#i may not be caught up but i do enjoy the story

[tetsuissohot]

Toji Fushijuro ONESHOT part II

☆summary. "I'll think about it" that's what she said. But she could think about it now, right? As Y/N tries to leave their tense encounter behind, Toji isn’t ready to let her go. Stopping her in her tracks, he pulls her into a heated and desperate moment that reignites the fire between them. The intensity of their unresolved attraction and buried emotions rises to the surface.

☆warning/tags: 18+ fem!reader, casual, SFW, building up tention, ex's to lovers?, part 2

☆word count: 1.3k

☆a/n: This is part 2! I hope you enjoy it. This section contains some sexual tension and intimate moments (kissing), but there are no explicit sexual scenes. If I decide to write a part 3, it may include sexual content, but this part does not.

Please note that English is not my first language, and I am also dyslexic, so there may be some mistakes. However, I do my best to minimize them.

part 1

The dim light of the bar cast shadows across Toji’s face as he watched Y/N carefully. Her words—I’ll think about it—echoed in his mind, but the way she looked at him made it impossible for him to ignore the tension between them. It had always been like this with her: every conversation felt like a game of tug-of-war, every look a challenge, and every touch an invitation.

Toji’s hand rested on top of hers, his thumb lazily brushing circles against her skin. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her pulse quickening at the contact. She couldn’t deny that being this close to him again stirred something deep inside her—something she had tried to bury after their breakup.

“You sure you don’t want to make that decision tonight?” His voice was low, a soft rumble that carried far more meaning than the words alone.

she couldn’t sit here any longer. The intensity in his eyes, the heat of his touch—it was all too much. If she stayed, she wasn’t sure she could keep her resolve. With a deep breath, she slowly withdrew her hand from his and stood up from the table, trying to steady herself.

“I need to go,” Y/N muttered, more to herself than to him.

She turned, ready to leave the bar and escape the chaos of emotions swirling inside her, but she didn’t make it far. Before she could take another step, Toji’s hand shot out and caught her wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. He rose from his seat, the chair scraping softly against the floor as he stood, towering over her.

Y/N froze, her heart racing as his fingers wrapped around her wrist. She could feel the warmth of his skin seeping into hers, the same familiar heat she had once craved. Her body betrayed her, responding to his touch before her mind could catch up.

“Toji…” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she looked up at him.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, his grip still firm but not forceful. His eyes darkened with a mix of emotions—desire, regret, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite place. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them, his other hand moving to cup the side of her face.

Y/N’s breath hitched as his thumb brushed gently along her cheek, the intimate gesture making her knees weak. She tried to pull away again, but Toji was having none of it.

“You really think you can walk away from this?” he asked, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “From us?” his voice rougher now “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N... And I don’t think I want to.”

Her pulse quickened at the sound of his voice, her body reacting instinctively to his proximity. She hated how easily he could undo her, how a single touch could make her forget all the reasons she’d left him in the first place.

“I’m trying to,” she breathed, her voice faltering as she felt the heat of his breath against her skin. “I have to.”

But her body told a different story. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if she needed to steady herself.

Toji’s lips ghosted over the side of her neck, teasing but not quite touching, and Y/N felt the tension between them rise to a fever pitch. The electricity in the air was undeniable, a spark that had never really gone out, only hidden beneath layers of anger and regret.

“Toji…” she started, but before she could finish, he turned her around in one swift motion, pressing her back against the wall behind them.

His hand slid from her wrist to her waist, his grip tightening as he pinned her there, his body flush against hers. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and Y/N could feel the strength in him—the raw power that had always both attracted and terrified her.

His eyes bore into hers, intense and filled with desire. “You can’t tell me you don’t still feel it,” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the fire simmering beneath the surface. “I want you back, Y/N,” he said, full of need. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the weight of his gaze, the way his body pressed against hers. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to give in, to stop fighting and just let herself feel.

And when Toji finally closed the distance, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, desperate kiss, It wasn’t soft or gentle, Y/N found herself doing exactly that. She kissed him back just as hard, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer.

The kiss was all fire and frustration, the pent-up longing from months of separation pouring out in waves. Toji’s hand moved up her side, slipping beneath her shirt to rest on the bare skin of her back, his touch igniting a fire inside her. She moaned softly into the kiss, her body arching toward him instinctively.

Toji growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her lips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers. His hand moved higher, fingers tracing the curve of her spine before pulling her closer, pressing her even tighter against the wall. Every part of him was solid, strong, and overwhelming, just like he always had been.

Y/N’s mind spun, her thoughts a blur as the intensity of the moment consumed her. She knew she should stop, knew this wasn’t just about lust—it was about the years of history, the pain, the longing. But it was impossible to pull away when every fiber of her being wanted him.

“Toji…” she gasped, breaking the kiss for just a moment to catch her breath. Her hands fisted into his shirt, holding onto him as if he were the only thing keeping her steady.

He didn’t let her finish, his lips trailing down the side of her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His breath was hot against her skin, his teeth grazing lightly along her collarbone, making her shudder.

“You think I’m letting you go again?” he murmured, his voice rough and full of raw need. His hand slid lower, gripping her waist possessively. “Not a chance.”

Y/N’s body responded to his words before her mind could process them. She tilted her head back, giving him more access as his lips moved against her neck, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Every part of her was on fire, the heat between them threatening to consume them both.

But somewhere, in the back of her mind, a small voice reminded her of the risk. The last time they had been like this, it had ended in heartbreak. Could she trust him again? Could she trust herself?

“Toji…” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the emotions swirling inside her. She didn’t want to stop, but she couldn’t shake the fear that came with letting him back in.

He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. His eyes softened, the intensity still there but laced with something deeper—something she hadn’t seen before.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with a sincerity that took her off guard. “I swear.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. For the first time, she saw the vulnerability beneath the tough exterior, the man behind the fighter. And in that moment, she realized that maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

She looked up at him, her lips swollen from the kiss, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. She didn’t have the answers, didn’t know if she could truly trust him again. But as she gazed into his eyes, she knew one thing for certain—this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And maybe that was enough for now.

[icycoldninja]

Hi Ninja I hope you're doing well!

I want to make an NSFW request involving the DMC Boys + V with a shy reader bUTTT The reader is a praiser during the Devil's tango

Like they(Reader) just feels fuzzy from all the seggz where the reader accidentally slips out a "You're doing good"/"Good boy"/"You feel so nice in me" during the tango

Mainly praises, and the boys go "OH?" *seggz intensifies* (you can go all out on this one, Ninja!) LOL ANYWAY--

Cuz like, they didn't expect this from the reader, I guess? And they (depending which of the dmc boys we r talking about) may have gotten caught off guard from that because they were expecting the reader to just be shy during *it* as well.

Please take your time! I really love your stories and headcannons! (I hope nobody has made this request before. If so, Im sorry! You can ignore this!!)

No one has made a request like this before. (unless I forgot and if i did my apologies) thank you and enjoy!

Sparda boys + V x Shy!Praiser!Reader NSFW headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante is used to you being quite quiet during sex, hardly ever uttering coherent words, (though that might be because of him) so when you started praising him, it was a pleasant surprise.

-You were just feeling so good with Dante's thick, throbbing cock deep inside you, you couldn't help but whimper out a few words of praise towards him.

-"Danteee~, you feel so, so good inside me..."

-In response to your words, Dante Triggered. You felt a sudden surge of warmth, followed by a hot, hard thing pressing against your cervix. Dante's fiery demon dice was warming and mashing up your insides--God, did it feel amazing.

-You came so many times, you even lost consciousness for a few moments.

-Dante kept on going though, all because he wanted to hear you praise him more.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil is pretty used to you being shy all the time, so naturally, he expected you to act the same way during sex.

-And you kinda were, key word: "kinda".

-At some point, you decided to stop squealing in pleasure and instead praise your boy a little, not realizing what you said until you'd said it.

-"You're doing so good--feels so good--ahh~..."

-Vergil's first thought was, pfft, like you need to tell me that. His second thought was, well, since you enjoy it so much, why don't I up the ante?

-And that is the story of how your organs got absolutely destroyed, your cervix pulverized, and your pelvic area in general obliterated because Vergil Triggered inside you and wouldn't stop pounding until he passed out. You walked with a cane for 2 weeks.

□ Nero □

-Nero doesn't really mind that you're so shy, he thinks it's cute.

-What's even cuter is how you whimper and hide your face while he's rutting into you.

-When you randomly burst out with a bit of praise, Nero was 1% surprised, 99% more turned on.

-"Neeerooo--you're amazing! Aah~! Amazing!"

-Of course, the only gentlemanly thing to do in this situation was to fuck you even harder than he was before, putting all hid energy into his hips to the point that he actually zoned out and lost awareness of his surroundings.

-You definitely woke your neighbors up with how loud you were being; thankfully no one filed any complaints.

● V ●

-V cannot help but chuckle a little at how adorably shy you are.

-Not like he has much room to talk--he hardly talks at all.

-Hearing you praise him was a welcome surprise, though. There was something about the way you whined his single letter long name that just sent fire coursing through him.

-"Good boy! V...you're such a good--good boy!"

-V wants more praise. He craves more praise. He finds his fingers traveling down to your clit, rubbing circles into it faster than you've ever felt before.

-Before you know it, your back is arched, your eyes are rolling back, your tongue lolls out, and you have the most intense orgasm of your life--the first of several that you will have to endure tonight.

[edducard]

Oh man I almost forgot to upload this here!!!! I did guest art for @minkshame's fic Spare Changes, which you should absolutely read as it's a total joy and written so well and beautifully I highly recommend it!!!!

[theamazingannie]

One thing I really don’t like about the pjo show is they are very tell not show about EVERYTHING. One thing I loved from the books is them teasing who the monster or god they were meeting was and getting the chance to pull from prior Greek mythology knowledge and figure it out myself. It was like a game and, yeah, most of the time it was someone new and I couldn’t guess but it was still fun having a tease up until a reveal and THEN they would share the story for those who didn’t know. The show just keeps straight up telling the audience who everyone is and instead of unknowingly walking into a trap and building suspense they go in expecting something to happen and then have a less exciting trap happen later (Medusa and the Lotus Hotel being the main ones). It’s like they both want to cut the teasing because the book readers already know and want to explain things simply to show watchers who probably aren’t well versed in Greek mythology but it takes all the whimsy away. One part I loved in the Lotus scenes in the book was Percy figuring out that they were in a time warp because he meets the kid from the 1970s and realizes what’s going on but in the show he notices cuz it’s…dark outside? Like yeah okay it works but going “it’s dark outside even tho it feels like it’s been 20 minutes and that means we are in a time warp and oh yeah the flowers are in the air even tho I’ve given no reason prior to have figured that out” is not NEARLY as compelling as “I lost track of time cuz I was having fun but huh this guy I’m playing with talks weird and dresses weird and oh boy he’s from the 1970s and now that I’m pulled out enough to look around I see that everyone here is wearing period clothes and this is trouble”. I know the extras were wearing period clothes but it never cuts to them long enough to make it seem like it’s anything but a costume that would be typical in a Vegas casino. You can argue that the Hermes scene wasn’t pointless but aside from Grover’s scenes to an extent it just wasn’t compelling and not just in an inaccurate adaptation way

[bibiana112]

Finished Danganronpa Lapse and tbh nobody gets it like I do because every review I've seen wasn't made by someone who's played zero escape Why did Echo do that? ZTD shifting strats that's why! Lyle's canonically a zero escape nerd who brings up the morphogenetic field as a quick joke and is introduced arguing about the funyarinpa, do I think all these references get in the way and that it's a bit underwhelming when this comes unexplained out of nowhere? Absolutely! But it's so clearly an element the creator was inspired by and wanted to include and play with rather than a lazy last minute deal to fix 'plot holes'

[astrasng]

SCRATCH || BANGCHAN

MINORS DNI!

pairing: idol!chan x female!reader

summary: thanks to chan's solo stage you finally made him yours.

warnings: blood (from scratches obv), handjob, spanking, petnames (baby, honey, angel, sweetheart) unprotected sex, cursing

author's note: from my previous breakdown post bc of chan got me in an inspired mood so i made a little somethin somethin. still what the fuck was he thinking. also, if you're a regular reader by any chance (ily) you might have noticed i write jealousy tropes, IDKK WHY THO SORRY

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

enjoy!

It isn’t like you’re not supportive of your boyfriend. You’ve always been there for every idea, even if you thought that it wasn’t the best one. The things you have to deal with him being an idol settled deep into your mind, already accepting the consequences that may come in the way. But it’s not like you would ever give up your relationship with Chan just because he’s doing risky things that you may not like. 

To be honest, it kind of became an advantage for you. 

You would watch him having fun on stage with the other members, sometimes splashing water at each other, making everyone in the crowd either cheer or laugh at their silly behavior. There were times when they got sentimental, wishing all the happiness for STAY and the members for the future. It made you emotional just in the same way as you would watch them through the TV in your shared apartment. 

And then there were times where you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together and wait for him.

“Had fun today?” 

The sarcastic tone caught Chan’s attention as he’s doing his everyday night routine, just as he’s finishing up his shaving session. He knows exactly why you’re talking and reacting to him this way, you’ve been all fidgety with him since he got home from the first day of the tour, and when he stepped inside the apartment he saw you still sitting on the couch, not welcoming him in with the usual hug he gets. 

Chan looks a little bit to the side so he can get a reflection of you changing in the room, the towel you used laying on the ground after taking a shower. Without him. 

“Of course.It’s always heartwarming to meet with STAY’s. And the kids were so hyped about getting solo stages too.”

Now that just boils your blood. 

