#I feel it coming and it is NOT a great feeling to feel someone slipping away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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I know it won’t work - Quinn Hughes

“And part of me wants to walk away ‘til you really listen,

I hate to look at your face and know that we’re feeling different,

‘Cause part of me wants you back but,

I know it won’t work like that?”

part 3, quinn hughes // gracie abrams fic trilogy

part 1 part 2

summary: back at home, you both feel different.

word count: 6.2k pairing: quinn hughes x fem!reader warnings: cheating, characters in depressive states of mind. pls take care loves <3 notes: - it's finally here! - before anyone asks, i am not doing a part 4. i ended it this way on purpose! - check out my other work i recommend if you liked this, and i'm always open for requests! - is it clever that i did the whole "talking to a stranger on a train" thing again??? someone pls say yes - not really proofread!

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of music playing in the background. You stood at the stove, stirring the pasta sauce, your focus on the way it bubbled gently. A warm smile tugged at your lips as you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Smells amazing,” Quinn murmured into your hair, his voice low and content. He rested his chin on your shoulder, swaying slightly with you, his chest pressed against your back in a way that made you feel safe—like nothing could touch the two of you when you were like this.

You laughed, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “You’re just saying that because you’re starving.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted with a chuckle, “But I mean it. You know I’m not great in the kitchen, so this is like… magic to me.” He squeezed you gently, his hands warm on your stomach, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, perfectly in sync with your own.

The apartment was quiet, the kind of peaceful that only seemed to happen when it was just the two of you. It wasn’t much—just a small, humble place, with mismatched furniture and a creaky floor that always groaned when Quinn walked over it. But in moments like this, it felt perfect. The soft, yellow light from the kitchen cast a gentle glow over the room, making everything feel cozy, like you were wrapped in a blanket made of love and laughter.

“I could get used to this,” Quinn said softly, his voice full of warmth. He kissed the side of your neck, and you leaned into the touch, feeling the happiness bubble up inside you like the sauce on the stove. “Coming home to you, having dinner together. It feels right.”

You turned in his arms, your heart swelling at the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His blue eyes were soft, filled with a quiet adoration that made your chest ache in the best way. You reached up, cupping his face, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw.

“You’re pretty easy to cook for,” you teased, grinning up at him.

His lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned down to kiss you—soft and sweet, like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. It was perfect. He was perfect. And for a second, you let yourself believe that this moment would last forever, that the warmth of his embrace and the tenderness of his kisses would never fade.

But then, suddenly, the room around you seemed to dissolve, the warmth of Quinn’s arms slipping away like sand through your fingers. The comforting hum of the apartment vanished, replaced by the cold, hollow sound of your own breathing.

You woke up.

The bed was empty.

Quinn was gone.

Your heart pounded in your chest as the dream faded, the sweet memory of that night together dissolving into the harsh reality that had been haunting you ever since you found out. Your fingers trembled as they gripped the sheets, the lingering warmth of his embrace still fresh in your mind, but now it felt like a lie—like everything you had built together had been a lie.

He cheated. He cheated on you, and no amount of sweet memories or perfect nights could take that away.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing with the weight of everything that had happened. The night before, the way he’d held you at the station, the way his voice had cracked when he said he missed you—it all felt tainted now, like there was an invisible stain on every memory you had with him.

How could he do this? How could he say he loved you and then turn around and betray you like that?

You closed your eyes, the tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. Your chest ached, the pain sharp and unrelenting, as if your heart was being squeezed by invisible hands. The trust you had in him—the bond that had felt so strong—was shattered, scattered like pieces of glass that you didn’t know how to pick up.

The room felt cold, suffocating. You could still smell his cologne faintly on the pillow beside you, and it made your stomach twist with a nauseating mix of love and anger. You hated how much you missed him, how even now, after everything, your heart still ached for him.

How had it come to this?

With a shaky breath, you sat up, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. Your chest felt tight, the weight of Quinn’s betrayal pressing down on you like a stone. Every part of you wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something—anything—to make the pain go away. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly ahead, the silence of the room wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

The dream had felt so real—so perfect. You could still feel the ghost of his arms around you, the warmth of his breath on your neck. But now, all that was left was the cold, hard truth.

And no dream, no memory, could change that.

He had destroyed what you had, shattered the trust you had placed in him. And no matter how much you wanted to believe that things could still be okay, deep down, you knew they never would be. You knew it didn’t work like that.

You were awake now. And the dream… it was over.

The chill of the room seemed to seep into your very bones as you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with the time: 5:48 AM. You hadn’t been getting much sleep these past couple weeks, so you were at least glad you got an amount–but what really stuck at you were the notifications. A few from Instagram, a text from your sister, but then… a missed call. A missed call from the United States, four hours ago. They hadn’t left a voicemail, so when you clicked on your call logs to take a better look, the name read ‘Maybe: Jack Hughes.’

What the hell was Quinn’s brother doing calling you?

It had been two weeks since Quinn dropped the bomb on you, which was when you didn’t give him any more of your time and flew back home. You hadn’t cried, not really, not until you landed in Richmond and asked your mom to pick you up for the first time since you were eighteen. And although the tears flowed, you couldn’t help but feel some nagging remorse when you saw the Canucks surrender to the Bruins in five. You didn’t care though–at least you didn’t want to.

But Jack? Why did he call you at one in the morning? Scratch that, four in the morning for him. Was he trying to get you to try to forgive his brother? Was Quinn seriously that desperate? You stared at your phone, his name mocking you.

Your finger hovered over the call button, hesitating. You didn’t know Jack that well—barely at all, really. Quinn had introduced you once, in passing, during one of those family gatherings where you tried to fit in with the chaotic but tight-knit Hughes clan. Jack had been polite, maybe a little cocky, but there hadn’t been much more to it. He was Quinn’s younger brother, and that had been enough. Now, though… now everything was different.

You took a deep breath, your thumb brushing over the edge of the phone. Why would he be calling you in the middle of the night? Was this some misguided attempt to fix things for Quinn? Your stomach twisted at the thought. The last thing you needed was another reminder of everything Quinn had shattered. But curiosity gnawed at you, pulling you toward the unknown, making you wonder if Jack’s call had been more than just a plea for his brother.

Before you could overthink it, you hit the call button.

The phone rang, and your heart pounded louder with each passing second. What if he didn’t pick up? What if this was a mistake? What if—

“Hello?” Jack’s voice, groggy and confused, came through the line, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Jack… hey, it’s me.” Your voice sounded small, like you weren’t sure of yourself anymore.

There was a pause, and you could practically hear him sitting up, becoming more alert. “Oh… hey. I didn’t think you’d call back.” His tone softened, the usual bravado gone, replaced with something quieter. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to wake you earlier. I just… I didn’t know who else to talk to.”

That caught you off guard. You sat up straighter, feeling the weight of his words settle in. He didn’t sound like someone trying to defend his brother. He sounded… lost. You hadn’t expected that.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I saw your call when I woke up. What’s going on?”

There was a long, heavy pause. You could hear the faint sound of him shifting around, maybe running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, like he was struggling with what to say. “I, uh… I know this is probably weird. I mean, we don’t really know each other that well, but…” He trailed off, the weight of the silence almost unbearable.

You waited, your pulse quickening as you wondered where this was going. The city outside was slowly waking up, cars starting to hum along the street, but inside your apartment, everything felt still, suspended in this strange limbo between you and Jack.

“I’m sorry,” Jack finally said, his voice breaking the tension. “For everything Quinn did. I know I’m not the one who should be apologizing, but… God, I feel like I need to. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you blinked, taken aback by the raw sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t expected this. Not from Jack.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, your chest tightening with a confusing mix of emotions. Anger, hurt, and something else you couldn’t quite place.

Jack let out a shaky breath. “I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know that… I get it. I’ve been watching Quinn these last few weeks, and… he’s a mess. Not that it makes anything better, but he hates himself for what he did. And I hate him for it too, because… because you deserved better.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. The sincerity in Jack’s voice tugged at something deep inside you, but it didn’t ease the ache in your chest. “It doesn’t change anything, Jack,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I loved him. I trusted him, and he just… he threw it all away.”

“I know,” Jack replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know, and I wish I could fix it, but… I can’t. No one can.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. The weight of everything—of Quinn’s betrayal, of Jack’s unexpected apology—pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. The memory of your dream, of Quinn’s arms around you, the warmth of his presence, felt like a cruel joke now, a reminder of what you had lost. You wanted to scream, to cry, but all you could do was sit there, numb, as Jack’s words sank in.

“I don’t know why I called,” Jack said after a while, his voice quiet. “I guess… I just wanted to tell you that Quinn’s not okay. Not that it makes a difference, but… he really screwed up, and he knows it. I think he just… he didn’t know how to handle things, and he panicked.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of your apartment. “That’s an understatement.”

Jack sighed, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence felt different now, less tense but still heavy with unspoken words. You leaned back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling, your mind racing. Jack was the last person you had expected to hear from, and yet here he was, apologizing for something that wasn’t even his fault.

“I appreciate you calling,” you said softly, the words surprising even you. “I didn’t expect it, but… thank you.”

Jack let out a breath, the sound relieved. “Yeah, of course. I just… I didn’t want you to think that no one cared. Because I do. We do, at least me and Luke.”

The sincerity in his voice stirred something inside you, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, you didn’t feel so alone. You didn’t know what would come next, or if this conversation would change anything, but in that moment, it felt like a small sliver of light breaking through the darkness.

“I’m not ready to forgive him,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Jack.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Jack replied, his voice gentle. “But if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of everything finally settling on your chest. “Thanks, Jack.”

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at your phone, the words you’d exchanged still hanging in the air. You didn’t know what would happen next, but at least now… now you didn’t feel quite so lost.

Quinn did, though.

As Quinn lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept. His mind had become a storm of regret, guilt, and shame, swirling so violently that closing his eyes only made it worse. The silence of his empty apartment felt oppressive, pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe.

He had never thought it would get this bad—had never imagined he’d be the kind of person to ruin the one good thing in his life. But he had. He’d destroyed it all, and now he was left with the wreckage.

Turning over in the sheets, Quinn let out a long, shaky breath. The memory of your face the last time he saw you kept replaying in his mind. The way your eyes had welled with hurt, the way your lips had trembled as you fought to keep it together. It haunted him. He had expected you to scream, to yell, to throw things—anything but that quiet, broken disappointment that cut deeper than any words could have.

He had been a coward.

Quinn scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that had started to form along his jaw–a five-o-clock shadow, pushing six. He hadn’t bothered shaving. What was the point? He could barely look at himself in the mirror.

The worst part—the part that made his stomach twist with nausea—was knowing that no apology, no amount of regret could fix this. You had trusted him, and he had shattered that trust, not with one impulsive mistake but with a series of decisions he could never take back. And for what? Some fleeting moment of confusion, some stupid impulse he hadn’t even understood at the time.

He groaned and sat up, unable to bear the suffocating weight of his thoughts any longer. The clock on his bedside table blinked back at him. Too early, too late—time had lost meaning. All he knew was that he needed to move, to escape the prison of his mind, if only for a little while.

Without thinking, Quinn swung his legs out of bed and grabbed the first pair of running shoes he could find. The cold air hit him like a slap when he stepped outside, but he welcomed it. Anything to clear his head.

The streets were empty, the city still sleeping, save for the occasional car passing by. Quinn set off at a slow jog, his breath coming out in exasperated puffs. He focused on the rhythm of his feet hitting the pavement, the steady thump of his heart in his chest. For a moment, it felt like the weight lifted—like the physical strain could drown out the emotional turmoil. But as the minutes passed, his thoughts returned, each step bringing him closer to the memories he was trying to outrun.

He had never been the best with words. Expressing how he felt was something that had always tripped him up. But with you, it had always been different. You had a way of pulling things out of him, making him feel safe, seen. And yet, he had thrown that away, too caught up in his own fear and insecurities to see what was right in front of him.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet became erratic as his mind spiraled. He pushed himself harder, faster, as if he could outrun the shame, the self-hatred that gnawed at him.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of his shoes hitting the pavement. He didn’t care if anyone heard. The streets were still deserted, just him and his regrets.

He had no idea what Jack had said to you—whether his brother had tried to make excuses for him, to smooth things over. Quinn didn’t want that. He didn’t deserve to be let off the hook. And God, he didn’t want you to think for a second that any of this had been your fault.

But the damage was done. He had messed up in ways he could never take back, and now… now he was alone with nothing but the echo of your absence.

Quinn’s hands clenched into fists, the cool air biting at his skin. He couldn’t stand himself right now. The weight of everything was suffocating. He had never wanted to be that guy—the one who hurt someone they loved. But here he was.

He glanced up at the sky, dark and endless, a sharp contrast to the chaos inside him. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could go back, that he could rewind time to before everything fell apart. But there was no going back. There was only the aftermath.

And you were gone.

Quinn swallowed hard, his chest tightening as the reality of it all settled in. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—knowing he had lost you or knowing that he was the reason why. He bent down, hands on his knees, the steady thump of his pulse in his ears as he tried to ground himself. But no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn't outrun the one thing that haunted him the most: your absence. It clung to him, an ever-present ghost reminding him of every mistake he'd made.

Straightening up, Quinn glanced around. The world felt so distant, like it was moving without him. The city was slowly waking up, the quiet hum of early-morning traffic starting to build. He hadn’t realized how far he'd run, his legs carrying him on autopilot. His apartment felt like another world entirely, but the thought of returning to it—to that suffocating silence—made his stomach turn.

He exhaled, his breath shaky as he scanned the empty street. In the distance, the soft rumble of the skytrain reached his ears. Maybe that was what he needed. To just… drift for a while. Let the city move him, take him anywhere but back to the memories that gnawed at his insides.

Without thinking, Quinn jogged toward the nearest station, a beacon of escape. As he approached, he tapped his card and climbed the stairs, the rhythmic hum of the escalator filling his ears. He kept his head down, avoiding the curious glances of the few commuters on the platform. He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be recognized. He wanted to be invisible, just another lost soul in the early morning haze.

The train arrived with a low hiss, the doors sliding open. Quinn stepped inside, his footsteps echoing in the near-empty car. He slid into a seat by the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. The city outside blurred as the train began to move, and for a moment, the steady rhythm of the rails beneath him offered a strange sense of comfort.

Quinn closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on him once again. He could still see your face, the way you’d looked at him that last time—like he had shattered something precious. And he had. He had taken the one good thing in his life and broken it beyond repair.

The train rumbled on, passing through station after station, the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the city. Quinn didn’t move. He didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. As long as he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to face the reality of what he’d done.

The memory of Jack’s words from their last conversation drifted back to him, unbidden. You’re a mess, man. You need to fix this before it’s too late.

Too late. That phrase had been circling in his mind for weeks now. He wondered if it had already been too late from the moment he’d made that first mistake. The thought gnawed at him, tightening the knots in his chest.

A quiet voice broke through his thoughts. “Hey, uh… are you Quinn Hughes?”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, and he blinked, startled. A man, probably the same age as him, was standing a few seats away, looking at him with a mixture of excitement and hesitation.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered, not in the mood for fan encounters. But he wasn’t rude enough to brush the guy off completely.

The man smiled, but it was more subdued than Quinn had expected. “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you. Just… I recognized you, and I’m a big fan.”

Quinn nodded, feeling the weight of his own misery creeping back in. He wasn’t used to people seeing him like this—disheveled, lost, broken. The Quinn Hughes fans admired was confident, composed, in control. Not… whatever this was.

The man hesitated, glancing at the empty seat across from Quinn. “Mind if I sit?”

Quinn shrugged. “Sure.”

As the guy sat down, there was an awkward silence, the train’s steady hum filling the space between them. Quinn stared out the window, watching the city blur past, but he could feel the man’s eyes on him.

“So, uh… you alright?” the guy asked, his voice soft.

Quinn stiffened, not expecting that. “What?”

“I don’t know,” the guy said with a shrug, leaning back in his seat. “You just… you don’t look okay. Sorry if that’s out of line.”

Quinn let out a dry laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

The man didn’t push, which Quinn appreciated. Instead, he sat quietly, as if waiting for Quinn to say more if he wanted to. And maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the loneliness that had been eating away at him, but Quinn found himself talking before he could stop.

“I screwed up,” he said, his voice low. “Really, really bad.”

The guy nodded, not looking surprised. “Relationships, right? They’re complicated as hell.”

Quinn shot him a look, narrowing his eyes slightly. “How’d you guess?”

“Lucky guess,” the guy said with a small smile. “Plus, I’ve been there. Maybe not exactly the same, but close enough.”

Quinn leaned back, staring at the ceiling of the train. “Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

“No, it doesn’t,” the guy agreed, his tone more serious now. “But you know, people make mistakes. It’s part of being human. What matters is what you do after.”

Quinn let out a breath, his chest tight. “I don’t think it matters what I do now. I already lost her.”

The guy tilted his head, studying Quinn for a moment. “Do you love her?”

Quinn’s stomach twisted at the question. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then maybe it’s not too late,” the guy said quietly. “If she meant that much to you… maybe you owe it to both of you to try. And if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you gave it everything you had.”

Quinn swallowed, his throat tight. It wasn’t that simple. Nothing about this was simple. But there was something in the guy’s words that struck a chord, something that made the weight on his chest feel a little lighter, if only for a moment.

The man smiled again, this time more brightly. “You got a picture of her?”

