeks hurt.

When you got to the diner, he held the door for you, his eyes on yours as that wide smile clung to his lips.

“After you, shortcake.”

The sight of his eager face made your stomach flutter and chest tighten. After all this time, it seemed that the tide had turned in your favor after all; but if you were to ask him, he would have confidently said that he was the real winner that night.

freaknloser.tumblr.com © 2025

[gingersxng]

Rubber Man

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!yunho ft. bf!San

Genre: smut 18+, angst

Summary: a strange man in a latex suit appears in your room as you’re about to sleep..

Notes: consensual, sub!reader, mean dom!yunho, yunho wears a latex suit (damn), bigdick!yunho, yunho is dead, reader is in fear, lots of touching, fingering, dirty talk, rape!, breast/nipple play, teasing, reader is cheating?!, unprotected sex (DONT), creampie, cum eating, reader gets pregnant. May have forgotten something!

Words: 1.7k

You and your boyfriend San had bought a new house outside the big city, it was a big beautiful brick house with black fences around it. The estate agent told you a little bit about the background of the house and what had happened here the past years but nor you or San thought much about it.

You and your boyfriend had just finished eating, you cleaned up the dishes together before retiring to the living room to relax. You curled up on the couch, lazily scrolling through your phone while San flipped through the TV channels searching for something interesting to watch.

Yawning, you stretched your arms above your head, your shirt rode up slightly to reveal a sliver of your stomach. "I'm beat" you said setting your phone down. "Think I'm gonna head to bed. You coming?" You gave your boyfriend a suggestive wink letting him know you were in the mood for some fun.

San however, rubbed his eyes tiredly and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'm gonna stay up and finish this game I started earlier. Go on ahead, babe. I'll lock up before I come to bed." With a mock pout, you went upstairs and headed for the bedroom, the lure of comfort and warmth under the covers were too strong to resist.

As you entered the room you kicked off your shoes and began to strip, you left your clothes in a trail across the floor as you made your way to the bed. The cool air raised goosebumps on your skin making you shiver lightly, you put on a thin tank top and a pair of loose shorts before climbing under the covers.

You snuggled into the pillows, your eyes got heavy as you waited for San to join you. Just as you were about to drift off you heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by the soft pad of footsteps in the hallway. Smiling to yourself you assumed your boyfriend had forgotten something and left to retrieve it, likely another late-night gaming session with his friends. But then the bedroom door creaked open and a figure stepped into the room casting a long, dark shadow across the floor. Your eyes widened as you realized it wasn't your boyfriend at all. The figure was taller and much slimmer and its form obscured by a tight, black latex suit that clung to the body like a second skin.

The stranger took a step forward and your breath caught in your throat as you noticed the tell-tale bulge of a dick straining against the suit's thin material. Before you could scream or reach for the lamp on the nightstand the figure was upon you with a strong hand clamping over your mouth and another pinning your wrists above your head. You struggled but the intruder was surprisingly strong, easily holding you in place despite your squirming. "Shhh" a deep voice rumbled, the sound barely carrying over the blood rushing in your ears. "You scream, and this won't be pretty. I just want a little fun".

Your heart hammered in your chest as you recognized the voice of a male, the velvet-smooth tone sending shivers down your spine, and not from fear. You felt the intruder's hot breath against your ear as he whispered, "That's it little one, relax. You're gonna enjoy this, I promise". The hand over your mouth moved down to cup your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple which tightened immediately despite your best efforts to remain indifferent. Your shorts were suddenly far too tight, the thin material doing little to hide your growing excitement. Your tried to ignore the tingling between your legs and focus instead on the obvious bulge pressing against your thigh, a clear indication of the stranger's desires.

The latex-clad man released your wrists and you brought your hands up to push him away but he captured your wrists again, pinning them above your head with one hand. You froze, your breath coming in short gasps as he used his free hand to explore your body squeezing and caressing your breasts, tracing the outline of your rib cage and then lower, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your sleeping shorts.

You felt his long, slender fingers brush over your aching pussy and you gasped, your hips bucked involuntarily as he slipped a finger inside you. Already wet and ready for him.

"That's it, baby" he whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Let me hear you. Let me know how much you're enjoying this”.

You bit your lip, torn between the fear of this unknown intruder and the overwhelming pleasure building inside of you. As he added a second finger scissoring them to stretch you, you couldn't hold back a soft moan, your hips moved in desperation to meet his thrusting fingers.

"That's what I like to hear" he purred, using his thumb to rub small circles on your clit. "You're so fucking wet for me, aren't you? Been a while since someone's touched you like this, huh?" You felt yourself nod, your inhibitions fading as his fingers worked their magic, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You whimpered, wanting more, needing more and the stranger seemed to sense your aching desire while sliding his fingers out of you with a slick sound.

In one smooth motion, he ripped off his latex hood, revealing a handsome and quite young guy, his hair were messy and wet and his dark eyes flashed with lust. "Look at me" he commanded, his voice was hard. "You're gonna come for me, and I want you to see my face when you do."

Your eyes widened as you finally placed the man. It was Yunho, a guy you vaguely remembered hearing about from the real estate agent when you and San first moved in. According to local legend, he'd been shot and killed by a jealous lover right there in the house were his ghost now haunted the property. As his fingers continued their wicked dance on your clit, you realized he was very much solid and real, at least for the moment.

"P-please" you stammered, your face flushed with embarrassment from your loss of control. "I need—"

"I know what you need" he growled, leaning down to claim your mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands clutched at his back, nails digging into the latex as he moved his hips against yours with his hard dick.

Then, as abruptly as he started, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and desperate. "On your hands and knees" he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

You hesitated only a moment before moving to obey, your body tingled with anticipation. You felt him move behind you, his breath hot on the back of your neck as he reached beneath your tank top to grasp your breasts.

"Such perfect tits" he murmured, giving them a sharp squeeze. "Bet your boyfriend loves playing with these."

At the mention of your boyfriend, you felt a twinge of guilt, but it was quickly overridden by a surge of desire as Yunho leaned forward, his mouth replacing his hands, sucking one nipple, then the other, through the thin fabric.

"Please" you begged, your voice turned hoarse. "I need you inside me". He chuckled deeply, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Impatient, aren't we?" Without further warning, he zipped up the suit at the crotch area and lined up his thick dick with your soaking wet pussy, he spat down on his own cock and pushed inside you in one smooth stroke.

You cried out, your head dropped down as you felt him fill you completely. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with before.. even your own boyfriend, as he began to move you felt your pussy stretch to accommodate his impressive girth. "Fucking hell" he groaned, his hands took a tight grip on your hips. "You feel so damn good, so tight around my cock". He set a relentless pace, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, his balls slapping against your swollen clit with each powerful thrust. You cried out with every stroke, your pleas turning to incoherent babbles as the pleasure built to an unbearable level.

Yunho leaned over you with his chest pressed against your back as he reached around to finger your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. "Come for me" he growled. “Let me feel that tight pussy clench around my cock". You needed no further encouragement. With a strangled cry you tumbled over the edge, your pussy milked his cock as your juices flowed freely. You felt him thrust into you a few more times before he stiffened, burying his face in your neck as he came with a deep groan, flooding your pussy with his hot cum.

For a long moment you stayed coupled, your body was slick with sweat and your heart pounded in your chest. You felt Yunho finally slip out of you, his cum dripped down your thighs and you tirelessly collapsed onto the bed.

What just happened? You thought trying to catch your breath which was still coming in ragged gasps. You reached down to touch yourself, your fingers got sticky with your combined fluids. His cum was different, it was thicker and had a extra slimey consistency, you brought your fingers to your mouth to taste them. At the same time you heard a soft, sinister laugh and you knew without turning around that Yunho was gone.

Sitting up, you looked around the room but there was no sign of him, just the faint scent of latex and sex hanging in the air. You brought your trembling fingers to your mouth, a mix of emotions washing over you. What the hell just happened? Was it all just a dream?

After that night everything felt weird, strange things had happened in the house but no sign of Yunho. You’d been home some days because of nausea and bad cases of vomiting, San wanted to take you to the doctors but you didn’t move an inch.

As days turned to weeks, your period never arrived which could only mean one thing..

One afternoon home alone you decided to take a pregnancy test, you sat down on the bathroom floor and watched if the little screen on the stick would show a positive or negative sign. You got hit with a wave of sickness when two lines was shown on the stick, you quickly opened the toilet seat and puked. You felt a cold presence standing behind you.

”You’re stuck here now”

[estellan0vella]

The Science of Falling Softly: S.C Seo Changbin x fem!reader (college!au)

WC: 13.1K

CWs: past sexual harassment/sexual assault (non-consensual sexual act (masturbation) occurring on a bus), PTSD, Fear of buses / public transport, facing fears

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The hallway of the Alpha Phi frat house creaks under Seungmin's socked feet as he pads along the upstairs corridor, hands stuffed deep into the pocket of his oversized hoodie, eyes squinting against the too-bright glare of the hallway lights. Behind him, the door to his room is cracked open, and the unmistakable giggle of his boyfriend echoes out. Seungmin doesn't even bother to look back. He knows exactly what Jisung's doing, hogging his bed again, blankets everywhere, laptop perched on his stomach, probably watching another trashy mystery docuseries. Never mind the fact that Jisung has his own damn room literally two doors down.

He mutters under his breath, something sharp and vaguely affectionate about freeloading boyfriends, as he stops in front of Changbin's door. 

"Oh Chaaaangbin," Seungmin singsongs in a tone designed to be as irritating as possible, stretching the last syllable just enough to make it feel like fingernails dragging over a chalkboard.

Changbin doesn't look up immediately. He's hunched over at his desk, back curved in a way that would make any chiropractor cry. There's a diagram spread in front of him, some anatomy chart of muscle groups, and a messy scrawl of highlighter trailing all over it in neon orange and blue. A pencil is tucked behind his ear, and another one is clenched between his teeth, a telltale sign he's been deep in concentration for a while.

"What do you want?" he grumbles, voice gravelly like he hasn't spoken in hours.

Seungmin walks in without being invited and flops face-first onto the bed like he owns it. He's sprawled out like a lazy cat, arms and legs spread, already making himself comfortable.

"You know how my car is-" he starts.

"Fucked?" Changbin interrupts immediately, deadpan. "Not road-safe? A fucking death trap that probably violates seven traffic laws just by existing?"

Seungmin lifts his head just enough to roll his eyes. "Yes, that. And you have a really nice car?"

Changbin turns in his chair. "Yeah, what about it?"

"So," Seungmin says slowly, like he's testing the waters, "I have a friend. Y/N. She's a nice girl, brilliant too. Biomedical Engineering major, Molecular Biology minor, absolute fucking genius. She lives like twenty minutes off campus, and for personal reasons I can't really disclose, she doesn't take the bus."

Changbin's eyebrow lifts. "Okay..."

"I usually drive her to and from campus every day, right?" Seungmin continues. "But now my car's out of commission for the foreseeable future until I can scrape enough won together to get the radiator fixed, and the axle, and the engine, and literally everything else because that piece of shit is practically being held together with prayer and duct tape."

"You mean it's been held together with duct tape," Changbin mutters, turning back to his notes but not actually looking at them.

"Semantics," Seungmin waves off. "Anyway, point is, until it's sorted, I need someone to drive her. And you, my friend, have a functioning, sexy-ass vehicle and a generally tolerable personality, so will you be okay being her chauffeur?"

"You're actually asking me to be some girl's personal Uber?"

Seungmin huffs. "I'm asking you to help a friend who can't get to class otherwise. It's not like she's gonna ask you to carry her bag or anything. Just a lift to and from campus. That's it."

"You said she doesn't take the bus for 'personal reasons,'" Changbin says, making air quotes. "The fuck does that mean? Is she snobby or...?"

Seungmin sits up properly this time and glares. "No. If she was some stuck-up bitch who thought buses were 'beneath her,' I wouldn't be friends with her, would I? It's a legit reason, alright? But I'm not telling you what it is because it's personal and she doesn't like people knowing. But it's not shallow, and she's not difficult. Trust me."

Changbin stares at him for a few more seconds, clearly trying to suss out if Seungmin's being serious. Eventually, he shifts in his seat again and shrugs, stretching his arms above his head. "Why not ask one of the others?"

"Chan's too busy," Seungmin says without hesitation. "He's got like twelve classes, the football team to babysit, and two internships. You think he's gonna have time to pick someone up at seven in the morning?"

"Okay," Changbin concedes. "What about Minho?"

"Minho would either hit on her or offend her. Possibly both at the same time. You know how he is. He has no fucking filter."

"Fair," Changbin mutters. "Hyunjin?"

"Worse," Seungmin says. "He'd probably show up with sunglasses and a flower crown and ask her if she wanted to skip class and do a photo shoot. I'm trying to get her to graduate, not run away with a drama queen."

"Jeongin?"

"Would forget. Not maliciously, but he would one hundred percent forget. He'd be on his way to pick her up and get distracted by a sale on scarves or some shit. He's sweet, but he's not dependable."

"Okay, Jisung?"

Seungmin lets out a laugh, shaking his head. "Can't drive. Failed his theory three times and gave up. He says it's a sign from the universe."

"That's actually a good call," Changbin says, snorting. "I don't want him behind the wheel of anything bigger than a tricycle."

"Felix doesn't have a licence either," Seungmin adds. "And even if he did, he'd probably drive with a seatbelt around his neck like a choker and play K-pop girl groups at max volume."

Changbin rubs a hand over his face and exhales slowly, realising where this is going. "So basically, I'm the best of a bad bunch."

"Exactly," Seungmin grins. "You're reliable. You're punctual. You're not likely to crash into a tree while changing the music or forget what day it is. You don't flirt with strangers in the middle of serious conversations. And you don't let people down."

There's a pause where Changbin pretends to think, but the corners of his mouth twitch just slightly. "Was she in a bus crash or something?"

"I told you, I'm not fucking telling you," Seungmin snaps, smacking Changbin's leg with a pillow off the bed.

Changbin raises both hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Alright, alright. Jesus. No need to get violent."

"Just take her," Seungmin says, almost pleading now. "She's sweet. You'll like her. She's quiet at first, but once she warms up to you, she's fucking hilarious. Dry humour, brutal honesty, same vibe as Jisung, which should tell you everything. And she's not gonna talk your ear off unless you want her to. She's respectful as hell."

Changbin raises an eyebrow again, leaning back in his chair. "Speaking of Jisung. What does he think? Your boyfriend has a sixth sense for shitty people."

"Jisung fucking adores her," Seungmin says immediately. "He's always dragging her into our nonsense. She helped him put together his midterm presentation last semester and refused to take any credit for it. He said she's one of the few people who don't treat him like a joke."

Changbin whistles low under his breath. "Alright, damn. That's high praise."

"So, you'll do it?"

There's a beat. Then Changbin shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Thank fuck," Seungmin says, relaxing fully against the pillows. "You're a fucking lifesaver."

"She gonna comment on my driving?" Changbin asks, turning back to his notes and picking up his pencil again.

"Nope," Seungmin replies. "She's not a backseat driver. She'll sit quietly, probably listen to whatever shitty music you're playing, and thank you when she gets out. She's polite. She won't annoy you."

Changbin hums, pencil scratching against the paper again. "Cool. I'll pick her up tomorrow morning, then. You gonna text me the address?"

"I'll send it now," Seungmin says, already pulling out his phone. "She's usually ready by 7:10, latest. She'll be waiting outside. She doesn't like people waiting on her."

"Fucking hell," Changbin mutters. "You owe me coffee for this."

"Don't act like you sleep."

"I still want the coffee," 

Seungmin groans but nods. "Fine. You'll get your shitty overpriced americano."

"Make it an iced vanilla latte."

"I'm not buying you a fucking milked down coffee."

"You're asking me to wake up at ass-o'clock and chauffeur someone I've never met, you can suck it up and buy me my latte."