“Oh, were they?” You keep your back facing him,not letting him see how frustrated you really are about the game he’s playing. “They were doing an amazing job indeed.” You shut your eyes momentarily before putting on your velvet nightgown, and slowly walking towards the bathroom where your boyfriend is staying. 

“Yeah, I assume you saw mine too, right? Did you see the special makeup they did on me?” With pride he chuckles while putting away his shaving equipment, patting his dry as he picks up his toothbrush. His question should have a very easy and simple answer, yet here you are ready to give him a brainwash about not caring about your mental health. Cause what the hell was that? You can’t even form the offensive words you want to say to him out of frustration, you could never say anything negative about his performances in general — but the way he’s talking about it, so full of himself, you can’t help yourself. “I wonder who made all that.” It slips out, biting down on your lip softly to stop yourself from further embarrassment. 

“It must’ve been the makeup artist of course, but I could’ve done a better job if you ask me.” You step into the bathroom just as you finish your sentence, Chan unable to answer due to his mouth full with mint scented bubbles. 

As you want to pass behind him, you swipe your delicate fingers on his defined back muscles, the photos of him painted in scratches for the performance fills your vision. 

“Makeup was unnecessary,to be honest.” 

There’s something glinting in Chan’s eyes as a lopsided smile appears on his face, looking at you through the mirror placed above the bathroom counter. As the words leave your lips, he licks his plump lips slowly, putting away his toothbrush he just used. “If I had asked you, would you do it?” 

The air stops suddenly in your throat,taking your eyes off of him as you busy yourself with something else infront of you. “Well…it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Oh it does, honey.” Chan says lowly, his voice suddenly closer as you want it to, and you know perfectly he’s only a step away from you. “If I only knew my baby just wanted to help me out in my solo,” He snakes his arms around your waist slowly, his bare chest pressing into your clothed back as he’s standing behind you, whispering in your ear. “I could’ve used some help.” With that, he pressed a slow open mouth kiss on the side of your neck. his hands caressing the skin on your stomach. 

“Should we recreate it and show it to my makeup artist?”

Chan whispers against your ear, biting down slightly on your earlobe as he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. You look already disheveled just from his touch, your nightgown scrunched slightly up as he kneads your stomach, one of his hands slowly inching up to your breasts. “Would you like that, baby?” 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Chan – mhphm…” A small moan leaves your lips as he pinches your nipple in his slender fingers, continuing to make out with your neck as you try and compose yourself. 

“How did you mean it then?” He grunts out as you push your backside on his crotch, his cock twitching already in his sleeping pants at the thought of you being jealous. “Tell me.” 

“I–I just…” You try to form words, keeping yourself together and not yet falling for his words but then Chan sneakily slides his other down towards your waiting heat, his finger immediately meeting with slickness between your pussy lips. He groans again, grinding into your ass to ease the pain from being so hard. “Baby, if you want to scratch my back that badly just say it.” There’s something hiding behind his words which makes you shut your eyes from the pleasure he’s causing, your hands flying on the counter for support. “I kind of…wanted to..” Your breath hitches, cutting off your sentence when Chan flips your nightgown upwards to expose your wet pussy, your naked ass on display in front of him as he takes his hand away from your breast and caresses one of your cheeks. “You wanted what? Do you need some help darling?” He grunts under his breath when he feels you clench around his fingers, plugging it in and out to take your breath away. You moan out when you feel his fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your back arch. 

But Chan doesn’t give in that easily. 

You suddenly feel a stinging pain on one of your cheeks, moaning out shamelessly from the sensation he just caused with his hand. When you pick your head up you see Chan already looking at you through the mirror, lust filled eyes raking over your already fucked out face. “Say it baby.” 

You can feel his hand smoothing over the place he just spanked, the air in the bathroom so humid you can feel yourself getting sweaty again. His finger never stopped working inside you, with that spank almost knocking you over the edge. 

When Chan doesn’t see you changing your mind and aófinally answers him, he only clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side. Without a second thought, he slaps your ass again, his finger circling around your clit rapidly when he hears your pornographic moans echoing in the bathroom.

“I–I wanted to mark you!” 

And there it is. 

As you practically moan out the words, Chan’s finger is coated thickly with your cum as his words made you tip over the edge. Your whole body shaking in his arms as you come down your high slowly, trying to gather your thoughts and realizing what you just said.

When the words finally leave your mouth he can’t help but smirk, the possessive side of you finally showing for the first time in your relationship. “And why is that honey?” Chan teases you, seeing your ears red from the sudden confession you just made. 

“Just so everyone knows that you’re mine..” You mumble quietly, shame overcoming you as it paints your cheeks deep red. 

Something snaps inside Chan. He can’t help but groan out, his cock painfully hard against his pants as he turns you around and places his hands on your throat, slightly adding pressure on it. Before you know it, you’re pressed up against the wall, his lips already chasing yours. 

“Do it baby.” He kisses you, his tongue sneaks through his lips to taste your lip balm you applied earlier he loves so much. “I want you to do your worst on me,” He whispers between kisses, his hand suddenly picking you up to put your legs around his waist. Your whole body welcomes him, your mouth opens as he slides his tongue inside once again, and your fingers landing into his freshly washed hair as he devours your lips. His hand scrunches up your gown once again before he presses his hardness into your slick core. 

At the contact you moan out loudly, already wanting him inside you, to ease your pain that he caused. 

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours. Nobody else has that but you.” 

With a whine you throw your head on the wall, Chan’s lips continuing to leaves red splotches on your sensitive skin as he takes his hand and pushes down his boxers, hissing out the minute the air hits his precum covered cock, tip red from all the waiting and veins bulging with excitement. 

He drags his wet tip over your puffy lips, spreading them open more to make room for himself when he circles around your clit. As he slides his length between your folds, you feel all emotions gather up inside you, the feeling too hazy as your vision becomes blurry from the need. “Channie,,please..” 

“‘s okay baby,I’ll give it to you.” He chants when he finally pushes his tip inside you, groaning out from you uncontrollably clenching around his cock when he nearly settles halfway in. “You have to relax,angel. You make it impossible for me to–”

“Chan — I’m so sorry, I–” He hears you gasp out, your body all tensed up, your eyes wide open as you look into the mirror across you. He looks swiftly behind him to see your naked bodies melted into one, and then it catches his eye. 

With one thrust he settles fully inside you, moaning from how incredibly tight you are around his length, keeping himself back to not buckle into you rapidly. He puts his hand on your chin, making you look into his eyes and not on his blood covered back. “I asked you to do this, right?” With a softened gaze, he makes sure you understand what he’s saying, not taking his eyes off of you until he sees your lust filled expression again instead of worry ones. “Right baby?”

“Y-yes..” You gulp when you see your fingers slightly covered in red around his neck. “But I didn’t want to-”

“It’s fucking hot.” He hisses, his voice whinier than usual as he puts his forehead on your chest, his hips starting to move. “You did such a great job sweetheart.” He pulls completely out before thrusting into you again, this time harsher as he hears your cries next to his ears. 

When you take another look in the mirror, you see what you just caused. The moment you felt his cock hitting you so deeply you couldn't help but deepen your nails into his skin on his broad back, now covered with blood here and there. It softly dribbles down his defined muscles, and Chan is right. It is fucking hot. 

So you clench around him again when you feel his fingers circling around your clit, his cock hitting the perfect spot as he moans out your name. “Do it again.” He demands, his hand flying on the wall next to your head to thrust up harder into you, making you roll your eyes. As you see Chan so deeply in emotions you scratch his back again, now only deep redness showing on his pale skin. 

The pain on his skin makes him inch closer to his release. The jerks of his hips, slamming against your hips are quickening, becoming more erratic, intense and desperate. You cry out his name nonstop, feeling him twitching inside you. 

“Give it to me.” He’s breathless as he chants into the side of your neck. “I need you to come around my cock baby.” 

His demand tips you over the edge again, moaning out his name as you feel him curl against you, his shoulders on display for you to see what you painted on his back. His grunts are vibrating through your body, the pain melting into pleasure as he paints your insides with his thick cum, feeling so full of him, feeling him everywhere. Chan bites down softly on your skin,kissing the pain away quickly as you both come down from this high. 

You are his. He made sure a long time ago, but now, you made sure he was yours too as you watch the crimson red blood slowly sliding down his back, gathering it on your fingers.

“It took a solo stage for you to claim me as yours?” Chan asks when he softly puts you down on the bathroom counter, a bright smile painting his face once again.

like and reblog is much appreciated! ♡

divider by:@enchanthings

[bpmiranda]

Beauty and the beast trope with Beast!Logan and Belle!reader has some interesting possibilities xoxoxo

Beauty And The Beast (Logan Howlett)

A/N: fluffy, beast!logan, belle!reader, soft!logan

Everyone in town knew to avoid the cabin nestled between the mountain hills. No one was brave enough to take that hike, scared of the rumors, terrified of being caught on his property.

They told their children bedtime stories of the beast living in the hills. Cautionary tales to keep them from wandering too far into the woods. And he liked it that way, he enjoyed the solitude, the fear of him.

At least he thought he did.

You were driving home from college during a rainstorm. It wasn’t a terribly long trip, but having to drive slow due to the slick, winding roads of the hills did add onto your time and the night had fallen around you. You hated driving in the rain. Your mother had passed away due to an accident in a storm similar to this one and the thought made you anxious.

As soon as you thought about perhaps calling your dad, letting him know you might be late, a flash of lightening and clap of thunder startled you. The blue light of the storm illuminated the road in front of you and you gasped as you realized a large tree had fallen into the road, blocking your path so that you had nowhere to go. “Damn it.” You breathed out, looking around at your surroundings and sighing. You couldn’t very well wait the storm out here in the middle of the road. Where could you go? The town was still a good forty miles down the hill and there was absolutely nothing around here. Except - “Ah!” You gasped, startled out of your thoughts by another clap of thunder and you sighed, holding you heart over your chest and breathing heavily.

There was no other choice.

Slowly, you turned back around and drove through the woods, your breathing shallow and shaky as you could see the lights of his cabin. You didn’t know if anyone that ever came here, you weren’t sure if this might even be the correct cabin. Surely there were other people who owned cabins? To avoid a whole mountain because of one man seemed excessive, terrifying as the stories may be.

The cabin wasn’t covered in moss or decorated in human skulls as you had been told as a little girl, so you figured it was safe enough to knock on the door in seek of shelter. Before you could even get out of your car, the front door opened and in the doorframe, silhouetted by the light behind him, stood an incredibly tall and large man, the supposed beast living here. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly got out of your car. You waved, and immediately wanted to smack yourself. Why on Earth are you waving? You thought as you slammed your car door shut and slowly made the walk up the driveway, uncaring of the rain as it poured down on you.

“What do you want?” His voice called as you stood at the bottom of the porch, shivering and holding your arms tightly as the cold rain sliced against your skin.

“The road is blocked by a tree. There’s no way to get to town.” You explain, squinting to try to get a glimpse of his face. “I-I need a place to stay for the night.”

The man was silent until he stepped back into his cabin and left the door open for you to come in. You quickly followed him, closing the door behind you and turning to see, not a beast, but a very attractive man with lots of hair and a thick beard. You could understand the term beast if it meant large and muscular, but he wasn’t ugly or foul-looking as they had claimed him to be. No, he was just a man.

“That road won’t be cleared in the morning.” He told you and you gave him a confused look. “No one comes up here. They’re not going to clear it anytime soon. Especially not for me.”

“Oh,” You breathed out, looking around the cabin and wondering where the townspeople got the idea that he lived like an animal in filth. It looked very much like a home. “I have nowhere to go.”

Logan had never seen someone quite like you. So beautiful while drenched in rain and a shivering lip. Your eyes so deep and big, looking at him without fear, without judgement. You couldn’t possibly be one of the townspeople. He would’ve remembered you. “What were you doing up here?” He asked as he walked into his kitchen and began to gather mugs.

“I’m visiting my dad from college. I grew up in the town at the bottom of the mountain.” You explain, following him and watching him pour some coffee. “I don’t mean to be a burden.”

The man turns to you and sets the mugs on the table, pulling a chair out and motioning for you to sit. “You couldn’t have known. Have a seat, warm up while I find you something dry to wear.” He said as he left you sipping coffee at the table and retreated into the back of the cabin.

When he returns, he looks apologetic as he’s holding a flannel that appears to be one of his own and nothing else. A blush creeps onto your face and you set your mug down. “I didn’t think you’d have much that would fit me.” You say with a light laugh as you get up and approach him. “Thank you, um -”

“Logan.” He answers as he hands you his flannel. Your laugh made his heart jump, the feeling of your soft fingers lightly grazing his hand as you take the shirt sends an electric signal up his arm and he craves more. More of your touch, if to just hold your hand at the very least.

While you’re changing out of your wet clothes, Logan’s decided to fix you something to eat, but he’s not sure of what you eat. Are you a vegetarian? Maybe you have allergies. It’s then that he begins to wonder why he’s even making a fuss. You’ve only had her in your home all of five seconds and you’re playing husband, he scoffs to himself and turns around just to stop dead in his tracks at the sight of you.

His flannel falls right above your knees and you’ve cinched it with the belt you had looped through your jeans. Your hair is messy and wavy from the rain, falling softly over your shoulders and he feels his heartache at the sight. “Almost a perfect fit.” You say as you pad barefoot over to him and take the seat you were previously occupying. “Are you certain I’m not being a bother, Logan?” You ask as you look up at him with those wide eyes, chewing your bottom lip nervously.

Logan shakes his head, sitting across from you as he smiles. “Not at all. Stay as long as you must, please.” You smile bashfully and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you notice the ingredients he had set out on the counter.