Quinn hesitated for a second, but before he knew it, his phone was in his hand. He scrolled through the gallery, his heart aching as he landed on a photo of the two of you, taken months ago. You were smiling, your arm around him, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your face. Quinn handed the phone over, the image making his chest tighten painfully.

The man glanced at it, nodding appreciatively. “She’s beautiful. You two look… happy.”

Quinn couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh. “We were.”

The guy handed the phone back, his expression softening. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’ve still got a chance.”

Quinn sighed, pocketing the phone. “I don’t know, man. I really messed things up.”

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small notebook and pen. “Well, if you ever get things back on track… and even if you don’t… mind signing this? I’ll tell people I met you on a rough day, but you’re still one of the best players out there.”

Quinn blinked, the unexpected request catching him off guard. He took the pen and scribbled his name in the notebook, handing it back.

“Thanks,” the man said with a grin. “And good luck, Quinn. You’ll figure it out.”

As the man stood up to leave, Quinn watched him go, feeling a strange sense of gratitude settle over him. Maybe things weren’t as hopeless as they seemed. Maybe there was still a sliver of light, buried somewhere in all the darkness.

The train rumbled on, and Quinn leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the ceiling again. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe… just maybe, he could find his way out of this mess.

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And he had to try, even if it made things worse.

Quinn’s heart pounded harder with every step as he approached your apartment building. His breath hitched as he stood outside the familiar entrance, his mind replaying every moment that had led him here. The conversations, the fights, the silence. And worst of all, the empty spaces in his life where you used to be.

For a moment, he hesitated, staring up at the building, the early morning light casting long shadows across the street. He could turn around. He could walk away, leave it all behind, and pretend like he hadn’t just spent the last hour convincing himself that this was the right thing to do.

But something inside him, something raw and desperate, wouldn’t let him.

With a shaky breath, Quinn crossed the threshold and made his way up the stairs. His legs felt heavy, the exhaustion from the run settling into his bones, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was this close.

Your door stood in front of him, an unassuming barrier between him and the possibility of fixing everything… or breaking it beyond repair.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, harder than he intended, the sound echoing in the hallway. Quinn’s chest tightened as he waited, the silence that followed feeling like an eternity. What if you didn’t answer? What if you weren’t home? Or worse—what if you were home, and you refused to see him?

His pulse quickened, panic starting to creep in, but he forced it down. He couldn’t think like that. Not now.

“Please,” he muttered under his breath, leaning his forehead against the door. “Please just let me explain.”

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, his heart sinking as the silence stretched on. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe Jack was right—he really was a mess.

But then, the sound of the door unlocking cut through the quiet, and Quinn’s breath hitched.

The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing in the doorway, your expression unreadable. Quinn’s heart stopped for a second, the sight of you making the air leave his lungs. You looked tired, your eyes puffy like you hadn’t slept, and Quinn’s chest ached with the realization that he had caused that.

You didn’t say anything. Just stared at him, waiting.

Quinn's heart felt like it was lodged in his throat as you stood in front of him, your silence more suffocating than any words could have been. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of you moved. His breath came in shallow bursts, his chest constricting painfully as he struggled to find the right words—any words—that could undo the damage. But standing there, face to face with you, everything he had rehearsed in his mind vanished, like smoke in the wind.

He could see the hurt etched into the lines of your face, in the way your eyes didn’t shine the way they used to. There was a rawness there, a kind of vulnerability that made Quinn want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. But he knew—he knew—that wouldn’t be enough.

“Hi,” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt ridiculous, small. But it was all he could manage.

You didn’t respond right away. Your eyes searched his face, like you were looking for something—an answer, a reason, an explanation. Something that might make sense of the chaos he had caused. But whatever you were looking for, Quinn feared you wouldn’t find it in him.

“I…” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep talking. “I’m sorry. For everything. I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you. I… I just need you to hear me out.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the doorframe as if bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next. Your posture wasn’t hostile, but it wasn’t welcoming either. Quinn felt the distance between you two like a chasm, one that he had dug with every mistake, every lie, every selfish decision.

“Quinn, I—” you started, but he cut you off, the desperation in his voice spilling over before he could stop it.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I just… I need you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. And I—” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists at his sides, trying to steady himself. “I can’t stop thinking about what I did. Every day, it’s like this hole inside me gets bigger, and I can’t fill it. I know it’s my fault. I know I ruined us. But I just—” He paused, his breath hitching. “I can’t let it end like this.”

The silence that followed was crushing. Quinn’s heart pounded in his ears as he waited, his pulse a steady, anxious thrum in his veins. He could feel his words hanging in the air between you, fragile and trembling, like they could shatter at any moment.

“I don’t know if you understand what you did, Quinn,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but every word cut through him like a blade. “It wasn’t just one mistake. It wasn’t just the cheating. It was everything that came with it—the lies, the way you acted like you were the only one hurting.”

Quinn flinched, the guilt gnawing at him again, the memories of those dark nights when he’d pushed you away, drowning in his own self-pity. He had been so caught up in his own spiral that he hadn’t realized he was dragging you down with him.

“I do understand,” he said, but his voice wavered, unsure. “At least, I’m starting to. I’ve been… I’ve been trying to figure out how I could do something so—”

“Cruel?” you interrupted, and your voice cracked, the first sign of emotion slipping through your stoic exterior. Your eyes glistened for a moment, but you blinked it away quickly. “You shattered me, Quinn. Do you even know what that felt like? To find out like that? To hear it after I came to fucking Boston for you?”

You lowered your gaze, your expression softening but not in the way Quinn had hoped. It wasn’t anger or even sadness—it was something worse. Resignation. A quiet acceptance that made Quinn’s chest tighten painfully.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I have it in me to keep getting hurt.”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. The words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he forced himself to nod, even though every fiber of his being wanted to protest. He knew this was coming—had known it for weeks, months even—but hearing it out loud made it real in a way that nothing else could.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I know, and I don’t blame you. I just… I thought maybe if I tried, if I showed you how much you mean to me, you’d—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. It was useless. He couldn’t make you stay. He couldn’t make you forgive him. And trying to push you would only make things worse.

Your eyes met his again, and there was a softness in them now, but it wasn’t hope. It was sorrow. “I loved you, Quinn. I really did.”

Quinn felt his heart shatter all over again, each word landing like a blow. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to pull you close and tell you that it didn’t have to end like this. But he knew—he knew—there was nothing left to say. Nothing that could fix this. You were done, and he could feel it in the way you stood, like you were already halfway gone.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he said quietly, the admission spilling out of him like a confession. “Even if you never take me back. Even if I never see you again.”

You blinked, and for a second, Quinn thought he saw your resolve waver. But then you shook your head, the movement so small, so subtle, that it was almost imperceptible.

“I’m sorry, Quinn,” you whispered. “I just… I can’t go through this again.”

The finality in your words hit him like a brick, and Quinn felt the last shred of hope slip through his fingers, cold and unrelenting. He nodded slowly, his throat tight with the weight of everything he wanted to say but couldn’t. This was it. The end.

You glanced down at your feet, biting your lip before looking back up at him. “I hope… I hope you find peace. I really do.”

Quinn’s breath hitched in his chest, and he swallowed hard, his eyes stinging with the effort of holding back tears. He nodded again, unable to trust his voice.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, caught in the heavy silence of everything that was left unsaid. Quinn wanted to stay. He wanted to linger in your presence for as long as possible, even if it was just in this painful, heartbreaking moment. But he knew he had to let you go.

With a shaky breath, Quinn took a step back, his body feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds. He forced himself to turn around, each step away from you feeling like it was pulling him apart at the seams. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

As he reached the stairs, Quinn paused, glancing over his shoulder one last time. You were still standing there, watching him, your expression unreadable. He wanted to say something, anything that would make this less painful. But all that came out was a hoarse, broken whisper.

“Goodbye.”

And with that, Quinn turned and walked away, the cold morning air biting at his skin as he disappeared into the street. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t.

Outside, the city was waking up, the streets beginning to fill with people going about their lives, unaware of the devastation that had just unfolded in that small apartment. Quinn stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the sky, his chest tight, his heart a mess of broken pieces.

He had lost you. For good this time.

And yet, amidst the sorrow, there was something else—something he hadn’t expected. Closure.

It wasn’t the ending he had wanted. It doesn’t work like that, and he knew it.

But it was the ending he deserved.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl x you #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #qh43 #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x you #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagine #qh43 imagine #qh43 x reader

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machveil · 4 hours

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out of tf141 who do you think would like swimming the most (and or know how to swim)

I feel like all the TF141 boys can swim - I’d imagine they’d have to know how to swim to a degree for their job. that said, if we’re talking about swimming by choice (pools, waterparks, a lake, etc)…

Johnny is loves water - the biggest water lover in the group, he’s all about taking a dip on a warm summer day. he’s the type to start a whirlpool and then float around while getting spun around - bonus points if someone throws him a pool floaty he can bob along with. if he stays at a hotel that has a pool? he’ll skip going on morning runs and trade it in for doing laps at the pool

Gaz strikes me as the type who really only swims for the athleticism of it - like, he’d join Johnny for laps around a pool to work out. methinks he’d be into water aerobics, maybe joins a water zumba class with some older women at his local pool? otherwise, he doesn’t really go in the water to relax, not that he wouldn’t go in if someone asked him to

Johnny and Gaz definitely do water gun fights when they get together - who can stay dry for the longest? who can snipe who? loser gets picked up and tossed into the deep end

Price is more mellowed out when it comes to water. he likes waterparks for the lazy river (and those bars you can swim up to). he’s content to float on an inflatable instead of actually swimming. rather than seeking out water to swim in, Price would rather fish on a river or lake - he’ll watch the others tire themselves out

Price and Gaz definitely have had, and will continue to have, fishing weekends… well, Johnny and Simon are there too, they just don’t have the patience for fishing, “C’mon, L.T! You’ve got ‘em—“, “Damnit— bloody hell! it took the fuckin’ hook!”. Simon’s snapped a fishing rod before after losing one too many hooks and lures, Price put him in a loose fishing ban

Simon likes the ocean, but he really only enjoys secluded beaches - minimal to no people around. he likes sitting around in a shaded spot and just listening to nature, the waves really soothe him. he doesn’t go into water unless other people want him to… he’s not great at it though. he really only learned how to swim for his job in the case he’s submerged under water. for a long time he was doggy paddling, he finally sucked it up and learned to actually swim when Johnny made fun of him

Simon and Johnny will have a pissing contest over who the better swimmer is. Johnny has to beg Price to time them because, “It has to be official! Ain’t worth doing it if I cannae rub it in his face when I win by a landslide!”

Johnny loves using diving boards. he’ll run up to the boys like a kid and tell them to watch as he jumps off. backfired when he asked Gaz to record him doing a flip… he slipped and fell face first into the water. that video is still floating around between the team Johnny begs them to delete it

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into-deepspace · 3 days

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Hello! Hope you're having a great day!

May I request for Rafayel's reaction when MC comes out as non-binary? It's something that's never left my head since I started playing lnds. I can't help but worry if it'd change things for him even though I know it won't (insecurity did a number on me🥹). What if MC wanted to present themes as masc/femme? How would he react?

Sorry if this is too long and complicated and I understand if you don't want to write for this but if you do write it it'd mean the world to me. Thank you for reading this ask🌸🌸

aaa of course!!! dw it wasn't long or complicated at all! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i rlly hope i did rafayel justice here <33 i feel like it ended awkwardly but ah what can u do. anywayyyy:

as you are

rafayel/mc • nonbinary mc • 1.6k • ao3 link requests open, reblogs appreciated! mild hurt/comfort || coming out || tooth-rotting fluff || established relationship

MC stares at themselves in the mirror fixing their hair nervously. In twenty minutes, they’re meeting Rafayel at a cafe, one of their favourites. They’d made the plans several days ago, and have been nervously thinking through every possibility ever since. After all, coming out, no matter who it’s to, is nerve wracking.

“I need to talk to you,” they’d sent him, late in the evening when both of them really should have been asleep. Despite the late hour, typing bubbles immediately popped up from Rafayel’s end. He sends a sticker of a distressed yellow bird, then a message.

Rafayel, 11:48 PM are u breaking up with me :(

A bit frantic, MC typed back a quick response. Of course Rafayel, ever dramatic, would assume the worst.

MC, 11:48 PM No omg?

Rafayel, 11:48 PM DUN SCARE ME LIKE THAT THEN???? Those are FIGHTING WORDS. fighting words i tell u!!

MC sighed, but couldn't help but laugh a bit. It was never a dull moment with him around, one of the things they have always loved about him. They explained that no, they're not breaking up with him, but they did have something a little more serious they needed to talk with him about.

Rafayel, 12:03 AM okayyyy spill the beans cutie wait no serious I Am Prepared To Listen To Your Words. Please Begin.

MC, 12:04 AM Actually, i wanted to talk in person Can we meet @ our usual cafe on saturday

They waited nervously for Rafayel's response, picking at a stray thread in their blanket. But as usual, they had nothing to worry about

Rafayel, 12:05 AM ofc ofc ill buy u a tea and a cake and we can talk <3

They couldn't help but smile at their phone. He was always so sweet, so ready to adjust and accommodate. They just hope he’ll be the same way about this new revelation.

Now, MC has been going by their chosen name for a long while, so long that most people don’t even know the name they were given at birth. They’ve always presented a little more [femme/masc] than their peers, and Rafayel didn’t seem to mind any of that. If anything, he encouraged it, saying that the way they expressed themselves was art in it of itself. But would this, their coming out, be a piece of the puzzle that he wasn’t okay with?

MC sighs, smoothing their clothes one last time and telling themselves that they really do need to get going. Sitting here and stewing in their anxieties isn’t going to make anything better. They grab their bike helmet and make their way down to the street, setting off.

An uneventful drive later, they arrive at the cafe and park, fixing their hair in their phone camera after they take their helmet off. It seems Rafayel hasn’t arrived yet, which means they can go in and order for themselves. Usually, they’re fine with Rafayel paying for their treats, but what if he’s upset this time? What if he realizes he’s spent money on someone he can’t accept.

Just as they’re pulling their card from their wallet to pay for their drink and pastry, an arm wraps around their waist and lips press against their cheek, startling them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rafayel says, tone light and joking as he slips their wallet from their hands, tucking it back into their pocket. Ignoring their protests, he turns to the person at the register. “Add a vanilla iced coffee to that please, with… hm, six sugars.” MC can only watch as his drink is added to the total and he slots his card into the reader, looking pleased with himself.

Rafayel takes their hand and walks them over to a table by the window, pulling out their chair for them with a dramatic flourish. Normally, MC would laugh at his antics, but they’re too nervous right now to manage anything more than a tight smile. Rafayel, of course, notices right away.

“What’s wrong, cutie?” he asks, taking their hands as he kneels in front of their chair. MC takes a shaky breath, trying to school their expression into something at least neutral.

“I’m okay,” they say. “I promise.” For a moment, Rafayel tilts his head and searches their face. Then, with a sigh, he stands, pressing a kiss to their knuckles as he does.

“Okay,” he smiles. “We’ll talk once you’ve got something tasty to keep you company, okay?” This prompts a smile, a little more real this time, from MC.

“Okay,” they whisper.

Ever the gentleman, Rafayel goes to retrieve their order, tasting his own drink before adding two more pumps of sugary syrup to it and sprinkling cinnamon across the top. He comes back to their table, setting MC’s portion in front of them. They taste their own drink and nod in satisfaction, cutting a piece of their pastry to place into their mouth.

“Do you want some?” they ask, offering a forkful to Rafayel. With an easy smile, he waves away their question.

“Nah,” he says. “This here is sweet enough.” He shakes his drink, the ice in it rattling as specks of cinnamon swirl around. MC nods, taking the bite for themselves.

They let themselves savor the moment for a bit before speaking. After all, they don’t know if this is something they’ll ever have again. They make their way about halfway through the pastry before they take another long sip of their drink and fold their hands in their lap.

“I have something I need to tell you,” they say, before they can lose their resolve. “...Please don’t be upset with me.” Rafayel smiles, reaching across the table with his palm up, gesturing for their hand. MC obliges, tangling their fingers together, and Rafayel squeezes reassuringly.

“I won’t be,” he promises. “You can tell me anything. I swear.”

MC takes a deep breath. They appreciate that he’s putting his usual jokes and quips aside, sensing the nervous gravity of the moment, but it almost makes them even more anxious. Biting their lip, MC decides it’s better to rip the metaphorical band-aid off in one go.

“I’m nonbinary,” they say simply. “And I’m sorry I’ve been keeping this from you.”

Rafayel blinks for a moment, silent. MC feels their eyes sting.

“What?”

“Uh.” Out of all the scenarios they’d mentally prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. “You know,” they begin, “like, I’m not a guy, but I’m also not a girl. It’s-”

“No, I know what nonbinary means, silly,” Rafayel grins. “Why would you ever think I’d be upset at you over this?” MC feels the sting in their eyes become welling moisture, and Rafayel scrambles to drag his chair around to their side of the table and pull them into a tight embrace.

“I thought you were gonna tell me that you were moving away, or that you lost your job or something!” he says, rocking them back and forth, gently, slowly. With a shaky breath, MC tucks their face into Rafayel’s shoulder, smiling to themselves. But he’s not done, continuing as he pulls them tighter.

“And if you come to me tomorrow and say you feel some other way, or that you want to change your name or buy new clothes or change your hair, that’s okay! MC, I love you no matter what. I promise, something like this is never ever going to come between me and you.” They’re full on sobbing now, the relief that comes with acceptance and the lovely promises spilling from Rafayel’s lips making all sorts of emotions surge in their chest.