Seungmin mutters something vulgar under his breath, but he's already typing out the message with your address and your name. He sends it with a little flourish and leans back, satisfied.

"There. Sent. You better be nice to her."

"I'm always nice," Changbin says, lips twitching again. "Unless people piss me off. Or if they chew with their mouth open. Or if they take forever ordering food."

"She doesn't do any of those things," Seungmin promises. "And if she does, I give you full permission to abandon her at the side of the road."

Changbin laughs again, shaking his head. "Noted."

Changbin taps the side of his steering wheel as he waits in front of the apartment building that Seungmin texted him last night. He double-checks the GPS pinned to the top of his dashboard, comparing it to the painted numbers on the curb and the side of the small, modest brick building. It's a quiet residential street, tucked away from the louder traffic-heavy roads of central Seoul, and the early morning haze gives everything a pale, sleepy glow. His phone buzzes with a notification from Jeongin in the frat group chat, but he ignores it, eyes flicking up to the front door.

The engine hums softly beneath him, low and steady, his playlist thudding faintly through the speakers. He adjusts the collar of his glossy black jacket, tugging it down over the deep red tank top beneath, and shifts in his seat. The black cargo pants he's wearing are slightly stiff at the thighs from how long he's been sitting, metal zippers cool against his skin. His red-and-black sneakers tap against the brake pedal, restless. He's not nervous. Just curious.

Then the front door opens, and you step out.

Changbin's fingers freeze mid-tap. You don't look up right away. You're adjusting your black tote bag on your shoulder, the movement precise and graceful, as though you've done it a thousand times. The fitted black long-sleeve mock neck hugs your frame without being tight, structured but soft-looking, and the wide-leg grey trousers you're wearing flow elegantly around your white sneakers with each step. They sit high on your waist, cinched with a clean waistband, not a wrinkle in sight. 

And your hair. Holy shit. The base is a rich, deep black that gleams when the light hits it, but it's the vivid magenta and purple streaks that make his eyes widen slightly. They wind through the messy updo like a halo, framing your face and flaring out at the sides in a way that's both chaotic and beautiful. It's the kind of look that demands attention without begging for it.

You reach the passenger side of his car and gently knock on the window with two knuckles, soft and hesitant. 

Changbin blinks, pulled back to reality, and immediately winds the window down. You lean forward slightly, hair catching the breeze, and say in a quiet voice, "Hi. Are you Changbin?"

He blinks at you for a second longer than is probably socially acceptable. "That depends. Are you Y/N?"

You give a small smile and nod, your fingers curling slightly around the strap of your tote.

"You got ID?" he deadpans, one eyebrow lifting like he's dead serious.

Without missing a beat, you open your bag and start reaching inside, your expression calm as you pull out your student ID and offer it through the open window. Changbin lets out a snort, then shakes his head and hits the lock on the door with a loud click. 

"I'm fucking with you. Get in."

You blink once, clearly thrown, then smile a little wider, tucking your ID back into your bag before opening the door and sliding in.

"Seat adjuster's manual," he says, nodding at the lever by your knee.

You quietly adjust the seat, clicking it back slightly, and set your bag down at your feet. "Thank you for this," you say after a moment, glancing over at him as you clip your seatbelt in place. "I don't know how much Seungmin-"

"I don't need to know," Changbin cuts in, shifting the gear into drive and easing away from the curb. "If Seungmin of all people is willing to go out of his way to defend you and keep your story private, I don't need the details. Don't force yourself to tell me anything."

You look at him, really look at him, and your smile, small and genuine, pulls at the corner of your mouth. "Thank you," you say softly.

The car hums quietly as he turns onto the main road, the early traffic light but steady. You sit neatly in your seat, back straight, hands folded in your lap. You're not fidgeting, not talking just to fill the silence, and somehow that makes Changbin like you more. He's been around enough noise, especially at the frat house with Felix blasting music at all hours and Jisung yelling about murder documentaries while Hyunjin and Minho argue over everything like it's a war. You, in contrast, are peaceful.

He glances at you sideways, then back at the road. "What time are you finished today?"

You take a second to think, then reply, "I usually stay back a bit to go to the library. I time it with football practice, like I did when Seungmin drove me. So about half five?"

Changbin nods. "That's great, actually. I've got training until six, but I usually get off the field around five thirty. I can swing by on my way out."

You glance at him again, eyes bright but cautious. "I can wait a bit if you need longer. I usually bring notes to revise in the meantime."

"Nah, don't worry about it. Half five's fine," he replies, merging smoothly into a busier road, the city starting to wake up properly now. "Seungmin said you're never late."

You nod once. "I don't like wasting people's time."

He scoffs under his breath, but not unkindly. "You're already miles ahead of the rest of my house."

You smile again, silent for a few seconds. Then, almost shyly, "He said you were reliable."

"Did he now?" Changbin says with a crooked grin. "I'm flattered."

You don't say anything to that, but your smile lingers.

He's used to people talking too much on car rides. People who think silence is awkward. But you don't seem to mind it at all. You just look out the window, shoulders relaxed, like you're completely content to be exactly where you are without needing to perform for it. It's oddly refreshing.

"You nervous about being driven by a stranger?" he asks after a minute, more curious than anything.

You turn your head slowly. "No. Seungmin trusts you."

Changbin's grin twitches at the corners. "He shouldn't. I'm a terrible influence."

You glance at the dash, then back at him. "Your car's clean. That says more than you think."

He lets out a bark of laughter. "Clean car equals decent morals?"

"Or at least someone who doesn't live in chaos," you reply gently.

He hums, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again, this time to the rhythm of the beat thudding through the speakers. "You're observant."

"I study people. And patterns."

He shoots you a quick glance. "You sure you're not a psych major?"

You shake your head once. "Biomedical engineering. Molecular biology minor."

"Fuck," he mutters, impressed. "That's brutal."

"I like it."

He whistles low. "Alright, hardcore."

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, one of the streaks catching the morning light again. He tries not to stare.

The two of you drive in comfortable silence for another few minutes. The roads get more familiar as you near the college, Changbin takes the back route past the coffee shop he knows Seungmin likes. He glances over again, noting how you lean slightly against the door, watching the buildings pass by with quiet interest.

"You always this chill in the mornings?" he asks, not able to help himself.

You smile slightly. "I've been up since five."

"Jesus Christ, why?"

"Habit."

"That's insane."

"It's efficient."

He laughs again, and it's genuine. "You and Seungmin are fucking freaks."

"Thank you," you say, soft and amused.

He pulls into the university parking lot and finds a spot near the main building. As he shifts into park, he glances over again.

"So I'll see you at half five?"

You nod and reach for your bag. "Yes. Thank you for the ride."

"Don't mention it."

You pause with your hand on the door handle. "And thank you for not asking."

"Hey," he says, voice serious for the first time since you got in. "If you ever want to talk, I won't pry. But I'll listen. No pressure."

You look at him again, and there's a flicker of something in your expression. "I appreciate that."

He nods once. "Go study something too advanced for my dumb ass."

You smile. "Good luck at practice."

You slip out and close the door gently behind you. He watches as you cross the lot, quiet and graceful, that flash of magenta and purple catching the light again.

He exhales through his nose and mutters to himself, "Fuck."

You're going to be a problem.

Changbin drops you off a little past six. The sky's already bruising with the colours of twilight, lavender bleeding into the greys and dusky blues of the horizon. He watches as you step out of his car, the hem of your wide-leg trousers skimming across the pavement like soft smoke. You pause before closing the door, thank him again with that small smile of yours, and lift a hand in a brief wave that's somehow both elegant and shy.

He sits there for a second after you disappear inside the apartment building, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He should leave, he's got a stack of notes to write up and at least three pages of a report due tomorrow, but his brain is moving at half-speed, rewinding the last twenty minutes like a goddamn highlight reel.

The memory that won't stop looping, though, is the drive-through incident.

It was simple, really. He'd asked if you were hungry on the way back, more out of habit than anything, because usually when he offers, people jump at the chance to stuff themselves on junk. You'd hesitated, said you didn't want to be a burden, but when he told you to shut up and pick something, you'd laughed under your breath and asked if they had mango bubble tea. That laugh had been soft. Almost hidden. But it made his fucking chest warm.

So you pulled up to the window together, him reaching for his phone before you, quick as a flash, snatched it right out of his hand and shoved your card at the cashier before he could react.

"I said I'd cover it," he muttered, trying not to sound grumpy as the total appeared on the screen.

"I know," you said, slipping his phone into the space between the seats before he could reach for it. "But I wanted to. It's the least I could do."

You didn't say anything else, just took the drinks from the window, his iced americano and your mango bubble tea, and handed them over with both hands, delicate and careful, like the gesture meant something. Like it wasn't just tea and coffee. And when he thanked you, you just smiled that small smile again and said, "You're welcome, Changbin."

He can still hear the way you said his name. 

Now, hours later, Changbin sits at his desk in his room, trying to focus on his coursework. There's a muscle fibre diagram open on his laptop and a half-written paragraph about quadriceps femoris contractions in front of him, but all he's thinking about is the way the magenta and purple streaks in your hair glowed under the streetlights when you turned your head. The way your voice curled softly when you spoke. How the hell had he not met you before?

He sighs and drops his head forward with a dull thunk against the desk, mumbling a low, exhausted, "Fuck me."

Right on cue, the door creaks open.

He doesn't lift his head. "Unless you're a miracle who brought coffee, get out."

"You met Y/N, huh?" Jisung's voice cuts through the quiet, smug and singsong.

Changbin hums in response, his forehead still pressed to the desk.

"Too pretty for your gym-bro brain?"

Another hum. Louder this time. Maybe a growl. Jisung takes it as permission to enter, the floorboards creaking under his socks as he shuffles in.

"Aw, look at you," Jisung coos, stepping up beside him and reaching out to gently pat his head like he's a tragic little puppy. "There, there. Oh, mini munchkin man. You'll live."

Changbin finally lifts his head, glaring half-heartedly. "Don't call me that."

Jisung just grins wider. "You're so down bad, it's hilarious."

Changbin groans again, rubbing his hands over his face. "Why the fuck didn't you and Seungmin tell us she existed? You've been gatekeeping her like she's the last good person in Seoul."

Jisung shrugs, flopping down on the edge of Changbin's bed like he owns the place. "Because she is the last good person in Seoul. And you lot are fucking animals."

"Okay, rude."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Changbin opens his mouth, then closes it again. 

"Exactly."

He sighs, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it's going to give him divine answers. "Seriously though. She's... quiet. Really fucking gentle. You don't meet a lot of people like that. Most people are loud as hell just to be heard."

Jisung nods, less joking now. "She doesn't feel the need to be loud. That's what makes her rare."

There's a stretch of silence between them, then Jisung says, a little softer, "You have to be careful with her, you know?"

Changbin peeks at him through his fingers. "I know. I figured. She's got that look."

"What look?"

"That look like... like she's had to hold herself together for longer than she should've. Like she's still stitching the pieces."

Jisung nods slowly. "Yeah. She's been through some stuff. Just... don't fuck around, okay? If you decide to go for her, be the gentleman of the frat you're known to be. Don't be a fucking manwhore like Hyunjin and Minho."

"I'm not-" Changbin starts, then pauses. "Okay, yeah, I've had moments. But I'm not like them. I'm not that dumb."

"I didn't say dumb. I said whore."

Changbin snorts, but there's an edge of real seriousness there now. "I wouldn't mess her around."

"Good." Jisung shifts so he's lying back on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. "She deserves someone who actually gives a shit."

"Her hair," Changbin mutters, frowning at nothing. "It reminds me of someone, but I can't figure out who."

Jisung smirks again. "Raven Queen. From Ever After High."

Changbin's eyes widen. "Holy shit. That's it. Raven Queen."

"I helped her dye it."

"Of course you did," Changbin mutters, then groans. "Fuck, I used to watch that show with my older sister when we were kids. Jaehee was obsessed with it. She was older than me, so she always took over the TV. I never got a say. But Raven Queen was my favourite. Had a massive crush on her."

Jisung snorts. "Full circle, then."

Changbin leans back and lets his head fall against the chair with a dull thud. "She does look like her. Same vibe. All quiet and powerful and kind of mysterious and shit."

"She loves that show, you know," Jisung adds, glancing over at him. "Still watches it when she's stressed. You should talk to her about it. There's a conversation in for you."

Changbin raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

Jisung nods. "Dead serious. She made me rewatch like four episodes the last time I was over there helping her move furniture."

Changbin grins. "Okay, good to know. I'll use it."

"Use it wisely," Jisung says, mock-solemn. "You only get one shot to nerd out about magical animated teenagers before it gets weird."

Changbin snorts. "You know what's fucking weird? The fact that I've known you and Seungmin for years, and you've been hiding her like she's a secret weapon."

"She kind of is," Jisung says with a smirk. "In the best way. But hey, now you've met her."

"Yeah," Changbin murmurs, almost to himself. "Now I've met her."

And he knows, deep in his bones, that something's just changed. Something quiet and irreversible.

The second Changbin turns the corner onto your street, he sees you. You're already outside, like you've been standing there for a few minutes waiting for him, but you don't look impatient. Instead, you look serene, like the early morning chill doesn't touch you at all. 

You're holding two travel coffee mugs and a small plastic tub cradled in your arm. His eyes catch on your boots first, knee-high black leather with stilettos that click faintly against the pavement as you shift your weight, like you're posing without meaning to. The tight high-waisted black shorts are ruched in a way that makes them hug your curves perfectly, and your sheer black tights glisten faintly under the streetlamps. The cropped black leather jacket gleams under the light, and beneath it, the fitted black turtleneck clings to your torso, tucked in neatly and smoothing your silhouette into something sleek and effortless.

And your hair is swept up into a tousled high bun, messily elegant, with strands falling gently around your face. They frame your cheekbones and draw attention to your eyes, which glint with soft amusement when you see him pull up. You give him a little nod, smile quiet and polite, and he thinks that he might actually die if he ever gets to kiss you.

He throws the gear into park and hops out immediately, jogging over to you. 

"Hey, hey, Jesus, what are you doing holding all that?" he says as he reaches you, eyes flicking between the mugs and the tub. "Give me something before you drop it "

You hold out one of the mugs and the tub without argument, adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder with your now-free hand. He notices the mug first, it's got a sparkly letter C on it, the kind of glitter that shifts colours in the light, and around the base are small stickers of anatomical muscle diagrams, weight plates, protein shakers, and tiny cartoon dumbbells. It's so detailed that he stops for a second and stares.

"You bought me a mug?" he says, eyebrows lifting as he takes it from you.

"Technically, it's a travel mug," you say softly. "But yes."

He turns it slowly in his hands, grinning wider the longer he looks. "Wait... are these stickers covered in resin?"

You nod. "So I can wash it without them peeling."

He's beaming now. "Holy fuck. That's actually so cool. You made this?"

"Yes, so I can make coffee in the morning."

"Shit. That's... fucking adorable."

You glance away, smiling slightly, and gesture toward the car with a small tilt of your head. He opens the passenger door for you without being asked, nudging the tub into the cupholder while you settle in. He closes it gently behind you, then jogs around to the driver's side and climbs in, placing both mugs between the seats.

As you buckle your seatbelt, you say, "An americano for you. I asked Seungmin last night how you liked your coffee. I thought I should at least caffeinate you and feed you breakfast if you're going to get up every morning to pick me up."

He laughs, glancing sideways at you with open affection. "You're gonna make me cry. I've been picking people up for years and no one's ever fed me."

"I find that tragic," 

He chuckles again, starting the engine. "What's in the tub?"

You flip it open without ceremony and the smell hits him immediately, sweet, rich, nutty. His eyes go wide.

"Is that hotteok?"

You nod. "Walnut and brown sugar."

He gapes. "For me?"