“Oh! Let me do this.” You say, immediately getting up and preparing to fix you both a meal while Logan watches, enthralled by you.

As you’re cooking, Logan asks you about your studies. You ask him about how he ended up in this mountain. He asks about your father, and you ask about his. Then he asks about your mother. “She passed away last year.” You say with a small, sad smile. The pain still slightly raw.

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” You say while stirring the contents of the pot gently simmering. “She passed away on this mountain, a car accident during a storm like this one.” You recall and a shiver runs up your spine. Logan nods slowly. “It’s been hard without her. She was very kind and sage, always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better.” Your eyes find his sympathetic ones boring into you and you ask, “Do you know what it’s like?”

“I do.”

You smile kindly at him and you lower the heat on the stove to let it finish cooking slowly before you sit across from him at the table. “Why do they call you a beast?” You ask curiously. Logan chuckles and then holds one hand up from where three large blades slide out between his knuckles and your eyes go wide. “Oh, you’re one of the gifted.”

“Most just call us mutants, or in my case, beasts.” Logan says as he retracts his claws.

You frown and reach over to place your hand over his. The feeling of your small, warm hand gives him that longing feeling again. “You shouldn’t hide up here because of it. You’re just a man at the end of the day. Those fairytales are just that, stories for children. Being gifted like this doesn’t make any of it true.”

Logan’s hand turns around under yours and he holds it gently, his thumb caressing the top of your hand. “I’m afraid no one in that town would be as accepting and kind as you, beautiful.” He says, making you blush as he lifts your hand and kisses your knuckles.

The oven suddenly dings, indicating that the bread is done, you squeeze his hand affectionately. “You hungry?” You ask as you’re getting up to plate dinner for the both of you.

Logan’s eyes follow you, watch every movement of yours with a hawk’s eyes. His tongue moistens his lips as you reach into a cabinet for bowls, his flannel rising slightly on your small frame and giving him a better view of your thighs. “Very.”

I feel like there will have to be a second part🙈 Thank you very much for this request! I thoroughly enjoy Disney movies💚

Part Two

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff) 

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcasts their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower… 

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better. 

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises. 

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep. 

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges. 

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you. 

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you. 

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible. 

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel. 

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams. 

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment. 

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it. 

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him. 

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you. 

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick. 

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

[chitra111goddess]

VEDIC ASTROLOGY NOTES ♡

(Can apply to any planet placement)

⚡️Ashwini women always stand out to me with their creativity especially in acting , they rly know to embody the character they're playing to the fullest even irl it may be easier for them to shift thro different identities or alter-egos just for funsies

⚡️There's smtg about purva phalguni women , they're gorgeous but for some reason I noticed they get hate esp from other women like they're called fake or pick-mes or they make up stories hmm

⚡️Purva ashadha women are so inspiring like they're always the ones to be teaching or preaching or saying smtg inspiring/motivational. They're beauties with soul and a mind of their own ! If u know a purva ashadha better take notes 📝

⚡️Magha women love wearing black and something about their looks or style is unconventional/gothy, it suits them

⚡️Uttara-phalguni women are so headstrong bruh and they have this leadership aura about them, they're gonna do what THEY think is right. Like other sun-ruled nakshatras they easily get attention

⚡️Mrigashira women love the push & pull , cat &mouse game, they either attract this dynamic or they create it themselves. There's also smth about Mrigashira and obsession 👀

⚡️Jyestha women embody the wild feminine archetype imo, when evolved theyre truly empowered and have this idgaf energy. people may be threatened by their power or skills. Their voice or the way the speak is commanding and naturally charismatic

⚡️Swati/ardra and their eyes 👁👁 most captivating eyes imo I'm in luv

⚡️Purva bhadrapada women seem to attract or be drawn to men with dark nature or men who carry trauma ? Or they know how to bring that out in a man

⚡️Dhanishta women love dancing and they appear to be friendly or have many acquaintances but very little people they relate to. Popular girlies

⚡️Rohini women feminine energy is undeniable , something about them feels innocent yet erotic. They just give off this juicy fertile vibee lmao💦 unlike jyestha which is more dry (not in a bad way its just different 💀)

⚡️Anuradha women are secretive as hell even if they tell u shit don't think u have them all figured out. there's so much to unpack with them , they're generally intriguing complex characters

⚡️Most bratty nakshatras are mrigashira and chitra lmao

⚡️Revati women are pretty privilege girlies also they're master manipulators 👀 they know how to use their femininity to get what they want

⚡️Pushya women have big MOMMY energy. they seem/look mature. They're either the ones taking care of others or others take care of them

⚡️Uttara bhadrapada women have dualistic nature they're either the sweetest ppl u know or ur worst nightmare depending on who theyre dealing with 💀they're like a mirror projecting and reflecting back ur inner self back at ya (Pisces energy) also don't forget the karmic saturn influence.. u don't wanna mess w them or any other saturn ruled woman

⚡️Viahaka women go through intense ups and downs , starting from their good girl phase then they snap and go wild then they mature/become spiritual

⚡️Chitra women secretly (or not so secretly) enjoy drama , they're either the ones caught up in it or they play the role of the "judge" where they can solve conflicts between others. Somehow they're surrounded by it.

⚡️Don't underestimate krittika women especially when it comes to survival 💀 these women can be dangerous and will stab a bitch if they rly had to (whether its for defending loved ones or them surviving) their symbol is 🔪 after all and taurus/aries gives them that survival instinct

⚡️Ardra women can make great poets/song writers , their creativity and inspiration stems from their own 'tragic' experiences

⚡️Punarvasu women remind me of that quote "home is where the heart is" they always end up coming back to their origins and what they feel in their heart

Lemme know ur thoughts & what I should make next

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[jensthwa]

i was made for lovin' you (PSH x reader)

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

In an attempt to grasp at his youth, Seonghwa buys a motorcycle despite not knowing the first thing about them. When it inevitably breaks down, he has no other option that to ride it to a mechanic shop and, after following a sweet hum, he’s faced with the life-changing (and predictable) fact that, maybe, what he needed after all was not a motorcycle. Maybe, just maybe, what he needed was you.  

PAIRING: new bike owner!seonghwa x afab mechanic!reader.

GENRE: strangers to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 20k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both seonghwa's and reader's), wooyoung being a little shit for the umpteenth time + jongho, yeosang AND hongjoong (omg), that feeling you get when your youth is ending, midlife crisis! (or so yunho says), a loooot of work related/motorcycle plot, flirting, seonghwa losing his rizz, reader is adopted so that may count as a trigger warning for some of you, shitty exes, crying a bit but not really, pet and nicknames (ghost, dear), they almost get caught in a thunderstorm, lots of tension, making out, oral ( f & m reciving ), descriptions of the female anatomy, floor AND protected sex ( wrap it up pls ), the ending leads straight up to the next story on this universe so be aware of that.

NOTES: hello everyone! after almost a month in the making, here you have it! THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE but can be read as a stand alone, although there's some characters and scenarios you can understand better if you read the last three parts (you can find them in my masterlist). this really didn't need to be so lenghty but it turned out that way for some reason (i'm the mayor of yap town). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: september 02 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68, @e3ellie, @alsomimi

masterlist.

Seonghwa is proud to be the type of person who can just tell what's going on after assessing a situation for a few seconds. 

His intuition is something he can rely on and he almost never misses the mark when he makes predictions that he doesn't share with anyone else in case it brings anyone down. 

As he watches San kissing his girlfriend's cheek and then stare at her like a lovestruck idiot, his mouth quirks up a bit and he quickly hides it behind the soda can he's been nursing for the past couple of minutes. 

He's happy it finally happened. 

He's also a little butthurt that he didn't get the chance to fully get to know her first. 

They've been together for a few months now, maybe four if he recalls correctly. Back then, he danced with her at Wooyoung's and San’s apartment like he didn't know one of his closest friends had been in love with her since they both were in highschool. 

He didn't tell anyone, but a part of him did it to see if it would prompt a reaction. And, from what he was told by Wooyoung, it did. 

She is his type of person, though. And when he texted her a few days later and she sent in a non-detailed voice note briefly explaining what went down after they all left the party and she stayed behind to help her drunk best friend, he told her he understood and that he kind of already knew. 

Or at least, he expected it. 

He also explained to San that, although his intentions with his girlfriend (before she was his girlfriend) were mostly genuine, he’s obviously not in love with her. 

After all, they only met that one time and now, back in San and Woo’s shared apartment for what feels like an overdue reunion after months of busy schedules and adult life, he can assure them both with a nod and smile that he is, indeed, happy for them. 

He treasures admiration for those who are able to find love in this modern age, anyway. 

Now there's two couples in the group. Seonghwa has never been the type of guy who chases relationships and has a goal set on when and how to get married. He simply exists and welcomes the opportunities life gives him as they come. 

That's how he got his job at Room for More. His professor gave him a recommendation letter after finishing the last presentation of his career and suggested he try his luck at his colleague’s company. 

And now he's actually doing what he studied to do and he's loving it. Working in interior design and fighting minimalism while he's at it? 

Incredible. Life could not be better. 

Kind of.

As rare as those types of opportunities are, he truly believes it is way easier to find a niche profession people are actually comfortable with than it is to find love in modern society. 

Life might give you your dream job out of nowhere, but it can also take away the opportunity of finding a partner you can celebrate your success with. 

He never even told his friends when he got the job. Only Hongjoong, who then passed on the word to the rest of the group and, after they all congratulated him for it, they quickly moved on to their tesis and focused on not letting their last year of university eat them up while they were at it. 

Except for Jongho, he very much had a few months left to ignore the unavoidable adulthood period he was about to suddenly enter his senior year. The rest of them, minus Hongjoong, had the right to grasp as much as they could of the freedom of only being weighed down by exams and not by other obligations like rent and bills. 

Wooyoung and San’s lease is being paid by their parents, so they don't really count. 

And Hongjoong lives with his bandmates in a little apartment above the rehearsal space provided by a lovely grandma who treats them all like they are her sons, so he doesn't really count either. 

Seonghwa feels like, in the span of a year, he took a whole step forward while everyone else is still enjoying their youth. Now, he has presentations and meetings with clients he needs to worry about. 

Love is not his top priority, not that it ever was, but now it barely crosses his mind. 

He just wants to stay cool and young for a few more years before giving in completely into feeling like an adult. 

So, naturally, what's the first idea that popped in his mind a few weeks ago when thinking about the inescapable passage of time? 

That he should definitely be a little more irresponsible with his finances. Why not? He's in the perfect period of his life where he's allowed to make a mistake without the fear of eternal judgment by a superior being. 

The superior being happens to be his mother, of course. Who else would it be? The woman could make a God shake in their shiny boots and silence them with a single scowl. 

She's all the way back in his hometown, though and she's really rooting for him to make it big in the city. 

Surely, she wouldn't mind if he bought a motorcycle to help him commute faster to his appointments, right? 

Well, he's about to find out any day now.

Looking out of the window that looks to the street, Seonghwa can see his new acquisition parked and sparkling under the streetlamp and the smile that it brings to his lips it's big enough for Yunho to bump him with his hip and lean against the window sill as well. 

“Who's making you smile like that?” he asks, looking away from Seonghwa and following his line of sight till it reaches the beautiful Bonneville he just got on a great deal with a guy who wanted to get rid of it. 

The auction post said that it was because it looked too vintage and the owner wanted to upgrade to something more ‘modern looking’. 

A fool, he thought. 

Because to him, this bike checks all his marks: it is modern enough that in case he needed to get any parts for it, it wouldn't make him lose his mind in the process. But also, it has that vintage, nostalgic, old film feel and look to it that is just right up his alley. 

He loves it. 

Huh, maybe he did find true love after all. 

And after breaking open his savings, Seonghwa managed to get a hold of it without financially ruining himself. Only a bit. 

He didn't tell any of his friends about it, maybe that's why Yunho whistles after he checks it out. 

“Now who's riding that baby?” 

“Me,” Seonghwa smiles, turning to his friend who, as the response dawns on him, drops his jaw and lets out an amused chuckle “What? That's my bike!” 

“Are you being serious?” 

“Why would I lie to you?” He returns, softly. 

A bit passes and then Yunho turns to everyone else scattered around the living room. 

“Guys, Seonghwa is having an early mid-life crisis and bought a motorcycle!” 

Yeosang gasps “Ain't no way…” 

“Hwa? A motorcycle?” Wooyoung hollers, louder than everyone else “What's next? Tattoos?!” 

Oh, for the love of God. 

Maybe there's a reason he didn't tell anyone until now. Everyone gathers around the window to look at it like children at a zoo and he takes a step back, sitting on the arm on the couch, a subtle smile on his lips. 

The only person that turns to him is San’s girlfriend, smiling proudly like he just won the lottery or something. 

Damn, she really is his type. 

“Are you happy?” She asks and it tugs at his lonely heart strings like crazy. 

He pushes through, nodding and shrugging a bit, dismissing his feelings for the final time. It's not really her, he reminds himself. It's the thought of having someone in his life that treats him the way she treats San. 

“Sure am,” he murmurs “My bank account? Not so much.” 

She laughs and Jongho turns to him at that “Are you an old man with debts now? Noooo,” he pouts “Who am I going to ask for bail money now?” 

Gyuri, Wooyoung's ex-girlfriend who somehow manages to stay friends with him, scoffs “You've never been to jail, kid.” 

“But he's the first person on my emergency contact list for that!” 

And just like that, they all pull away from the window and back into their seats to discuss the reasons why Jongho would end up behind bars. 

Being annoying seems to be winning. 