Rafayel pulls back, cupping their face with one hand and wiping their tears away with the other. He smiles, a radiant and loving thing, and MC can’t help but give a breathy, relieved laugh as he leans in to place light little kisses along their cheeks.

“I don’t know why I was so nervous,” MC admits. “You never did anything to make me worried about this.” Rafayel shrugs.

“It’s a big thing to tell someone,” he says. “I’m proud of you. I know this took a lot.”

“It really did,” MC acknowledges. Rafayel ruffles their hair affectionately before scooting his chair back over to his side, keeping one of MC’s hands in his own.

“Okay, okay,” he says, buzzing with energy now that the serious moment is waning. “Finish your pastry and then we can go shopping.” MC blinks, surprised.

“We weren’t planning on going-”

“Uh-uh!” Rafayel cuts in, waving a hand in their face and startling a laugh from them. “Shhhh, we’re going shopping. You wanna go buy pretty things with me soooo bad. You would never think of saying no to this lovely face of mine.”

“Oh, my god,” MC laughs, nearly dropping their fork. “You’re so dramatic.” In response, Rafayel gives a pleased smile and makes a motion as if flicking hair behind his shoulder. MC shakes their head good naturedly, taking another bite of their pastry.

They do, in fact, end up out in the shops, and Rayafel buys them a jacket they’ve been eyeing for a long while. The two of them swing their intertwined hands between them as they walk, enjoying each others’ presence. It’s late in the evening by the time they decide to part ways, and even then, Rafayel convinces MC to sleep over at his house.

A couple hours later, laying in bed, MC watches Rafayel’s sleeping face with a soft smile. They never thought they’d be lucky enough for a relationship like this.

#love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #requested fic #rafayel x mc #nonbinary mc #l&ds #rafayel l&ds #rafayel qi #rafayel x reader #requests open #jay's writing!#this was so so so fun to write eeeeee!!!!!

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ragsy · 3 days

Text

"Olive Branch Unlimited Pasta Pass"

A less-than friendly encounter between Dogmark and Kenneth. 993 words. Read under the cut 👇

---

Mark grimaced at the jangle of the shop bell. It was ten minutes to closing; surely nobody needed taxidermy services this urgently. He was going to have to fucking sweep again, and why can't these people ever just put the dead cat in the damn freezer for the night?

He was halfway through his Customer Service Greeting-- a dry and listless "Hi, let me know if you need anything" with an implied "I hope you don't," when--

"Oh. Uh. Hi Kenneth," Mark coughed.

Kenneth, as it were, stepped into the Tucksidermy shop, taking in the many display shelves of magician squirrels, burlesque raccoons, and deer with hats, before finally catching Mark's attention. He smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. "Ah! Mark! Working hard?"

Kenneth let the shop door swing shut behind him; he held a large tupperware container tucked under one elbow, and his other hand gripped something in his pocket. For a man who had walked with a cane for as long as Mark knew him, Kenneth was moving with awfully fluid, easy strides.

Mark eyed the container with heavy suspicion. If there was someone's dearly departed family pet in there, he just might scream.

"Just. Uh. Closing up for the night," he said, setting his broom aside.

"Fantastic!" grinned the older man. "Then I hope you don't mind me asking: is Tuck in?"

Mark's pointed ears flicked.

Tuck had been different since coming back from the last mission. They hadn't told him everything that had happened, and the wedge between them and Kenneth remained vague handwaves and omissions. But still, holes in a story still leave behind the shape of some great and unspeakable thing.

And, if he was being honest, Mark was kinda creeped out by the way that guy was always so chipper. If he had more than a measly ounce of candor, he wouldn't have minded telling the old man to fuck off.

Mark slipped his glasses off and polished them on the front of his shirt.

"Tuck's not here," he lied.

Kenneth's face fell. "Oh! Are they, ah, are they alright?"

"Just-... Busy. I dunno."

This was, at least partially, the truth. The usual signs of Tuck is Working were present: Muffled FM radio pulsing through the wall. A hovering scent of blood and chemicals. A bearing in the workshop vent fan that squeaked at a frequency only dog ears could hear.

Kenneth furrowed his brow. "Oh. Hm."

That was another thing-- In the days since the mission to that facility, everyone had returned drained, bedraggled, frightened, or pissed off.

Everyone, that was, except Kenneth.

Kenneth, who Mark had seen take up jogging. Kenneth, whose familiar lines and wrinkles had begun to fade. Kenneth, whose sharpened eyes and revitalized wits now studied Mark, searching him for answers.

It all made Mark's skin crawl. Even as a grown-ass adult, he couldn't avoid feeling like a kid caught in a fib by a teacher. What the hell else was he supposed to say?Desperate for a break in eye contact, he replaced his glasses, grabbed the broom, and resumed sweeping.

Kenneth cleared his throat.

"Well, then, in any case, can I leave this here?" He was hoisting the container aloft in both hands. At Mark's skeptical stare at the plastic lid, he cracked open a corner, revealing a mess of pasta, tomatoes, and cheese.

Kenneth mistook Mark's sigh of relief for gratitude.

"Lasagna. I thought you both might appreciate some leftovers from dinner at Alice's house last night. So-- Ah, so sorry you had to miss it again!" The smile returned to his face. Uneasy. Apologetic.

Sorry. Right. Maybe they stayed home for a reason. Maybe they didn't want to be there with him. Maybe Tuck would have gone if he would just get rid of that fucking tape recorder. Mark's fingers twitched. Maybe he could take it from him the hard way.

He bit his tongue and swallowed his words.

"Um. Great," he said finally. He set down the broom and picked up the dustpan, dumping its contents unceremoniously in the trash.

"Ah," said Kenneth, crestfallen. Heavy silence fell over the two of them.

Once it was clear that Mark would make no move to accept the offering, Kenneth crossed the room and placed the container on the register counter. He patted the lid conclusively.

"Well, ah, I-... I hope you enjoy it!" A glimmer of hope clung to the edges of his words with desperation.

Once again, Mark said nothing. Folding his arms, his gaze darted from the tupperware, to the clock above it, to Kenneth. He sighed and swiped a hand down his face.

"Please go."

"Wh— Pardon?"

"We're closed."

Kenneth blinked. "O-oh, so soon?"

He swept his eyes across the shop. "Will, ah, will Tuck be back soon then, maybe?"

Mark thrust a clawed finger towards the door. "Get. Out," he growled, his human mask vaporized in an instant. A snarl curled up his snout, and his hackles bristled. Enough was enough.

The older man staggered backwards, eyes wide in terror. He raised his hands in submission and, without another word, fumbled open the door and slunk outside.

Mark slammed the shop door behind him and twisted the deadbolt shut. He glanced at the clock again. Five til was probably close enough.

Seething, he finished his chores and stalked out the back door.

Later, he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe to Tuck's workshop.

"Hey, we're all closed up now. I'm gonna get going." His voice shook a little, but he had at least managed to hide the dog back away.

Tuck looked up from its workbench. "Oh, heya Mark," it drawled. "Customers give ya any trouble today?"

"No. All good. See you tomorrow."

He hoisted the shop trash bag on his way out the door and slung it into the dumpster. It landed against the metal bottom with a heavy thud.

Kenneth's olive branch would be left there to rot until pickup day.

#ragsycon exclusive #ragsymakes #oc kenneth #oc dogmark #still have no consistent way of sharing what i write outside of the very specific discord channel i initially post these in #especially since only half of them make it to tumblr because the other half are so specific that without context they are nearly meaningless #anyway. guess who just got yelled at dot jpg

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peachy-lo-deactivated · 2 years

Text

It's so hard to have to cram all the things in your head without it spilling out. The internal filing cabinets slapped full, overflowing, the desks messy, the boxes askew. My brain is in over drive. Work, cosmetology school, MBA...it's rinse and repeat 7 days a week. No break. No down time. Just constantly going. I'm broken down. I'm burnt out and it's had just enhance my depression and body dysmorphia to an all time high. I've projected to the one person I even talk to about anything and now I can't even say anything to that person because it's effecting them and I feel like I'm one word away from losing them in my life. I feel like such a shit and toxic person. I want it all to stop. I just feel so fucking alone. I don't have the capacity any more for any of this shit. I'm broken down. I'm tired.

#just feel like everyone close to me is one foot out the door #I feel absolutely alone and like I have no one to turn to or talk to without worrying I'm effecting them and being a burden #like you know it's bad when their therapist is starting to talk shit about you #I'm just withdrawing because I don't have the capacity to have my heart broken again #I feel it coming and it is NOT a great feeling to feel someone slipping away #oh whale #Queue ABBA

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stargirlrchive · 14 days

Text

simon’s work wife

one — two — three — four

cw: simon riley x fem reader, smut no plot like just literal sex

you would come to learn that simon was a very dedicated lover. he was—to put it simply—starved, and it appeared that you were the meal.

your mind had turned into a cloudy mess of desire as his thick, calloused finger ripped the flimsy elastic of your underwear. his hands moving to grip the soft part of your thighs to spread you open for him.

you had no time to be embarrassed at being so exposed because he was parting your lips and then nosing at your clit.

your back arched almost instantly, his tongue laying flat against your puffy clit and flicking over and over again. lips attaching to the soft nub to suck.

your hands didn’t know what to do, he was sucking the air right out of you. soft cries of pleasure tumbling out of your mouth as he worked you open.

“taste ev’n better than i imagined, sweetheart.”

your fingers moved to palm at you breast, your nipples pebbled and aching at all the pleasure he was giving you.

your body tensed beneath him as one of his thick, meaty fingers circled your entrance, gently dipping in the tip before pulling out, “relax f’r me, baby. gotta get ya’ ready f’r my cock.”

you nodded absentmindedly, only being able to focus on his mouth still tonguing at your clit and his finger dipping inside of you.

it was all too much yet not enough.

your face burned at the ease in which his finger entered you, a soft slick sound as he pumped into you steadily. he hummed softly, pulling away from your clit to watch as his finger disappeared inside of you, “ya’ always get this wet, doll?”

he didn’t give you time to respond, because soon after he was sinking a second finger into you. your breath getting caught in your throat at the stretch. his fingers pumping and curling, in and out—while he used his thumb to press against your clit.

his body slowly began to move upwards, pressing kisses as he went. from your thighs, to your stomach, up your breast—to which he gave special attention to. sucking your nipple into his mouth, fingers pumping into you rhythmically. then up your neck, finally to your mouth.

it was messy, one of his hands tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, neck straining as his mouth crashed into yours.

he was trying to devour you, tongue pushing into your mouth, teeth scraping against your lip and swallowing down every little noise of pleasure that left your mouth.

your pussy pulsed around his fingers, heating coiling low in your belly as his kiss pushed you over. he swallowed down your warbled moan of his name as he pumped into you over and over again.

your body grew pliant beneath his, limbs loosened and mind foggy as he nipped at your throat. “doin’ okay?”

you nodded lazily, fingers moving down to trail over his bare chest. your hand dipped down to the elastic of his sweat pants and he grunted, catching your wrist and cradling it to his chest. “use your words, doll.”

you whined softly, and a soft noise of amusement left simon’s mouth, “i’m more than okay. feel great.”

he huffed a laugh and brought your hand up so he could kiss your wrist, “ya’ don’t know how bad i’ve been wanting you like this.”

your hips tilted up, his cock pressing against your belly as your lips quirked up softly, “i have a guess.”

simon grunted lowly, pressing his hips down against you, nose trailing up your throat as he mumbled, “this what you wanted, hm?”

he hips rocked forward, rubbing right against your sensitive clit as you parted your legs further for him, “j’st needed someone to wife ya’ up, huh?”

your pussy pulsed at his words, fingers clawing into his back, desperately trying to get him closer to you. “such a sweet little thing, m’surprised ya’ weren’t already snatched up ‘nd filled.”

a noise of protest left your mouth as his hips lifted from yours, it was only for a second, just enough time for simon to pull his sweats down for his cock to slip out.

a heavy hand pulled one of your legs up, pressing your knee to your chest and your eyes nearly rolled back as simon spit onto your cunt. his other hand wrapped around the base of his cock as he pushed between your folds.

he used your slick and his spit to coat his cock, thrusting the tip against your clit before dragging his length back down to your entrance.

you couldn’t breathe, not as you felt the weight of his cock on you. even less as the head dipped into your warm pussy for the first time, “but don’t ya’ worry, sweetheart. g’nna fill ya’ up s’good.”

he grunted out a low ‘fuck’ as his cock finally pushed into you. your pussy was warm and snug, swallowing him down eagerly as you mewled beneath him.

it burned, he was big—you really shouldn’t have been so surprised that it felt like he was splitting you open. “relax, baby. doin’ so good.”

two of his fingers dipped between the both of you so he could tease at your puffy clit as he delivered short thrust into you. every inch that slid into you went in easier.

an almost feral smile gracing simon’s lips when he sunk into you completely. his pelvis pressed into yours, balls snuggly resting against your ass.

“fuck, takin’ it so well, sweet girl.”

you were a mess before he even began plowing into you. thick cock spearing you open again and again. his hands greedily cupping your breast, your hips—sometimes even pressing into your belly to make you feel even fuller.

desperate little noises left your mouth as he fucked into you deep and desperate. barely pulling his cock out before he’s sinking into you again—as if he can’t stand not being inside you.

grunts left simon’s mouth, rough little noises that had your pussy pulsing around his length. “ya’ g’nna let me cum inside ya’, baby? g’nna take it like a good girl?”

your nails dug into his back as he finally lowered your leg down, spreading your thighs apart to thrust deeper, his tip desperately knocking against the soft spot inside you that made you go dizzy. “yes—please!”

a thick hand wrapped around your throat, your eyes snapped open to look up at him and the look in simon’s eyes had your cunt tightening around him, “yeah, baby? should i turn my missus into a momma?”

a desperate noise left your mouth at his words, the coil that had tightened in your belly snapped as your body shook with your orgasm.

simon delivered a few shallow thrust into you before he was groaning roughly, warmth spread throughout your body as his cum filled your messy cunt.

simon pressed into you, his body weighing yours down but you felt too good to care. his nose trailing down your throat as his rough fingers massaged your aching muscles. soft praises and gentle touches were the last thing you had expected from your lieutenant, but he was as devoted to you as he was to the field.

“such a good little wife.”

#PICK ME CHOOSE ME LOVE ME #simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader smut

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chastiefoul · 2 months

Text

he finds you crying ft. love and deepspace men

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel, and sylus a/n: I always feel like mc wasn’t given enough time to grief when chapter 4 happened (or maybe they just didn’t show it or i remember it wrong) but to lose the people you’ve considered family like that in front of your eyes would severely mess on anyone’s mental well-being. mc stronger than me fr i would've had a breakdown every night. so i tried to write the comfort that was long overdue. <3

Zayne

He found you hunched over at the couch, knees tucked to your chest. your shoulder shook as he heard the sniffles and although he’s physically perfectly fine, he swore it felt like his heart was breaking in two.

He would gently put his key on the table, making his presence known in the subtlest way possible so you didn’t get startled.

You quickly tried to wipe your eyes and sat normally but suddenly in no time you were carried as he made you sit on his lap, bringing your head close to his neck as he held you tight.

Zayne wasn’t one who’s great at offering consoling words, as he also a firm believer of actions speak louder than words. As he rubbed your back gently he only said, “Let it all out, I’m here.”

So you did just that. You’ve said this once to him as a joke, but truly, anywhere by his side was the time you felt the most safe.

The doctor continued to comfort you in silence, hoping with every beat of his heart that his arms and hands that’s so used in saving people’s lives, could offer at least some kind of solace for your heart that was in disarray.

Xavier

He’d never hated the sight of a bed so much, until he found you crying atop of it.

Xavier would rushes over to you (arguably faster when he encountered strayed wanderers), determined to do anything he could to help you feel better.

As he put a hand over your cheek, wiping the tears that just kept on coming he whispered, “I’m here, what do you need?”

When you couldn’t even manage a reply Xavier would just stay by your side, his and was diligent in rubbing the side of your face; he never felt so useless, knowing the little gesture gave almost to none help.

For someone who finds sleep easy inbetween every hours, that was the most restless he’s ever been. He stayed with you until you calmed down, offering gentle whispers as you felt your awake state slipping away.

The moment you’re asleep Xavier was keen on wiping your face softly off of the remaining tears, and he tucked you in properly. He brought you to his embrace.

Yet unlike any other nights, he couldn’t find any part of him that was able to join you into the dream state.

Rafayel

Rafayel knew he came at a bad time. Seeing the way you spoke so stiffly and the way you zoned out of the conversation every few minutes.

However, he also knew he couldn’t leave you alone right then.

The silence once again was loud, but he didn’t think you realize that, as he followed your stare to the table, to what’s on the top of the table to be exact. A necklace with an apple charm on it.

He approached your side, cupping your face with both of his hands. “Miss bodyguard, you don’t have to be strong all the time, you know? Especially now, since you’re off duty.”

You chuckled quietly, but what followed after was not your usual easy smile but instead it was tears streaming down your face. And it felt like Rafayel could offer anything he had just to make them stop. And if that’s not enough, he swore to give you twice or thrice of what he had, it didn’t matter if he was to be in debt.

He held you tight, the sight of you crying was enough to make tears made their way to his eyes as well. And it pained him, knowing the best he could do in that moment was only to hold you tighter, as he wished that he could mend whatever broken part you had with one of his.

Sylus

He didn’t even flinch when you climbed on his lap, your usual talkativeness was nowhere to be found.