"For both of us," you reply simply, peeling one from the pile and offering it to him on a napkin you've produced from your bag.

"Holy fuck," he groans around a bite, chewing like it's the best thing he's tasted in weeks. "You're spoiling me."

"I enjoy cooking," you say, taking a bite of your own. "And it keeps well if you don't finish it all."

He glances at you with mock sternness. "If Seungmin's car gets fixed, I'm still picking you up. No way in hell I'm giving up this breakfast service."

You smile, sipping from your travel mug. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he drives, both of you quietly munching on the hotteok and sipping your drinks. The car feels warmer than usual. Not in temperature, just in vibe. Like it's wrapped in some kind of gentle cocoon.

"What's in your cup?" he asks, gesturing toward your mug as he licks brown sugar off his thumb.

"Raspberry leaf tea with honey."

"Can I try?"

You don't hesitate. You hold your mug out and wait for him to take it. He lifts it carefully, takes a sip, and blinks. "Ooh, I like that," he says, licking his lips. "Sweet, but not sickly. Real smooth."

You take the mug back and cradle it in your hands. "It's calming."

"Yeah, but not as cool as my special mug." He holds it up again, admiring it like it's a trophy. "I'm genuinely obsessed. This is my personality now."

"I give them to all my friends," you say, still quiet, but there's something pleased in your tone.

"Well, I'm honoured," he says. "Like, seriously. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for me since Felix bought me protein powder for Christmas."

You both lapse into silence again, but this time it's expectant, charged with something bright. He's finishing his second hotteok when he glances sideways at you, then laughs suddenly.

"Took me a fucking minute, but I finally remembered where I recognised your hair from."

You glance over, curious. "Oh?"

"Raven Queen," he says, grinning. "From Ever After High."

You gasp, eyes going wide, nearly spilling your tea in the process. "You've watched Ever After High?!"

He nods, proud. "My older sister was the dictator of the TV when we were kids. She was obsessed. I wasn't allowed to change the channel unless I wanted to get a plastic tiara thrown at my head. So yeah, I know all the lore."

You press your hand over your heart dramatically. "Be still my heart."

He snorts. "You're such a nerd."

"Says the man who recognised Raven Queen."

"Hey, she was hot."

"She is hot," you correct.

"True."

You lean against the window slightly, still smiling. "I loved Raven and Dexter's little romance arc."

"Same," he says, nodding. "Dexter was underrated as fuck."

"Everyone wanted Daring, and I was like, why? He's a literal narcissist."

"Dexter was awkward but genuine," Changbin agrees. "Had the better hair, too."

"Objectively better."

You both fall into laughter, warm and easy, the car full of sugary smells and caffeine and shared nostalgia. He's never had a morning like this. Not even close.

"It's obvious who my favourite character is," you say, gesturing to your hair.

"Yeah, you're basically her incarnate."

"And who was yours?"

He thinks for a moment. "It's gotta be Briar Beauty or Ashlynn Ella. I liked the Royals who didn't want to follow their destinies. That shit hit."

You hum in approval. "Good picks. I always liked the ones who were trying to make their own path."

"Guess that says something about us, huh?"

"Probably."

You both smile again, this time slower, lingering. The campus looms ahead, and neither of you are really ready for the day to start. Not yet. But at least, for these quiet, strange, sweet mornings, you're not starting alone.

It's Friday night, and your apartment smells faintly of coconut and cherry blossom, the scent rising gently from the colour-protect mask soaking into the streaks of vivid magenta and purple in your hair. You're sitting cross-legged on the couch in your favourite oversized pyjamas, black with tiny constellations patterned across the fabric in silver thread, soft from a hundred washes. Jisung's beside you, slouched into the cushions like his bones have given up entirely, wearing ridiculous red flannel bottoms patterned with cartoon strawberries and an ancient band tee that's so threadbare it's basically mesh now. He's halfway through his second glass of cheap wine, legs kicked over your lap, and the TV glows gently across the room with Ever After High's familiar pastel world.

Ashlynn Ella and Hunter Huntsman are on screen, sitting together beneath a tree in one of the sappy side plots, and you're both sipping your wine in peaceful, tipsy silence when you sigh into your glass and mumble, "He's so hot and thoughtful."

Jisung glances at the screen, then back at you, blinking. "Who, Hunter Huntsman?"

You frown slightly, glancing at him like he's missed the entire point of the conversation. "What? No! Changbin."

Jisung straightens up slightly, eyebrows raising high. "Ohhh," he says, dragging the word out like a kid who's just discovered a secret. "You're liking compact muscle man, huh?"

You shrug, noncommittal. But your mouth twitches at the corners, like you can't quite keep the smile in. Jisung, of course, picks up on it immediately and gasps dramatically, hand to his chest like he's in a soap opera.

"Ooooooh," he sings, grinning like a little shit. He wiggles his eyebrows and takes a long, theatrical sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours. "Someone's got a crush."

You snort and roll your eyes, gently nudging his knee with your elbow. "He's hot, muscular, and nice. What more could I want?"

He raises his glass in salute. "Exactly! So make a move already!"

"I barely know him," you protest, setting your wine down on the coffee table as you lean back into the cushions. "It's been, what, two weeks? Ish? I can't just throw myself at him."

Jisung scoffs. "So? Romeo and Juliet knew each other, like, three days, and that was still iconic."

"They both died."

"...Wait, what?"

You blink slowly. "That's how the story ends."

"WHAT?! No. NO. What?! I thought it was a fucking romance!"

You can't help it. You burst into giggles, trying to hold it back but failing miserably as he stares at you like you just told him Santa Claus is real and he's been cheating on Mrs Claus with the Easter Bunny.

"Oh my God, Ji," you wheeze through your laughter, "how the hell do you not know this?"

"I never fucking read it!" he cries, gesturing wildly. "I thought it was, like... dramatic but romantic. I didn't know it ended in a goddamn bloodbath!"

"Okay, okay, she fakes her death, he poisons himself thinking she's dead, she wakes up, sees him dead, tries to kiss the poison off his lips, it doesn't work, so she stabs herself. End of story."

Jisung gapes at you, stunned into silence. Then he slowly brings his wine glass to his mouth and drains it in one long gulp. "What the actual fuck."

You're still giggling as you lean over to pour him another glass, shaking your head. "Honestly, I feel like half the population doesn't realise it's a tragedy. They just remember the balcony scene."

"I thought they fucking ran away together and had, like, magic babies or some shit," he mutters, accepting the refill with a dazed look. "Fuck's sake."

You laugh again, tucking your knees under you as the next episode starts playing. The hair mask has begun to stiffen slightly where it's been sitting, and you reach up absently to make sure your bun is still holding. Jisung watches you for a beat, then nudges your thigh with his toes.

"We got off topic."

You raise an eyebrow, sipping your wine. "We did?"

"You could still date Changbin."

You stare at the screen, watching as Raven Queen walks into a sparkly corridor full of levitating books, her cloak swishing dramatically behind her. "I'm literally scared of the bus, Ji."

He softens, setting his glass down and turning more fully toward you. "For a very valid reason," he says gently.

You sigh, eyes flicking away. You wrap your arms around yourself, not because you're cold, but because you feel suddenly too small for the room.

"I know," you whisper. "But it's a lot to explain. And I don't want to dump that on someone I've known less than a month."

Jisung opens his arms without a word. You scoot toward him and collapse into the hug, resting your head on his chest. He smells like strawberry body lotion and red wine, and the comfort he brings is immediate and complete.

"You don't have to tell him yet," he murmurs, one hand rubbing slow, lazy circles into your back. "He'll wait."

You hum, closing your eyes for a moment. "You really think so?"

"I know so," he says. "Changbin's a bit of a dumbass, but he's a good one. And he's fucking sweet on you already."

That makes you smile against his shirt. "He likes his mug."

"He's been showing it off like it's a fucking Olympic medal at practice," Jisung mutters. "Jeongin tried to take a sip out of it and Bin almost ripped his throat out."

You laugh again, soft and real. "That's dramatic."

"He is dramatic."

You both settle back into the couch again, his arm still around your shoulders, your head tucked under his chin as the TV flickers through another episode. Raven Queen's voice carries across the room, low and strong and defiant, and it echoes something inside you, something about rewriting destiny, about quiet strength and choosing your own path no matter what others expect.

"I think he's the first person in a long time I don't feel scared around," you say quietly, almost to yourself.

Jisung squeezes your shoulder. "Then don't rush it. Just let it be what it is. And if it becomes something more... you'll know."

You don't respond with words. Just a quiet nod, the kind that says everything you're not ready to say aloud. And together, you sit in the soft glow of the screen, safe and warm, while Raven Queen continues her fight against fate.

Changbin pulls into the familiar spot outside your apartment building, the tyres crunching gently over the gravel as he eases the car to a smooth stop. His fingers tap against the steering wheel in rhythm with the low beat coming from the car's speakers, but his eyes are already drifting to the front doors of the building.

You step out right on cue, shoulders tucked against the lingering morning chill, your breath misting faintly in the cold. The emerald green of your fitted turtleneck catches his attention first, rich and deep like forest moss, layered beneath your cropped black leather jacket that nips perfectly at your waist. The cut of your high-waisted black slacks emphasises your silhouette, cinched clean and tailored to your frame, and the black stiletto ankle boots clack softly on the pavement as you approach the car. 

You're carrying both of your travel mugs, one in each hand, and a small plastic container tucked under your arm. Changbin's already pushing the door open when he sees you juggling it all.

"Why the fuck are you always trying to do this on your own?" he calls out as he climbs out of the car, quickly jogging around to meet you.

You smile as he reaches you, handing over the tub and the black travel mug with his sparkly "C" sticker and resin-coated muscle decals. "Good morning."

"Morning," he mutters, accepting the items with a grin. "Is this..." He sniffs the air around the tub. "No way. Is that tteokbokki?"

"Spicy, with cheese," you reply softly. "I used mozzarella and a little bit of cheddar this time. Thought we'd change it up."

"You're fucking spoiling me," he says, shaking his head, voice warm with a laugh.

You just smile again, a little shy, and step around him to slide into the passenger seat while he returns to the driver's side. As you get settled, you hand him his coffee, then cradle your own tea mug between your palms, letting the warmth bleed into your skin. The car's already warm inside, and it feels cosy now with both of you tucked in, the food balanced between you.

As you both sip and dig into the tteokbokki, the car is filled with the faint sounds of the low radio and soft breathing. It's been over two months of this now, mornings together, meals shared in the car, late afternoon pick-ups and lingering conversations. Seungmin's car has been fixed for weeks, but neither of you has brought up ending the rides. And honestly, neither of you wants to.

Between bites, Changbin glances over at you. "Hey, I've noticed something."

You hum around a bite of rice cake, glancing at him.

"You never wear jeans," he says, not accusatory, just curious. "Like, at all."

You pause. The food sits heavy in your mouth, suddenly less appetising. You chew slowly, swallow, then set your fork down gently on the napkin in your lap.

"Yeah, uh..." you start, clearing your throat. "It's the same reason I don't get the bus."

Changbin stiffens a little, eyes flicking from you to the dashboard before he leans forward and mutes the radio entirely. He shifts in his seat to face you more fully, elbow resting against the steering wheel, gaze steady and careful.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to dig."

You shake your head, eyes on your tea. "No, it's... it's okay. You didn't know."

The silence settles between you again, thick but not hostile. Changbin doesn't say anything, doesn't try to fill the space with jokes or change the subject. He just waits.

You draw in a breath and start slowly. "I used to get the bus every day. Like, religiously. I'd catch the same one every morning, 7:10 sharp, same driver, same seats, same stops. I'd bring my headphones, my notes, sit quietly, get to campus early."

He nods slightly, giving you the space to continue.

"Then, last semester... I got on one morning, and it was packed. Like, shoulder-to-shoulder, nowhere to sit. So I stood, grabbed one of the overhead handles. There was this guy next to me, maybe late thirties, not old but older. I smiled at him, just out of habit, you know, basic politeness, and he smiled back."

Your fingers tighten slightly on the travel mug.

"At first, I thought he was just making weird faces. Twitchy, like maybe he was nervous or unwell or something. Then he started moving closer. Subtle at first. Then not. I didn't want to cause a scene, so I shifted away. But the bus was too full. I couldn't go anywhere."

Changbin's jaw clenches, eyes darkening.

"I realised..." Your voice falters, but you push through. "He was touching himself. Not like in his pocket, not subtle. Like out. And I couldn't move. He got something on my jeans, the pair I wore all the time. My favourite."

"By-" Changbin starts, voice low and horrified.

"Yeah," you say quietly, eyes still on your tea. "Yeah. I got off at the next stop and called Seungmin. He and Jisung showed up within twenty minutes. Jisung gave me his spare sweatpants, and they brought a plastic bag. Seungmin bagged the jeans like it was a crime scene."

"Because it fucking was a crime scene," Changbin says tightly, voice sharp.

You nod. "We took them to the police. Filed a report. But the CCTV on the bus wasn't working that day. Of course it wasn't. No footage, no clear witness statements, nothing. They logged the jeans into evidence, but they told me, basically, that nothing would come of it unless the guy gets caught and DNA tested for something else and it matches."

Changbin is dead silent, his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

"So now my jeans are in an evidence room somewhere," you say, trying to make your voice light. "And I can't get on the bus. I tried, once. Got halfway up the steps and nearly passed out. Couldn't breathe. I started shaking so hard I had to sit down on the curb for twenty minutes. So I just... I walked. It took me almost an hour to get to campus every day. And Seungmin saw me one day, walking home in the rain, and the next morning he just showed up with his car and told me to get in."

Changbin takes a slow breath through his nose. "I'm sorry."

You glance up. "It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry," he says, voice low. "That you went through that. That no one helped. That the police did fuck-all. That that bastard's walking around free."

You nod once, blinking hard. "I just want to get on the bus again. Like... it's just a stupid bus. A metal tin on four wheels. That's all I want. To not be scared of it anymore."

He doesn't answer right away. He just leans forward and rests a hand over yours, warm and steady. "I'll drive you every day," he says. "Even if you get comfortable again. Even if Seungmin's free. Even if we graduate. I'll drive you anywhere you want to go."

You swallow, looking down at your intertwined hands. "You'd do that?"

"Fucking hell, of course I would," he says. "You don't owe anyone your story, but you told me anyway. I'm not gonna take that for granted."

You blink again, this time because your eyes are starting to sting. You nod once, then turn your hand over to squeeze his.

The morning air is brisk but pleasant as you step outside your apartment building, one hand wrapped around your travel mug, warm from the raspberry leaf tea with honey that steams gently through the lid. In your other hand is Changbin's travel mug, his usual americano, the one you brewed just right. You glance around the parking lot out of habit, expecting to see Changbin's car in its usual spot, engine already purring and music barely audible through the rolled-up windows.

But there's no car.

Instead, standing under the soft morning light near the kerb, you spot a small crowd. Your pace slows slightly, brow furrowing, but your steps don't falter. As you get closer, you see Changbin standing front and centre, dressed in a camo-print mesh top that clings to his frame like it was made for him. The olive green fabric stretches across his chest and shoulders, making every line of muscle painfully obvious, tucked neatly into black cargo pants cinched with a studded black belt. Silver chains layer around his throat, and his combat boots are planted firmly like he's daring the world to move him.

Beside him stand Jisung and Seungmin, but also five others you've never properly met before. The tallest among them has blonde hair, cheekbones sharp enough to draw blood. Another has chocolate brown strands flopping over his brow and a feline sort of smirk. One grins with bright eyes and soft freckles. Then there's the youngest-looking one, boyish but tall, black-haired and stylish in a bomber jacket, and beside him, someone with soft pink lips and wide shoulders who's dressed like he walked out of a K-drama.