Seonghwa is glad to take the attention off of him. This way, he can't be caught staring at the way Mingi’s girlfriend sits on his lap and nuzzles her nose against her boyfriend’s neck. This way, the sigh he lets out when he catches San whispering sweet things into his girl’s ear gets lost amidst pointless banter and giggling. 

He shouldn't feel envious. 

But somehow he ended up wearing a green short-sleeve today, so it checks out. 

“Important client. Wants to renovate their whole space, his apartment and his office.” 

His boss is excited. It makes him smile as he stares at her with his hands behind his back, like he usually does when he receives instructions. 

“He loved your work, I showed him the photo studio you helped with last month and requested you specifically. He said that he feels trapped in a box every time he gets to work and everytime he returns home, so… He wants you to lead the project,” she smiles, tapping her manicured nails against her desk and cocking her head to the side “Congratulations, kid, you got your first big commission coming.” 

“Thank you so much,” he bows, his body bending out of pure gratefulness and instinct “I'll make sure to run everything by you accordingly, boss.” 

“Well, I'm expecting a report in two days.” 

“Two days?” 

“Mhm. He wants to meet with you this afternoon… In four hours, exactly. I already sent you an email with the details,” she gets up from her desk, extending her hand towards him and he rushes to shake it “You're doing the initial assessment today, alone. Everyone else has something going on.” 

Fuck. 

“Of course,” he's worried and anxious, but he makes sure none of it shows as he gives her hand a firmer shake before letting it go “I'll do my initial research in the meantime, then.” 

She nods and dismisses him with her hand. 

He stresses the whole time he looks up the name and company of this new client. It seems like a serious business, not the kind that wants to reject minimalism especially when the nation's professional aesthetic runs on it. 

It’s a modern tech silicon valley run by, what he's able to gather, a very rich family his new client is part of. There's a picture of them, smiling at an event, looking like the nightmare of working class people. 

He tends to keep his opinions on chaebol’s at bay (Yunho is his friend and he’s rich, so he can't really voice what he thinks so freely anyway) but the fact that they contacted his company, an interior design business with barely any recognition amongst their competitors, is both surprising and concerning. 

He clicks an article where his new client is featured. He's the heir of his family's empire, a tech savvy himself and he can tell, from the way they framed his answers, that he is well media-trained. 

Seonghwa has no name for himself. Why would he request him? He's not so sure the ambiance he helped to create in a mere photo studio is what is granting him this opportunity. 

His intuition is telling him, as he clicks for his initial research to print, that there must be an ulterior motive. 

But he's going to embrace the chance of securing his rent money either way. 

He just hopes his hair is presentable enough when he gets there. The helmet he bought is really not helping, the wind that somehow gets into it as he cruises through the streets doesn't help either.

Wanna know what else adds up to his problems today? The engine sounds weird. 

It sounds fucking weird. 

At a red light, Seonghwa lifts up his visor and tries to figure out what the hell is going on as much as he can. 

He's too green for this. Too new to this world. 

Would his mother scold him if she finds out he lied about doing a thorough research about the bike world before investing in one? 

He looks at his watch. He has time to spare, an hour and a half before the meeting takes place. 

Before he can fully make a decision, his body weight is making him turn into a street he doesn't know that well. But he's sure he saw a repair shop on the way to work today. 

Or was it just a body shop? Maybe he imagined it and the sudden panic he feels rising and darkening his cheeks under the visor is convincing him he's right. 

When he sees the floatable mascot waving in the wind, he lets out a sigh of relief. 

Pulling up, he sees a few cars with their hood open and a few new, modern bikes to the side, so he parks a few meters from them and when he turns off the engine and gets down from his -apparently- damaged new acquisition, he feels like he can finally breathe. 

No, scratch that, he takes his helmet off and then he's able to breathe. 

When he scans the place, there's not a soul in sight. 

Until he hears someone humming. It's a song he heard before, he can't quite put it together by the melody but it sounds like something he used to enjoy when he entertained the idea of joining Hongjoong's band all the way back in first semester of college. 

Something with heavy guitars, which kind of fits the place’s vibe. Looking around, he swears to himself he's trying to find the source of the humming.

After all, he doesn't have much time to take in the place.

But he does anyway. 

When he steps deeper into the shop, he feels like he's been teletransported into a decade he never got to experience, into a culture that is not his to experience in the first place. 

It's like a Sons of Anarchy set, something he would see in an indie two thousands movie, maybe. There's a lot of stuff laying around, an organized chaos he guesses he can attribute to the nature of this kind of job. 

But there's also a lot on the walls, aside from the usual tools hanging from it that look worn out there's posters and the Harley Davidson logo plastered at least five times in shirts, hats and jacket applique patches. 

He thinks the walls can be painted a new, muted color instead of the sort-of bright blue and beige they have going on. 

Focus. What the hell. 

Shaking his head, he follows the sound of the voice until he reaches the back of the shop. There's what it looks like an office, maybe a reception? With a door that's wide open and seems to lead to a storage he doesn't need to get in to. 

There, on her knees, he sees the source of the sound: A girl. 

A beautiful, beautiful girl. 

With her hair out of her face and overalls that seem too loose on her frame. 

Is his heart okay? It feels like it stopped beating. 

And then the beating comes back in full blast, goosebumps on his skin reminding him to speak up. Clearing his throat softly, he does. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh, shit,” she drops whatever she's working on, stops writing something down on a notebook that looks like it's about to run out of space “You fucking scared me!” 

“I can… see that. I'm sorry.” 

“Did you float all the way down here? Fucking Christ,” she mumbles something under her breath, getting up from her position and leaning into the desk in a way Seonghwa will probably remember forever. He gulps “What can I help you with, Ghost?” 

She's breathtakingly beautiful and he, who's usually smooth with words and random interactions, stammers out his response “H-hey, yes I… I'm Park Seonghwa,” he starts, smiling a bit “I was hoping there was someone here who can help me with my bike?” 

She looks around and he assumes she's looking for someone until he sees the corner of her lip curving up a bit “As I said, what can I help you with?” 

Did he already fuck this whole thing up? 

“Oh! I wasn't suggesting that you couldn't— I mean that's not what I…” her smirks widens, he suddenly remembers he's running out of time so he gets it together “I just bought a motorcycle and I'm sure the engine is not supposed to sound the way it's sounding so I thought I could use someone taking a look?” He gets out as fast as he can and the stranger claps her hands in a way that makes him take a step back. 

She intimidates him. Just a little bit. 

“First time owner?” She asks but he's sure she already knows. 

Chuckling nervously, Seonghwa nods “What gave it away?” 

“Your gear,” she simply states, getting out from behind the desk and into the garage space, moving swiftly through it like she owns the place. Damn, does she own the place? “You're barely wearing any. I get it, it's stuffy,” she turns over her shoulder to smile at him “It'll grow on you.” 

“More like I'll get used to it, I feel like.” 

“Yeah,” she rounds a car, tapping the hood of it and taking a pause as she scans the front of the place “That's what I said.” 

That's definitely not what she said. 

He's not sure if she's being rude or merely sarcastic, but he shouldn't be enjoying it the way he is. What drags him out of it is the way laughs when she sees his bike “This one?”

Concerning. Danger. Why is she laughing?! 

“Y-yeah.” 

“I don't get to see this type of bike often. Damn, she's beautiful.” 

He smiles, taking down his worries a notch “Yeah, I got a great deal for it. The guy said he wanted something like that instead,” he points at the one right next to his “Said he wanted something that looked out of Terminator. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they used a Harley Davidson for the movies.” 

“I'm guessing he meant Robocop?” 

“Maybe.”

“What an idiot,” she sighs, inspecting his bike closely “Not you, Park Seonghwa, the guy who sold you this. Key.” 

Key? Oh, right, the key. He tosses it to her and she catches it with expertise. 

“Well, thanks for clarifying that.” 

She laughs again, taking his helmet that's resting on the seat and putting it down on the floor as she straddles the bike “You're welcome,” she starts it, revs the engine a few times and then grimaces in a way that makes Seonghwa’s heart drop to his ass “Okay, Ghost, please tell me you have time to spare today.” 

“I actually don't,” he takes a few steps, worried frown on his face that prompts another sigh from her “I have a very, very important appointment in…” he checks his watch “In an hour that I really, really need to get to and— Is it that bad?” 

“No! No, not at all, I'm just better with cars than with bikes but, uhm… My brother is coming back in around fifteen minutes?” She offers and with the scowl on his face, she seems to backtrack “Listen, Park Seonghwa, why don't you leave your number with me and we can get this fixed by the end of the day. You can come by to pick it up or we can drop it to you early, tomorrow.” 

“Would you? Oh, my God,” he lets out another nervous laugh “That would be amazing, actually.” 

“Yeah, it's probably just the chain tensioner that needs an adjustment. Nothing's wrong with the engine as far as I can tell but that's why I want the guy who specializes in this type of thing to check it out.” 

“Your brother.” 

“Exactly,” she nods, turning it off and getting off as quickly and if Seonghwa was a little less concerned that he might've waisted his money on an expensive motorcycle, he would've noticed the proximity and the way she looks him over  with a curious glint on her eye “So, Park Seonghwa, what's your number?” 

She takes a step to the side and offers him her phone after unlocking it. He reacts to that. 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

He doesn't notice the big smile she offers him either. He doesn't have time. He enters the digits fast and checks over them two times before saving the contact information and returning the phone. 

Checking his watch once again, he curses under his breath and looks at his baby with desperation, begging, praying that he doesn't have to spend a fortune on it. 

“I really have to go.” 

“I can see that,” she returns his words from before, smiling and leaning to rest her weight on the hood of the car she tapped earlier “Good luck with your, uh…” she looks him over one more than and this time he notices it, blushing like a teenager for some reason because of it “Business meeting?” 

The crossbody bag he's wearing probably gave him away, huh? 

“Yeah, yes. Thank you so much for all your help… Ian?” He reads the nametag on her overall and immediately thinks it is an unconventional name for a girl, but doesn't add anything about it “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

“I get it, you're grateful, now leave.” He catches on that she's pretending like his presence bothers her so he can hurry, which he's actually grateful for. 

It occurs to him that he could stare at her forever like an idiot if she didn't. 

“Okay, bye. Please tell me if I have to, uh, rob a bank or something to cover the cost.” 

She laughs again and it sounds pretty this time. 

What the fuck. 

“Sure,” she nods and he takes a few steps backwards until he's about to turn and then he hears her voice again, so he doesn't but he keeps walking “It's Y/N, by the way.” 

“Huh?” 

“My name is Y/N, Ian is my brother.” 

His heart beats loudly and he can't help but smile as wide as he possibly can “Ah, that makes more sense.”

“Goodbye, Park Seonghwa!” 

He finally turns and then screams back “Goodbye, Y/N!” as he's hurrying to raise his hand and call on a taxi who just passed the entrance like divine intervention, placed perfectly just for him. 

He misses the sudden blush on your cheeks because he's already in the cab by the time you reach the garage’s door to glance at the beautiful man one last time.

Seonghwa is right on time. With a few minutes to spare, actually. 

The building looks even more modernized than in pictures. He can even see some workers remodeling an office he passes on the way to the… third? Main desk he has to go to. 

It's a very big company and he can see the silicon valley aspect of it all once he notices the few different uniforms everyone is wearing. It seems like the building is one big, creative space and he likes it, but it does feel a little cold in a sense. 

“I'm looking for Mr. Kim? I have an appointment in… five minutes with him, I was sent from—”

“Room for More. Park Seonghwa is here.” The lady at the reception doesn't spare him a glance as she talks through her headset and he has to blink a few times, bowing briefly when she points towards the elevator to his right “Floor sixteen, the only big office on the floor.” 

“Thank you—” 

“Next!” 

Turning back, he sees there's some people lined up behind him and he quickly moves out of the way and towards the elevator that drops him, two minutes later, into the sixteenth floor. 

As he walks towards the big doors at the end of the hall, he feels so out of place his armpits start sweating even though it is a cold day and the heating is barely on. 

There's a few cubicles, glass separating them from the hall and, in consequence, forcing him to glance a few times out of curiosity. The uniforms and creativity that he saw downstairs is lost and all he can see is the nightmare he had once, when he thought he would end up working in a similar space: men in suits and women in pencil skirts typing away and printing reports he is never going to understand. 

Maybe that's why he's a bit surprised when he gets to Mr. Kim’s office and he's waiting by the door with a kind of ironed three piece suit and a few hairs out of place, toothy grin and open arms. 

“Mr. Park Seonghwa, thank you so much for taking the job!” 

He moves in to give him a brief hug he doesn't really get to reciprocate before he's moving away and into his office. 

“It's, um, a pleasure,” he stammers out, following him “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Mr. Kim— Wow.” 

“I know, I know,” his client sighs as he takes a box and throws it to the side of his desk. The space is a mess and both of them grimace at the sound of something breaking inside the cardboard “This is why I recruited you. I tried to do something myself and ended up with… Whatever this is.” 

Looking around, Seonghwa is able to see what he means. The walls are mismatched and there's an unfinished design on the one to his left. Someone started painting a tree and gave up after sketching out a few branches. 

“And please call me Soohyun. Everyone here already calls me Mr. Kim and it makes me feel like my father,” he adds, sitting down on his desk chair and pointing to the one in front of it “That's my sister’s work. She tried to help me but broke one of her nails trying to get the cap off a painting tube so… She left me with this mess.” 

Seonghwa smiles, sitting down in front of him and getting his sketchbook out of his bag. Seemingly excited, his client rests his arms on the desk and grins at him, expectantly. 