You rested your head on his shoulder and within seconds he knew that your emotions were in chaos, and if you thought you could find comfort in him, then he was more than happy to be there for you.

“Let me stay like here for a while,” you said weakly, voice all tense and anxious.

He brought a palm to your back, “By all means, darling. You didn’t think I was going to turn you away, did you?”

You stayed quiet, trying your best to get your emotions in order but it just seemed impossible. Sylus then sigh at your another attempt to pretend once again that you’re okay. “Cry if you need. Tears were never a sign of weakness, it just proves that you’re human.”

His rigid sentence somehow brought a strange sense of comfort for you, making your tears escape freely.

Sylus’ fingers felt fleeting on your back, like a touch that could slip away anytime. But he made sure none of that will happen as he stroke your hair gently over and over.

Was he worried of you? Absolutely. Yet he believed with all of his entire being that you that has fallen apart that day, would have no time standing back up again on the next day.

If there’s anything he learnt about you during your time with him, is that you’re a stranger to giving up.

#lads x reader #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #zayne x you #lnds x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads angst #lads fluff

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roturo · 10 months

Text

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.”

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister.

That made you blush.

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you.

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-”

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard.

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #toji smut #gojo x you #smut

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aemondsbabe · 3 months

Text

Deliverance

summary: following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. as his older sister, who are you to deny him?

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon death, infidelity technically but reader's husband is cool with it and understands that she comes from a weirdo family cough cough incest cough, lactation kink, hurt/comfort, piv sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, titty sucking, angst but happy ending, otto cameo ew, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 7.4k

a/n: *slams fist on table* i need for him to suck on my boobie

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @feodor-dostoevsky

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“Shall I fetch Maester Orwyle once we return to your chambers, Princess?” Your handmaiden, Edyth, questions as the two of you make your way up one of the many winding staircases in the Red Keep – each step making you wince.

“Yes, please,” you sigh, ever grateful that she had always seemed to have a knack for predicting your requests before you had the chance to voice them, “Perhaps tell him to prepare some of the same soothing balm he gave to Helaena?”

“Of course, Princess,” Edyth nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, ever the optimist, “I believe it should help with your aches, I remember it seemed to help the Queen after…” She trails off, breath hitching in her throat.

A heavy silence seems to fall over the two of you, the same that had been blanketing the entirety of the palace for the past few days. You swallow thickly, battling against the lump suddenly growing at the back of your throat and merely nod your head in simple understanding, offering her a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sure it will be of great help, Edyth, thank you.”

Ever since… it had happened, the Red Keep feels as if it’s made of eggshells, like one small gust of wind could knock it right over. Everyone’s so on edge, terrified of saying too much or too little, the wrong thing at the wrong time. The stress of it all seems nearly suffocating, though you still have a feeling the worst was yet to come.

Suddenly, someone calls your name from behind you and you turn, smiling once you see your grandsire striding toward you.

“A raven arrived earlier from Gwayne,” Otto explains, deep voice carrying down the empty hallway, “He’s reached Oldtown safely, everything seems to be well there.”

“Oh, wonderful,” you nod, grateful for news of your husband.

“Indeed,” he continues, “Daeron seems to be in good spirits, happy to come home; they’re to depart tomorrow, as scheduled… forgive me, I meant to tell you before supper but it seems to have slipped my mind.”

“Everything has been so hectic of late, please don’t trouble yourself. He arrived safely and will be back all the sooner for it, that is what matters.”

“Of course,” Otto nods, glancing out a nearby window, “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve been ordered to attend to His Grace,” he says gruffly, a wry smile on his lips, nodding in the direction of Aegon’s chambers.

You nod at the mention of your twin, brows pinching together with worry. “Be… patient with him, grandsire, please,” you beseech, chest heaving with a soft sigh, “I spoke with him earlier this morning, he’s… well, he’s not himself.”

“Are any of us anymore, I wonder,” Otto mutters, fixing you with a tight smile before taking his leave, striding quickly down the hallway. Your brows furrow at that, you can’t help but throw Edyth a questioning look before the two of you continue toward your chambers.

“Seven Hells,” you grumble, quickly bringing a hand to your breast as you climb another, blessedly shorter, set of stairs, “Perhaps check the nursery first, yes? Daena may be stirring still…” You know better, even as the words leave your lips.

Your daughter has finally begun sleeping soundly through the night recently and while that is cause for celebration, you certainly won’t miss the past eight moons of late night feedings, your poor breasts are paying the price – your body not yet caught up with the lessened need for milk.

“Yes, Princess,” Edyth replies with a little nod, walking alongside you.

The two of you are almost at your chambers, finally turning onto the hallway where the family apartments are housed, when you hear it – a muffled, barely there cry. The sound makes you pause in your tracks, head swiveling, unsure of exactly where it came from and it’s then you notice that the door to Aemond’s chambers is ajar.

That in and of itself is strange indeed, your little brother valued privacy above all else, so you stride over only to pause at the entrance, hand poised midair as you reach for the door handle. Your heart clenches when another soft sob pierces the quiet of the hallway – a mournful little noise, one you’d expect more from Aegon.

Turning back to Edyth, you lead her a few feet from the door, knowing Aemond would hate it if he knew someone, anyone aside from you, had overheard him. “Go to the nursery,” you instruct, making sure to keep your voice low, “Make sure Daena is well, then you’re free for the evening.”

“But, princess, what about –”

“Nevermind it,” you murmur with a shake of your head, “I’ll send for the maester later myself.”

With a nod, she scampers off further down the hallway, leaving you alone by your brother’s door. Stepping back over toward the threshold, you bite at your bottom lip, wondering if you should go in at all – if it would be more merciful to simply pretend you hadn’t heard anything at all.

But then it happens again, another pitiful sob sounds from beyond the cracked door and you’re unable to help yourself – Aemond had always come to you with his troubles when he was younger, surely now would be no different. With a little breath, you push the door open just enough to slip through it and thank whichever Gods may be listening when you’re able to press it closed with hardly a sound.

Peeking around the screen your brother has beside the door, it feels as if your heart shatters in your chest. He looks so… small, so fragile, the complete opposite of the towering, formidable man he’d become in recent years. It’s clear he didn’t hear you come in as he stays seated in a chair near the door, his back to you; his shoulders shake with gentle cries while he hunches over, head cradled in his hands.

The disarray of his normally spotless chambers startles you once you let your eyes flit over the space – papers are strewn about all across the low table he keeps in the little sitting area, some scattered across the floor, crumpled up, or ripped to pieces. His bedsheets are halfway ripped from the bed and lie in a pool at its foot, along with the remnants of a candle, now merely a translucent puddle on the dark stone floor.

Taking a step forward, you softly call his name, trying your hardest to keep your voice as low and soft as possible, though you’re hardly able to get the first syllable out before he bolts up from the chair with a strangled gasp and spins toward you.

“Oh, Aem,” the words fall past your lips in a soft sigh, pulled from you by the startled expression on his face – eyes wide with the fear of being caught so vulnerable. His sapphire eye seems to sparkle with just as much emotion as his pale purple one.

“Sister, I –” He starts, hastily wiping his hands over his cheeks, chest heaving while he tries to calm his harsh breaths, but you’ll have none of that.

“Shh, whatever excuses you have, I’ll not hear them,” you murmur, quickly walking the few feet over to him and enveloping him in a tight embrace, just as you used to do when he would come crying to you about the tortures Aegon or your nephews put him through in their youth.

Your brother stays stiff in your arms for a moment, tense and wary, though he slowly relaxes as you rub a hand over his back, smoothing out his long hair. You yourself relax once he finally winds his long arms around you and rests his chin on your shoulder with a soft sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally releasing.

“Tell me what distresses you so?”

“I… Jae– the boy,” he stammers, stumbling over his name. You understand, just saying your little nephew’s name seems to somehow make the pain of the loss even worse. Yet, something in your gut tells you there’s something else going on, that Jaehaerys’s death is not the only thing causing your brother such anguish.

“Aemond…” you gently press, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek as you pull back just enough to meet his gaze, “I cannot help if you won’t tell me–”

“Tell you what?” He counters, tone growing too defensive too quickly, “My nephew’s death brings me sorrow, sister. The loss of a young child is a… distressing thing.”

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You counter, trying desperately to keep your voice calm, even when Aemond backs away from you with an exasperated sigh. You’re no stranger to this game – ever since he lost his eye, your brother has guarded his emotions carefully. Getting him to speak honestly about them was about as hard as keeping a bottle of Dornish wine from Aegon’s grasp.

He gives you a sidelong glance as he paces about the room, lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched. Worry only blooms brighter in your chest the longer you watch him; so agitated and so guarded, closed off like an abused animal.

“It… it’s nothing,” he mumbles finally, voice short and clipped, “Nothing important, sister, I assure you.”

Unconsciously, you wring your hands worriedly, heart clenching; you want nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, yet you know from experience that it was better to let Aemond come to you.

“Well, surely it cannot be nothing if it has upset you so, sweetling.”

His nervous pacing comes to a screeching halt at that and he squeezes his eye shut, fists clenched at his side – his whole body tense like he’s trying desperately to keep some invisible dam within himself closed.

You reach a hand up instinctively when he bites at his bottom lip and turns his head away from you, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “I–,” he croaks, the tightness in his voice makes your breath hitch in your throat; every maternal cell in your body is screaming at you, pleading with you to hold him, “I don’t w-wish to burden you.”

“Baby brother,” you sigh, finally going to him, practically running the few feet over to where he stands. Your arms encircle him instantly, pulling him into a tight embrace – one hand rubs over his back while the other cups the back of his head, holding his face against the crook of your neck, “You could never be a burden to me, never.”

That seems to break him and he gasps, breathing warm against your neck, before he finally lets go and his shoulders heave with sobs while his hands cling to you desperately, fisting into the fabric of your gown like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. A tightness grows at the back of your own throat, not used to seeing him be this raw, this open, in what feels like lifetimes. It breaks your heart to think he’d been holding all of this in, determined to be the strong, silent soldier like everyone expected, while he dealt with such sadness all alone.

“Shh, shh, Aemond, you’re okay,” you murmur gently, eyes widening when he sags against you, his knees giving way only for a second. “Here, come,” you instruct, taking one of his hands in yours and leading him to the small seating area in his chambers. You urge him to sit on the sofa he has there before joining him yourself, a bit surprised when he all but throws himself against you again – practically laying his head in your lap as he sobs, cheek pressed against your chest in a way that makes you wince from the tenderness still there, not that you’d ever scold him for it.

“There, that’s much better, hm? Comfortable?” You ask, simply trying to draw him back to the surface.

He doesn’t reply, something that doesn’t really come as a shock to you given how harsh his cries are, leaving him breathless against you. Deciding to let him get it out, you stay quiet, merely shushing him every so often as you run your fingers through his pearlescent hair.

After a long while, he seems to settle some and tears begin running down his cheeks silently rather than racking his body with savage cries; he lifts his head from your lap and rests it instead against your shoulder, gazing up at you as if you’re an angel sent from the heavens themselves. The intense tenderness with which he looks at you makes you blush, yet your brows furrow slightly at the darkness still there – lingering in the lilac of his eye.

“I have… I have done something terrible.”

Your brother's murmured confession only serves to confuse you further and you shake your head slightly, heart clenching in your chest as you silently wonder what in all the Seven Kingdoms he could possibly mean by that.

“Aemond,” you start, knowing not to pry – to let him tell you, “There is nothing you could ever do that would make me think any less of you.”

He stares up at you for a long moment, eye flicking across your face like he’s checking for even the barest hint of deception, yet he finds none – your words are true.

“You… promise me you will not hate me.”

“I promise, sweet brother,” your brows pinch together at his words, wondering what could possibly be bad enough for all this, yet you can’t stop the corners of your lips from quirking into a sad smile at his request; that uncertain lilt in his voice reminds you so much of when he was younger, “There’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing.”

“I…” He starts, pulling away from you as he sits up, sparing you one last glance before staring off into the fireplace, “I am the… the reason Jaehaerys is dead.”

“What?” The word is pressed from you, leaving your lips as little more than a breath. You stare at him as if he’d sprouted a second head, utterly perplexed. How in the Seven Hells could he have ever arrived at that conclusion? Taking one of his hands in yours, you lean a little closer, “Sweetling, what in the world do you mean?”

“They were here for me,” Aemond rasps, wincing as if the words themselves are painful, clawing at his throat on their way out, “They were… Gods, they were sent for me and – and when they couldn’t find me, they… H-He died because I was not here, because they could not f-find me…”

“Oh, my love,” you sigh, the backs of your eyes stinging as he presses himself against you again, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, “Aemond, you couldn’t have known, none of us did. You couldn’t have known…” You repeat, like saying the words again and again will make him believe them.

“I s-should have,” he whimpers, voice breaking over a sob, “I should’ve k-known, I sh–should’ve been here…”

You hold him tightly, practically hauling him onto your lap as his tears leak over your skin, running into the valley of your cleavage like a river, though you pay it no mind. “Shh, sweetling, shh,” you murmur and press a soft kiss to his forehead, “It’s not your fault, dear one, it’s no one’s fault but the vile men who took him and our… our coward of a sister who ordered it done.”

He stays silent for a moment and you can feel the gears in his brain turning, working furiously as he tries to internalize your words, wanting desperately to believe them but unable to let himself. You sigh softly when you feel him shake his head against you, so determined to cling to guilt.

“If… if I had n-not been at the…”

“At the where, brother?” You press, clinging to anything you may be able to use to shift the conversation.

“...The brothel…” he mumbles after a long pause, the words so muffled against the column of your neck that you have to strain to hear them. His words shock you, the complete opposite of anything you’d been expecting. You try your hardest not to let that show, even as a strange sense of jealousy wells up within you – a sense of possessiveness you’ve always felt for your little brother.

“Well, you… you are a man grown, my love,” you heart hammers in your chest, loud enough that you wonder if he can hear it, “If you wish to lay with–”

“I didn’t… I–” He stammers, clinging to you tightly as he shakes his head, an urgency in his voice you can’t quite place, “That’s not what, I… I mean, I–”

“No matter,” you cut him off, aching to see him so distressed, “Whatever you do there, sweet brother, it’s your… right to do it.” You struggle to get the words out, the sense of protectiveness rising viciously in your chest makes your throat feel tight.

He lifts his head from your shoulder again and eyes you for a long moment – for what, you aren’t sure. It’s almost like he’s surprised not to be meant with disgust or contempt; you wish you knew why.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally mumbles, glancing away from you, ashamed, “I should’ve been home… I should’ve been here to protect my family.”

“Aemond, please,” you sigh and sit up slightly, moving to cup his cheeks in your hands, wiping at his tears with your thumb, “It is not your job to protect us, we have guards for a reason… if anything, this atrocity is their fault but it is not yours, do you understand?” Your eyes bore into his as you speak, desperate to make him understand, to rid him of this misplaced guilt.

“Do… do you still love me?” He asks after a long moment, voice so timid, so meek like he’s already preparing himself for your rejection, that it makes your heart twist horribly in your chest.

Still, you cannot help but huff out a little laugh, lips lifting into a sad smile at the utter ridiculousness of the question. “You are my dearest brother,” you murmur, leaning forward to press a kiss against his forehead, letting your lips linger on his skin for a second, “Of course, I still love you, Aemond. I have loved you from the moment you came into this world and I shall never, never stop – the Gods themselves could not make me.”

The two of you are quiet for a moment, save for a small hum from your brother as he nods. His arms encircle you again and selfishly, you enjoy it – being this close to him again, like he was a little boy once more. He’d been all but attached to you at the hip before that dreadful night, following you about the Keep and telling you all sorts of tales about various histories of the Realm in that sweet voice of his.

All of that had stopped that night and, at first, you had assumed that he merely thought himself a man grown afterwards – a man who had finally claimed a dragon, a man who no longer needed comfort from an older sibling. The sadness in his voice when he speaks again, muffled against your shoulder, tells you otherwise.

“Mother doesn’t love me anymore,” his voice is flat and detached as he breathes out the words, like he’s informing you of some tragic, unavoidable accident.

“Aem, of course she does. She loves you very–”

“No,” he cuts you off, sitting up once more and shaking his head, “Ever since that business with Luke, I… she can hardly bring herself to look at me. She won’t speak to me outside of Small Council meetings and even then she tries not to, ‘tis plain to see.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes, leaving you to swallow around the lump that grows at the back of your throat once again. What are you to say? He’s… Gods, bless him, he’s right, you’ve seen as much to know.

“You are the only one who has never abandoned me,” he starts, eye sparkling in the candlelight as tears begin welling up within it once more, “Everyone else has left.”

“That’s not…” Your voice fades as you sigh, knowing that arguing with him now will do no good. Instead, you simply hold him tighter and brush a few stray locks of hair from his face. “I can promise that I shall never leave you, sweet brother.”

He grows quiet for a moment, slumping down against you until his head rests in your lap and his body curls up onto the sofa. Silently, you resist the urge to cradle him, to hold him against you as you do Daena when she wakes from a nap with a start, crying out from her cradle.

He is a grown man, you remind yourself, yet it does nothing to stop the strange ache in your heart.

“They all used to taunt me, surely you remember, when we were younger,” he mumbles, eye fixated on the fire crackling in the hearth, even as he clings to you, “First for not having a dragon, then for not having an eye.”

You hum in affirmation – you do remember it, sadly. You remember it all very well; he had slept in your chambers for a week after the incident with the pig, not wanting to be left alone at night with the memories of it. You remember having to hold him back at the table when Aegon had poked fun at his eyepatch during supper, about a month after his eye had been gouged out.