Your feet pause just a few paces away as Changbin spots you, his face breaking into a grin so warm you forget, for a second, what your legs are supposed to do. You blink and offer him his travel mug, which he takes carefully with one hand, his fingers brushing yours in a way that makes your pulse stutter. You keep a firm grip on your own tea.

"Y/N," he says, voice lighter than usual. "These guys-" He gestures casually toward the group, "-are Minho, Chan, Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Felix."

Jisung lifts his hand and wiggles his fingers at you. "Obviously you know and love me and Seungmin."

You smile, small but real, nodding toward Jisung and Seungmin before shifting your gaze to the others. "Hi."

They all give you polite, casual smiles, some nodding, some waving, but no one pushes, no one questions.

Seungmin steps forward, hands in the pockets of his oversized hoodie. "We all figured," he says with a glance at Jisung, "that we'd take the bus today."

Your stomach drops. The mug in your hand suddenly feels too heavy, and your fingers tense around it. You look at Changbin, your eyes finding his before you even realise it. He's already watching you, already prepared.

He tilts his head slightly, voice low but strong. "It's just a stupid bus, right?"

Your throat tightens. You blink once, twice, and then nod, slowly, the motion feeling surreal even as you make it.

"Yeah," you say quietly. "It's just a stupid bus."

Changbin grins and extends his hand. You stare at it for half a second before placing your own in his. He takes his mug in the other hand, lifting it briefly to his lips as he begins walking. You follow beside him, sipping your tea, the warmth grounding you.

The others fall into step naturally. No one says anything about the shift in energy, the silent seriousness of the walk. Felix starts humming something under his breath. Jeongin jokes about his boots squeaking. Minho shoves Chan lightly with his elbow for some reason you don't catch. And the nine of you walk, together, to the bus stop at the end of the street.

Your dress rustles faintly with each step, sleek black fabric hugging you and shifting beneath your oversized beige blazer, the sleeves casually rolled up to your forearms. Your boots click steadily against the concrete. You wonder briefly if they're watching, if they're judging, but no one's looking at you like that. Not even a little.

When the bus turns the corner and starts to slow, you feel your legs freeze. Your body stills so completely, it's like someone pressed pause. The hiss of the brakes might as well be thunder.

Changbin's voice cuts through the swell of panic. "I'll be right by your side, okay?"

You nod, unable to speak. And then, with his hand holding yours, warm and steady, he gently leads you forward. You follow his pace, your grip tight, your tea mug rattling faintly in your other hand.

The doors hiss open, and you step on.

The others follow, filling in behind you like a tide. They crowd into the standing area around you and Changbin without a second thought, Jeongin to your right, Minho and Chan behind you, Felix and Hyunjin to your left, Jisung and Seungmin near the doors. They move as a wall, a barrier. A protection.

No one touches you. No one gets close. No one looks at you sideways. You're surrounded by warmth, by noise, by familiarity, and in a moment that might've triggered fear, you feel safe.

Hyunjin immediately starts fussing about the morning chill, muttering about how he should've brought his long coat. Felix pipes up loudly, eyes lighting up as he turns to you.

"Y/N, you know you've made the Raven Queen aesthetic hotter, right?" he says, gesturing to your hair. "Like, I'm genuinely questioning everything I thought I knew about cartoon crushes."

You smile despite yourself, just a little. "You watched it?"

"Of course," Felix beams. "Raven Queen was iconic. You're like her, but in real life. And with better boots."

Jeongin leans in. "Did you do the colour yourself?"

"She did," Jisung says proudly. "I helped with the placement and layering. I'm the unofficial glam squad."

Chan leans slightly to peek at the streaks. "It's fucking cool," he says with genuine appreciation. "Like, striking without being over the top."

Hyunjin gives a theatrical sigh. "I'd kill to have the bone structure to pull off those colours."

You feel the tension in your shoulders start to ease, just a bit. The voices are comforting, distracting. Warm. Minho leans over and starts poking at Felix for being too loud, and Felix responds by dramatically shielding himself behind you. Seungmin deadpans that if someone spills tea on him, there will be blood.

Through it all, you keep sipping your drink. And you don't let go of Changbin's hand.

By the time the bus pulls up outside Miroh College, the panic that had been clawing at your throat has dulled to a manageable hum. The doors open and the nine of you file off, laughter and chatter trailing behind.

As the others start drifting forward toward campus, Changbin lingers beside you. He's still holding your hand, now warm from your grip, and the light catches on one of the silver chains at his throat. His eyes are soft, not pushy, not demanding, just open.

He rubs his thumb gently over the back of your hand. "How would you feel about a date?" he asks, voice quiet enough to be just for you.

The words hit you like a burst of sun through clouds.

You look at him, really look at him, this man who's carried your fear without ever asking for it, who's shown up for you every single day, who waited until you were ready, who never once made you feel like a burden. You smile.

"That sounds great."

His entire face lights up. It's not the smug grin he usually wears when he wins a game or successfully roasts someone. It's pure joy, unfiltered and genuine and impossibly bright.

Behind him, all seven of the others are trying, terribly, to pretend they're not listening. Hyunjin's mid-sip of his smoothie, pretending to check the time. Felix's eyes are wide like he's watching a romance drama in real-time. Jeongin is nodding to himself. Chan's hand is suspiciously frozen just above his phone camera, like he was going to sneak a photo. Minho's smirking. Seungmin's biting his knuckle. Jisung looks like he's trying not to cry.

You snort softly and lean into Changbin's side, sipping your tea again. For the first time in what feels like forever, you're not scared of the road ahead. You're looking forward to it.

The sun has only just begun to dip low in the sky, casting a soft amber glow over the street, as you stand near the curb outside your apartment building, fingers curled around your travel mug. The tea inside is still hot, the honey soothing and familiar. Your outfit is carefully chosen but not overly fussy, a black-and-white houndstooth set, the cropped blazer trimmed with delicate gold detailing that catches the light, and a matching high-waisted mini skirt that hugs your hips perfectly. Beneath it all, you've layered a sleek black top, sheer tights hugging your legs in a glossy sheen that makes your platform Mary Janes pop. Your necklace sits just at your collarbone, a single strand of faux pearls that rests neatly above the lapel of your blazer.

Your hair is styled into a polished half-up, half-down look, parted cleanly at the crown and pulled into a high half-pony. The curled lengths tumble down your shoulders, voluminous and soft, with a few pieces left out to frame your face. The vivid magenta and purple streaks thread through the deep black like electric ink, shimmering under the streetlights as the breeze picks up. You feel both confident and strangely nervous, your free hand tugging lightly at the sleeve of your blazer every so often.

Then you hear the engine. It's low, smooth and distinct. And your heart stutters just a little.

Changbin's car pulls up beside the pavement with perfect timing, and the driver's window lowers just enough for you to see his grin. He's fully in date-mode, not even pretending to play it cool. His sleeveless open-knit top is cobalt blue, thin enough to show glimpses of the sculpted skin underneath but loose enough to look effortless. The weave of it draws attention to his broad shoulders and the dip of his collarbones, and the chunky silver chains layered around his neck glint every time he moves. His black cargo pants are slightly loose but cinched at the waist with a studded black belt, and his wrists are stacked with silver bracelets that jingle faintly when he waves at you.

You open the passenger door and slide in smoothly, the warmth of the car meeting you instantly. As you settle into the seat, you hand over his travel mug.

"Your americano," you say softly.

Changbin beams, taking it like it's the greatest gift he's ever received. "My favourite girl, my favourite drink. Starting strong."

You hide your smile behind your mug as you take a sip of your tea. Raspberry and honey, as always. 

Changbin takes a long swig from his coffee and exhales like it's saving his life. "You ready?"

You turn your head toward him, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "Where are we going?"

He grins, smug. "An escape room."

You brighten instantly, eyes widening. "That sounds fun!"

"Right? I figured we should do something interactive," he says, tapping his mug against yours in a gentle cheers motion. "Dinner's great and all, but I thought, let's go get stuck in a fictional crisis together. See how we handle near-death scenarios. Team bonding."

You laugh under your breath, sipping again. "Honestly, sounds better than awkward small talk over overpriced pasta."

He pulls out onto the main road, merging smoothly with traffic as you both fall into a comfortable silence. Music plays low from the speakers, something instrumental and chilled, a contrast to how loud your thoughts are getting.

"It's about thirty minutes from here," he says after a minute, eyes flicking to you briefly before focusing back on the road.

You nod, relaxing into your seat. "Okay. But you should know I'm academically smart, sure, but I can't do puzzles to save my life. Like, actually. I've rage-quit Sudoku before."

He laughs, short and loud. "Oh, oh no. That's a problem."

You lift your mug and grin at him over the rim. "You're good at puzzles, right?"

He looks at you, grimacing. "No. I'm fucking terrible. I once did an escape room with the guys and Felix figured out more shit than I did. Felix."

You gasp. "Isn't Felix scared of coat hangers?"

"Yes! And yet, he was a goddamn genius that day. Meanwhile, I was trying to solve clues that weren't clues."

You laugh again, more freely this time. "This might be a very long date."

Changbin takes a turn, his free hand drumming against the wheel. "It gets worse. I picked a place with no time limit."

Your eyes go wide. "Oh no."

"We might spend the whole fucking afternoon in there."

"Changbin."

"What?"

"We're going to die in that room."

"It'll be romantic."

You burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained, the tension of the day bleeding away like it was never there. Your hair shifts as you tilt your head back, curls brushing the shoulder of your blazer, and Changbin glances over with that fond look that makes your stomach flutter.

The door clicks shut behind you with a heavy finality, followed by the mechanical sound of locks engaging, and a distant voice over the intercom that announces, a little too cheerfully, that your escape room experience has officially begun. The lights overhead dim to a moody amber glow, and a dramatic musical chord plays through hidden speakers, meant to set the tone. Instead, you and Changbin exchange blank looks.

"So... do we just... start?" you ask, glancing around at the elaborate room designed to look like some kind of haunted study. A faux fireplace flickers in the corner, fake books line the shelves, and there's a dusty old desk with a cracked lamp on it that probably doesn't even work.

"I guess?" Changbin mutters, stepping forward and peering at the shelves like the clues might leap out at him if he squints hard enough. "I feel like I'm supposed to be solving some Indiana Jones shit, but I've got the IQ of a wet sponge right now."

You wander over to a side table and start picking up random objects, an old quill pen, a tarnished silver goblet, a rolled parchment scroll that ends up being completely blank. "This is giving absolutely nothing," you say quietly, scanning the surface for anything that might resemble a clue.

Changbin walks over to a section of the wall with framed portraits and stares at one suspiciously. "Why is this guy looking at me like he knows I can't do long division?"

You grin to yourself and pick up one of the books off the shelf. The cover is fake leather, embossed with some ominous title: Dark Secrets of Black Hollow. You flip it open, skimming a few pages. The grammar is awful, commas in the wrong place, sentences that just stop halfway, words capitalised for no reason.

"This book's written weird," you say, frowning at the jumbled paragraph. "Like, the grammar is terrible. Random punctuation and weird spacing. It reads like a drunk ghost wrote it."

Changbin glances over his shoulder, still squinting at the wall. "Probably just a misprint. Half the shit in here looks like it was pulled from a skip."

Neither of you realises that the book is clearly filled with clues, coded messages disguised as grammatical errors, misspelt words meant to be deciphered. You close it and set it back on the shelf, already moving on.

You both poke around for another fifteen minutes, opening drawers, tugging on candle sconces, checking under rugs, hoping for secret levers or at least something obvious. But nothing happens. The door remains firmly locked, the timer, while technically nonexistent, ticking away somewhere in your mind.

After a while, Changbin groans and flops dramatically into the leather armchair in the corner, legs spread, arms hanging off the sides like a tragic king. "We're gonna fucking die in here."

You sit down on the dusty edge of the desk and nod solemnly, holding a small magnifying glass in one hand and the cursed book in the other. "This is it. This is where it ends. They'll find us dehydrated next to the fake fireplace, surrounded by terrible plot twists and unsolved riddles."

He chuckles, then looks at you with a grin that slowly turns mischievous. "Okay, hear me out. Since we're gonna be here a while... how about we make out? Respectfully."

"Respectfully?"

"Always."

You eye him for a second longer before setting the magnifying glass down and slipping off the desk. You walk over slowly, lips curling into a soft grin. "Fine. Respectfully."

He barely waits a second before pulling you into his lap, strong arms wrapping around your waist with ease. You straddle him, arms curling around his neck, fingers brushing against the soft ends of his hair. The moment your lips meet his, it's like something ignites. He kisses you like he means it, like this is the part of the date he's been waiting for, like nothing else in the world could possibly matter more.

His hands tighten around your waist as he lifts you slightly, shifting you higher in his lap, mouths moving together in sync like you've done this a hundred times. Your lip gloss is ruined within minutes, smudged across both your mouths, sticky and sweet. You're not even sure what time it is anymore. You kiss until your thighs ache from sitting on him, until your hands have wandered down the line of his jaw and over the silver chain resting against his collarbone.

Eventually, after what might be an hour, though neither of you is tracking time with any accuracy, Changbin's breath is a little heavy, and your hair's slightly mussed, one of the curls from your half ponytail hanging over your shoulder in a way that screams dishevelled. You're curled into his lap still, his hand resting possessively on your thigh, your lipstick smeared and your travel mug long abandoned on the floor next to the desk.

Changbin sighs dramatically, leaning his head back against the chair. "Okay. As much as I would love to keep making out with you until the end of the universe... I think we might actually need to get out of this room."

You nod, breathless but amused. "We're really bad at this."

He pulls out his phone and squints at the screen, then taps a contact. "Only one man can save us now."

When the FaceTime call connects, Chan's face fills the screen, squinting slightly like he's just woken up from a nap. "What? What is it? What did you break?"

"Hyung," Changbin says with a tragic expression. "Help. We're trapped."

Chan rubs his face. "You're not in actual danger, right?"

"No," Changbin admits. "Just emotionally."

You lean into the frame slightly, still tucked into Changbin's lap, and wave. "Hi Chan."

Chan brightens immediately. "Hi Y/N. Is Binnie being a good date?"

You smile and nod. "He's very sweet. We just... haven't figured out anything in this escape room, and now we're calling you because you have common sense and actual working brain cells. Sorry you're third-wheeling."

Chan sighs with the kind of patience that only comes from years of dealing with people like you two. "It's fine. Let me help you escape before the poor worker monitoring the CCTV decides to gouge their eyes out watching you two kiss again."

Changbin chokes. "Wait, what?"

Chan raises an eyebrow. "You do know there are cameras in every corner of those rooms, right? It's literally a requirement."

Your hand flies to your mouth. "Oh my god."

Chan deadpans, "Both of your lips are swollen, Y/N's lip gloss is smeared, and Changbin has glitter all over his mouth. The entire staff knows what you two have been doing."

Changbin groans, slumping back in the chair. "I didn't realise I was on camera during the best moment of my life."

Chan rolls his eyes but starts asking questions about the room layout. You and Changbin hold the phone between you as you walk him through the setup, pointing the camera toward the shelves, the portraits, the stupid book with the broken grammar.

Chan stares at the book. "That's it. That's the fucking clue. Open that again."

You blink. "What? It's written like shit."

Chan laughs. "Exactly. The capital letters spell a code, and the punctuation marks a number sequence. It's not a misprint, it's the puzzle."

You stare down at the book and realise he's absolutely right. With Chan's help, you start piecing it together, finding a hidden compartment in the wall behind one of the portraits. Inside is a brass key, which unlocks a drawer in the desk, which leads to a secret switch behind the fake fireplace.

Fifteen minutes later, the room clicks open. 

You both stand in stunned silence for a second before Changbin raises his phone again. "Hyung, I love you."

Chan smiles, smug. "Now go. And for the love of everything holy, make out in Binnie's car like normal horny people. Let the poor employee have peace."

You laugh and wave. "Thanks, Chan."