He seems a little childish, not like the guy he studied earlier today. He looks younger than what he actually is like this, in a space that mimics what Seonghwa picks up like impatience and boredom, maybe the desire of breaking free of a corporate jail. 

Now, he understands why he contacted Room for More. 

“So, Soohyun… What do you want me to do for this space?” 

He spends the rest of the day in the middle of the mess, getting to know Soohyun’s vision and learning about the company as he helps to pile up the boxes laying around and drawing different ideas down. When he tries to talk about a possible budget, the man silences him and tells him not to worry about it. 

The pretty girl he met earlier crosses his mind one time, when Soohyun asks him if he can stay later than anticipated to give him an excuse to get out of what he says it's about to be a very boring and pointless meeting. 

Her image, your image makes him smile and he wonders, for a second, what the hell are you doing with his bike. 

And if he gets to see you again. 

Your brother comes back like a whole two hours later, so you're grateful you didn't push your new client to waste fifteen minutes of his, apparently, very busy day. 

“He said he got a great deal for it?” you nod “This one is not even that old, I'm sure they still make them!” 

You shrug and your brother sighs.

“Maybe he got scammed.” 

“I didn't ask but I think it started making that noise today because he seemed… alarmed,” you tell him and Christian pushes his hair back before taking the key out of your open palm “He didn't stay because he had a business appointment or something. He looked very laid-back, though, not rich at all, so don't you dare overcharge him for this.” 

“Oh, so you liked him.” 

Rolling your eyes, you turn to open the hood of the car you're supposed to be working on instead of giving away information he should've listened to if he didn't tend to walk out mid-shift “Yeah, we're actually getting married next week.” 

“Well, that means I can dispute getting the whole garage once dad goes away.” 

You let out a groan but you smile a little as you try and remember where you left off last night. 

“The only way he can go away is if he's dead, Christian,” you remind him “And he's going to outlive both of us.” 

“Of course he is.” 

You're not sure if your dad has a will at all. You're not his real children after all, so If he does you're not sure you're included either. 

It's not hard to tell you're adopted, but you've known Christian since before it was decided you two would share a family and even a last name. 

You grew up together, the adoption home treated both of you decently enough so you two never struggled as much but the children your age were a different story entirely. They used to tug at your hair and push you to the ground during group activities and the only one who was brave enough to make them stop was Christian.  

So, when your dad showed up at the adoption home and picked him out of the hundred children, he told him he didn't want to go anywhere without you. 

Sure enough, your dad took one look at your frightened little face, hiding behind Christian like a coward, and filled out the paperwork twenty minutes later. 

You remember gaping at the director, waiting for him to do something about this six feet tattooed guy in his late thirties wanting to take you both away from the only home you ever knew, but you're grateful the system didn't give two craps about children back in the day. 

Not that it gives a crap about them now, but at least they're a little more careful with just handing out kids like that. 

Because it could've gone terribly wrong. You were sure, at eight years old, your hand grasping the seatbelt on the back seat of your new dad’s car, that it was about to go terribly wrong. 

But he turned out to be nothing but a kind, hardworking (with an amazing credit score, no criminal record and steady income), widowed man who was looking to fulfill his late wife’s dreams of having a family and someone to leave their business to. 

After all, she was the one who built the shop from the ground up. You desperately needed to know more of her and your dad made sure to let you know how amazing she was in every aspect. 

She became someone you looked up to, even if you never really knew her, maybe that's why you ended up working at the shop as well. 

And yet, you still don't think it belongs to you. Ian is the one your dad wanted to begin with, you're just an added bonus. 

You're not sure you want it, either. 

But there's not much you know outside of it. Your time in school was great, no one bullied you anymore and the tough skin you developed out of nowhere cushioned the typical jokes that kids and teenagers are apparently programmed to make. 

You never made fun of anyone with ill intentions, so you're not sure how true that statement is. 

Either way, you kind of know where they were coming from. You weren't particularly exceptional at any subject but you never got in trouble for anything either, so you just kind of floated in everyone's orbit until you graduated, never belonging to any specific group of people or participating on any extracurriculars to help you maintain your barely there friendships after graduation. 

This shop is truly all you got. And the family that comes with it, of course.

Your dad coughing in the back and the sound reaching your ears even when the sound of Park Seonghwa's damaged motorcycle is right next to you, reminds you that the spending every second of your teenage years and early adult life learning all you could about how to fix a car was worth it. 

“Fucking chain tensioners.”

Smiling, you turn your head to your brother and he's already working on it “So it was the chain tensioner?” 

“Yeah,” he wipes the sweat off his forehead “it's always the fucking chain tensioner with these things.” 

You don't tell him you already knew that. 

“So you could get it fixed today?” 

“Yeah, yeah. He said he's coming back tonight?” 

“Oh, I kind of suggested dropping it off tomorrow so I'm not sure…”

“Y/N!” he scolds immediately and all you can give him in return is an innocent smile “I'm not dropping off shit tomorrow.” 

Turning back to the car, your smile grows into a cheeky one. 

“I never said you would do it.” 

He scoffs “If this is your way of flirting with people, I can see why you never got far with anyone befo— What the fuck?” 

Jaw slack, holding the greasy towel you sent flying into his direction a second ago, he throws it back and it lands by your feet. 

“Did I lie?” 

“Stop being an ass or the next thing I'm throwing your way are my bedazzled pliers.” 

Your dad’s voice behind you puts a stop into the petty and pointless bickering “Well, don't, I worked hard on those,” you smile at him and Ian all but sulks before returning to the task at hand “I expect you both to be done on whatever you're working tomorrow, by eight. We have dinner with the Lee’s.” 

Ah, dinner with your dad’s closest friends. Usual Tuesday shenanigans, of course, but it doesn't stop the nervous bubbling inside of you. 

You pray Deokhee can't make it (he rarely shows up) but you mutter out an okay in response even if you don't feel like going anyway. 

Nodding, he quickly looks over on what you're both doing before disappearing into the back of the shop again. You look down at your toolbox and find the bedazzled pliers your dad gave you as a part of your fourteen birthday gift with a tiny, grateful smile. 

The eternal loop of working in the same usual five, fixable problems on the cars that people drop off at the shop sets in afterwards. And, for the rest of the afternoon, you keep stealing glances at the Bonneville and wondering what type of man its owner is. 

You've always been drawn to pretty faces, even if it costed you your sanity only a few years back. Not that Christian or your dad or anyone else knew about it. 

The little secrets you keep give you some sense of identity, it sets you apart from the oil changes and calluses on your hands and they remind you of the brief aspirations you once had outside of all of this. 

When you dreamed of belonging to someone else and not just this family business, someone who you thought used to get you before he shattered your heart into a million pieces.

Deokhee thought cheating would not affect you.

Why? Oh, maybe because your edges were worn and rough and you've been through worse stuff before. 

What's worse that getting abandoned and picked out as an afterthought later in life?

Being abandoned and treated like an afterthought by the guy you wasted your teen years obsessing over, probably. 

Nothing breaks like a heart or whatever the song says. 

And, to his advantage, he knew you'd keep calm and collected and accepting of his ways because he never promised you the life you imagined for the both of you, even after giving yourself to him multiple times. 

Even after he told you how amazing you were. 

Even after he whispered how lucky he was to have you, hushed and hurried at the backdoor of his house that last time before he broke it off. 

Before he told you he found someone else. 

So you know wondering is a bad idea. You should not wonder about a client, at that. How unprofessional of you, how immature. 

But there was a spark this afternoon you never felt with anyone else. He was brave enough to joke around, even when you did try your best to intimidate him and lost tragically at one glimpse of his pretty smile. 

What's so wrong in indulging in a fantasy no one will ever know about? Heavens know you need one to keep you from smashing the wrench on the windshield of this old, ungrateful, misbehaving Chevrolet that's proving to be more difficult than any other car you've ever worked on before. 

It's only at ten after seven that you're allowed to think about Park Seonghwa without the guilt brought on by delusion. 

“There, fixed,” your brother says and, after starting the bike again, the noise is gone “Call your future husband and tell him to pick it up, I want to meet him.” 

Huffing, you reach for your phone and look at the recently added contact before shaking your head. 

Indulging in a fantasy it's fine, as long as you keep it to yourself. 

You get a chance to prove yourself wrong if you allow yourself to see him again. 

“Not a chance in hell.”

Couple of minutes pass and you fidget the whole time. You're hoping for a yes, so it can all die down tonight. Seonghwa’s lack of transportation and your fantasy included.

He doesn't respond the way you need him to. 

You hate that it makes you smile a bit. 

You glance at your brother and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Would it be nice to not go wherever he is and have time to actually get ready for dinner tomorrow? Yes. 

Do you want Christian to meet Seonghwa? No. That meeting would solidify everything else as a reality, it would pull you out of your little fantasy and you don't want that. 

You want to keep it (Seonghwa) to yourself for a while longer. 

You shouldn't be flirting, you really shouldn't. 

His flirting back puts you in a dangerous zone, a territory you desperately want to explore but can't. Shouldn't. 

Is it dumb of you to re-read the conversation at least eight times before going to bed? 

Probably. 

But you do anyway. 

When Seonghwa is finally walked downstairs by his new client, he's promised a meal by Hongjoong, only if he buys some beer on the way to his apartment. 

His roommates are apparently out and he didn't feel like going, although he didn't explain why. And when he gets there, Yeosang is also splayed out on the couch and with his laptop on his belly. 

“Hwa’s here!” 

“Oh, man, finally,” Hongjoong walks out of his room with wet hair and a towel around his neck “The takeout is getting cold. Come on!” 

He seems… Off. 

Seonghwa eyes Yeosang for an answer but the youngest just shrugs and sits straight on the couch as he closes his laptop. 

“Is everything alrig—” 

“I'll explain it to you when the time is right. Something's up with the band but it's nothing we can't fix.” 

“Okay…” Seonghwa sits down on the tiny table that somehow fits the three of them, the beers and the takeout with a tiny smile, knowing not to intervene until he's told to. 

Eating with his friends is like second nature to him. Everytime it happens, it's like a family dinner and everyone knows what to do and what to serve to everyone so, soon enough, they all have their chopsticks helping them get food into their mouths while they talk about their day. 

Seonghwa is nodding along, not sharing a lot because, well, work is work and he just tells them how excited he is for the new project and what he's planning on doing, he even shows them the mockups and drawings he spent the whole afternoon making, gaining supportive praise for it a second later. 

Yeosang looks up from his meal to him “So it's like a lot of little companies inside one company?” 

“Sort of,” Seonghwa smiles “I don't really get it, either, but that's okay. It doesn't seem like I have to get the concept of the company to plan this whole thing out, only what my client wants and that's… Very different from the company image.” 

He plans on saying something else but all train of thought gets interrupted when his phone dings right besides him. 

And he almost spills his beer on his pretty mockups trying to get to it fast enough. 

Only to end up disappointed, because it's not you but a discount notification from the food app he normally uses when he has the money to order in.  

It had to show up in his face, because what he hears next has the color draining from it “Oh?” 

Oh, God. 

It's like Wooyoung's spirit possessing Hongjoong, he sees it happen in real time and the wicked smile his friend sends in his direction is enough to know where it's all going. 

Yeosang sighs and eyes him with a tiny smile that says I'm on your side, but not really. 

“Hwa… The motorcycle, the looking at your phone waiting for something or someone… Are you seeing anyone?” 

“He obviously is!” 

“Yeosang! Stop feeding his delusions!” 

“So?” Hongjoong places his beer down, cocking his head to the side inquisitively and eyeing him up and down, like he can figure something out that way “Are you?” 

“No! I just… I met this girl today and—” 

“At the company?” 

“No! No, uh… My bike broke down and—” 

“Already?!” 

“Let him talk, hyung!” 

Letting out a sigh, Hongjoong sets hips lips into an straight line that makes Seonghwa huff out a chuckle of disbelief “Thanks, Yeo. Anyway, my bike had a weird sound this morning and I took it to a shop, so the girl who's… In charge?” he frowns a little, because he's still not sure “Of the shop sent me a text a while ago saying that it's fixed, I was just checking if she sent anything else.” 

“And you like her.”

It's more than that, really. He can't even explain it, the smile tugging at his lips a dead giveaway of the whirlwind going inside his head at the thought of you. 

“Ye— No! No, I don't even know her.” 

He shouldn't feel so flustered, really, but the things he felt while looking at you earlier were weird and confusing and he needs to think straight before he lets it consume him. 

It felt a little too freeing for his liking. 

Free from what? He's not really able to pinpoint it. But it looks like he's going to have to. 

The way his friends are staring at him like they know something he doesn't it's annoying, but telling. 

“Okay, maybe I do like her a little.” 

Yeosang hums “Like her, like her or just… You know.” 

“I'm not sure…” 

“Well, figure it out!” Hongjoong is excited, almost jumping in his chair at the prospect of Seonghwa getting with someone “You have her number, ask her to… Meet you somewhere or whatever people do when they like someone.” 

“Ask her on a date, hyung. That's what this idiot is trying to say.” 

“Hey!” 

Seonghwa closes his eyes because he can't believe his friends are entertaining the idea, feeding the growing feeling inside his chest “I just met her today, though.” 

“And?” Hongjoong bites a piece of meat and shrugs, dismissively “Timing is never off when you like someone. Do something about it because I swear if I have to hear anyone else complaining about not getting with the girl they like because of timing I'll—” 

“Wait, who complained?” 

The table falls quiet as Seonghwa looks between his friends to find an answer but Yeosang just shakes his head and he gets it.

Not the time to talk about it. 

Hongjoong points at him with his chopsticks, threatenly “Do. Something. About. It. Anyway!” He gets up from his seat, points at Yeosang this time “Guess who almost got kicked out of college for messing around with the wrong crowd today?” 