You remember that night too, when he’d come to you with tearful apologies, murmuring sorries again and again for accidentally nicking your hand while trying to brandish a knife against his brother.

“I have always been an outcast.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips despite the circumstances and you sigh softly, brushing your fingers through his long strands of hair, “I quite like you being different… perhaps if you weren’t, we wouldn’t be as close, hm?”

Aemond goes quiet at that, stills in your lap with a little sigh before simply burrowing against you even more, curling in on himself tighter.

A soft coo leaves your lips, strands of his long hair passing between your fingers like silk. “What say you stay with me tonight, yes?” You offer, the thought of him in the dark carrying all this alone grief makes you feel ill, “We could even cuddle, if you like? Just as we did when you were younger.”

A short beat of silence later, all you get is a little, “Yes, please,” mumbled against your abdomen.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs later, the two of you finally lying together atop your bed, cuddled closely against one another just as you’d promised. You’d each taken time to get ready for bed and Aemond seems a little better for it, no longer as distressed and teary now that he’s had the time to collect himself.

Your hand carefully cups the side of his face that isn’t pressed against your pillow, that isn’t buried in the crook of your neck, as an astonished huff of laughter escapes your lips as they curve into a sad smile, your brows furrowed. “Why in the world would you think such things?” Even as the question is whispered into the quiet of your chambers, you know the answer – Aemond has always been this way, always one to reject comfort, even when it is so freely given, even when he himself seeks it out.

If only he could see himself as you do.

“I… I have done so many shameful things, sister, I…” His voice breaks when he cuts himself off and you can feel him tense in your hold, “‘Tis the simple truth, I don’t deserve you.”

You hum softly, combing your fingers through his hair while you mull over his words, silently wondering why he has always been like this – why you have always felt so unworthy of softness and kindness and love.

“Well, it is not my truth,” you murmur after a moment, eyes flicking over the long line of his body, hidden by your silken bedsheets. In the time each of you had taken to ready yourselves for bed, you had changed into a nightgown and he into a simple nightshirt, leaving your bare legs to tangle together, “Would you like to know what I think, my love?”

You feel him inhale against the crook of your neck, sucking in air like he’s steeling himself for disappointment, yet he still lifts his head and peers up at you. His lilac eye searches your face for a long moment, looking for even the smallest indication of displeasure in your features, only to find none.

Seemingly satisfied with his assessment, assured that surely whatever you were to say would not hurt him too badly, he nods.

Sitting up just enough to better see his face, you look at him with nothing but adoration as the two of you rest shoulder to shoulder, backs against the headboard. “I believe you deserve every kindness in the world, Aemond. And I believe even that would be too little,” your voice is hardly a whisper when you speak, like this is the deepest of secrets meant only for his ears, “You deserve nothing but happiness, sweet baby brother.”

He stares at you for a long moment, eye wide and glassy while his chest aches as your words seep into him like a soothing balm. You can see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows, eye squeezing shut for a moment while he processes your words – so sweet they nearly stung.

A soft coo bubbles from your lips when you see his chest rise and fall rapidly beneath the linen of his nightshirt, and you lean into him all the more when one of his hands reaches out and grabs one of your own, squeezing it like it’s a lifeline.

“Shh,” you soothe, giving him a sad smile when his eye finally opens again, gaze immediately finding yours, “Sweet boy.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before looking away from you once again, mind reeling. Not knowing what to do, overcome with so much emotion his heart feels as if it’s adrift at sea, he brings your hand up and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles before holding it to his cheek and sucking in another little breath as his bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t ever leave me,” he whispers finally, voice tight and hoarse.

Cupping his face, you caress your thumb over the scar beneath his eye softly and lean over just enough to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “I will never leave you, Aemond, I swear it.”

He shudders once more before letting out a shaky breath, eye filled with a wild desperation. Before you can register the movement, his hands are suddenly gripping at your waist and hauling you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck once more, apologies already muffled against your skin. “I-I’m sorry, I – Gwayne will… will hate me but –”

“Shh, sh, sh, sweetling,” you murmur, despite the small, barely audible gasp that leaves you at the sudden movement, so wholly unused to this as half of you tries desperately to comfort you while the other half wonders if you should put a stop to this, “Gwayne knows, my love, he… it’s okay, he knows.”

A sob is wrenched from Aemond’s lips, warm against your neck, but he nods nonetheless, sighing when you begin carding your fingers through his hair once more, smoothing out the long, pale strands. Slowly, he relaxes again, arms wound securely around your waist while his breath evens out.

You’re about to say something else, though your breath hitches in your throat when he begins peppering your neck with soft, chaste little kisses – feather-light down the column of your neck. He stops after a second, noticing you tense up on his lap, eyes wide as a million thoughts swirl in your mind: Is this okay? Should you stop this? This is your precious baby brother, the one who used to cling to your skirts when he was sad, who used to come to you in the night when he woke from a nightmare…

He leans forward once more and nips at your earlobe, making your heart stutter in your chest, “Can… can I try something?”

Your head reels at the sudden change in his touches, needier now, though for an entirely different reason, yet still your mind reels – piqued with curiosity. “What is it you wish to try?” You question after a moment, voice scratchy from the sudden dryness at the back of your throat.

Silently, Aemond relishes this; something about you, you his normally strong and carefree older sister, being this flustered because of him makes his heart flutter in his chest. Dipping his head, he resumes pressing soft kisses against your skin, though they linger now – teeth nipping before he soothes the small bites with a swipe of his tongue, drawing ever closer to the pulse point in your neck that beats so wildly he can feel it beneath your skin.

“Aemond!” You all but wheeze when he suddenly grabs at your hips, his own firmly bucking up against you. A shock goes down your spine at the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, two thin layers of fabric doing precious little to mask the feel of it. Again, you tense up, practically jumping out of your skin as you pull back just enough to gaze down at him, your eyes wide, blinking rapidly, as they search his.

This was the last thing you expected tonight, the last thing you’d expect from him at all. “Wha – I…” You stammer, dumbstruck while worry and uncertainty cloud your mind.

Aemond shushes you now, long fingers squeezing at your bare thighs now that your nightgown has ridden up enough to reveal them. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs soothingly against your skin, “Do you trust me…?”

Your throat bobs as you swallow thickly, heart hammering in your chest. You should be the one comforting him… what in the Seven Hells has happened? Is… is this the comfort he needs now?

Even still, you nod your head at his question; of course you trust him, you’d trust him with anything… even this.

A smile grows on his lips when you acquiesce, a pleased glimmer in his eye when he lifts his hands to your hips again, his grip firmer this time. “Good… good, sweet sister,” he hums lowly, rutting his hips up against you once more, lilac eye watching you with keen interest.

“A-Aem…” You gasp once more, the feel of him against you so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, even when your brows furrow as your eyes flutter, threatening to slip shut. His movements press a small whimper from your lips and you can feel the sting in your cheeks as they flush, chest heaving while your hands grab tightly at his shoulders.

The smug look on his face slowly morphs into one of wonder and his eye flits over your face greedily, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you like this – already so strung out over him.

He moves again, the feeling of your soft core pressing against his growing length through the thin linen only serving to drive his urges further. “Gods, you look so beautiful like this…” He murmurs, in awe at having you like this, and all to himself. Unable to help himself, he leans forward yet again and pulls you closer as his lips settle once more against your neck.

Instinctually, your head tilts to the side, giving him room to kiss over your skin. His movements against you cause you to shiver in his grasp, even if a small part of you was still uncertain, hoping this wouldn’t change your relationship with him for the worse.

The slow grind of his hips causes his nightshirt to eventually ride up his legs as well, and you gasp anew, jumping once more when his length suddenly presses against your center, unhindered by fabric.

“Feel what you do to me?” He purrs, letting out a low groan of his own.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, lips parted ever so slightly while your chest heaves, silently wondering if this is truly happening. Almost imperceptibly, you nod your head, shuddering at the feeling of his cock pressed against you, already twitching.

“L-Little brother,” you gasp, breathless already.

Aemond smirks at your response, your whimpers and soft gasps going right to his head. He grabs at your waist still, bucking against you in slow, almost teasing movements. A low, pleased hum vibrates him in his chest when he feels how wet you are against him – the heat radiating from your center nearly stifling.

The longer this goes on, the more you can feel your resolve crumbling, any small bits left of you that wanted to put a stop to this slowly fading away. Distantly, you can’t help wondering if this is how it’s always been meant to be, if this was the only logical conclusion your paths could reach, the outcome of such a close bond. Perhaps, you have always been made for this.

“Aemond,” his name falls from your lips in a soft sigh and you finally lean against him heavily, pressing your chest against his unthinkingly. “Shit!” You gasp only a second later, jolting as if stung by a bee, brought back to reality by the ache in your breasts.

“Sister?” Aemond questions, freezing beneath you while he looks over your face, his hands rising to cup your cheeks protectively.

You start to answer, to explain, when you feel a sudden tingling sensation at your chest and, judging from the look on your brother’s face, an explanation would be a moot point by now anyway.

“Gods grant me mercy,” he sighs, eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he stares, near open-mouthed, at your chest. Glancing down, your cheeks flush at the sight of milk dampening the linen at your breasts, leaving it all but translucent.

Again, you go to explain, only to stop yourself in your tracks when his tongue darts out, licking over his bottom lip. Your head spins when you notice his chest heaving as he stares at you with a nearly savage hunger, eyes fixed on your breasts like his universe has been narrowed down to a pinpoint.

“Aemond?”

“Please,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking over his lips once more, practically salivating. His eye flicks up to yours for only the briefest of seconds before zeroing in on your chest once more, “Sweet… sweet sister, please.”

Again, the energy in the room seems to shift, Aemond once again begging you for comfort, bowing to your whims. Quickly, you shush him while one hand threads into his hair once more as you bring his head back against the crook of your neck, settling him there while he groans against your skin, rough hands slowly trailing up your waist before halting at your ribs.

Your other hand busies itself with snaking between the two of you and impatiently batting your clothes away before your fingers finally curl around his length, causing the both of you to let out soft cries.

“Shh, sweetling,” you coo, chest heaving while you position him at your entrance, sighing as he desperately mouths at your neck, “I know what you need, I’ve got you.”

Again, twin moans fill your dimly lit chambers when you slowly sink down on him. Whimpers are punched from your lungs at the feel of him steadily filling you, his chest rumbling against yours as he groans deeply, hips jolting beneath you.

“Gods,” you sigh when your hips are finally pressed tightly against his once more, panting and letting your eyes fall shut while you give yourself a moment to adjust.

The feel of him borders on overwhelming – pressed so tightly inside of you, around you, the very air in your room filled with the heady, herbaceous scent of the bath oils you know he favors. You imagine he must feel the same as he trembles beneath you, fingers and hips twitching with barely contained desire.

Finally, your need to comfort him, to protect him even from himself, rears its head again and you relish the breathy sigh that leaves him as you begin to move your hips. It’s a grinding motion, soft and gentle – what he needs now, to be treated with care. Still, the movements send shockwaves up your spine as the pale hairs at the base of his cock rub perfectly against your pearl, creating a delicious friction to spur you on.

“So good,” he breathes, warm against your shoulder as he leans forward, kissing at your neck, “You feel so good, sister, you… you are s-so good to me…”

“Just as you deserve,” you murmur, combing your fingers through his long hair once more before your hands travel down to the hem of his nightshirt and you begin impatiently tugging at it, pulling it over his head and grinning at the soft, nearly petulant, whine he gives at having to separate from you even for a second.

Still, some instinctual force seems to drive you, a need to feel his skin against your own, and you waste no time before pulling your own nightgown up and over your head as well, leaving nothing to separate the two of you.

The groan that leaves him when your chest presses back against his own once more is like nothing you’ve heard before – a sound of the purest relief, like he’s found some oasis in the desert. His eye opens again and the rhythm of your hips stutters only for a second once it finds yours. The lilac is almost completely overtaken by black and yet, he still regards you as if you are an angel sent from the heavens themselves, stares at you with such reverence that your heart flutters in your chest.

Something clicks for you then as he whimpers beneath you, his own hips beginning to buck up against your own as the lazy tempo you’ve settled into slowly starts to pick up. You understand, now, that this is merely another step, an added turn, in the so carefully balanced dance the two of you have constructed.

And if this is what he needs to be comforted, then you’re more than happy to give it.

“My good boy,” sigh, moving against him with renewed vigor, grinning when he lets out a hitched moan, “Is this what you needed?”

“Yes, y-yes,” he nods, his eye never leaving your own as he ruts beneath you, the choppy movements only adding to the fire slowly building within your veins, “Please, sweet sister, please…”

You don’t need to ask to know what it is he means, nodding before he has time to stutter out another word, “Take what you need, my love.”

Another breathy groan sounds from him as he quickly descends onto your chest, tilting his head down and immediately capturing your sensitive nipple between his lips, one hand coming up to gently cup your breast, holding it steady. The feeling of relief that flows through you when he starts suckling is nearly disorienting, the dull ache in your breast slowly fading away with each mouthful of milk he pulls from you, greedily taking a few mouthfuls from one breast before switching to the other.

Your fingers stay anchored in his hair while your hips work against him, your high building more steadily within you now that your breasts no longer feel ready to burst. You pant as you gaze down at him, eyes half-lidded while you watch his lips move against you, lilac eye still fixated on you.

Below you, Aemond is halfway convinced he’s died and somehow the Gods have seen fit to spare him the Seven Hells. His head spins as he drinks from you, the taste of you by far the sweetest, most decadent thing he could fathom. As the knot in his belly grows ever-tighter, his suckles become more greedy, frantic, not knowing whether you’ll allow him this pleasure ever again.

“Please, f-fuck,” he sighs, the words punched from his lips as he pulls away from you just enough to speak, uncaring as dribbles of milk leak from the corners of his lips, staining your skin. His hips practically move on their own accord as he mindlessly grinds up into you, seeking out the warmth and safety he knows he shall only ever feel within you.

Above him, you nod, swallowing thickly against the dryness at the back of your throat, cheeks flushed while you watch him unravel. Snaking a hand between your bodies once more, your fingers quickly find your sensitive, aching bud and rubbing at it with a practiced precision.

“Gods, sweet little brother,” you breathe out, pleasure zapping down your spine. You frantically nod again, frantic this time, just as your high washes over you, “Come, Aemond… Gods, let go, little one.”

His suckles turn more into little biting nips while he gasps against you, trembling beneath you when he finally lets pleasure overtake him – eye squeezing shut at the feel of your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

The warmth of him filling you only spurs you on more, your breaths ragged against his forehead while you feel yourself tense and relax again and again, grabbing at whatever parts of him you can reach.

You each go still after a few moments, panting against each other. Aemond is practically limp beneath you, lazily nuzzling his face against your chest, satiated smile just barely tugging at the corners of his lips. Chuckling softly, you pepper his forehead in sweet kisses, relishing the contented hum he gives in return.

When you go to get up however, intent on fetching a cloth to clean you both up with, he reaches for you with a small whine as he grabs at your thighs.

“Don’t, please,” he murmurs, brows furrowed when your eyes meet, “Stay…”

“You… you want to stay like this?” You question, your heartbeat quickening as he quickly nods, “You wish to stay –”

“Inside,” he finishes quickly, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows bashfully, cheeks flushed, “I… I feel safe like… like this.”

“Then you can stay, silly boy,” you answer with a grin, kissing at his forehead once more, “Here, let’s just…” You murmur, tilting your hips to the side ever so slightly, attempting to pull him with you.

Blessedly, he seems to understand and follows you willingly, allowing you to maneuver the two of you onto your sides. After a moment, you’re comfortable once more, each of you lying on your side and facing the other, one of your legs slung over his narrow hips to keep him pressed tightly within you.

“Good boy,” you sigh softly, smiling when he shivers against you.

The two of you stay like that for a while, your hands gently caressing his soft skin or running through his hair while you hold him against you. After a while, his lilac eye finally flutters closed and you can’t help but marvel at how much younger he looks like this – relaxed and spent while he lies against you, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

After a while, he seems to grow restless again, nosing at your chest until he finds what he desires. You sigh softly as he pulls a nipple into his mouth once more, suckling at it contentedly while he peers up at you sleepily.

“There you go,” you murmur soothingly, coaxing him to lift his head just enough for you to lay an arm beneath it, allowing you to caress his shoulders while your other hand cups gently at the side of his face, thumb sweeping over his soft skin. “Take what you need, sweet one,” you coo, smiling as he quickly returns his lips to your breast, “You’re safe, I’ve got you…”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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milfgyuu · 1 month

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Lowlifes [M] Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Fem!Reader Tags: 11.5k, f2l, smut, fluff, humor, foundfamily, gang?au, 18+ Summary: Seungcheol grows tired of watching you fool around with a string of loser boyfriends and steps in when an ex shows up somewhere he's not welcome which unravels years of feelings lost in translation. Warnings: SMUT 18+, MINORS DNI!! mxf unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, lots of making out both in public and private, lots of touching, holding, soft manhandling, language, physical violence, mentions of injuries, broken bones, etc. not super detailed but very much implied they are in an illegal crime crew/gang/ring whatever. people are drinking in the bar and getting lit bc it's big dawg dk's bday ok. i think that covers it.

Seungcheol knows he should mind his business and he’s well aware that you can handle your own problems because you take great pleasure in reminding him of your capabilities.