As the call ends, you and Changbin walk hand-in-hand out of the room, both a little rumpled, a little high on adrenaline, and very much more into each other than either of you had planned for.

The sky's already deepening into soft hues of twilight when you and Changbin finally emerge from the escape room, slightly dishevelled, cheeks warm, and hearts pounding for reasons that have little to do with puzzles. The air outside is crisp, the kind that kisses your skin and lingers on your breath. Neither of you says anything right away. You just share a long look, the kind of look that feels like a secret you're both keeping together.

Changbin's hand slips easily into yours as you walk toward the car, the silence between you companionable. You glance over and smile as he pulls out his keys, that crooked grin of his lighting up his face when he catches you staring. There's a gentle buzz between your ribs that hasn't gone away since the first kiss in that ridiculous, dusty escape room.

By the time you've both buckled into the car and pulled out of the lot, the sky is a canvas of dark indigo, stars just beginning to emerge above the glowing skyline of Seoul. Changbin turns the music up a notch, something low and rhythmic playing through the speakers. His fingers tap against the steering wheel in time with the beat, and you rest your chin in your hand as you glance at him, stealing little moments in between traffic lights.

"Okay," he says, glancing at you. "Food. What do you want? You get to choose, but if you say salad, I'm leaving you on the side of the road."

You laugh. "How do you feel about japchae and kimchi jjigae?"

He lets out a noise of approval, smacking the steering wheel. "You really are the full package. Fuck yes."

A quick takeout run later, complete with a hefty bag of steaming noodles, broth, and a side of mandu you couldn't resist, you're winding up the quiet hills of Naksan Park. The road curves gently, lined with trees and scattered with streetlights, and when you reach the peak, he pulls the car into a quiet lookout spot overlooking the glowing sprawl of Seoul. The view is breathtaking, with the city glittering beneath you like a blanket of stars mirrored on earth.

Changbin kills the engine but leaves the radio on, the music continuing in the background. He climbs out and circles to the back door, opening it with a theatrical bow. You giggle and slide in, setting the food between you both on the seat as he joins.

The backseat is surprisingly spacious, and you both settle in easily, facing each other as you unwrap the food. Changbin takes a huge bite of mandu and groans with satisfaction.

"Holy shit," he says, around a mouthful. "Why does food taste better after kissing for an hour in public surveillance hell?"

You're laughing again, quietly, as you pick up your chopsticks. "Might be all the adrenaline."

You eat slowly, sharing bites and stories in between, legs crossed under you as you balance the container on your lap. Changbin keeps stealing bites from your portion and then insisting you try his. He drops a piece of japchae on the seat and swears like he's just been stabbed.

As the food disappears, the atmosphere shifts again. The music softens, one of those sultry R&B tracks that seems to slide under your skin without permission, and the shadows in the car deepen. You're licking a bit of broth off your lip when you glance up and see him watching you.

He leans in slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, the silver rings on his fingers cool against your cheek.

"This okay?" he murmurs, voice low and rough.

You nod once, barely breathing.

He kisses you before you can even finish the nod. This time it's slow, lazy, even. Like you've got all the time in the world. His hand cradles the back of your head as he deepens the kiss, your own fingers curling into the mesh fabric of his top, feeling the warm press of his skin beneath. Your knee knocks against his, and he shifts closer, pulling you into his lap again like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The city glows behind you, but all you can focus on is the heat of his mouth, the taste of coffee and spice, the way he sighs against your lips like he's been holding his breath all day. His hands explore gently, never crossing a line, but making it very clear that he knows exactly what he's doing.

Your hands are in his hair, your thighs locked around his hips, and the backseat fogs up fast with your shared heat and heavy breathing. You can feel your lip gloss smearing again, but you don't care. He's kissing you like you're something holy, and you're kissing him like he's the only solid thing left in the universe.

You don't know how long it goes on, time's stopped meaning anything since you got in the car, but eventually, your phone starts buzzing insistently from somewhere on the floor.

You groan into his mouth, reaching blindly for it. He's still trailing kisses down your jaw when you finally look at the screen.

"It's Jisung," you mumble, dazed.

Changbin groans, forehead dropping against your shoulder. "Fuck's sake. Ignore him."

You hit decline. It rings again.

"Persistent little shit," Changbin mutters, kissing your neck once more before you push him back gently, giggling.

"I should answer before he sends a search party."

You pick up, putting the call on speaker. "Ji?"

"WHERE IS MY BEST FRIEND, SEO CHANGBIN?" Jisung's voice shouts immediately through the speaker. "WHERE IS SHE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HER, YOU HEATHEN?"

Changbin snorts, grabbing your waist tighter as you laugh. "I'm right here."

"Return her immediately," Jisung demands. "I've been patient. I've given you HOURS. But Seungmin and I need DETAILS."

Seungmin's voice cuts in faintly from the background. "Ask if she kissed him."

"I KNOW SHE DID, THEY'VE BEEN GONE FOR FIVE HOURS," Jisung shouts again. "BINNIE, STOP BEING GREEDY, SHARE."

Changbin grins, lifting his head. "We're enjoying our evening. You guys can wait."

"NO, WE CAN'T," Jisung wails. "BRING HER BACK."

You press your face into Changbin's neck to muffle your laugh, then finally say, "Okay, okay. We'll head back soon."

"You better," Seungmin says. "We've already bought snacks."

"Of course you have," Changbin mutters.

"AND IF YOU DON'T RETURN HER IN FIFTEEN MINUTES I'M TEXTING EVERYONE A PICTURE OF BABY BINNIE IN HIS DUCK ONESIE."

"You have that?"

"You'd better believe it."

The call ends with an ominous click.

You look at Changbin. "Duck onesie?"

"I swear to God, if he sends that picture, I'm deleting his entire sad boy hours playlist."

You kiss him one last time before slipping back into the front seat, laughter still bubbling out of you. The car pulls away from the overlook, the city slowly drawing closer again, but your heart still feels weightless, tucked safely into the space where his hand still rests on your thigh.

It's late afternoon when Changbin finally makes it to your apartment building, the winter air biting at the tips of his ears and the wind cutting under the hem of his distressed black knit sweater. The dramatic holes in the fabric expose slivers of his warm-toned skin, just enough to tease, and the raw texture of the knit hangs perfectly off his frame. Thick silver-toned chain necklaces drape over his chest, catching the dull light in glints as he moves. His black utility-style cargo pants hang loose around his thighs, pockets and dangling straps clinking softly against his thighs with each step, and the thick soles of his platform combat boots crunch lightly on the cracked pavement.

He stands outside your door with a matte black gift bag clutched in one hand, his thumb nervously brushing over the smooth fabric handles. The tissue paper inside peeks out in a gentle pop of royal purple. His heart thuds, not the way it usually does when he's mid-lift or scoring on the field, but in a way that feels way too soft for how hard he's trying to look today. His palms are sweating. He's sure he looks like the picture of cool, ripped-up sweater, silver jewellery, combat boots, but on the inside, he's a shaking fucking mess.

He lifts a hand and knocks twice, sharp and rhythmic, then drops it quickly before he starts overthinking the force behind it. There's a moment of muffled movement, the rustle of fabric, and then the door swings open.

You're there.

Your hair's piled into a messy bun, strands curling loose around your cheeks and neck. It always frames your face so perfectly, like it knows it's got a job to do. You're wearing a lilac lace bralette with scalloped trim, delicate and soft, paired with loose, high-waisted plaid pyjama pants in a palette of purple, white, and magenta. Over the bralette is an oversized, cream-coloured knit cardigan that slips slightly off one shoulder. You're barefoot, warm and glowing and soft, and he's not sure he remembers how to breathe for a second.

You blink at him, then grin like he's the last piece in your favourite puzzle.

"Hey," you say, voice still coated in that soft, end-of-day sweetness.

"Hey," he echoes, stepping forward. "I, uh... I got you a gift. Kind of. Sort of."

Your brow lifts slightly as you step aside and let him in, the heat of your apartment wrapping around him instantly as he kicks his boots off by the door. You tilt your head curiously, eyeing the bag in his hands.

"I went to my family home in Yongin last weekend," he says, stepping in and offering the bag to you. "Spent hours up in the attic going through old boxes. Thought I might find something cool. Ended up finding something fucking amazing."

You reach out and take the bag gently, handling it like it might be precious. Your fingers brush his as you do, and it sends a ripple down his spine. You pull out the neatly tucked purple tissue paper, folding it aside, and then you gasp.

"No way," you breathe, eyes wide.

Your fingers curl around the edge of the clear plastic box, pulling it out slowly, reverently. And there she is.

A pristine, boxed 2013 original Raven Queen doll. The one you used to beg your parents for when you were younger, the one they stopped making, the one you always talked about when the two of you got into your cartoon nostalgia rants. Her dark plum dress, high collar, feathered accents, and signature purple and black hair behind the clear front of the box, untouched, perfectly preserved in time.

You stare at it like it's the Holy Grail. "Bin. No way. This is the original release."

He grins, proud as hell, like he just won a damn award. "Yep. First edition. My sister was obsessed. She had doubles of a few. I remembered you talking about it and figured I'd check, just in case."

You blink hard and then glance up at him, overwhelmed. "You actually went through attic boxes for this?"

"Couple spiders. One rat skeleton. Totally worth it."

You laugh, bright and breathless, then look down at the box again, clutching it like it might vanish. "I can't believe you did this."

He shrugs, stepping closer, suddenly a little nervous again. "Well, the gift kinda comes with a question."

You look up at him again.

He clears his throat. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

You don't hesitate, not for a single second. "Yes. Of course."

He barely has time to react before you turn around, muttering, "Hold on, I'll kiss you in a second, I need to place her properly."

He laughs, loud and warm and uncontainable, watching as you carefully carry the boxed doll over to your bookshelf. You crouch slightly and shift around your already existing shrine, figures from Winx Club, Monster High, more Ever After High, a few sparkly resin art pieces and glittering enamel pins. You take your time, adjusting the angles, clearing a spot that's perfectly central, placing the Raven Queen box like she's royalty. When she's settled, you step back with a satisfied hum.

You turn around and beam. "Okay. Now I can kiss you."

He opens his arms like an invitation, and you walk straight into them, wrapping your own around his neck as his hands settle firmly on your hips. He doesn't wait. He pulls you up against him and kisses you hard, deep, his lips capturing yours with the same intention he's carried since the first time he laid eyes on you. Your fingers twist into the fabric of his sweater, your nails catching on the rough holes, and his chains clink softly between you as he lifts you slightly off the floor.

You hum into his mouth as your feet leave the ground, his arms wrapped tightly around you, strong and sure. His grip is possessive without being overwhelming, like he's been waiting to hold you like this properly for months. The kind of hold that says I have you, and I'm never letting go.

You kiss him again, slower this time, your lips fitting perfectly over his, tasting like raspberry tea and vanilla chapstick. His chest rises and falls against yours, the knit of his sweater rough against your skin in contrast to the softness of your cardigan.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, he whispers, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to ask."

You smile, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "You could've asked me back in the fucking escape room."

He chuckles, low and rough. "Didn't want to do it while covered in your lip gloss and being watched on CCTV."

You grin, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth again. "Well, you did good."

He grins right back, that familiar dimple showing up, his hands still resting on your waist like it's his favourite place in the world. "You're mine now."

And in that moment, barefoot in your tiny apartment, wrapped in each other and soft cardigan warmth and the quiet glow of something real, the world outside could’ve stopped spinning, and neither of you would’ve noticed.

18/06 - 5PM GMT - 18+ Patreon Post for The Science Of Falling Softly

1 Tier - MANIACS

- Access to unique works unavailable on tumblr

- Sneak Peeks Will Be Posted On Patreon to Members

- Requests Can Be Comissioned By Members

- Access to Smut not available on Tumblr

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind @furfoxsake22 @daaaph-lol @tirena1 @yu-winchester @cristy-101 @strayk1ds143 @skzlover24 @bussdownflockiana @wickedbutlovely @bbokarismeow @Matchacha65

Proofread by the fabulous @hwangjoanna <3

[abarbaricyalp]

As an absolute sucker for tenderness I would like to request “kissing it better” for the kiss prompts

And who amongst us isn't a sucker for tenderness 🩵

"No, no, no, I've almost got it," Sam promised, pulling AJ down to sit on the dining room chair again. He'd been squirming his way up the back of it with every gasped 'Ouch!' and was practically on the table at that point.

"Uncle Sam!" he whined, tears heavy in his throat. "Cass said they were gonna have to cut my finger off. He said it was too far in my finger and it would never come out and I'd get an infection!"

Sam had to turn his head to hide his smile against his shoulder. He'd used that line too often as a kid too. "Cass doesn't know everything," he assured. "Just sit still for a few more seconds, okay?"

AJ's entire little body was tense as Sam brought the tweezers down to the tip of his finger again. Sam squeezed the sides of his finger, brushed the tweezers over the pad of it, then quickly clicked them together and pulled out the splinter that had brought a whole summer afternoon to a halt.

He quickly swiped away a bead of blood before AJ could see it and then kissed AJ's finger, wrapped his nephew's hand between both of his own, and said, "There you go! All better now."

AJ flexed his fingers beneath Sam's hold. It must've passed inspection because he grinned and slid out of the chair, pulling his hand free. "Thanks, Uncle Sam! It doesn't even hurt anymore!" And then he ran outside to go do it again.

Sam chuckled to himself and pushed himself off the floor, knees protesting their reaquaintance with the linoleum.

"Always gotta save the day, huh?" a voice said from behind him.

Sam almost jumped out of his skin, but he managed not to freak out too badly. He did turn quickly, but he'd chalk that up to excitement, not fear.

"How long have you been skulking there?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Could've used the help, y’know. You're his favorite."

Bucky was leaning against the doorway from the living room into the kitchen, looking worse for the wear himself. He was wearing his standard all black, but sweatpants substituted for his usual jeans and the thermal he was wearing was a size too big. Sam could imagine the unseen sore wounds that had him keeping clothes from clinging on to him.

There was an arc of stitches around his left eye and a gash across his lips on the same side. Sam wondered-- "Did you forget to block or did you fall on your face?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky sighed, relaxing, smiling to himself as he ducked his head. "What happened to all that good bedside manner, huh?"

Sam set aside the tweezers and stepped towards Bucky. He had to dodge the chair AJ had left pulled out, but Bucky had at least lifted his head again by the time Sam got there. Up close, Sam could see the fading bruising still staining his skin and the exhaustion pulling at the corners of his eyes. But his gaze was bright and sappy while he looked at Sam.

"Hey," he greeted. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Saving the day," Sam reminded him, leaning into Bucky's space to get an arm around his waist. "What's wrong with this place, huh? It's my favorite room."

The sunshine spilled into the kitchen and made every afternoon feel like a Saturday afternoon and every morning feel like a Sunday morning. They'd built the space meticulously for comfort and warmth. Enough room to host family and friends, or to dance on sleepless nights. Enough charm to be cozy.

"You got anymore 'save the day' energy left?" Bucky asked.

Sam grinned and nodded. "Maybe a little bit," he said. He took Bucky's hand, Bucky's fingers curling over his instinctively, and brought his knuckles up to his mouth to kiss gently over the mostly healed scabs and bruises that were only tender pressure by now.

"Better?" he asked.

Bucky shook his head, pointed to his brow. Sam held Bucky's face between both of his hands and examined the wound sternly. "This one may take some more time," he decided.

"I'm not going anywhere," Bucky promised.

Sam gently kissed along the arc of the cut, from the side of Bucky's face up to the edge of his eyebrow. Then he made the return trip beneath Bucky's brow, ending with one more kiss to the last bandage at the end.

He could feel Bucky relaxing even further, facial muscles twitching in relief beneath his hands. His head drooped down a little, pressing against Sam's.

"Better yet?" he asked again.