“That's not what happened!” 

And Seonghwa swears he's focusing on the story Hongjoong is so eager to tell, on Yeosang’s ears turning pink at the mention of a girl he's never heard before, too. 

But all he can think about is you. 

The next day, after briefly stopping by his office, Seonghwa is back with a few coworkers who help with measurements and put their input in the assessment. He spends all day with it, too and, once again, serves as an excuse for Soohyun to get out of some meetings he's not interested in attending. 

As the day passes, he wonders how Soohyun maintains the important position he's in. Nepotism can't do everything for you, right? 

Right? 

But his new client seems down to earth enough to be aware of his advantages in an industry that's quick and cruel and doesn't hold too much space for laziness. 

So he lets it go because, well, he tends to judge but he can't really do much for people who actually deserve to be in charge. 

It's close to seven and Soohyun bidded him goodbye only a few minutes ago, saying sorry he can't walk him out because, at this time, he actually has an international call to make that can't be excused like the rest of his afternoon schedule. 

Seonghwa doesn't make it out of the office before getting stopped by a manicured hand to his chest. 

After the texts last night and Hongjoong's threats, he was practically ready to sprint downstairs to meet you (or whoever you sent) and get his bike back, maybe apologize for panicking and sending a whole ass sticker as a response instead of keeping the conversation going. 

And to see you again. God, he wants to break his Bonneville one more time just to get to see your pretty face again. 

He already idealized you in his head, which is bad and very amateur on his side, but no one needs to know that. 

But now he might have to keep all of that waiting for a few more minutes because there's someone staring at him like just committed a crime. A crime he's unaware of. 

“Who are you?” 

Her scowl tells him she's trying to get a read on him and he thinks he's transparent enough for it to be easy. If he really thinks about it, though, it looks like she wants to scare him a little bit. 

It doesn't work. 

“Um, Park Seonghwa,” he says and then points over his shoulder, to Soohyun’s office “I’m working on renovating Mr. Kim’s office?” 

“Oh, for fucks sake. Why can't no one in this family keep normal people around?” She peeks through his shoulder, the high heels she's wearing helping her with the task. Groaning, she turns around and starts heading for the elevator, mumbling something under her breath. 

The only thing he can make out of it it's something about supermodels and a it's not fair. 

She turns around briefly to look at him again and scoffs, clearly annoyed. 

“I feel like I know your face from somewhere else.” 

Seonghwa feels a little lost, but steps into the elevator when she does. Now he's afraid, maybe she's a crazy person but then it clicks. 

Clearly, he knows her from somewhere else too. 

“I'm sure the only place I've seen you before is on the news, Miss Kim,” he replies with a sheepish smile, shrugging a bit and hitting the main floor button on the panel “That's a nice tree, by the way.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“The one on Mr. Kim’s office?” he offers, turning to her “He told me his sister painted it and as far as I know, he only has one sister.” 

That brings a smile to her face and Seonghwa counts it as a small victory, for some reason. 

“Ah, so you did your research,” she nods “Please scrape it off the wall if needed. It made me bleed.” 

“He omitted that part.” 

“Of course he did, it was his fault. Anyway,” she shakes her head, stepping out of the elevator and walking ahead without waiting for him. She looks like the type of person who knows everyone else will follow and he does, but only out of curiosity “my brother has your number, yes, Mr. Park?” 

“I'm assuming he does or, at least, my company's numb—” 

“I'm not interested in your company, I'm interested in you.” 

She's also very forward. How could he not guess that from the way she carries herself around? 

“I don't usually do freelance work, Miss Kim.” 

As they both reach the main entrance, she turns around gracefully and with a, for what he can tell, very rehearsed smile tugging at her lips. 

“I'm not interested in your work either, Mr. Park.” 

That, he did guess, but it's disappointing either way. 

“Then what good am I to you?” 

Her grin widens “You'll see.” 

The sound of his Bonneville pulling up it's what gets him to turn away from the mischievous glint in the chaebol's eyes. 

And when he sees you take off a helmet that's not his and wave your hand at him, she blends into the background completely. 

You look good, hair down and probably freshly showered because there's a few droplets falling down from the ends of it to your shirt and leather jacket. Your hands are gloved up and all, like you've been riding bikes your whole life. 

He wonders if that's the case. God, he wants to get to know you so bad. 

“Oh God, not another one, I— Is she your girlfriend, Mr. Park?” 

His head snaps back, eyes wide and cheeks turning pink “N-no, I just met her yesterday, she… That's my bike, I had to get it fixed.” 

Pulling her bottom lip in with her teeth for a second, she nods and then takes two long strides into the direction of a car he didn't see until now “Perfect, then. She looks pretty cool,” she waves at you and he doesn't get to see if you wave back, too focused on getting the color out of his cheeks “Tell her I said that. Goodbye for now, Mr. Park.” 

Seonghwa wants to ask a million questions. What does she want? What does she mean goodbye for now? But he doesn't get to. She gets into the car and drives off and that leaves space for you to drive his bike again and pull up right in front of him this time. 

“Hope I didn't interrupt anything there, Ghost.”

A nervous chuckle abandons him and he manages to shake his head “No, no, she's… my client’s sister?” He offers and you smile, turning off the bike and getting off a second later “She said you're, um, cool.”

“And why would she say that?” 

“Because you look cool? I don't really know, don't question me,” he's sure the efforts he put on making the blush disappear were pointless, cheeks burning when you laugh at him “Thank you, Y/N.” 

“Don't thank me, Seonghwa, I didn't tell you how much it'll cost you yet.” 

He gulps. 

You take mercy on him and the way his eyes glisten with worry, laughing again “It's not too bad. It was the chain tensioner and my brother worked on it pretty fast, don't worry.” 

Relaxing, he takes his helmet and key off your offering hands with a tiny smile, touch lingering on your skin for a second too long “Did you enjoy seeing me suffer just now?” 

“A little bit,” you shrug and mutter your apologies although he can tell you're not sorry at all “I'll text you the invoice with the account you can send the money to?” 

No. 

He wants to say no and make you go with him to an ATM so he can pay in cash just to keep you around for a while longer, he doesn't want this interaction to be over. 

And he's usually very good at communicating things of this nature but something about you makes him giddy and nervous and his charisma is not able to keep up. 

It dawns on him that it's very weird to want to keep a stranger, someone he only met a day ago, in his life for as long as possible. 

Do you feel the same way? He wants you to feel the same way.

The unexpected desire sits on his chest heavily, making him take in a breath more shakily than he intended to. 

“Sure,” the words taste bitter on his tongue, his tone gives away that he doesn't really mean it and then said desire takes over, making him stammer the next words out “Do you want me to take you somewhere?” 

Surprised, you blink a few times and then look down at your own helmet for a second. He feels like he screwed up by asking you that. 

Of course, you don't feel the same way. Of course, you must have someone waiting for you already. 

Of course, of course, of fucking course. 

But just before he can backpedal on his offer, you're looking up, your mind made up and the same teasing smile you've been wearing ever since he saw you yesterday “It won't save you from the debt I'm about to put you through with that invoice but sure.” 

Seonghwa lets out a huff and chuckle all in the same breath, straddling his bike a second later “Ha, ha. Count it as a tip, Y/N.”

“Oh, I'm so telling my brother that,” you beam when he returns the joke and he moves a little, making space for you at the back “Somehow, I don't feel safe with you riding this bike, Ghost.” 

He ignites it and the whole thing shakes a bit before you can even put on the helmet, so he can't really refute that. 

“Do you want to ride it?” 

It's a second too late when he realizes the double meaning behind his own words, unintended, but there they are floating on the air around you both, electric and maybe one sided. 

But you don't back down, taking a step into his space and crowding him, almost towering over him even if he's on the bike and even if that makes him taller than you. It feels that way, so he welcomes the sensation and the pang of his heart against his chest when you lean in just a little. 

“Do you want me to ride it?” 

Breath caught in his throat, Seonghwa takes in your smirk as a sign that, maybe, it's not one sided at all. 

“The bike,” you clarify a second later, like it's necessary “It would be easier to get us to where I need to go, anyways.” 

Planting his feet on the ground, he keeps the Bonneville stable enough to slide back to the space he created for you a minute ago, and if you can feel his heart beating with an unfamiliar, yet exciting song when you take a seat, put your helmet on and press your back against his chest, you sure cover it up when you turn to look at him. 

“Does your fancy job provide you health insurance?” 

He lets out an amused huff “Yours doesn't?” 

“I never asked,” you shrug, taking the handles and looking forward again, leaning in slightly so now he's not that close to you but he feels you everywhere still “Just making sure in case I break you.” 

When you start driving him, handling the Bonneville in a way he never would even with the years of experience ahead of him, he wants to tell you that he wouldn't mind that. 

In fact, he finds himself wanting it. 

As he holds tight to your waist, he finds himself on the verge of telling you to break him apart piece by piece so he can do the same with you. Explore you, not physically, but in the way it truly matters. 

He wants to know your soul, he wants to understand the reason he feels attached to you after a brief meeting and little more. 

You lean back to rest your back a little at a stop sign and he suddenly doesn't care if the way he squishes your waist for a few seconds gives his intentions away. He has your number, he's going to make a move eventually. 

What he does care about is the way you don't tense up and just lean into his body a little more before resuming the task of getting both of you wherever you're going

This? The way he feels so free as you move through the highway, make your way in between the cars at stop signs and the wind hitting his arms? This is the grasp at his youth he's been waiting for. Even if it's just for the night. 

Even if it's over too soon for his liking. 

You stop in front of a house that looks empty. He wonders if it's yours for a second, but then again he's going to find out any minute soon. 

“That wasn't too bad, was it?” 

Getting down from his Bonneville, you take your helmet off and offer him your hand. He slides up his helmet so you can see his face, about to reply, but you beat him to it “Thank you so much for the ride that I technically gave myself, Park Seonghwa, it was a pleasure to meet you.” 

Why are you saying goodbye like you're not planning on seeing him ever again? 

Suddenly, he's planning on ways to mess up his bike again just to get an excuse to see you again. 

No. 

He has to be braver than that. 

Taking your hand, he pulls you in a little bit and you let out a surprised noise that looks like it embarrasses you. 

Your cheeks turn red under the streetlight and he thinks you look beautiful like that. 

“Y/N,” he starts in a whisper, gathering his courage up “Would you like to—” 

“Y/N.” A voice interrupts him and your eyes widen in panic while you look at him, slowly turning your head to the person as he does the same. 

Not before he notices how the pretty blush and all colors drain from your face. 

A guy, with blonde shaggy hair and tattoos covering his neck and hands is standing on the sidewalk with a grocery store bag and a weird look on his face. Beside him, a girl who’s smile fades away when she seems to recognize you scoffs. 

The guy smiles and Seonghwa wonders why you don't say anything back, your grasp on his hand tightening before letting go. 

“There you are, your dad said—” 

“Ghost?” 

Seonghwa doesn't like the way your voice shakes when you say the nickname he's grown used to in such a short amount of time. 

“Yes?” 

You don't bother putting the helmet back on, simply dropping it to the ground and turning back at him “I trust you to ride this bike now, yeah?” 

He doesn't have to be told twice. Making space for you again, you hop on and hug his waste. He slides his helmet back on. 

The guy takes a few steps but Seonghwa stops him with the sound of him revving his Bonneville “Come on, Y/N…” Is what he says when he starts to drive off, accelerating just a little bit before the houses start fading and the busy highway welcomes you both. 

Deokhee has some nerve. 

The fact that he does boils your bloodstream and you wish you could say that the warm sensation spreading through your body is caused by the guy who you're currently holding to. 

Seonghwa has checked in with you once and, after confirming you were okay to keep going, he has held your gloved hands at every red light and stop sign. 

You have no idea where you're going, but you're sure you can't go home and deal with this alone for now. He can't take you home, either (he doesn't know the address) but even if he could, you wouldn't let him. 

The nameless girl that was with Deokhee is the same girl he cheated with. A girl who, by judging her expression, probably knew about you. 

Mind going as fast as the Boneville, you ask yourself how many times she made fun of you for grasping a fantasy, a make-believe story with her now boyfriend. 

What did you lack that she obviously has? What prompted him to hurt you this badly? 

Is he stupid enough to not realize that the sight of them together would tear you apart all over again? 

The scene replays in your head again, after all these years of trying to get over it: Him, holding your hand and telling you how amazing you were to him but that, in all honesty, he didn't see himself going out with someone like you. 

You were too much, too proud, too loud. 

Which doesn't make any fucking sense because although you never held back a jab or a sarcastic comment if needed, you knew the time and place to speak your mind. 

It also didn't make any fucking sense because he knew you would keep his little secret from your father and your brother and, in consequence, keep the relationship you both had and the cowardly way it ended from his family as well. 

You were too much, composed of many flaws and adorned with rough and burnt edges, but you would never in a million years tarnish the happiness of the people who love you because of a rookie mistake. 

Falling in love with Deokhee was a rookie, horrible mistake. 

Falling in love in general? You doubt it. 

Because the way Seonghwa takes his time to slow down the bike on a lookout you were too distracted to notice you were climbing up to, pulls it to a full stop and then immediately reaches for your hands again, makes you believe there's good people out there after all. 

He took you away without asking any questions and you're suddenly welcomed with the same grateful feeling you have towards your family. 

Had you stayed there, you're not so sure you would've kept your words to yourself anymore. Your pain, your anger. 

Getting down from the bike, Seonghwa takes his helmet off and drops it in front of you, on the seat, before leaning in a searching for your glossy eyes. 