That doesn’t mean he’s not watching out of the corner of his eye as you’re pacing back and forth at the far end of the bar. Your phone is glued to your ear and you’re obviously upset, throwing your free hand in the air with a string of expletives falling from your lips so clearly that he doesn’t have to hear you to make them out. It’s obvious who’s on the other end of that call and just knowing you’re still speaking to your ex irks his nerves.

He drinks down the remainder of his beer as he continues monitoring from a distance, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip with thinly veiled irritation.

When you hang up the phone, mid-sentence, it takes everything in you not to turn and drive your fist through the wall. All the pretty promises and apologies…you knew they were empty. You knew he would disappoint you yet again. You’re more angry with yourself for being stupid enough to hope he’d come through for once but instead of being here with you and your friends, trying to work shit out, he’s running with his new crew.

Things were always tumultuous with Jae and never going to work out, which you knew very early on, but you just loathe being wrong when you give someone a chance. It was a fool’s hope to think he might turn it around and make you feel better about letting him into your life to begin with.

The truth of the matter was that Jae just wanted to be a part of your crew and when they refused to let him in, he went and found another and tried to drag you along with him. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you’d leave them, your family, but you tried to make things work and it bit you in the ass more times than you could count.

You’re pissed as all hell when you slip back into the booth, right into Seungcheol’s side. He’s warm and familiar, and when his arm falls around your shoulder it tempers your rage just a touch. Another thing Jae couldn’t stand…how close the two of you were.

Seungcheol has been by your side since you and your brother were kids. You three have been thick as thieves, literally, for so long that you were more comfortable with him than anyone else in the world. You loved, trusted, and respected Seungcheol to a fault.

He also notoriously let’s you get away with pretty much everything.

So, for no reason other than needing a distraction and hoping to get a rise out of him, you take the cold fresh beer he’s yet to touch right out of his hands and bring it to your lips. He makes an amused sound and pinches your shoulder where his hand rests.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” he grumbles, though he doesn’t do anything to stop you from taking whatever you want.

You swallow another small mouthful and set the beer down, pushing it back into his grip. The little gasp of surprise you let out when his big hand catches around yours before you can let go of the glass makes Cheol grin which is an improvement from the scowl he’s been sporting for most of the night.

“You gonna tell me why you’ve been so grumpy?” you ask, leaning into him so he can actually hear you over all the noise, “You only nurse a beer when you’re in a shit mood.”

He lets you pull your hand from the cold glass but doesn’t put any distance between your bodies, he lessens it instead. You’re so close that he doesn’t even need to speak loudly for you to hear him. “I didn’t realize you paid that much attention to me.” His deep rumbling voice can be felt this closely and the alcohol in the warmth of your belly feels fizzy.

“I’ve known you longer than anyone else here,” you reason, “You can’t hide anything from me.”

Seungcheol snickers, “Oh, I bet I could.”

You don’t get the chance to try and one up him because your phone buzzes incessantly in your lap. Pulling back, you both see who is calling and Seungcheol kisses his teeth in irritation. You silence the call, sending your ex to voicemail and you’re about to reach for your own drink but another incoming call prevents you.

“You want me to answer it?”

Seungcheol’s tone is dangerous so you silence the call again and continue reaching for your glass. “He’ll give up.”

That isn’t typically the case but you're praying this once it is because you really don’t feel like dealing with Jae’s bullshit any more than you wish to handle a pissed off Seungcheol or get a lecture from your brother. Jeonghan, over-bearing and unhinged as he is, will talk you to death when you make a poor choice as if his entire lifestyle isn’t comprised of the ones he’s made. Better to keep him out of it too.

Cheol will give you a piece of his mind but he’s more like your big, scary guard dog and even though you’re never on the receiving end, you know he’s got a nasty bite so you’d prefer to keep the leash short and not dangle bait before him. The last thing you need is Seungcheol winding up in a cell because of you…he toes that line enough as it is.

Unfortunately, nothing is going your way tonight and your phone lights up again. Normally you’d leave it alone but another part of you, one far and detached from who is calling, still fears the guilt of missing back-to-back calls heavens forbid something has happened.

It’s the only reason you’re answering, shouting over the noise, “You’d better be dying. What the hell do you want?”

“Baby, I just need to talk to you and you’re ignoring me,” he whines back and bile gathers at the base of your throat, “I already said I was sorry! Your friends don’t even like me so I don’t know why you asked me to come. They don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“You’re not good enough for me,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, beyond caring about his feelings at this point, “You’ve proved that time and time again and I don’t need them to tell me what I already know. I’m busy. Don’t call me again.”

“Wait, wait!” he calls out to you desperately - it makes your skin crawl, “I’ll come pick you up, sweetheart. I’ll take you somewhere real nice, just us two, ok? You just stay there and I’ll come get you.”

Your face bunches up incredulously, “Don’t bother showing up now! The olive branch I extended by inviting you tonight no longer exists. I don’t want you here and I’m definitely not going anywhere just the two of us. I’m with my crew and you’re with yours,” you argue back, “That’s what you chose, so that’s what you get.”

There is silence on the end of the line and then laughter.

“You’re lucky you’re hot because it’s a distraction from how fucking crazy you are! I swear to god, you’re just trying to piss me off so I’ll pay more attention to you! Is that what you want? Want me to drop everything to be with you? Like you don’t get enough fucking attentio-”

“Hang up,” comes a growl from your left and when you look over, Seungcheol is seething.

You don’t waste another breath except to say, “Don’t call me again,” before disconnecting..

As you tuck your phone back between your thighs you accidentally meet Jeonghan’s gaze from across the table. His eyes flick between you just having ended another call and Seungcheol who looks like he might shatter the glass in his hand at any given moment. He raises a brow, his silent way of asking if everything is okay and you wink back like it’s totally fine. No worries. Not a thing wrong or out of place.

Which, it probably would have been if your phone hadn’t vibrated again a minute later.

It’s just the one time so you thought it was a fluke, a misdial, but then it buzzes again….and again. Then it’s a continually buzzing stream of new alerts so you pull your phone out and find sixteen unread messages. You don’t even bother reading them and shove the phone back between your thighs. Just. Shut. Up.

Minutes pass and you’re trying really hard to enjoy Chan’s little impromptu performance at the bar, and it sounds lovely, truly, but it’s difficult to focus on anything at all between your efforts to internally process your ex’s fucking audacity and to ignore furious heat rolling off Seungcheol’s body still so close to your own..

He’s wholly enraged and you can feel it.

There is maybe a solid seven minutes where your phone sits silently and you’re about to turn to speak to Jihoon and then…another text comes through. Seungcheol’s patience finally wears through and he plucks it from between your thighs before you can react. You watch quietly, not bothering to argue with him as he forces a shut down before pocketing it inside his jacket.

You still stare at him like some admonished teenager and he stares back with a small smirk, daring you to say something. He’s not doing it to punish you - that’s the reason you don’t push back - he’s going to make sure you enjoy the night just like everyone else. He knows it’s not going to happen if you’re glued to your phone and so do you.

Narrowing your eyes, you smirk back. “You’re giving that back later, right?”

His answering grin is troubling. “I might make you earn it.”

You toy with the idea of asking how but that line of thought is mercifully interrupted by a round of shots for the whole table being delivered and passed around. You had to wait the additional four minutes of having to sit through Hoshi giving an impromptu speech that almost dissolves to tears because he’s probably (definitely) two shots too deep and then it’s back to chaos and you’re finally free to be a part of it.

Your mood lifts tremendously over the next hour so being present in the moment with the people you love. Hao’s girlfriend Jessie passes you a sticker sheet with little glittery hearts and stars which end up all over the bar, in joshua’s hair, the tip of Jun’s nose, the bathroom walls, and some litter the dance floor. Woozi steals a couple for the back of his phone case and when you run out she supplies you with temporary tattoos. Almost everyone has at least two imprinted on their skin by the time those are run through.

When your hands are empty and your drinks all run dry, an old country western song crackles over the speakers and suddenly you’re being dragged out onto the floor by Mingyu who is hell bent on trying to replicate some old line dance you’re sure he’s fabricated in his foggy mind. Something about heels and toes, and being swung around your partner - it’s fun and somewhat terrifying when he’s nearly lifting you off the ground mid-spin.

It’s not his fault that he’s got long legs and two left feet when he drinks so it’s mostly the two of you skipping in circles, laughing and completely out of breath, but it’s a blast.

And then you catch something out of the corner of your eye that makes you stop dead in your tracks. Mingyu doesn’t even notice that you’ve stopped until he trips over your foot, looking down at you in confusion. “You givin’ up on me?”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

The voice comes from Joshua in the corner, which means somehow word spread about tonight’s falling out without you knowing, and now everyone is looking at your ex, boldly and moronically standing a few feet away from you which is several feet too close for their liking. Unsurprisingly, it’s Hoshi who’s already in his face, smiling in the most menacing fashion. “This is a private event so unfortunately for you, you’ll have to fuck off.”

Jae scoffs aloud, “I don’t give a shit about your party.”

Then his scowl twists into a smirk but it’s cruel and mirthless, his eyes falling on you and Mingyu who had at some point out of habit placed his body just in front of your own.

“I came for my girl but it looks like she’s already moved on for the night, throwing herself at one of you sorry assholes because I couldn’t make time for her. Typical.”

Mingyu anticipates you trying to step around him and quickly catches you around the waist to hold you back at the same time that Seokmin stands from his chair so quickly it falls backwards and lands with a loud clatter. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he warns menacingly.

“Watch my mouth? I’m just pointing out that facts. I should have known that’s why she suddenly didn’t want me here,” he goes on like every pair of eyes on him aren’t glaring daggers, “Would have ruined her plans to get shit-faced and open her legs for whichever one of you looked at her first.”

Jeonghan hurls himself at Jae with an opened switchblade in his hand but, thankfully, Joshua and Jihoon catch him first, and the bastard laughs knowing none of them would let Jeonghan get close enough to do something stupid. Not with witnesses around anyway.

Jae tilts his head, speaking directly to Jeonghan with his hands in his pockets and condescention dripping from his tongue, “You’re her big brother,” he pouts, just pouring salt in the wound, “You’re really just going to sit back and allow all your friends to take turns with your little sister? The crew’s designated whor-”

He barely forms a smirk before Seungcheol appears out of nowhere and suckerpunches him in the mouth so hard the crack is audible throughout the bar. Unfortunately for Jae, he’s still conscious when he hits the ground, broken teeth and blood pouring from his maw as he screams in excruciating pain. You’re sure his jaw is broken and you’re glad.

Absolutely no one moves to help him. Hardly even bats an eye.

Then, Seungcheol draws his leg back and kicks Jae in the stomach which means he’s not done and after what your ex just said…you’re not sure anyone in your crew will step in to stop him. You move instantly, pulling yourself out of Mingyu’s protective grip to push your way to the front where you’re relieved to see Vernon already attempting to pull his friend away and he does but not before your ex’s hand is crushed under the sole of Seungcheol’s boot and the screaming starts anew.

When you reach them, you immediately put yourself in the middle without hesitation, both hands against Seungcheol’s chest in an effort to calm him down before he loses it completely. One of his hands is still clenched at his side and you’re trying desperately to get him to look down at you. He doesn’t but his other hand comes up to sit at your hip and that’s enough of an acknowledgement that you relax, just slightly.

You turn just your head to look down at Jae who’s never looked more pitiful. Covered in blood, dirt, snot, and tears.

Seungcheol glares over your shoulder at the broken man on the floor, his arm now firmly seated around your body in a possessive display as he growls, “Always running your fucking mouth,” then he nods in your brother’s direction, “I should let him cut your tongue out.”

Jeonghan’s knife spins dangerously between his deft fingers like he’s itching to use it.

He’s no longer restrained, nearly deranged, and begins stalking toward your ex who flinches away and frantically shakes his head, unable to speak with his mangled mouth. Your voice cuts clear into the charged air. “Jeonghan,” you call out and your brother stops mid-step to look up at you patiently. You shake your head at him and he concedes but the fire in his eyes is palpable.

He smiles down at Jae, voice lilting and deadly. “You’re safe…for now,” he tilts his head, crouching down to get closer, “And don’t bother running back to your crew for help or hope for some form of retaliation,” He pauses, covering his mouth with his knife, giggling with feral delight dancing in his eyes, “I bet you didn’t tell them where you were going or who you were fucking with because they never would have let you come and I can only imagine how pissed they’re going to be when they find out.”

Jae’s brows furrow indicating his confusion and Jeonghan laughs again, wiggling his long fingers, tapping them with the point of his blade. “How do you think your ring leader lost two fingers on his right hand? That pretty scar down the side of his face? It was an improvement if you ask me,” he croons and Jae’s eyes widen with renewed horror, “Loyal little lap dog ever since and hilariously, still harboring a rather sweet crush on my darling sister. Small world, huh? We’ll be sure to let him know how you feel about her and who’s responsible for,” he waves his hand with an air of distaste, gesturing to Jae, “This.”

When Jeongan stands again, his smile falls flat and you turn your head quickly, tucking it into Cheol’s chest when you hear the crunch and subsequent thud as your brother stomps and knocks Jae out cold. It’s cruel, perhaps, but now knowing who exactly he’s been working for, you’d consider this a mercy compared to wait awaits him.

Seungcheol lifts his chin with a silent order and Junhui and Mingyu are already stepping forward to haul Jae’s unconscious form out of the bar with Joshua leisurely striding behind them, Jae’s phone in hand. They’ll dump him outside, a few blocks away. He’s lucky they’re not animals - Josh will use Jae’s phone to deliver a personal message to his crew but beyond that, he’s no longer your crew’s problem. Retaliation isn’t even a concern in this situation.

The atmosphere is obviously soured and you can still feel the rage swirling in the air. There isn’t a single member of your crew who wouldn’t have loved a turn. Even Minghao, calm and even, the most level-headed in situations like this has a particular air of cruelty about him in the moment and Jessie at his side tucks away a glittering pair of brass knuckles. You don’t have to glance around to they are waiting for an order and Cheol still has his eyes focused on the door. There are also a few patrons who are not associated with your crew, the kind who know when to mind their business, but even they seem to be waiting to be told what to do next.

So, you clear your throat and try to paint on a pretty smile.

“Pardon the interuption,” you sigh, each head in the room swiveling in your direction, “Turn the music up and order another round for the whole bar,” you glance up to find Seuncheol already looking down at you and you pat his chest, “Drinks are still on the big guy so you’d better take advantage while he’s still feeling generous.”

Thankfully, its enough to get everyone moving again, your crew falling right back into the party swing as if nothing happened. It was so easy for them to flip the switch sometimes. From volatile back to joyous - back to shots, and karaoke, and dancing.

Seungcheol was still furious though. He doesn’t bounce back nearly as fast.

“Why don’t we take a walk out back?”

He doesn’t budge for a moment and you say his name a little more firmly this time to which he reponds, “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. Let’s go.”

No one asks questions or follows the two of you when he takes your hand and leads you out the back and into the crisp night air. It’s dark but the moon etches just enough light that you can still see each other easily. Seungcheol’s shoulders are tense and you watch his fists clench and unfurl methodically. They’re also red and angry after making direct contact with Jae’s teeth. The thought makes your gut roil.

“Choi Seungcheol,” you lightly grumble, “You can’t go around hospitalizing every asshole that is mean to me.”

Nothing at first and then there’s a little huff of laughter. “I can absolutely do just that, or worse. Besides, I only hit him once.”

“You broke his jaw…and probably a few ribs with that kick,” you sigh and lean back against the building, glancing up at the sky. “My point is that I know you can but that doesn’t mean you should. If you get arrested, who’s gonna take care of me?”

He smirks. “Spoiled.”

“Your fault,” you roll your eyes and really look at him. “I didn’t know he was working for Kaito, obviously. You know I would’ve cut him off completely If I had.”

“I didn’t know either,” he admits, shrugging off your surprise, “Jeonghan must have found out and kept it to himself. You know how he likes to hold onto things until its useful. Your brother is kind of a sadistic asshole sometimes.”

“Hannie is just eccentric and has weird hobbies,” you counter with a small grin, “Besides, he’s your best friend so think about what that says about you.”

He just winks in response. It’s maddening and attractive, per usual.

“Mhm,” you hum quietly, pleased to watch him unwind in front of you, because of you. “I’m glad to see you’re in a better mood,” you tease him, “I thought for a few that you might have been mad at me.”

Cheol lets out a long sigh and digs his hands into his pockets. “I’m never mad at you.”

You cross your arms and quirk a brow at him, “That’s a blatant lie and you know it. I can’t even count how many times you’ve chewed my ass out for one thing or another.”

“The handful of times that I have yelled at you came directly after you did something dangerous,” he argues back with a short laugh, “Calling your ex, that fucker in particular, makes me question your judgement and maybe your sanity, but it’s not a reason for me to be mad at you. If anything it’s mild frustration.”

You narrow your eyes at him. It’s more than mild. “Say what you need to say, Cheol.”

He squares his shoulders, face serious much like his tone. “You’re too smart to keep choosing assholes that let you down over and over again. So, why do you do it?”

You purse your lips. “Touche,” he’s not wrong, “I am self aware enough to admit my track record is shit but there is not a lot to work with. It’s not as though our dating pool is stellar, Cheol. We’re lowlifes…we associates with other lowlifes. Nice boys like girls like me until they realize I’m not worth the trouble.”