Bucky shook his head again, forehead rocking against Sam's, noses almost brushing. Sam sighed dramatically, ducked his head down instead of lifting Bucky's, and studied his face. When Bucky went a little cross eyed looking at him, they both laughed quietly at each other.

"Well, I don't see what else you could mean," Sam decided.

And then Bucky was kissing him desperately. Not as hard as he probably wanted--Sam knew him and knew how he kissed--but deeply and unceasingly. His mouth moved against Sam's with an encompassing surety that always took Sam's breath away and made him lightheaded. His hand came up to Sam's cheek, holding him gently, thumb swiping below his eye.

Sam loved this.

They kissed until it just became sharing air and sharing space and sharing heartbeats. Until it was just an excuse to touch each other and not part.

"Better?" Sam breathed against Bucky's mouth.

They'd managed not to open the split in his lip, but it had cracked a little and his breath was just a little iron-y between them. "All better," he agreed, airy and sweet, swaying towards Sam even though there wasn't distance between them.

"Let me just make sure," Sam suggested and kissed him again.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

A soldier yearns for home as a pining pilot watches on.

cw: hints of a shitty ex, soldiers away for Christmas.

Nik hadn’t questioned the guitar that John had loaded onto the Black Hawk. He had transported more unusual things into the heart of eastern Europe, and would do so in the future at John's behest, no doubt. That hadn't stopped him inspecting it while John had been busy briefing the 141 and an attaché of mercenaries Laswell had sent to support.

The case was solid black plastic, chipped and dented, and littered with band stickers. Some had faded to white completely, while others had peeled in places. His eyes lingered over a few bands he'd never heard of - The Fratellis, The Wombats, The… Pigeon Detectives - and some he did. John had a rather broad musical palette.

The instrument itself was well loved too, with a chip out of the main body and more faded stickers across the back and front. The varnish had worn off the fretboard, but the strings were relatively fresh; Nik ran the pads of his fingers over them and they hummed out a warm note. The musical echo of John's smile, Nik thought fondly. He clipped the case closed and grabbed a ratchet strap from a shelf to keep it secure.

They made camp in an abandoned building in the suburbs outside Timișoara. Nik could think of worse places to spend Christmas than the City of Roses, but everyone else's spirits were low. It was Christmas Eve and every soldier huddled in that little building was yearning for hearth and home. Nik had spent so long without one that he had learned to find solace where he could, and if that was enjoying the philharmonic opera and a glass of Țuică in a beautiful Romanian city after the mission, then so be it.

As he walked the floors, he heard Gaz talking softly on his phone, Soap and Ghost too, with muted Scottish voices coming through from the otherside. The lieutenant had lost so much and the sergeant had taken to including him in his own family. One day they would make it official. Nik had already picked out his suit for the occasion.

The team had a limited amount of downtime before all boots hit the ground and they went dark, and every single one had searched out their loved ones in whatever way they could. Nik hadn't realised his own heart had done the same until he ended up outside John's door.

It was ajar and Nik could hear him moving around. He was about to knock when he caught sight of John sitting down in front of a laptop, and his hand hovered in midair. A hazy picture appeared on the screen, flickering once as John adjusted the antennae.

“C'n y’ear me, Carol?”

“Yeah, John. C'n ‘ear ya, la.”

“‘Ow ya keepin’?”

“Fine, it's… I wish y’were ‘ere. I'm… it's hard. Bizzies were round lookin’ fer ‘im, he's gone an' been a prick again.”

“I know, ‘m sorry, be home soon–ahh, there she is!”

Nik leaned in and saw a new face appear on the screen. Kimmy. She was a combination of John and his sister, without a single trade of her father, as far as Nik could tell; erratic brown hair that had fought a comb to the death, broad nose and distinguished forehead, and those blue eyes were clearly a Price birthright, because they gazed owlishly from the screen as she worked out who her mother was talking to and then squealed with delight.

“Uncle John! You commin’ fer scran? Ma go’ pigs in blankets from down The Asda an’.. an’ that spotted dick wi’ custard, an’ an’...”

John chuckled. “Naw, love. Gotta sort out some bad men, then ‘ll be ‘ome, but ‘m gonna miss dinner.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, love, ‘m sorry. Ma got the clobber ya asked fer though.”

“Yeah…”

She didn't look convinced and Nik's heart ached for her.

“Bu’ listen, figured we could still do ar sing along at least. You ready?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Eh, yeah! Wait, wait…”

She left the screen, returning moments later with what looked like an Action Man doll in a carrier vest, and plopped herself back down on her mother's lap.

“Ready!”

John tweaked the strings and played a few trial notes to test the tuning, before he opened up into the introduction. Nik had never heard him play before. Not in all the years they had known each other, and it felt strangely intimate now, John's full bicep sloped over the body of the guitar as he strummed through the chords, agile fingers moving across the frets. Nik wished he could see from the front. Imagined it so clearly in his mind’s eye.

And then John started singing and Nik had to place a hand on the wall to steady himself.

“I wanna thank the storm that brought the snow, and thanks to the string of lights that make it glow, but I wanna thank you, baby. You make it feel like Christmas.” His voice was rich, the auditory companion to the dark amber of the whiskey in his office, gravelly and a little rough from so many years smoking strong cigars, but he carried a note perfectly, even if he was keeping the volume low. Nik felt his heart trying to beat out of his chest, a little breathless as he drank in every word.

Despite the subtle crackle of the poor laptop speakers, Carol’s voice carried just as well, low and silky, as John played through her verse, his smile visible even at the sides through the perk of his round cheeks. “It barely took a breath to realise, we're gonna be a classic for all time. I wanna thank you, baby. You make it feel like Christmas.”

When they fell in together, Nik realised this wasn't a one-off. They harmonised perfectly, practised, John dropping his lower baritone to allow Carol's voice to carry over the top, and Kimmy’s delighted squeak made Nik grin so broadly his face hurt. “Sweet gingerbread made with molasses, my heart skipped and I reacted, can't believe that this is happenin’, like a present sent from God, sleigh bells singin’ Hallelujah, stars are shinin’ on us too, I wanna thank you, baby… you make it feel like Christmas.”

John leaned back, dipping his shoulders, chuckling as he played through another bar, before he carried the next verse with Carol humming and echoing beneath. “Thought I was done for, thought that love had died, but you came along, I swear you saved my life, and I wanna thank you, baby, ‘cause you make it feel like Christmas.”

It was as Carol squeezed Kimmy and pressed a kiss into her hair, the Action Man dancing across the screen in Kimmy's small hands, that Nik realised John was singing to his niece. Not some abstract lover provided by the song, but the little girl that beamed at him like he was a superhero, held by the sister he had raised himself. John had no wife, no children, but he did have a family. A family that loved him, missed him, looked at him like he hung the stars.

Nik dropped his eyes for a moment, but he couldn't look away for long. It was like staring into a bonfire in a snowstorm; the warmth on his skin warding off the bitter cold, but the intensity of the light hurting his eyes. He wanted it so ardently that his entire body ached.

“I never thought I'd find a love like this, but I found forever in that very first kiss, I wanna thank you, baby, you make it feel like Christmas.” Carol finished the lyrics and they harmonised through the last few bars as she kissed her daughter’s rosy cheeks, bouncing her on her lap as she giggled.

John struck the final note and rested his palm over the strings to bring their warm hum to an end.

“Ahh, ‘gain! Again!’

John chuckled, a sound even warmer than the one made by his guitar. “Naw, sweet’eart. S’time fer bed, or Santa ain't gonna visit."

“Yer Santa,” Kimmy said tartly. “An’ y’ain’ ‘ere.”

“Olrigh', smartarse, but if I ‘ave t’ get a flight back over ‘specially t’ rob yer presents back, I will.”

“You wouldn't."

He said nothing, but Nik could picture the raised eyebrow, the stern set of his eyes and lips. Kimmy pouted and slid from her mother's lap, looking mischievous and reluctant, but complying because she knew there was no room for negotiation. Before she disappeared, she leaned in and the camera caught the top of her head as she kissed the screen.

“Love ya, Uncle John. See soon.”

“Sleep tight, ya little beast.”

She scurried away and Carol looked back at her brother, her eyes, just as blue as his, brimmed with anxiety. “You come back safe, y’ear? Safe. No heroics, ya get the job done, ya get yer arse t’ my dinner table before New Years.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kissed her fingers and they covered the camera briefly. “Love you, big brother.”

She took one final look at him and then the camera went black. He stared at the screen and then let out a long, rattling sigh, his face falling to his palm. Nik’s heart caught in his throat and he was frozen between leaving John to his sadness or offering comfort and revealing he'd been hovering there the whole time, invading his privacy.

He didn't need to worry for long. John's phone rang and he snatched it from the nearby table, sliding his guitar behind him to hang down his back. “Price,” he said, a stern bark. Back to business; John tidied away into the recesses of his heart, Captain Price assuming his place. John listened intently, hand on his hip. “Copy. ETA?” Another pause. “Fuck, that's too soon, we’re… yeah, Rog, we’ll be ready. We’ve got Nik with us.”

Nik smiled, stepping back. He had barely retreated four paces down the hall before his phone buzzed in his back pocket. It was John: “need you, 5 mins”.

Nik ducked into a nearby room to wait out the time. If he appeared too quickly, John would know he had been lingering nearby. He had no right to have invaded that private moment, and John deserved to believe it had been all his. A quiet moment to himself before the clusterfuck to come.

As Nik waited in the dark for the minutes to tick by, he added two new people to his silent, unwavering commitment to John Price. Nikolai would personally return John to Carol and Kimmy, their hero, safe and sound. They would sing together at Carol’s dinner table by New Years, Nik would make sure of it.

Nik left the room and knocked on John's door. When he entered, he was greeted by a lopsided smirk as John looked up from checking his M1911. “Time to get evil, Comrade.”

Nik grinned back. “It would be my pleasure.”

[jojomiwbvb6]

The Shower Scene, Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

Warnings: this is a work of fiction. smut (18+) MDNI, NSFW. Sexting, Sexual Tendencies, Swearing, Degradation, Brat Taming

Author's Note: bet your ass I'm destroying you all. Links coming soon. Part 4 will be "cumming" soon.

--

You sat backstage with your head against the wall. Another workday, another city. You were left in the dim light, alone with your thoughts and the screaming of the crowd and the loud thrums of guitar through the heavy speakers.

Only the thoughts of yours and Noah's secret situation would return to your mind.

You haven't been able to hide the straining tension and the absolute cravings for him you have in the dark.

Noah noticed you eyeballing him one day on the bus. You quickly looked away, but the damage had been done. Every time you turned around, Noah took advantage of teasing and taunting you from as far away as possible.

He would give you the hottest glares, then turn away with a completely different expression as soon as he did. He'd smirk at you and bite his lip, turning his head to smolder you.

When no one was looking, he winked at you and curled his fingers in the air. When Jolly looked towards him, he changed his expression and quickly dropped his hands.

You were so sick and crazy over it but you tried to hide it.

A week or two went by, only a few little chances to interact with Noah completely went by with no opportunity to touch or even get a secret word in. You hadn't had a moment alone with him at all.

Ever since that night in the bathroom on the bus, you ached to know just what he'd do if you teased him again. He was teasing you with his glares and gestures. Noah knew exactly how he was making you feel, and you knew it.

The next tour week was coming up, with one day off in Atlanta, Georgia. But that off day was 5 days away-- a wait you weren't sure you could handle, if Noah even decided to spend it with you.

"Hey, (Y/N). You good out here? Why are you by yourself?" Bryan peaked out at you from the stage entry.

"Oh, just enjoying a moment of peace before the chaos." You shrug.

"Alright. Just making sure everything's cool," he softly smiled and returned to the side stage, resuming collecting pictures.

--

In your bunk that night, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling not so far from your face. You scroll through your phone, noticing a snap from a few people, Noah being one, sent a half hour ago.

Biting your lip with excitement, you wonder what it is. You open the Snapchat.

Noah laying in his bunk, furrowing his eyebrows and squinting at the camera. The picture looks so normal, yet so delicious. Every time he made that face, it flipped a switch in you. You weren't sure if the picture was only for you. Still, your eyes devoured the photo.

You looked away at the ceiling again, closing the snap. An idea pops into your head, filthy and obscene. Should you? You weren't sure, but you knew that it would get the reaction you craved so desperately.

You can't help but smirk and your stomach flips. Convinced of your plan, you get up quietly from your bunk, pads of your feet hitting the cold bus floor.

You walk out of the bunk area and to the same bathroom Noah had you panting and soaked to the bone several nights previously. As the door shuts behind you, you rest against the door and breathe deeply, anxious at what you're about to do.

You look at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair. You bite your lip, testing how you look.

Deciding you are ready, you slip out of your top and the bralette you wore. You caressed your breasts and teased your nipples until they were taut and pointed. Pulling up your phone's camera, you snapped a few different pictures.

Excitement pulsed through you, ready to throw Noah through a struggle until the end of the week.

Pulling down your pajama pants, you angle the camera at just the right angle to make your ass look fat and juicy, just to make Noah want to take a bite of you.

At every thought of what Noah was going to get to see, your panties are wet and you're aching. Just because of this, you turn around and angle the camera at your covered pussy, throwing your hand on your thigh. Snap, picture.

Taking your underwear off, you take a shot from the back and from the front. And another of your whole naked body.

You get dressed again, and return to your bunk quietly.

Looking through the pictures, excitement rolls through you. You sort through them, deleting ones you don't like and picking from the ones you do.

As you're looking, you decide on the least hot one, of your tits. A slow burn, you decide.

You move to the chat box on Snapchat with Noah. You didn't think he'd be awake. Opening your gallery and clicking on that one photo, your stomach flips and you press send.

Your eyes close and you pass out, bus rocking you to sleep with the bumps in the road.

--

You wake up to voices and movement. Your curtain is ripped open and you squint hard.

"Wake up, (Y/L/N)! We are late to the venue. Get dressed and ready to load-in asap." Jolly says to you.

"Aye-aye, Captain Karlsson." You mumble, stumbling out of bed and to the bathroom.

You check your phone momentarily while you get yourself awake. Notifications popping up on the screen. One notification stands out to you: Noah Sebastian, with the yellow ghost on the side.

Your heart does a flip along with your stomach and you grip the sink and hold your breath. You race to unlock it and open the snap. It's a chat. If it's possible to get more nervous, you do.

Your finger hovers over the button, scared to see what it says. You slowly swipe to open the chat. You see that he's saved the photo.

There's one sentence below that:

You're playing a dangerous game, princess.

You gasp, locking your phone. Your teeth sink into your lip.

A sharp rap comes to the bathroom door. "Get outta there, some of us gotta piss!"

"S-sorry!" You stutter and fling open the door to a grumpy Matt.

Exiting the bathroom, you spot Noah getting off the bus. Of course you missed him again.

--

Once again, the day repeats itself with high tension and hard work. The brutal day exhausts you, rushing to make everything work and on time.

Noah is nowhere to be found around you today, socializing with everyone else.

In-between sets, you're setting up the stage with your fellow crew. In the few moments before Bad Omens approaches the stage and your feet have left it, you're opening your phone back up and Noah's chat. You open the gallery, smirking to yourself, and you select your next choice: your pretty panties on display with your ass all up in the camera. Holding your breath again, you click send.

It takes several minutes. The stage music begins to play, and you know that they're about to go on. The blue arrow turns white and you know he's seeing it. You see "typing..." Pop up next to his name and you hold your breath.

Swiping, you see his bitmoji peeking from the bottom. His message pops up and a few seconds later you hear the crowd screeching. He saved this photo too.

You're gonna fucking regret this, you dirty little girl.

You suppress a moan. You fucking hope so.

You run around backstage as needed. One requiring that you assess a problem with a cable processing a cab that wasn't functioning properly. On stage, Noah's eyes catch yours.