You can see him hesitate through the fog your tears form and you don't let them drop just yet. You're angry, but there's no way you would let Deokhee make you cry again in this lifetime. 

You should get down from the bike, but it doesn't move under your weight even if you readjust your position on the seat and you fear that, if you do, you would only plop down into the ground and let it swallow you whole. 

You should say something, too. Thank him, probably, but the tall man lets out a breath before opening his arms and pointing at the view. Gladly, you take the opportunity to take in your surroundings and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Didn't know where else to take you, so I brought you to my breaking point.” 

“Hm?” frowning a bit, you peel your eyes from the city lights to him “Your breaking point?”

“Yeah, that's what I call it,” he smiles and you do too, halfheartedly “Here's where I come to break down and let everything out. There's a playground back there too,” he points behind him and you scoff, amused “If you want to climb up somewhere and scream. The neighbors don't mind it.” 

“I take that as a I've done it before.” 

“Once or twice,” he shrugs “It's good for the soul.” 

“God,” you cover your face with your hands “I'm so embarrassed you had to see me like that.” 

“Like what? You didn't do anything.” 

“Running away and acting all weak in front of…” you fake gag, but it's kind of real “Some guy.” 

A bit of silence passes in between you and your savior. 

And then Seonghwa laughs so hard you're forced to uncover your face and stare at him in disbelief “I'm serious! That's like… top one most embarrassing thing I've ever done.” 

His laugh comes to a stop and he doesn't step closer even if you want him to, just puts his hands in the pockets of his pants and looks at you for what it feels like forever. 

You don't mind it one bit. 

“I've known you for a day, Y/N, but even I can tell that's not the most embarrassing thing you've done.” 

Sulking, you turn to the beautiful view one more time and pout like a child. You want to tell him he's right, but your pride doesn't really allow it just yet. 

It's quiet for a minute or two. You move around, throw your leg over the Boneville and sit on top of it as you stare at the city. You feel Seonghwa move around, pace behind you until he finally reaches around takes a few steps before stopping on the railing separating the street from the hill. 

He's looking in your direction instead of the view. You realize he's giving you space to sulk, to take in everything without pestering you with questions about why the hell you both just bolted instead of facing the situation. 

Your gratitude towards him rises a bit more. 

So your word vomit is justified, you think, because you don't want to leave him in the dark any longer. 

The fantasy you indulged yourself in earlier might just grow into a reality you have to embrace, a reality you want to embrace. 

“He's my ex-something and the girl he was with is the one he chose over me. I was supposed to have dinner with them— Well, no, not really,” you sigh, looking at Seonghwa who, in the deem light, just nods and waits for you to continue “He's my dad’s best friend's son and we have dinner with them every Tuesday. Their family, I mean. Deokhee… He never shows up,” you shrug “And when he does, he's alone and it's towards the end of it all so I never get to see him that long. But this?” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “I never thought he would do this to me.”

Finally getting off the bike, you walk slowly towards the railing as well and feel Seonghwa's eyes follow you as you do “He cheated on me with her, for Christ sake.” You whisper once the metal of the railing stops your step. 

“How long ago?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“No,” from the corner of your eye, you see how he shakes his head and leans in slightly “I'm wondering because if I was your dad or your brother or your friend, I would've done something to, at least, ensure something like this never happens to you.” 

“Yeah, about that…” A bitter chuckle abandons you and you shrug one more time “They don't really know what happened between us— They don't know something happened in the first place,” ashamed, once again, you turn to him “He asked me to not tell anyone when we started… Ack, whatever, it doesn't really matter.” 

“It does if it's affecting you,” he insists “It does if you go pale at the sight of him, Y/N. Did he do—” 

“No,” you cut him off, the corners of your lips lifting a bit “He didn't do anything weird besides breaking my heart.” 

“Good.” 

“I would've killed him if he did, by the way.” 

“As you should,” he returns right away and finally, for the first time in the twenty minutes it took both of you to get there, you laugh sincerely. That prompts a smile on his lips “Good to know he's an idiot but not that type of idiot.” 

Huffing, you turn to the city before you again “The only idiot in this situation is me.” 

“For loving someone? Y/N,” his hand reaches your shoulder and you close your eyes in defeat, surrendering your heart to the weird emotion it brings you “He cheated on you. He's the idiot, the dumbass, the—” 

Laughing again, his rant comes to an end and you open your eyes to find him staring at you in delight “Park Seonghwa,” you start, putting a hand over his on your shoulder “You, sir, don't know me.” 

The reminder does nothing to stop him from looking at you with stars in his eyes “I'm a great judge of character, Y/N.” 

“And if you're wrong?” 

“Then let me be wrong,” he shortens the distance a bit, the warmth on your shoulder leaving as he lowers both of your hands, not letting go “But let me get to know you first.” 

The emotion grows bigger, it swirls around your heart and spreads around your body in a way you never felt. It feels good and you hate to compare it to what you felt for Deokhee but where it once was filled with regrets and doubts and a need to hold on tight to whatever that guy made you feel now sits something that you can only describe as excitement and thrill. 

Peaceful, too. 

It steals your breath in a beautiful way. 

Squeezing his hand a little, you inhale slowly and let go of the air when you speak “I don't really do dates, Ghost.” 

“I didn't ask you on a date,” he counters immediately and your cheeks darken “I asked if I could get to know you. We don't have to go on dates, talking to you is enough.” 

“O-oh, I… I thought—” 

He seems to get it right away because he takes another step, your arm pressed to his by now, your hands still tangled in the middle “I one hundred percent meant it that way,” he assures you, chuckling a bit “But I don't really do dates either. Asking you out to a restaurant or a movie or whatever it is people do on dates doesn't really suit me.” 

“How so?” 

“There's this… Weird intention laced into it, into the prospect of a date that I don't particularly enjoy. I want to get to know people and see where it takes us without pressuring ourselves into anything romantic or sexual.” Your heart picks up at that. Not at the image it paints, but at his explanation as a whole. 

It shows he might be interested in you beyond something physical and it's a beautiful thing to note when, all your life, you have felt like people only wanted you for one thing and one thing only. 

You intend to tell him just that but the way he's looking at you makes you forget everything else. Brown eyes scan every inch of your face and stop at your lips for a second. 

Now your heart beats for a different reason. 

“No matter… How bad I want to kiss you, though.” 

Words fall short. They do when for the first time in a long time you entertain the possibility of letting yourself want to kiss someone else, too. 

Leaning in and straightening your back fully to give you the possibility of almost standing face to face with him, you silently communicate your desire. 

It's not enough. He's too respectful. 

Fuck, you like him a lot already. 

“If you want to kiss me then just kiss me…” you whisper, teasing smile in full display “Dummy.” 

He fakes a gasp at your jab as he leans in, his pretty nose bumping into yours for a second and making you giggle, part your lips and close your eyes while buzzing with expectation. 

The sky has other plans, though. It roars above you and you both look up. 

It's been cloudy, a couple of days of unusual humidity throwing off everyone but you guess the steam gathered up in the clouds just in time to knock some sense of reality into you. 

Or pushing you further into the craziness of this one day alone. 

Seonghwa groans a little and then a phone starts ringing in someone's pocket. 

Not yours, you made sure to hit the not disturb button as soon as you got ahold of it. 

You should probably tell your brother you're okay. 

But Seonghwa is still close to you, his lips a breath away from yours, so you put it aside when he shows no intention of picking up his call either. 

The tension builds up again, both of you ignoring the thunderstorm approaching and everything else. 

There's many things from today you're not going to be able to explain any time soon, the magnetic pull Seonghwa had on you the first time you laid eyes on him is one of them, the freedom you touch with your fingertips when your mind is finally off your duty, off your family… 

It's so dangerous you quickly become addicted to the recklessness of it all. 

And then his phone starts ringing again, so you welcome the reality that washes over you with a sour face and pout on your lips. 

“The universe must be against us being a thing, huh?” You whisper and he clicks his tongue in disapproval, resting his forehead on yours for a second before pulling away completely, pulling out his phone from his pocket. 

“I don't think the universe has much to do with this one, dear,” he frowns and misses the way you flush at the sudden nickname. You swear on your life, normally you would be pretty disgusted at the endearment. Now? You want him to call you that again “I should take this and we should probably go somewhere else. There's not much to cover us up if it starts raining.” 

“Sure, uh…” You fish your phone from your pocket as well, grimacing when you look at the missed calls and texts “I have to make a call, too.” 

He seems to understand immediately “Go right ahead.” 

Putting even more distance in between both of you, you faintly hear a what's going on from Seonghwa and then tap your screen to return your brother's call. 

He picks up right away. 

“Are you okay?!” 

His tone forces your eyes closed. Rushed, you picture him in the backyard with a cigarette in between his fingers, trying to get ahold of himself without worrying everyone else too much “Yeah, I'm okay. I'm with a friend and—” 

“Then why don't you pick up the fucking phone?!” 

“Calm down,” taking in a breath and letting it out, you hear him do the same before continuing “Is there a way I can explain all of this to you tomorrow? I'm fine, Deokhee is a dick and I don't ever want to see him so I ran away like a—” 

“What did he do?” 

“No, nothing now, it's just… Listen, I'll explain tomorrow, alright? I'm staying with my friend tonight and everything will make sense tomorrow. It's really dumb, like… Teenage drama dumb,” you sigh, hoping that the minimal information you're giving him can help him figure it out “Just tell dad that I'm fine and if he asks I'm with a friend who is a girl and she's staying over at my place because there was a… Boy emergency or whatever.” 

“Are you with—” what seems to click is something else and your brother gasps “Y/N!” 

“Can you help out this time?”

The silence on the line seems to extend forever and guilt licks your throat, giving you the feeling that it's about to close up. 

You want to grasp what you felt a minute ago again, the freedom of this, of doing too much, of unnecessarily putting Christian through it because he already did so much for you growing up. 

Just tonight, at least, you owe yourself the feeling of not proving your place in your own family. 

But the silence hurts and you wonder if you could ever, truly, be free from it. 

“You owe me an explanation. Take care and text me goodnight at least, yeah?” 

“Okay,” you whisper back “Thank you, Ian.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, kid.” 

His words fill your eyes with tears again and you don't get to reciprocate them before he hangs up. You know he knows, but it still hurts when you remember how unlovable you felt before you met him as a child.

It hurts when you remember that you allowed Deokhee to make that feeling return. 

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. 

And the more it hurts, the more the sky rumbles and you fear that, if you break down here and now, it would not only embarrass you in front of Seonghwa but also strand him on this hill with you. 

It doesn't matter that he calls this his breaking point, it's not yours to use. 

So again, your tears stay at bay and when you turn around you catch Seonghwa looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. 

He wants to hug you, his body language gives him away as soon as he steps closer to you but a storm is about to soak through your clothes any second, so you pass him and grab his hand to pull him to his bike in the process. 

When his fingers intertwine with yours, you know he understands. He doesn't make any questions, he doesn't press any information out of you and just allows you to climb his motorcycle. 

“We need to leave.” 

“Where do you want to go?” he asks, getting on the bike as well and goes in for his helmet but your words stop him. 

“Do you want to stay the night with me?” 

Turning his head, he blinks at you a few times and you smile a little before the curve fades away. 

“I have my own place, we can order something in and just talk. Seonghwa, you…” biting the inside of your cheek, you try to approach this the right way “I don't expect this to go anywhere but can't you… Do you feel it too?” 

He stays silent and you fear you might've taken it too far. But it doesn't really matter. Willing to take the risk, you take his hand on yours again and hold it close to your heart. 

The sky roars again in response. 

And you catch when his breath hitches because of it, too. 

“Do you feel it, Seonghwa?” 

A bit passes and then some, his eyes searching for something in yours and then dropping to where your heart beats again.

“What's your address?”

It's already raining by the time you both get into your building’s garage and park his Bonneville. 

The entire ride was a bit long. It had you resting your head on his back while his fingers tapped against yours with impatience. 

But when you make it to the safe space that is the elevator, clothes showing the evidence of the droplets falling from the sky and all, you finally get to breathe. 

Until Seonghwa steals that breath away again. 

He stares at you through the mirror, steps closer until he can take your face with his hands and swipes under your eyes where the makeup has run a little. 

“Ghost…” 

‘I didn't answer before,” he murmurs and wet his lips with his tongue. You can't help but stare at them, the moment somehow more intimate now, under the fluorescent glow of the elevator, than with the city lights and lighting above you “But I do feel it. I stand on what I said before, though.” 

“No dating?” 

He chuckles “No, not that,” shaking his head, he steps away when the elevator gets to your floor “I want to get to know you either way.” 

“Ah. That,” you feel silly for assuming he didn't want to date you, but given your history you're not sure you can blame yourself too much “Well, you're about to see my cave, so we're both halfway there.” 

As soon as you open the door and turn on the light, you can see in his face that he sees what you mean. 

It's a one bedroom apartment that doesn't leave too much to the imagination. Your bedroom’s door is opened, the bathroom door is closed and the kitchen is an American style one that's separated from the living space by a small counter you can barely fit your mail on. 

There's a lot of old furniture that you remodeled, painted over the cracks and stuffed where you needed the most. Your fridge is also old, the couch is somehow the only modern looking item in the living room and it stands out a bit because its material is not as worn out as everything else. 

There's posters on the walls, unframed and placed randomly because, here, you don't have to be put together. The only people who come over are your brother and your dad, so it's okay. 

It's not even an old building, but your apartment makes it look like one. 

“Hope you don't mind the mess, Grandpa.” 

“Oh, I'm not Ghost anymore?” He asks with a breathy laugh, taking his shoes off as you place yours by the entrance and shrugging his jacket off too “It's not messy, it's… Kind of like the shop, really.” 