He sputters out a laugh and steps closer, just enough to lower his voice in the echoing alley way. A touch closer and you could probably steal a little body heat you’re starting to wish for. “You are the trouble,” his eyes sparkle when he says it, like its a compliment, “Nice boys too soft for you anyway and we’re not lowlifes…we just live a little differently. You can do better,” he smirks when you roll your eyes again, “You can…you just don’t.”

You uncross your arms and spread them out before you. “Oh, any suggestions? I forgot you were a dating expert-” then you break into a laugh and Cheol is throwing his head back, knowing what’s coming. “Oh, wait! I forgot. You’ve not had a girlfriend in what? Five years? Eight?”

He snatches both your hands out of the air and pushes them back toward your chest, trying to reign in his amusement and overall urge to smother you. “You’re high maintenance enough. Why the hell would I need a girlfriend? I’ve got enough on my plate.”

You reach out and lightly punch him in the chest. “You’re a big boy, Cheol. Don’t let me hold you back. I can handle myself.”

At this, he snorts and pulls a hand out of his pocket to point at you. “You can handle yourself? Did I not pick you up in a police station two months ago for speeding…again?”

You pull off the wall with your mouth open to defend yourself and he abruptly pushes you right back against it and continues. “Who taught you how to drive and took the blame when you ran over Jeonghan’s bike when you were fifteen? Who showed up at three in the morning to pick your drunk ass up at that halloween party just so you could puke in my car and my bed…all night?” he pushes closer and lowers his voice “Who bailed you out of jail four months ago when you took a glass bottle to someone’s head in club and it turned out to be a fucking cop?”

“He looked like any other perv fondling girls on the dance floor!” You shout, eyes wide and wild as if someone would overhear, “How was I supposed to know he was a cop?! And why does it matter? He was a creep and I’d do it again!”

Seungcheol is simply dissolving into laughter, his earlier shit mood absolutely erased, and then as your volume grows he starts attempting to shush you though it’s half-assed.

“Shhhh,” he laughs even harder, “I know, I know. I’m just teasing,” he grins when you finally crack a small smile, “Honestly, I was so proud of you that night. Took fifteen stitches to sew him back together and I hear it’s left a big ugly scar.”

You scoff in disbelief at his blatant pride. “Proud?! You chewed my ass out the entire way home.”

“Quit doing dangerous shit without me,” he shrugs unapologetically, “If you’re gonna get yourself in trouble, at least make sure I’m there to back you up.”

You roll your eyes, placing your cool hands under your chin to warm them. A cold wind whips through the alley, tossing his soft black hair around. Naturally, he steps into the wind’s path, blocking you from the worst of it because that’s what he does. It grants you the opportunity to slide a little closer and he chuckles, catching on very quickly to what you’re trying to do. Use him as both a human shield and personal heater.

He looks down at you with that soft gaze you know is only reserved for you. As you’ve grown older together, you’ve learned that it’s best to avoid basking in it for more than a few seconds at a time. Your eyes dart down to his chest and back up again, not quite meeting his eyes this time. “It’s colder than I thought it would be tonight.”

He pulls your jacket a little tighter around you. “We can go back inside if you want.”

Whatever you want - it’s always whatever you want. Sometimes you just want to know what Seungcheol wants.

You hold eye contact with him now, just watching to see if his expression changes at all. It’s almost dizzying, staring at one another so closely. A stupid decision on your part, honestly.

“What if I asked you to take me home?”

Simple. “We can go home. Just gotta grab my key-”

You shake your head with a small laugh. “Actually, I think we should go back in and sing karaoke.”

His lips pull up, always quick to pick up on the game. “What song? I love karaoke.”

“Liar. You hate karaoke,” you grin, “Why do you give into anything I ask?”

His smile is so beautiful - it always has been.

“I do not give into everything,” he corrects you and then huffs in amusement, “Go ahead, try your luck but put some actual thought into it. You know most things are negotiable for lowlifes like us.”

“Great! So, you’ll let me drive your car tomorrow night?” you bat your eyes at him soo prettily. It’s in the bag.

He hardly budges. “No,” comes from those plump lips more clearly than you’ve ever heard it in your life and you instinctually pout like a child which amuses him. “I said put some actual thought into it. You’re a terrible driver.”

“You also said to try my luck,” you answer and it comes out more like a grumble, “Which has apparently abandoned me tonight.”

The way you drop your shoulders and pull yourself inward knocks him off kilter and his smile drops in a split second. When he speaks again, his voice is just a touch deeper - less playful, more gentle. The change is so slight that anyone else would miss it but you’ve got that shift of his rooted in your memory at this point.

“Your luck? Maybe,” he tips his head in consideration, close enough that he’s slipped his arms around you, big hands splayed comfortingly against the middle of your back, “I’m still here though.”

You know you should put some space in between your bodies right now but that little voice that is usually telling you to mind your boundaries is so far away in the moment that you do the opposite. Closing the distance, you look up at him as you slip your hands around his waist beneath his jacket. “Yeah, you’re always here for me. Aren’t you?”

When he dips his head closer, his tone is surprisingly serious. “I hope that’s not an actual question at this point.”

His free hand comes up to catch the back of your neck as you move to pull away, to ask him to explain or just to confirm that what you’re feeling is mercifully mutually, but you’re trapped - body painted against Seungcheol’s in the moonlight. It’s probably the most intimate position you’ve ever been in with him and your heart thrashes in your chest.

“I’ve always been right here,” his nose and lips brush your cheek as he speaks, “Patiently waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” you ask too softly but he smiles, you can feel it against your skin.

“For you to get tired of playing house,” He chides gently, “You already have a home with me and you know it.”

To say it out loud for the first time is almost staggering for Seungcheol and it’s a devastating revelation for you. Each time you tried dating someone new it had felt like a cheap replacement to distract you from the despairing thoughts of loving Seungcheol and him not loving you back, but he was there. Watching, waiting, already belonging to you in every way the entire time.

The first sound out of your mouth is escaped laughter. It’s soft and disbelieving.

Seungcheol smiles as he pulls back enough to see your face. “You genuinely didn’t know?”

You shake your head back and forth, still laughing, and the dimples in his cheeks pinch as he’s rolling his eyes at you, snickering to himself. “You’re the worst. I seriously thought you were playing dumb on purpose,” he groans, though his hands meet in the middle of your back now, comfortably laced like he plans on staying this way for a while. “Tell me. Who are all those idiots in there to you?”

Easy. “They’re my brothers.”

“And who am I?”

Your lips twitch and he smirks. “You’re just…Seungcheol,” saying it makes everything so plain and simple. So obvious. “You’re my Seungcheol.”

“Exactly. Have I ever felt like a brother to you? Like just a friend?” he prods, pretty white teeth still on display. He’s going to drive his point home like always.

“Listen, jerk,” you poke him in the chest with a long sigh, “Of course you never felt like those things to me. I didn’t want to see you as just a friend and definitely not as a brother, gross,” you grimace at the thought, “But just because I felt that way about you doesn’t mean I thought you felt the same. I thought it was all very one-sided and I was just going to eventually get over it.”

He raises a single brow. “And,” he blinks pointedly, “Have you gotten over it yet?

“Unfortunately not.”

“Good.”

Good because he’s truly out of patience at this point and he’s going to make sure you know exactly how he feels without question.

And that’s how you find yourself caged up against the wall outside the bar, Seungcheol’s lips hungirly claiming your own. His hands trace your body outside your clothing until he gets tired of the separation and you jolt feeling his cold hands against your waist beneath your shirt. There isn’t a second of stillness. He’s constantly moving, shifting, giving, taking.

You’re no better.

The second he kissed you it was like a flood of energy zapping each and every one of your nerves. After your lips, your arms were quickly in motion, wrapping around his neck and shoulders. Fingers threading through and tugging at his hair. He touched you and kissed you so thoroughly that despite the fact that is freezing and you’re indeed, exposed outside while your friends are just on the other side of that back door, you want more.

More, more, more.

Seungcheol does too.

“Let’s go,” he mumbles between your lips, still too enthralled to pull away.

It makes you laugh, though it’s a little delirious because he’s back to sucking and biting pretty little marks onto your neck, and you peel your eyelids open to see the fog from your breath as you speak. “It’s Seok’s birthday,” your mouth pops open with a silent gasp as he bites you again, “We can’t just leave.”

He drags himself back up and meets your eyes, grinning, “Like hell we can’t. Go get in my car,” he digs his keys out of his pocket and passes them over, “I’ll let the boys know we’re leaving.”

You stand there for a moment, keys in your outstretched hand, “Wait!” you realize he’s already opening the door. He’s so serious. “What are you going to tell them?”

He shrugs, “That we have better things to do.”

Appalling. “Seungcheol!”

Now he’s smirking. “Alright, alright. I’ll tell them we’re leaving and going back to my place to fu-”

“SEUNGCHEOL!”

“You don’t want me to lie and you don’t want me to tell the truth,” he blinks back at you, “I am not sure what you want from me, baby.”

Well. Brain melted. If he’s calling you ‘Baby’ he can do whatever he damn well pleases.

“I’ll be waiting,” you laugh, quickly spinning on your heel before you drag him away and he doesn’t get a chance to tell anyone you’re leaving. They probably wouldn’t notice for a few hours anyway. You shake your head, hurrying your steps toward his car.

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity but it’s only been a few minutes and when you glance out the window he’s already hurrying back. You’re not sure if he just caught the first person he saw and told them to pass it on or if he walked in and announced it to the entire bar but you honestly don’t care. You’re maybe fifteen minutes from the garage, Cheol’s permanent (and your home away from) home. He’ll probably make it in eight with the way he drives.

“I’m surprised to not find you in the driver’s seat,” he laughs, shutting the door and immediately bringing the car to life.

“You’re the better driver and I’d like to get there quickly.”

Smirking, he smoothly backs out of his parking space and peels out onto the road. “I think you’re plenty good at speeding. If your record has anything to say about it.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Ok, so you’re better at speeding and not getting caught. This is why I handle the other business aspects.”

His hand slips over the middle and lands on your thigh, kneading and flexing possessively.

Watching you handle business has always intrigued and infuriated him. You’ve swindled awful men out of house and home - lining your crew’s pockets with all the spoils. It had always been a fine line between letting you work while recognizing how good you were at your job and trying not to strangle every dickhead who thought that fake smile you gave them was genuine. “Might have to retire you now.”

You pout in his direction knowing his moody comment is nothing more than his protective, if not slightly dominant, nature coming through. He’s not at all serious, even if he’d like to be. “You gonna take care of me so I don’t have to work anymore?”

He grins at the suggestion. “You know I’ll take care of you, baby. Minghao is plenty good-looking. We’ll start using him instead.”

You snort at the thought. “You’re better off sending, Jeonghan. He's pretty, charming, and he knows exactly how to get what he wants out of anyone. Why do you think I’m so good at it? Learned from the best.”

“Yeah,” Cheol turns, the wheel smoothly gliding through his hand, “I don’t typically have to worry about you stabbing or torturing anyone though.”

“Typically?” you turn in surprise, laughing, “Are you saying it has been a concern?”

He looks at you with a brow quirked. “Once or twice,” he scoffs, “You are way more like your brother than you realize.”

“Oh? You got a thing for him too?”

He snickers in response, shaking his head. “Little shit.”

He squeezes the meat of your thigh again and you realize he’s shifted his hand higher, his fingers spread wide, the pads biting into your jeans. “Quit flirting with me and drive faster.”

The only sound that follows is his quiet amusement and the roar of the engine.

Pulling into the garage, you’re feeling too charged from the quiet, electrifying tension. It makes you feel jerky, like every movement of your body takes too much effort and every surface you touch shocks your skin. You’re already eyeing the stairs leading up to his loft but he’s taking his sweet time coming around the front of his car, waiting for the garage doors to roll back down. You want to barrel straight into him but you don’t exactly trust your legs to carry you.

The doors close with a loud thud and he looks over at you still standing near the passenger door. “You look nervous,” he smiles softly, making his way around the car until his hands are seated over your hips. “We don’t have to-”

“No, no, that’s not it,” you huff out a laugh, “I think all the anticipation made my body stop working. Everything is tingly and sharp, and I don’t think I can move. Stop laughing at me!”

He can’t. Seungcheol is simply beside himself. You really can’t blame him. Truly, too horny and excited to walk? That’s got to be a new one. It certainly is for you.

“I can carry you, it’s fine.”

But he is still shaking with laughter and we’re talking a whole ass flight of stairs. It’s not fine, though Cheol is already scooping you up and you're frantically trying to situate yourself on his back because that seems like the safest option and you’re already off the ground. He’s not putting you back down until you’re both behind closed doors.

“Oh my god,” you bury your face in his shoulder as he takes the first few steps up the stairs, “This is such a bad idea!”

His hands are firmly seated beneath your thighs and your arms are wrapped so tightly around his shoulders that you’re not even shifting much as he carries you but it’s nerve wracking and honestly, a bit embarrassing. He’s incredibly proud and stubborn so there really is no hope in convincing him to put you down anyway.

“Stop panicking,” he laughs, now halfway up the stairs, “I’m not even struggling so your lack of faith in me is hurting my feelings. You act like you’ve never seen me workout. I do it for a reason.”

“I thought the reason was just because you like to beat people up.”

He huffs in amusement, “Fighting isn’t fun when you’re not winning.”

“Well, you always win so you must be having a blast,” you pinch his earlobe, rolling your eyes since he can’t catch you doing it.

When he reaches the landing, he digs into his pocket, unlocking the door with one hand and then kicking it shut once you’re both inside. Then he lets you slide down his back but before your feet actually hit the ground, he’s spinning around to pick you right back up. He laughs at the sound you make, quickly grabbing his shoulders and crossing your ankles at his back. Cheol flips the lock on the door and takes you into the small kitchen, setting you down on the counter.

“I always win when you’re watching,” he plants his hands on either side of you, leaning closer, “You get mad at me when I don’t, so, I stopped losing.”

He looks up at you with a boyish grin and you bring your hands up, lightly touching his cheeks with your finger tips. You’ve seen his soft skin mottled with bruising more times than you cared to think about. “I don’t care about losing,” you murmur, lost in thought, “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Tracing a finger over his right brow you remember that night years ago when he returned from a job with it split wide open, blood dripping down his pale face. Busted lips, fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and an awful limp. It was the first time you ever saw him so…broken.

You yelled at him for getting hurt but cradled his face in your hands the whole time. While Minghao sutured it closed, you continued cursing at him and everyone else who’d gone out that night but you never let go of his hand. When Joshua reset Cheol’s shoulder and he nearly passed out from the pain, you sobbed. For days you’d been furious with him yet you stayed over at his place for almost two solid weeks to take care of him.

Putting him back together with your own two hands was the only way you could convince yourself that he was okay and from then on, you accompanied him on most jobs. Anytime things got messy, he’d come out victorious, and the very few times you weren’t there, he returned nearly unscathed. Bloodied knuckles at most.

Your fingers must have drifted down to his lips because he kisses them and it brings you back to the present. He smiles against your fingertips and you move them under his jaw, out of the way, just so you can kiss him again. It’s soft, slow, adoring and his hands slide into place right at your lower back, his fingers pushing beneath your shirt to stroke your skin.

When they make contact, his fingers spread wide, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. It makes your back arch, pitching your hips forward, and leaves you sitting poised for the taking but even then he takes his time. In the back of your mind, you’re sure he can feel your heat against his groin and it must be driving him just as insane as it does you.

Despite the body heat, when he pushes your shirt up a little further with his busy hands, you shiver at how cold you still are. It’s accompanied by a breathy little gasp that makes him pull away grinning, eyes still watching your mouth. “Still cold?”

“Yeah,” you admit, “Do you ever turn the heat on in this place?”

“Only when you’re here. I don’t usually need it.”

Of course not. Big manly man.

“You’re going to need it if you’re still hoping to get my clothes off.”

Cheol pays no mind to your change in tone. The one you use to nag him to death. Instead he scoops you right off the counter, starting toward his bedroom. “I can warm you up myself just fine,” he says in an equally haughty kind of way.

The kind of way that shuts you up because the only other thing that you could possibly manage is some pathetic giggle. He even makes a show of hanging onto to you with only one arm because he’s just so strong and you humor him with an ‘oh wooooow’ that makes him crack, laughing as he lets you slowly drop to the floor.

Your hand remains on his chest, nervously pinching at his shirt as you look around the room. You’ve been in here before just…not for anything like this. “Why does this feel normal and not normal at the same time,” you pause, realizing there is actually something different that you hadn’t noticed right away.

Seungcheol let’s his hands drop away so you can walk over to his dresser to sate your…curiosity? Surprise? “You said I needed more personal decorations around the house,” he clears his throat, watching as you carefully lift his picture frames off the furniture to examine them, “I figured pictures were personal enough.”

There is one of Cheol as a teenager standing proudly beside his first car. Another with a few members of the crew all grinning around a card table. You loosen a soft laugh remembering that night clearly. Mingyu and Hoshi shouting over the table like banshees…all because Hoshi got caught cheating and blamed it on his favorite designated target.

You pick up one you don’t recognize but smile at the familiar faces hanging out of the windows of a car you do recognize vaguely. The job details were hazy but you know you remember that car for some reason.

Seungcheol must have noticed you squinting at it because he comes over and stands behind you, pointing at the picture. “You don’t remember this one because you broke into a case of wine coolers the moment we were all home and accounted for,” he chuckles, his breath tickling your cheek, “Almost seven years ago now.”

“I hated waiting for you guys to come home,” you pout, pointing to the picture, “Why do I remember this car though? It’s so familiar.”

He laughs again and this time you spin toward him like the reason he is laughing is clearly painted on his face. It’s not but he fills in the blanks without prompting.