He holds the eye contact, breaking your focus from your work momentarily. He looks so wild and tortured when he looks at you. He wants to tear you to pieces and you can feel it in your gut.

When you go backstage, you send the next picture unmercilessly, excited to enrage him further. You fantasize about how hard you're gonna get him.

--

You finish the night on the bus couch. You look at your Snapchat, Noah not opening your snap yet. You huff anxiously.

Noah enters the bus with Ruffilo, laughing about something. His eyes land dangerously on you. You have a feeling he has plans for you. Sitting down on the opposite couch, he glares at you hotly and opens his phone. Your core aches.

You see the light flash in his face. You watch your phone for the confirmation of your message being opened, stomach flipping. You see the blue arrow fade to white again. Looking up, you make eye contact with a Noah who is clearly hiding his expression. Danger glints in his eyes. He goes to his phone, typing furiously, brows furrowed.

You dirty fucking girl. You think you're gonna get away with this? Right in front of my friends? I'm gonna make you regret every fucking second when I get my hands on you.

You look up at his hungry eyes. He has a hint of anger on his face that makes you so wet. You bite your lip at him and bat your eyes. You smirk. You see his fist clench. He's about to stand, when Folio requests his help.

Noah sighs quietly. "Sure," he says.

A new message from Noah.

This isn't over.

You text back. Oh, Noah, you have no idea.

--

Over the next few days, you keep the pictures flowing into his inbox. He kept threatening your demise, even sending a hot picture of his chest and a little smirk playing on his mouth with a hot pressure in his sweats.

You saved it, just for your eyes.

"God, Noah," you mumbled to yourself.

Finding the last picture, of your complete open pussy and breasts sitting perfectly perky on your chest, you send it straight to Noah.

From your bunk, you can hear Noah groan and turn it into a yawn. A message pops up on your phone.

This is the last fucking straw. What a fucking slut you are. All for me. I'm gonna ravage your little cunt and leave you bruised and used just like you're begging me to.

You almost moan out loud, gasping and soaking yourself.

I double dare you to try.

You taunt him, trying to get his animalistic nature to come out.

You're about to get on my bad side, naughty girl.

Give it all to me, baby. You say back.

Careful what you fucking wish for.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

11 Lap Dances

Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Mafia or Assasin AU but very vague / Reader works at a nightclub / I had way too much fun with this entry so it's a bit longer. Actually thinking about writing more parts for this but it could be read as a stand-alone

A pair of stunning amber eyes had been on you for the past couple of nights. They were hard to miss, leaving a lingering curiosity in the back of your mind.

You continued your performance on the stage as you always did, ignoring all the slurred demands and shrill whistles being thrown at you by the rambunctious crowd. Light bounced off the glass beads on your dress as you moved, creating a dazzling spectacle that few on the dance floor had the heart to appreciate, even if you had their undivded attention. They didn't truly see you, but that was expected. Your seductive dance fed into their fleeting, lust-induced fantasies. There was rarely an exception, and you could always pick them out.

Your eyes fluttered over to him again. He simply sat there, silently watching as if that was all he was here to do. It was all he had done for the past few performances he had attended. In a crowd like this, he stood out like a sore thumb.

The dance finally came to a close. You descended from the stage and made your way through the crowd to the bar to ask for a thirst quencher. Your eyes idly scanned the crowd again for the face that had been occupying your mind. He had disappeared like a puff of smoke again. A bit of disappointment settled on your shoulders as you wondered if he would return tomorrow night to watch you.

Your admirer was a well-dressed man. You could tell even from the stage. His demeanor remained calm and collected despite the loud and rambunctious environment. It was hard not to be intrigued. What was someone like him doing in a place like this? He looked like he belonged elsewhere, somewhere less choked up by cigarette smoke and clumsy drunkards.

Your boss saunters up to you while you were sipping on your drink, thoughts wandering off with a man you knew nothing about.

"A guest requested you." She held up a key card between two fingers.

"Didn't I tell you? I'm not doing private performances."

The woman frowned, but wasn't surprised by your immediate decline. The two of you had an agreement.

"You might want to see this one. Count it as a personal favor to me."

You furrowed your brow, taking a good look at her expression. Ever since you took to the stage, she had been rather lenient on you to the point of favoritism, allowing you to decline interacting with guests you didn't wish to. It wasn't a selfless gesture, but a calculated one. Perceived scarcity artificially inflates value. Your reputation as an untouchable commodity only made you more desirable to the masses that gathered here. She could sell your presence for far more if she withheld you from her ordinary patrons. Their unmet desires fueled your reputation and padded her wallet.

"How much did he give you?" You asked bluntly.

"Nothing." She replied, an unsual tinge of fear colored her voice as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't want to throw you under the bus. You know that."

"He threatened you, didn't he?" You realized.

"Just take care of him for me. I owe you one." She didn't confirm nor deny your suspicions.

The woman standing before you was no herbivore. She swallowed people whole and didn't even bother to spit out their bones once she's done chewing them up. Plenty of illegal activities happened within these walls. She permitted it, protected it even. So the only thing that could stir fear in her was someone who could either put her behind bars or held enough tangible power to quietly make her disappear into thin air.

It looked like you had no choice in this matter.

"Fine. They probably just want a lap dance."

"You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you." She almost pleads. It's a first for you, hearing this kind of tone.

She told you the private room number and you plucked the key card from her hand. You immediately downed the rest of your glass and made your way down the hallway. The blinking lights and music dimmed a bit as you distanced yourself from the dance floor. You drew in a deep breath before swiping the card and pushing the door open.

An audible gasp escaped you when your eyes met with a pair of striking amber ones. It was your mysterious admirer, the one you had forgotten about once your boss approached you. He was the monster that wretched woman was begging you to rescue her from?

"You've taken me quite some effort to find." He greets you by your real name rather than your stage alias.

Have you perhaps gotten hit by a car and lost a portion of your memory? You'd swear this man was a complete stranger. If you had met him before, you'd surely remember him. Who could forget such a face?

The door clicked shut behind you as you stood there, not sure how to go about this encounter anymore. You were expecting some large burly man with tattoos running down his arms, so you were actually quite relieved to see him. If every VIP that came through the front doors of the establishment was this attractive, your boss would not have to beg you to entertain them. You would be volunteering to.

"You were looking for me?" You asked, but regretted it immediately. Of course he was looking for you. That was why your boss went to fetch you.

"I have." He sighed, lamenting how difficult it was to convince a mother hen to surrender her prized chick to him. "Come here, dear. Let me take a closer look at you."

Like an obedience switch had been flipped on inside you, your body blindly obeyed his words. That silky, deep voice was hard to resist.

"You have his eyes and hair." He remarks out of the blue.

"Whose?"

"Your father's."

Your eyes widened. When your mother was still with you, she refused to mention your father, even when you asked. She simply said he was a dead man. You've always known he must've been the one you got your eyes and hair from since your mother didn't share those traits with you. Everytime you stared in the mirror, you wondered what your father looked like. After she died, you stopped wasting precious thoughts on useless pondering like that.

"Where is he? He's alive, isn't he?" You asked excitedly.

"Finding you was his dying wish. Due to how young you were when you were separated from him, reliable leads were difficult to come by. As such, I was unable to fulfill his contract until now."

The hope went out in your eyes yet again, after he confirmed that your father was indeed dead as your mother claimed. You shrugged and in an apathetic instant, tossed the gloomy thoughts to the back of your mind.

"So, what now? Are you here to be my surrogate dad or something?"

Your handsome stranger chuckled. "If you'd prefer to see me as a fatherly figure, I can certainly make that accommodation."

"I'd rather not." A mischievous smirk slips into your lips. "Unless you mean for me to call you daddy in a different kind of context."

His brow raised at your flirtation. "Careful now. You barely know me."

"I don't need to." You leaned in. "The less I know, the better off I am, especially in this industry."

"She's taught you well, I see." He hummed in approval.

"Now that we've gotten the reason you're here out of the way, how about I entertain you for a while?" You whispered in a sultry voice. "Can't let you leave empty-handed, right?"

"Your father would not approve of you attempting to seduce me."

"He's dead." You reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself onto his lap, straddling his knees loosely. "Besides, he wouldn't approve of you eyeing his babygirl the way you did while I was on stage either."

Your hips swayed back and forth, ghosting over his leg, barely touching him. This was for his eyes only. If he wanted you, he would have to reach out and take you into his own hands.

"You were putting on quite the performance. Was that not your desired outcome?" He mused, unashamed for being singled out for something the entire audience was guilty of.

"So you admit you want to fuck me too."

"I'm no saint, sweetheart." He warned you.

"Neither am I." You challenged.

The song coming through the speakers was the same one booming on the other side of the door, just without the obnoxious crowd. It gave you something to synchronize to. You rolled your hips to the sensual rhythm. The fluidity of your movements resembled waves tossing against a rocky shore, relentlessly wearing him down.

"So what's your name, handsome?" Your voice distracted him from his thoughts.

"Zhongli." He replied without much hesitation. His voice had gotten thick and slightly gravelly from all your hard work.

A pleased smile sat on your lips. From the first time you saw him in the crowd, he had captured your attention. It took him long enough to make himself more than just a spectator. In a matter of time, this man would be putty in your hands, you thought. Confidence was your charm as well as your blindspot.

"I'll make sure to say it nice and loud when you have me wrapped around your cock later." You whispered right into his ear.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear."

"You're going to end up fucking me. Why does it matter what order it happens?" You asked, putting more deliberation into your movements.

"I prefer not to rush into things." He chuckled.

"Are you going to make me sign papers or something?" You teased him.

"I will not lay a finger on you unless you agree to my terms." He managed to say between labored breaths.

True to his word, you realized this man really hadn't touched you at all ever since you've entered the room. All the physical contact between the two of you had been initiated solely by you. A blush spread over your face. You really were getting a bit impatient, but you were glad Zhongli didn't seem to mind.

"What are you, some kind of businessman?" You ask as you press yourself flush against his body. Your lap dance had gradually devolved into something much more erotic and tempting.

"You can say that." He replies cryptically.

"I agree." You pant, getting way too aroused for your own good.

"You haven't even heard them yet." He sighed.

It was getting difficult to think straight with you grinding against him like a sinful little devil. Your audacity was as dangerous as it was daring. It left all too much responsibility for him to shoulder. You might have your feet buried in the mud of this filthy establishment, but this mud was nothing like the bloody sludge his shoes were constantly dragging through. He had found you already, just as your father asked. All he needed to do was keep an eye on you. He didn't even need to see to it personally. Sending Xiao would be a much more efficient course of action. That would keep things simpler for him. Sleeping with you was not part of his original plan.

"Just fuck me good. It's not that complicated."

If you had retained even a shred of caution, you would be treading much more carefully. Your mind was clouded with lust and your only goal was to get this man in the same degenerate state as you.

He shook his head, holding back for whatever reason. You could care less. It wasn't like your reputation could get any more scandalous than it already was, with you working in this sort of place.

"I will need you to quit and cut all ties with this establishment. A new identity and corresponding documents would have to be arranged. You will have to move into my home so that I can see to your safety. Many things will have to change in order for you to adjust to your new life. You will also have to learn to use a gun."

You froze. What the actual fuck?

Why the hell would you need to learn how to pull a trigger if you get involved with him? The whiplash of his words finally brought back your rationality. Your boss's desperate expression resurfaced in your mind. What did he threaten her with in order to make this meeting happen? He didn't deny it when you asked if he was a businessman. What kind of shady business did he deal in to warrant these kinds of precaution?

"As I thought." He chuckled. "How about we slow things down and get to know each other first? Then you can decide if you'd still like to get involved with me."

You narrowed your eyes at the handsome man smiling so harmlessly at you. He was putting it in no uncertain terms that entangling your life with his was going to uproot yours entirely. Even with that said, you were still tempted to step right into his murky water. If he hadn't given you that somber warning, your understanding of Zhongli might remain shallow and short-lived, as infatuations often are. How he laid out all the complications you'd face upfront gave you an ironic sense of groundedness that none of your past flings ever came close to giving you.

"Okay." You stopped moving against him and just draped your arms over his shoulders. "You can start by telling me what exactly is it that you do."

He drew in an exasperated breath. You had him fooled when you first entered the room. He even praised your boss for teaching you to repress your curiosity. It had gotten far too many inquisitive minds killed and he would hate to see you join the body count.

"I deal in various businesses." He vaguely answers.

"I'm going to need more than that, Zhongli." You frown.

"It would serve you no good." He declines with an appeasing smile. "Knowing too much will  paint a target on your back. Your father entrusted you to me, sweetheart. As such, I cannot simply tell you what you want to know. Anything that can potentially put you in harm's way, I will not risk. That includes disclosing information that could compromise you or make you a candidate for taking hostage. Do you now see the severity of what you are asking?" He explained patiently.

"What's the point of warning me then, hmm?" You gripped Zhongli's tie, gently tugging him towards you. Your breath feathered against his lips. "Why even approach me if not meeting you is the safest I'd ever be?"

"I cannot refute that." He admitted gravely.

"Then shut up."

Something had obviously overridden his reasoning and you weren't about to let it go without taking advantage of it. You pressed your lips against his in a quick kiss, parting before he could even think to push you away. He swallowed as you resumed that dreadful lap dance of yours.

Zhongli's tie was finally freed from your grip when you twirled your body around. The back of your bejeweled halter dress was consisted of a dainty chain clasped at the nape of your neck and a narrow strip of fabric, leaving your back completely exposed. Plush thighs peeked out from underneath the skirt. You gathered your hair on one side, leaving the other side of your neck bare. It was a wordless invitation.

"If you believe you can handle it, then my fears are unfounded." He finally yields.

You threw your gaze over your shoulder, taking Zhongli's hand and guiding it to your hips. The fabric of your skirt rode up as his other hand slid up your thigh, fingers splaying as he palmed your ass. You arched your back, swaying with the music. A moan escaped your lips when he gave your butt a good squeeze.

"They are. You'll see. I can take it..." You gasped.

His hands had strayed. One of them had ventured between your thighs, pressing against your soaked entrance through the fabric. It was already sticky with your arousal. His other hand had traveled upwards, slipping underneath your halter to play with your chest. You let out a soft moan as he groped and kneaded the soft flesh, enjoying how pliable you were in his grip.

"Oh?" Zhongli hummed. "Is that so?"

Zhongli gathered you closer, spread your legs wider apart and continued to finger you relentlessly. Your lap dance had come to an end as soon as you placed his hands on your body. You began trembling as his lips joined in on the assault of your senses, leaving sporadic kisses all along your neck and shoulders.

"Please..." You whimpered. "Zhongli!"

"Just a little more. I would hate to ruin this pretty little cunt of yours." He replied calmly, despite his cock straining painfully against his pants.

Your lips fell open, spilling moan after moan as his fingers dug into your drenched folds and bullied your clit. Your desperation had you clawing at his belt, trying without success to free his cock.

"Your father would be disappointed at how brazen you've become. Have you no shame?"

"No...ah!" You cried out as he pinched the sensitive nub at your entrance. "Shut up and... fuck me already!"

"Stand up for a moment."

You did as told while he unbuckled and pulled down his pants. Once the shuffling was over, he gathered you back into his lap. His fingers clutched your waist as he aligned your dripping hole with the tip of his cock. You held your breath as your legs trembled. Zhongli drew in a sharp breath. Labored breathing followed as he slowly lowered you on his cock. A whimper seeped out of you as he speared you open, stretching your insides so deliciously, your walls immediately began clenching.

"Sweetheart, you must relax..." He let out a tortured groan. "That's it... Take all of it like you said you could."

You whined and moaned as he continued to push deeper, cock disappearing into you inch by inch.

"Ah... Too thick!" You gasped as he shoved his entire length up into you.

With a helpless moan, you dropped your head back against his shoulder. You never got to see the size of his cock before he put it in you, but judging by how painful the initial stretch was, he must’ve been swollen beyond imagination.

"Bend down for me, sweetheart. Yes... That's a good girl." He praised you while lifting you off his cock before sheathing you all the way down to the hilt.

"Too fast! Ah... Zhongli!" You choked out in between gasps and moans.

"You're doing so well, my sweet. Are you sure?" He chuckled. "Or was that a slip of tongue? You can certainly take it. Right, darling?"

As if to prove you had not yet reached your limit, he began to maneuver you up and down his shaft at an even quicker pace. Laschivous squelches and wet slaps emited from where the two of you were joined. Your mind had since turned into slush, lips parted in an endless stream of incoherent babbling and high pitched moans.

You lost count of how many times you came for him. It became a drunken blur to you. There were flashes of blinding pleasure and sensual moments interspersed in between. He bent you over a barstool once. You faintly remember being pinned against the counter as well as the wall. Most of the fucking happened on the couch though. Your body was so overwhelmed with pleasure, senses riled up and muscles tense with repeated strain, when it was all over, you pretty much collapsed into a pile of mush. You clung to Zhongli as he carried you out of the building and into the back of his car. Your dress was miraculously still on your body, but he had wrapped his coat around you for good measure. Your thighs were a glistening mess, a sight he'd rather keep to himself. As he exited, several of his men who were scattered within the club left with him while some remained to take care of whatever they were tasked to do. Your boss didn't dare intercept him to ask where he was taking you. From the moment Zhongli asked for you, you were no longer in her hands.

When you woke, an unfamiliar bedroom greeted you rather than the VIP room. Your halter dress had been changed into a nightgown and you were lying in a large bed covered in silk sheets and pillows. Your eyes wandered, scanning the rest of your surroundings. In a corner sat a bunch of boxes and a suitcase that unmistakably belonged to you. You never remembered packing anything, but it was obvious that the stacks of boxes contained items that also belonged to you. You climbed out of bed and made your way to the coffee table. A cellphone, an ID, and a post-it note was laid out on it. The handwriting on the note was neat and elegant, as expected of someone like Zhongli.

"There is bamboo shoot soup on the stove. Reheat it if it has gotten cold. Your father used to cook this often. Hopefully you will enjoy the taste."

You stared at the note, spacing out. You had never met your father before. Didn't even know his name nor what he looked like. There was nothing for you to attach anything to, not even resentment. However, from Zhongli's mention of him, you could tell he held fond memories of the man. Through that faceless man, you had crossed paths with a mysterious stranger who had swept you off your feet and dropped you into an unfamiliar world.

You picked up the ID. That was certainly your face staring back at you on the photo, but the name didn't belong to you. Neither did the birthday nor address.

Bits of conversation flitted through your mind as well as everything that happened between you and Zhongli last night. Only a few hours had passed between now and when you were brought here. Unless he had arranged all of this beforehand, there was no way it would be ready in such short notice.

He warned you beforehand that all of this was going to happen. You should be much more distraught at the sudden change of environment, but you weren't. His world was no less uncertain than yours, with its own set of dangers and unspoken rules. Perhaps it was even more unpredictable than the one you had just escaped. Maybe you had fled the pan and jumped into a skillet. The only grace you could cling to was the man who had dragged you into it. Zhongli promised to protect you and arm you with the means to protect yourself. Already, that was a better arrangement than what you had with your boss, who was now inevitably your ex-boss. No longer did you have to dance for nameless strangers in return for her favor. At most, you'd give an occasional lap dance to someone you actually wanted to entertain. You doubted Zhongli would share you with anyone else with the way he fucked you last night.

Your ex-boss's words fluttered through your mind. 'You better dance like our lives depend on it. I'm counting on you.'

You sure did dance like your life depended on it. Your performance was so good, Zhongli couldn't bear to leave you there for another day. Unfortunately for that woman, she was now on her own. You didn't worry about her. She would find a replacement for you in no time. As for Zhongli, he seemed like someone you could actually count on since the very reason he came looking for you was to fulfill a contract he had made to your father. He took them seriously, which convinced you that maybe you should enter one with him as well. At least with him, you had the confidence that he would see through with it.

Now what would a contract with Zhongli look like? What did you have to offer him? Sure, you were going to learn how to use a gun. Perhaps you would train hard and get good enough to be of actual use with it. There must be certain things an attractive woman with a gun could do that a man couldn't. Or maybe he would rather you give him a certain amount of entertainment on a regular basis. You would ask him the next time you see him.

[martincrushcameback]

Haha, stupid <3

adhd run powers and autism focus powers GO. I love that it took three roos before he's like WAIT HUH?

teehee eager Martin bouncies

The immediate slouch to crouch is so fucking cute oh my gods

Also my dad was punched by a kangaroo- Martin would NOT be laughing even if it was a baby that kicked him those things are jacked as fuck.

What am I supposed to do with his deep voice huh WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO it's supposed to be silly

Chris's face here is so good and I don't know why but I LOVE it

"Probably for the same reason I don't want to carry my mom's purse." Is... is it too heavy for you Jimmy? Is her purse full of baby? Does she keep too many weed brownies in there Jimmy???

Someone get an ambulance on standby, Chris is so dead.

Cracked_ribs_incoming.png - I am starting to think that the creature power vests must have built in protective padding or his ribs would be broken like a billion times over by now.

Chris: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Martin: "We catch the first bus out of here?" STOP IT I LOVE HIM.

"You ok Mr. Z?" Koki is SO endeared with Jimmy's silly antics and so am I.

Martin being so adhd and more interested in riding inside a kangaroo pouch than getting those keys god what a mood.

Look at him, he's perfect. No thoughts in there only bounce.

Chris about to get the shit beat out of him while Martin is like hippyhoppy happy bouncie boy wheeee!!! is so silly

Teehee smol

Do you think the mama kangaroo thinks Martin is a female because he's blue?

Literally the best screenshot get eagle'd idiot

Why he so smol huh what for <3

OK I GUESS

I feel like.... someone's bones should still be broken.

You WOULD like crazy ideas. The bouncing in this episode is animated so adorably

"It looks like he's trying to dunk him" definitely a kid's show he's actively trying to drown the dingo- oh hey Chris actually said it! They try to drown them holy cow.

I love that Martin has the little joey hunch through the entire episode. I also love that they give up getting the keys and immediately get them back.

GODS I love this episode.

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 3

Hey guys!! I am really loving all the excitement for this story. It's going to be a fun ride.

I'm going to be taking a week off with this and Icarus (metal band Steve) next week because I can't wait for you guys to see the Stripper AU and the Olympic swimmer one. And Sept is too far away dammit!

This part we see the morning after and Eddie learns Steve's real situation.

Part 1 Part 2

~

Steve woke up the next morning, warm, sated, and happy. He stretched luxuriously in the bed, reveling in the silky softness of the satin sheets against his bare skin.

“There’s the sleepy head,” Eddie said from a nearby chair. He was gently strumming his guitar and jotting down notes. “Did you sleep good, princess?”

Steve sat up and let the sheets pool provocatively around his waist. “Best sleep I’ve gotten in a long time, if I’m honest.”

Eddie chuckled and put the guitar down. He strolled over to the bed and kissed Steve deeply. “As much as I would like round two, I’ve got to check out in an hour and I still need breakfast and shower.”

Steve pouted, but the tantalizing smell of room service hit his nose and his stomach growled.

Shit.

He hadn’t eaten since his dinner two nights before. So he slid out of the comfort of the bed and pulled on his pants, before padding over to the table that had a literal feast laid out.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” Eddie explained. “Eat as much as you want, I can grab food on the tour bus.”

Steve looked up at him, chewing his bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, and then gathered some clothes and slipped into the bathroom.

Steve dug into the food with gusto. His mouth watering around each bite. Look, he’d grown up rich. He had never had “poor” people food. Only the best ever graced his mother’s table. But this? This was god tiered level food. Each bite melted in his mouth and lit up all his senses. It was divine.

Granted that could just be because he was hungry, but he didn’t think so.

He wasn’t sure how long he took savoring each morsel but he looked up to Eddie chuckling in the doorway to the bathroom.

“You keep making those sounds, baby,” he purred, “and I might be tempted to see how fast I could get you off.”

Steve ducked his head to hide his blush. “Is the food always this good?”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Not always sometimes they’ll have some asshole chef who thinks he’s god’s gift to food and makes it all about him. Small portions, bland, expensive as hell. There isn’t much Hawkins has going for it, but this hotel is definitely one of them.”

“It must be so expensive getting a room here,” Steve breathed.

Eddie just shrugged. “You must have not come from much if this impresses you.”

“My parents are like lawyer and businessman rich,” Steve said shaking his head, “not rockstar rich. Trust me when I say that this would blow their fucking minds.”

“Duly noted,” Eddie said coming to sit next to him at the table. There was still a lot left as Steve had been enjoying the meal instead of scarfing it down. “I wouldn’t know. I grew up in Forest Hills that’s the trai–”

“Trailer park,” Steve said quietly, “I know. I used to babysit after school for fun money. I didn’t have to do it, but I enjoyed it and I liked the pocket money that wasn’t dependent on Mommy and Daddy. Anyway one of my kids was from there. She had a single mom who worked and when she didn’t she drank, so I was happy to watch her and get her out of the house for a couple of hours.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinked for a moment and then half shrugged. He pulled some food onto his plate and took a bite. “So yeah, I grew up poor and each time we moved up the chain from sleeping rough, to motel, to cheap hotel, to nice hotel, to some place more like this I was always impressed. Don’t impress me anymore, though.”

Steve tilted his head to the side. “Do you miss that? The wonder of seeing each new place?”

Eddie frowned as he thought about it. He took another bite of food but he nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He poke Steve in the ribs. “Don’t I didn’t notice you wanting to go diving into those pillows when we first came in. I saw you.”

Steve squeaked and giggled. “All right, all right. But can you blame me?”

“Nope!” Eddie said with a grin. “Because that was the first thing I did when I got into the room yesterday afternoon.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, all right.”

They finished their breakfast.

“Come on let me take you back to your car,” Eddie said putting his luggage together for his PA to grab later.

“Oh.”

Steve didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t tell him that he still had all his earthly possessions in his car. At least he hoped they were still there. That he didn’t have any place to go and he couldn’t ask the parents of those kids he babysat. His dad would make their life hell.

“No, it’s fine,” he said waving Eddie off. “I’ll relax here in the lobby for a bit and then call a friend for a ride. You can go whenever you need to.”

He had no friend to call and he would be walking that long ass trip back to the bar.

“I’m not going to do that,” Eddie said, standing up. “I’m going to take back to the bar because that’s where the tour bus is anyway. It doesn’t make any sense to have you call someone else when we are literally going to the same place.”

Shit.

There was nothing Steve could say to that. So he finished getting dressed and walked with Eddie back to his rental car.

Once they got to the bar, Steve tried to sneak off, but Eddie wasn’t having it.

“I’m walking you to your car, Stevie,” Eddie said with a chuckle. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Fuck.

Steve dragged his feet all the way to the back of the lot where his Bimmer was parked.

Eddie stopped ten feet from the car and looked at Steve in indignation. “Please tell me you have some place to go after I get on that tour bus.” Steve opened his mouth, but he held up a hand, “And please don’t lie, you’re terrible at it.”

Steve’s jaw dropped as he stared at him in shock. “I am not!”

“Yeah, you are, babe,” Eddie said coming and taking Steve’s face in his hands. “It’s how I was able to tell you weren’t twenty-two, remember?”

Steve let out a small petulant huff but said, “Yeah, okay. My dad kicked me out and threatened all my friends so they wouldn’t want to take me or risk his wrath. He did the same thing to my job at the video store.”

Eddie kissed him tenderly and then pressed his forehead against Steve’s. Steve grabbed onto his wrists for something to hold onto, not to pull him away.

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie growled, “you have no friends, no money, no job, and no place to go, is that right?”

Steve nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. He took Steve’s hand and started hauling him away from the car.

Steve stumbled, trying to keep up. He looked back at his car and then back to Eddie. “But where are we going?”

“I need to make a short pit stop and then we’re going back to the hotel,” Eddie said firmly.

“But what about your tour?!” he protested. “I let you throw your life away from some guy you just met!”

Eddie stopped and turned around to face him. “You listen real close, little Canary. We are going back to the hotel to get you a room for the next six months so that you have a roof over your head and a constant supply of food. Then I will be going on tour and will check in on you from time to time to make sure you do need anything else. Is that clear?”

Steve gulped he wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. And he had the feeling that if he tried to weasel out of it, Eddie would be right back in Hawkins to hunt him down.

“You take care of everyone else,” Eddie said gently, “let me take care of you.”

“How–how did you know I take care of everyone else?” Steve stammered, trying not to think of the implications of what was going on here.

Eddie kissed him gently. ‘Because little Canary, you have not once talked about the boy you were obviously caught with for your dad to throw you out even though he’s not offering to take you in either. You haven’t railed against the friends that are clearly more afraid your dad then they care about you. You haven’t blamed your dickhead boss for firing you for being gay, even though you really should. And you haven’t called the parents of the kids you used to babysit for fear of your dad coming after them, too. You have carer written all over you, babe.”

Steve blinked in the face of that onslaught of information.

“Oh.”

He hadn’t really thought to blame anyone for his current predicament because it was obviously his fault this all happened.

“So you’ll let me help you?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Steve sighed and waved his free hand back to the direction they were going. “Lead on.”

Eddie cackled and did just that.

~

What the pit stop was was Eddie talking to his band and manager about getting Steve a room at the hotel, putting all of the expenses on Eddie’s credit card and hauling all his belongings up the hotel room Steve had vacated literally a scant hour before.

The room had been cleaned and the bedding replaced and the bed made anew.

Eddie handed Steve a paper with a couple of numbers on it. “The top one is my cell phone. I usually leave it in the tour bus, but if you call it I’ll call you back as soon as I can. The second number is Chrissy, she’s our manager, if you need anything other than what the hotel provides, call her and she’ll get it for you. The third number is your hotel en suite phone number. I don’t recommend giving this out to too many people though, okay?”

Steve nodded and gingerly took the paper from him. He looked up at Eddie, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “Thank you so much for this.”

Eddie kissed him again. “You just relax and enjoy yourself, baby. The tour will be over in a few months and then I’ll come back to you, I promise.”

Steve kissed him goodbye as tears flowed down his cheeks. Eddie kissed them away and gave him a hug goodbye.

Once Eddie was gone, Steve sat down into the chair Eddie had been in when he woke this morning. Hard.

His entire life had been turned upside down again. This time was even more insane than the last.

Just two days ago, he had been making out with Tommy Hagan on his parents’ sofa and now he was sitting in the swankiest suite in Hawkins’ swankiest hotel, which would be his for the next six months.

He had all his clothes and his pictures and things. He even got to put them up on the side table, housekeeping would just dust around them. His clothes were in the drawers and closet. There was a basketball court in the hotel gym, there was a swimming pool, and a fucking sauna. There was a TV in the room, hooked up to cable. He could even order porn on here and it would all be charged to Eddie’s credit card.

Steve literally had everything he could ever need and never leave the hotel. There was just one condition.

No underaged drinking on Eddie’s credit card. Steve could smoke, watch porn, do whatever else he wanted, but he couldn’t drink alcohol until he was twenty-one. Because Eddie didn’t want to get into trouble with the law and Steve really didn’t blame him.

So he traded booze for the life of luxury. Which fucking hell was a pretty great trade.

He wiped his hands on the black leather pants he had yet to change out of and stood up.

Steve eyed the bed for one moment before he was running straight for it. He leapt into the air and landed spread eagle, face first in the center of the bed, pillows flying everywhere.

It was every bit as amazing as he thought it would be.

He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe he could get used to this, in fact.

~

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag list: CLOSED

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