“Jeonghan caught you in the backseat of that exact car making out with Seungkwan, of all people,” Cheol grins at your grimace “We hauled you both off to bed, tucked you in, and agreed not to tell a soul. I honestly don’t think he knows about it either. You guys were wasted.”

“I definitely do not remember doing that but I did oddly stop drinking wine coolers not long after that night,” you sigh, tucking away the embarrassing story to kick your self over later.

“Guilty subconscious?”

Shrugging off your jacket you give him a fake laugh which eventually morphs into a grin. “Were you jealous back then?”

He takes your lead, removing his clothes one piece at a time. “I was always jealous,” he admits and you let yourself stop to watch as he grabs at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. It leaves him only in his jeans, belt already unbuckled.

You’re the opposite, jeans kicked to the side, but your hands rest on your shirt, too busy looking at Seungcheol to force yourself to keep moving. He’s no better, eyes glued to your hips, to your underwear, your legs, and then his eyes bounce back up to your face, finally noticing the way you’re looking at him.

He takes a slow step forward and then another.

“I’m not perfect,” he cautions, another step closer, “I’m stubborn and jealous,” one more step until you’re touching, “I don’t like sharing. If one of the guys flirts with you, even as a joke, I’ll probably rip their head off. Might happen more than once but I’ll get over it eventually, I promise.”

“Hmm,” you smirk as he stops so closely you can feel the heat coming of his body, “A little sensitive?”

“Maybe.” His smile is so pretty and disarming because now his hands are on you, palms rubbing circles into your hips before sliding back and down over your ass. “You’ve been chipping away at my self control for over a decade and now you’re half-naked in my bedroom. I’ve hit my breaking point, baby. I’m going to be selfish with you.”

You shift just enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it in the general direction of your pants, and settle your arms around his shoulders. “I think it’s only fair because I have always been selfish with you and i’ll be so much worse now,” you grin and he let’s out a heavy, husky chuckle, tightening his thick arms around you, “I’m going to be a menace.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“I’m still cold.”

Then he’s kissing you again, your hands quickly moving from his shoulders to his waist, pushing his jeans as low as you can before he’s forced to part and pull them the rest of the way off, laughing and stumbling with you toward the bed. You land first, quickly shuffling under the comforter for warmth and he’s right behind you, rolling you onto your back to cover you with his body. It’s an added layer of heat and you wiggle beneath him when his thigh pushes between your legs.

Seungcheol wants everything all at once and hates having to choose but loves knowing he’ll get the opportunity to do it all in good time. For now, he can’t seem to keep away from your lips, can’t stop the noises he makes everytime you tug at his hair or scrape your nails against his back and he hopes to god they leave bright red scratches in their wake.

He wants to watch you get shy and embarrassed when he works out with them on full display. His ego is a beast and it’s going to be riding a high for a while.

When you push up against him, he gives you a little space to quickly undo your bra before it’s tossed to the floor and he’s slipping a little lower, his face pressed against your soft, warm chest. His mouth dances from one breast to the other and you moan into the open air of his bedroom, one of your hands still rubbing his back, smoothing over his muscles mindlessly. His perfect teeth graze your nipples and you grind down against his thigh.

He pushes it higher and repeats the action over and over until you’re steadily working yourself up and then he shifts, taking that relief away from you. Your eyes pop open in surprise but he kisses you again before you can speak and his right hand slides into your panties, wet and uncomfortably cool against your folds now that his thigh is gone.

He doesn’t waste time, running his middle and ring finger up and down until they’re so slick-coated that there is hardly any resistance when he slips them inside you, stroking up against that spot that has you arching your back off the bed. It’s almost cruel how quickly he gets you there and even worse that he hardly touches your clit before you come, stars flashing behind your eyes.

Seungcheol kisses your face through it, whispering sweet, filthy praises against your skin. That’s my girl, you’re so fucking good for me, baby. Sound so pretty right now, wanna hear you say my name just like that.

It’s a miracle you don’t come again the second he pushes into you because he doesn’t stop talking unless his mouth is occupied and he’s too good at multitasking. The only time you get a break from his wicked words is when he’s bottoming out and your ears are ringing so loudly that you can’t even hear him anymore. He must realize it too because his mouth was moving and now, he’s just grinning, eyes trained on your lips when he draws his hips back a little and pushes back in.

His pace varies because he likes watching the breath get caught in your throat, breaking up the gorgeous sounds spilling from your lips. For all the taunting and talking he’s done, he’s just as worked up as you are and suddenly sits up on his knees which changes the angle. He spreads your thighs further apart, almost crudely, and props your ass a bit higher. At first, he wraps his hands around your thighs for leverage, digging his fingers into your skin but it’s not enough, he needs more.

When he moves his hands to either side of your waist, he locks in the perfect position to go as deep as possible and the sounds you begin making are far more desperate, the pitch swinging higher and higher until he’s moaning and panting, driving into you faster and harder than before. You know you’re going to come again, and fast, so when your eyes meets his, and he purses his lips, letting spit drop from his plump lips onto your clit, he doesn’t have to tell you aloud what to do.

You bring your own hand down, rubbing yourself until your limbs start twitching. Your breaths are so shallow and ragged, your fingertips messily bumping against the base of his cock where he plunges in and out of your cunt recklessly. He looks just as far gone as you do but the second your eyes meet, he smirks and it’s your absolute undoing.

When you orgasm for the second time it’s so intense that all of your muscles lock up aside from your legs which shake uncontrollably and Seungcheol groans, hips stuttering when he feels the overabundance over warm liquid spilling out around his cock, splashing against his groin and stomach, dripping onto the bed. He stills, filling you so completely full that you can’t even breath without adding to the mess you’ve both created.

It takes several long minutes of heavy panting and blinking to get your heads on straight and he still doesn’t pull out. Not even when he slumps down against you, grinning and kissing you lazily. He’s doesn’t give a single fuck about the mess, even going to so far as pumping his hips a few times, laughing when you hide your face under your arm at the lewd sounds echoing through the room.

It’s playful at first, those half-hearted thrusts, but then his kisses turn into little nips, his mouth starts spilling those dirty words in your ear and it’s not long until you can feel him getting hard inside of you again, having never pulled out in the first place. He keeps fucking into you slowly, swallowing the sound of your whining, revelling in the way your nails no longer just rake over his skin but painfully dig into it over his shoulder blades.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t give you the chance to wiggle away from him when the sharp tingling of overstimulation bleeds into, “Oh, fuck, Cheol, I’m gonna come again…fuck…”

And you do until tears stream down your face and he pulls out, flips you over, and puts it right back in, fucking you brutally until he’s moaning and cumming, and you’re nearly ready to pass out in the bed you’ve both absolutely ruined. You hear him speaking but can’t make out the words and then maybe your eyes close because you’re sated and exhausted.

It doesn’t last long though because Seungcheol is attempting to drag you from sleep because he needs to clean you both up and change the sheets before anyone crashes for the night but you’re not budging.

Until you feel the sensation of thick fingers pushing into your cunt and you mumble aloud, “Absolutely no…straight to jail.”

Seungcheol laughs at you having not even moved when you said it and removes his hand. “I tried waking you up nicely and you kept ignoring me. Besides, it’s all starting to spill out and I like seeing you full. If you keep laying here I’m going to end up fucking it all back in and giving you more.”

Rolling onto your back takes an incredible amount of willpower and Cheol’s helping hands because your hips are stiff as all hell. He’s patient, not pushing beyond your limits even though you’re sure he could go a few more rounds without tiring in the least. Affection swirls in your chest and it takes him by surprise when you reach a hand up and around his neck to pull him down to your lips.

HIs body relaxes into the bed, pressing his weight more firmly into the mattress to keep the pressure light where it covers your own. He kisses you tenderly, his hands moving softly and slowly over your skin, and your mind is emptied of all but the feel of him. It’s overwhelming, how deeply attuned you are to one another and yet your body continues to demand more.

Your kiss is broken off in a choked moan, Seungcheol’s, when your hand snakes between your bodies. He drops his forehead to yours, taking in a deep, shaky breath when you rub the head of his cock into the mess between your folds. “Again?” he questions, even as his hips push forward of their own accord.

“Again…” you breathe out, tipping your face up to catch his bottom lip with a gentle nip, “..and again, and again, and agai-”

The delirious smile on your face drops open as he pushes back inside. Your tight, swollen cunt aches with the intrusion but each shockwave that pulses through you is laced with pointed pleasure. The effort to keep his pace even and gentle is difficult but Cheol finds very quickly that there is something incredibly arrousing about slow, deep, intimate fucking.

He’s never experienced anything like it because he’s never had you.

Yet here you are beneath him, clawing at his back and shoulders, moaning against his throat, and he knows it will only ever be like this with you. He knew he was ruined for all others years ago but in this moment he fully understands the weight of it.

Seungcheol will never want anyone but you.

And when you unravel together again, you look into his eyes and know it too.

The next morning it takes an unprecidented amount of effort to wake up.

Your body aches and joints pop in too many places when you stretch your limbs as if you’ve been asleep for years and not mere hours. It’s easy to pinpoint the loss of warmth at your side, Seungcheol hardly ever sleeps in and it’s evident by the smell of fresh coffee wafting in through the open bedroom door.

Slipping into the shirt he’d left you and your jeans from last night, you wander in and out of the bathroom and head straight to the kitchen. Cheol knows you don’t drink coffee but you do love the smell of it so the sight of a full, almost untouched pot makes you laugh. His mug sits abandoned in the sink so you rinse it out and refill it, carefully balancing the full cup in your hands as you leave his apartment and head down the stairs into the garage.

Joshua is the first person you find, unsurprising as he never seems to get hungover no matter how much he drinks the night before. He’s sitting at one of the work tables pouring over a set of blue prints for a new job when you walk by, chuckling and swatting away your hand when you ruffle his hair. “Morning Joshie.” He waves over his shoulder as you keep walking.

It’s relatively quiet in the garage for a Saturday morning but most of your crew is probably passed out from the evening prior. You would have stayed in bed longer too if someone wasn’t missing from it - someone you still haven’t found. Instead, you happen upon Jeonghan and Mingyu working on an engine…you think…again, not your expertise.

“Well, well, well,” Jeonghan drawls as he catches you approaching from the corner of his eye, “If it’s not my darling little sister,” he grins and leans over to kiss your cheek when you stop in front of him, “Whatever are you doing here, in the garage, smelling like sex and coffee, so early on this delightful Saturday morning?”

You give your brother a deadpan stare and Mingyu snickers behind him.

“Where’s Cheol?”

“Bringing in another delivery with Jun in the back,” Mingyu mumbles half-way under the hood with tools in hand, “Should be finishing up soon.”

Jeonghan leans against the car and crosses his arms. “Is this an official thing?”

You know he’s only asking because he loves you both so deeply that if there were any chance of it being a fling where feelings are inevitably going to be trampled, he’s putting an end to it immediately. He’s so fiercely protective that he’d step in to protect you from yourselves without hesitation.

“That man would have to be thirty feet deep in the ground to leave me.”

“Isn’t the saying ‘six-feet deep’?” Mingyu laughs, still focusing on his task.

“I said what I said and honestly thirty-feet still might not be enough - you’ll probably have to bury me with him.”

Jeonghan relaxes, shrugging off the tension in his body with a loose laugh. “Good to know,” he grins, eyes soft and gentle once more, “I always knew you’d end up together once you both gave up the world’s most stubborn ass competition.”

He’s not wrong. Who knew a little communication could go a long way? Certainly not you and Cheol.

Two cars pull up outside the open garage door across the way and you wiggle your fingers in greeting when Vernon, Hoshi, Wonwoo and Jihoon all pop out looking absolutely exhausted. You turn and set Cheol’s mug down on the counter behind you and pull out a stool to take a seat and hang out.

“Wonwoo wouldn’t let us stop for breakfast please tell me there are still leftovers from lunch in the fridge,” Hoshi complains loudly. He absolutely still looks a little drunk.

Jihoon shoves him to the side and makes a beeline for the fridge around the corner, the two of them cursing and bickering as they go. Wonwoo and Vernon pull up a stool next to you and now you’re feeling a little guilty for only bringing one mug down.

“Where’s Cheol?” Wonwoo asks, pushing his glasses up and shaking out his messy hair.

Jeonghan tosses a thumb in his direction, “Delivery.”

Wonwoo nods and Vernon taps your shoulder. “Hey, you’re here kinda early. Where did you go last night? Lost you at some point.”

Your cheeks heat. There are some of the guys you make crude jokes with and some you don’t - both Vernon and Wonwoo being on one side while Mingyu and Jeonghan are on the opposite. “Oh, I uhhh-”

“Notice anyone else missing last night?”

“Jeonghan-”

Vernon’s brows pinch together in thought. Mingyu stands up, setting down his tools before wiping his hands on his pants. “You know,” he grins, “Guy who lives in a garage, goofy laugh, kinda mean…”

Wonwoo breaks out in hysterics and Vernon’s grin is entirely visible though you’re sure he is trying to make it disappear when he says, “Oh! Oh okay…yeah…that makes sense. So, you’re like…yeah?”

You snort in response nodding your head. “Mhm, we’re like yeah.”

“Who’s like what?” Hoshi says around a mouthful, coming up to join you with Jihoon stomping past him empty-handed to go help Joshua.

“Her and Cheol finally got together,” Wonwoo supplies and Hoshi’s eyes light up.

“Oh my god!!! That’s so exciting!” he dances over and drops his food on the counter, which Mingyu picks up to polish off while he’s distracted. Hoshi wraps you in a bear hug you try to fight off and then you’re up and out of your chair being squeezed and swung around, “This is such great news!!!”

Thwap.

Hoshi blinks and you slide to the floor. When he touches the back of his head, it’s wet and he turns to find a rag on the ground. It takes less than two seconds to figure out who threw it because it’s Seungcheol’s thundering voice that calls out, “Put her down and get to work, asshole.”

“Asshole?” Hoshi mutters, kicking the rag, “I’m the asshole?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, “Oh, he’s going to be unbearable,” he smacks your arm lightly, “Hey, do us all a favor. Take him back upstairs and tie him up or something would ya?”

“Inappropriate,” you snort just before big familiar arms wrap around you from behind.

“Morning baby,” he breathes against your hair before he’s planting a hot kiss on the side of your neck, “Sleep well?”

Everyone very quickly finds a way to mind their own business.

“Slept just fine,” you smile, turning your head to kiss him properly. “Now apologize to Hoshi, you beast.”

He sighs, dropping his head dramatically against your shoulder. “Hoshi!” he shouts across the way, “I’m sorry. Order breakfast for everyone on me.”

“All is forgiven, bro!” Hoshi salutes him in response and the others start gathering to make their requests. Food fixes almost anything in this house.

Cheol laughs and kisses your hair. “Happy?”

“Very,” you hum, turning in his arms, “Brought you coffee but it might be cold by now.”

“That was nice of you.” Now that you’re finally getting a good look at him you see he’s wearing the dark blue cargo pant, white tank top combo that drives you fucking insane. You’ll sit for literal hours on end just to watch him work on the cars in that exact outfit. Even better when he’s got oil smatterings here and there. The thick leather gloves he sometimes has hanging out of his back posket when not in use.

Mechanic Seungcheol is one of your favorite fantasies sprung to life.

“I wasn’t doing it out of the kindness of my own heart,” you retort, “I was trying to get something out of you in return.”

“Oh?” he smirks, “Like what?”

“Kiiiinda hoping I’d get you back upstairs for a few favors.”

His hands slide along your arms until he’s managed to bring them up and around his neck and then he’s got you caged in, clasping his own low on your back. “I’m sure we can make time for that,” he mumbles along the seam of your lips, brazenly, and very openly making out with you in the next breath like there aren’t several people in the garage along with you.

“MAKE IT QUICK. WE’VE GOT SHIT TO DO.”

Cheol tosses up a middle finger in Jeonghan’s general direction and shouts back, “Well, I’ve got your sister to do and that’s more important. Work can wait.” Your mouth pops open in amusement and he takes advantage of your distraction to hoist you up into his arms, making his way toward the stairs to his apartment again. When he speaks again, it’s only loud enough for you, “I think I’ve got just enough time to fuck you over the kitchen counter and make a fresh pot of coffee before I have to come back down, whoop your brother’s ass, and get back to work.”

“Your time management skills are-” you cling onto him a little tighter as he starts up the steps, “- very impressive.”

“You should see my oral presentation skills.”

With that in mind, you lean over his shoulder and shout down, “YOU CAN HAVE HIM BACK IN AN HOUR.”

“AN HOUR?!” Jeonghan hollers back, absolutely exasperated because he knows this is going to be an ongoing battle for months if not years on end. “WHAT PART OF WE GOT SHIT TO DO DID YOU TWO NOT UNDERSTAND?”

Cheol sighs and puts you down to open the door, hanging over the railing with a flat look on his face. “I’ll rip the transmission out of your car with my bare hands and toss it into the river if you open this door.”

Jeonghan scoffs but Cheol grins and cuts him off, “And then i’ll take the knife in your glovebox and split open every individual stitch in the interior.”

Those are serious fighting words between car guys. You think.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes and then huffs, hands on his hips. “You guys are the worst.”

Cheol blows your brother a kiss as you drag him inside and you can catch a hint of amusement on Jeonghan’s face just before you seal yourselves inside.

You’re okay with being the worst, so is Seungcheol.

Maybe being a couple of lowlifes isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Thanks for reading! 💖

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