Mirroring his actions, you take off the leather jacket and welcome the warmth of your apartment “Greasy?” 

“Cool,” he corrects and you walk through your space picking up a few things from the floor and putting them by the living room table “Is it yours, by the way?” 

“The shop?” he nods and you walk to your fridge to fetch you both some water bottles “It's my dads. Why do you ask?” 

“You seemed to own the place, with the way you walked around it,” shrugging, he takes a seat on your couch as he takes in the space “I just wondered…” 

Walking in front of him on purpose, because you could've easily rounded the table and sat at the opposite edge of the couch, you sit right beside him and offer him a water bottle that he takes with a whispered thanks “You wondered…” 

“A lot of stuff, actually,” he admits and you smile “Like your age, for example. Your last name, how did you end up working as a mechanic, if you were studying something, if you…” he pauses and turns to the side, resting his shoulder on the couch “If you liked me the way I liked you.” 

Choking on the water you're gulping down, it's very evident you didn't think he was about to go down that lane again. 

So directly, too. 

He laughs, leaning in and wiping your chin with a familiarity that has you even more breathless than his confession. No, scratch that, it's all of it. All of him. 

“Don't make me get on that bike again tonight, dear.” 

That goddamn endearment again. You might risk it all and kiss him, chin wet and all. 

“Whatever for?”

“You clearly almost choked to death,” he exaggerates, probably an excuse to stay that close to you longer than he needs to “And it was my fault, too.” 

Smiling and shaking your head, you push him a bit until he falls back into his previous position, smugness tugging at his lips in a way that has your insides jolting up with excitement “I do like you, Ghost.” 

“I know that now, but earlier I did wonder.” 

“Wondering is such a dangerous thing, isn't it?” 

His smile settles with a softness that melts you, your hand back in his with ease “Not necessarily.”

Squeezing his hand in unspoken agreement, you nod and then try to remember the topic of conversation before… Well, before he distracted you. 

“Well, you were kind of right with your assumptions then. It's not my shop, but I grew up in it,” you shrug, letting go of his hand to grab your phone “We should probably wait to order something.” 

“Yeah, until the monsoon dies down,” he says, looking outside your window that does little to conceal the thunderstorm outside “You grew up fixing bikes?” 

“Cars,” you correct with a nod, connecting your phone to the speaker that lies under your tv “Is my day to day playlist alright?” 

“Yup,” he crosses his legs on the couch and you see from the corner of your eye how his follow your actions, heat rushing to your cheeks at how attentive he is “Did you always want to be a mechanic?” 

The question takes you by surprise, but you cover it up as you set the volume to the perfect percentage to let you two have a proper conversation without raising your voices “Kind of. It's all I'm good at, really,” you shrug “Also, my dad’s wife looked very cool in pictures growing up and I wanted to be just like her, so.”

“Your mom?” you shake your head and he frowns “Your stepmom?” 

“No, uh…” clearing your throat, you get ready to reveal a piece of you that you rarely share with other people, even if it's obvious to everyone else “I'm adopted. Me and my brother we, mmm, we used to live in this sort of… Group house, I guess, and dad just picked us one day,” word vomiting again, once that you open the dam you don't know how to stop “I mean, he's not… We're not blood related, either, he just brought me along like when you adopt a dog at a shelter and they give you their favorite blanket, you know?” 

Seonghwa is full on frowning at that and you think that, for the sake of just agreeing with you, he's going to nod and let it go, but he doesn't “I don't think you're just something your brother brought along with him. Adopting two kids is a big decision, isn't it?” 

Reluctantly, you nod. 

“Well, there you go.” 

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, though,” you shrug and sip on your water bottle again, gulping the liquid to send that lump on your throat down “But it doesn't really matter because it was a long time ago and now they're both stuck with me.” 

He shakes his head but laughs a little at your sudden shift and, this time, he does let it go. 

But you don't. 

“Thank you, by the way.” 

He smiles, a little confused “For what?” 

“Helping me when I needed you to. We don't really know each other and yet…” 

“It feels like I know you, though.” 

Sharing the sentiment, you nod “I know, it's weird but, uhm… You didn't need to do what you did for me tonight. You even took me to your breaking point!” you let out a puff of air, making it a bigger deal than what it sounds. It's a bigger deal for you, anyway “And then drove me all the way here. That's a lot.” 

“It's not much. It was my fault, really,” he shrugs and shakes his head at the confused look you give him “I kind of… Asked the universe for an excuse to stay with you, so…” 

“Ah, so it was your fault Deokhee showed up,” the lighthearted joke lands the way you intended because he laughs with a sound so beautiful it makes your heart pick up “Got it.” 

“Do you feel better? I mean, after seeing him, are you feeling better?” 

“Not really, it sucks,” you say with a bitter laugh “But I hold grudges like that. It's not…” you raise your hands in self defense suddenly “I don't want him like that anymore, it's just that I can't help but…”  

“I understand,” he whispers and you let out a sigh again, grateful that he interrupted your rambling “People believe that forgive and forget is the way to go when you're resenting someone but human beings don't really work like that, hm?” 

“Yeah…” 

Staring at him, that weird emotion that you felt at the top of the hill comes back. That dangerous warmth that makes you want to take his hand in yours and place your lips at the back of it with a familiarity you haven't really earned yet. 

So when you catch him staring at you the same way, you change the subject. 

“What do you do?” eyebrow raising, you eye him suspiciously and that makes him giggle “Meetings all day, past normal shift hours…”

“I renovate spaces, Y/N,” he laughs again “You made it sound like I work with the mafia.” 

“Do you?” 

“No. I have a buddy that does, though.” 

“Oh, so I was kind of right then?” 

“Yeah, yeah…” you both laugh again and then he looks around your living space like he did when you two first got in “You were right about the whole getting to know you just by looking at your apartment.” 

“I know, it says a lot about a person.” 

“It does!” He's excited now, sitting straighter and turning ever so slightly, your knees bumping now “There's only a few people that I trust who have those… Beige, white and black houses or apartments and that's only because I got to know them before I saw where they live.” 

“So, you have rich friends?” 

He stops and thinks for a second “Yeah, they all have a lot of money. I mean, the people I'm talking about, not my friends,” you raise your eyebrow again and he chuckles “Alright, I only have one rich friend. The rest of them are broke musicians and college students. He was actually the one who called earlier and, uhm…” 

“Interrupted us?” You offer, smiling. 

His cheeks gain a little color, maybe from the memory “Y-yeah.” 

“Everything's okay?” 

“Yes! Yeah, he wanted me to go pick him up from something but I told him I couldn't because, well—” 

“You were with me.” 

“Mhm,” you see him gulp and the mood shifts a little bit again. His face falls down as he eyes your parted lips, leaning in again ever so slightly, like he's not really thinking it through “Couldn't leave you stranded and he has a chauffeur.” 

Unconsciously, you start leaning in a bit too.

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes… D-do I like what?”

You chuckle and he breathes out a laugh, too “Renovating spaces…” 

Pressing his hands into the fabric on the couch, at your sides, he invades your space a little more now “I do… Do you like fixing cars?” 

Nodding, your nose is a whisper away from his now “I do…” 

He breathes and it lands right on your mouth, making you pant as well. 

“That's good.” 

“Mhm.” 

Eyes closing, your lips tremble a little as you wait for him to close the distance. 

“You're so fucking pretty—” 

You close the distance instead, pressing your mouth into his and letting the tension deflate your posture because you're finally tasting him. 

Your little fantasy is not a fantasy anymore. 

And it feels so fucking good. It feels good to have someone you desire, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, reciprocate your emotions and pull you closer to make acquaintance with your taste as well. 

Seonghwa makes a noise you want to engrave into your brain the second you grab his shirt and pull him to you as well. And then you move. 

The couch is stuffy, your bed is a mess and the cold from the thunderstorm makes its way to your living room even if you feel your entire body lit up from the swipe of his tongue against yours. 

So you stand up. 

You give him a teasing smile when his mouth chases after yours once you pull away “Where are you going?” 

“Another thing you should know about me,” you start, breathy, your thumb swiping your bottom lip on instinct and his eyes follow the motions “Is that I have very noisy neighbors. The woman in that apartment over there,” you point at the window right in front of yours, the building separated by the street but still close enough to tell everything that goes inside your neighbors apartment if you wanted to “Once made a complaint against me because I walked out in my underwear one time.” 

“Is she blind or bitter or something?” he asks, amused by your sudden storytelling, chest heaving as you pull your curtains closed “Or both?” 

“She's old,” you tell him, turning around “And you haven't seen me in my underwear to make that a point, Ghost.” 

“Yet,” he smirks slyly and you blush at the implication. Seonghwa reaches for you as you pass in front of him again and slip right through his fingers a second time “Now where are you going?” 

He sounds whiny. 

You like that. 

“Another thing you should know about me,” walking to the door and turning off the big light, the living room goes dark except for the lighting that illuminates it as you're making your way back to him, getting on your knees on the couch and reaching behind him to turn on a lamp that doesn't do much but, this way, at least you can see each other “Is that I don't invest in new shit. Can't afford it, so those curtains are useless during the day… And when the lights are turned on.” 

“You don't want people to gossip about you kissing a hot guy?” 

“Wow,” his cockiness is clearly a joke but you won't let the opportunity of making fun of him go “Is the hot guy in the room with us?”  

He beams at you. 

“Oh, shut up, Y/N.” 

Humming and feeling a lot more comfortable now that you know that, in fact, the spotlight won't be on you when you keep kissing his lips raw as you intend to, you loop your index finger in the collar of his shirt and tug with minimal force at it. 

He acts like you put a lot of strength while doing it, his lips a breath from yours again as a consequence.  

You're about to let out a witty remark, something to keep the teasing and flirting going but then his eyes actually light up like the sky when the song playing on the speaker changes. 

“That's what you were humming yesterday!” His hands fall to your waist and you all but get whiplashed at the quick change in attitude. 

He looked like he was about to risk it all a second ago and now he's letting his back fall into the couch and taking you with him. 

“Huh?”

“I didn't saw anyone when I came into the shop yesterday and then I heard you humming this song.” 

“Oh,” you laugh, braising yourself on your forearms as he moves his hands up your back “Is one of my favorite songs by them.” 

“By who?”

Eyes wide as saucers, you gape at him in disbelief “Kiss?” 

“I don't know them like that!” 

“You don't know this?” he giggles under your scrutinizing gaze and you follow, still in disbelief. You don't really know what possesses you, but you start singing along to the lyrics “I was made for lovin’ you, baby. You were made for lovin’ me.” 

Seonghwa's laughter dies down at that and you notice it too: How the words somehow seem fitting even though you is day two of knowing him. 

The way his heart beats under the palm you place right above it, on his chest, feels intoxicating. 

So you descend again, your front colliding with his and your mouth grazing his beautiful one as you sing the song to him. 

“And I can't get enough of you baby, can you get enough of me?” 

“Fuck…” 

You laugh “That's not really how it goe—” 

His tongue probing your lips open shuts you up for good. 

Seonghwa's hands hold you close, tracing the curve on your back slowly with his thumbs until he finds that spot where your shirt rode up a little, goosebumps on your skin letting him know what he provokes on you. 

There's never been a point in time where you let yourself wonder if you're moving too fast. 

For you, someone who had to take every chance they got in life to get something, out of fear the opportunity wouldn't show up again, this thing you got with Seonghwa feels like it's going at the right pace. 

You both like each other, that much is clear. 

Nothing dramatic has really happened to bond you two together, but it feels like it has. 

Like you're bonded. 

Like it was fated, somehow. 

Like his motorcycle had to break down and he had to walk into the shop when you were the only one there to assist him. 

Like he had to see you breakdown, take you away from the despair Deokhee brings to your soul, in order for you to finally let go and move on to greater things. 

And there's nothing greater than feeling his hand travel down and absentmindedly grab your ass, a noise of satisfaction slipping through your lips and landing on his at the feeling. 

“I'm so—” 

“I liked it,” your smile blends with his as you peck his lips and he does it again, gaining a pleased hum from you “Come here, Ghost.” 

“Where?” 

Disentangling your limbs from his, you follow your original plan and slip from the couch to the floor, your knees hitting the soft carpet you have under the coffee table you're grateful is not that in the way.

Seonghwa sits on the couch again, opening his legs to accommodate the new position you're in and you see the image get to him before the suggestion hits your head. 

You see him gulp when you lick your lips and then it's your turn to gulp, trying to understand if this is something he wants as much as you want it.

Because suddenly you want it. You want it so much. 

It doesn't take much to gather up the courage to touch him, his thighs inviting you to caress them with your nails, teasing, testing him “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, hooded eyes and a soft, whiny, trembling tone making fidget on your knees “More than okay.” 

It makes you smile. But there's things to clear up before you go any further. 

“I don't want you to think I brought you to my house just to get on my knees in front of you, Seonghwa.” 

“I don't… I w-would never think that,” you nod and he releases a shuddering breath “I don't want you to think that this is all I want from you either, Y/N.” 

“I don't think that,” you whisper “but thank you for making it clear.” 

“Mhm, I… Oh.” He stops when your touch trails higher and you take your hands away. 

“You wanted to say something else?” 

“N-no.” 

Squinting your eyes at him, you press “You sure?” 

“I was going to say that I want you… S-so please touch me, please.” 

Who would've thought that a man begging would turn you on so, so much? 

You catch on to it immediately. Lowering your hands again, this time around his calves, you pull him a little so he can sit on the edge of the worned out couch. 

He follows suit. 

“You want me to touch you?” you murmur and he nods “Where?”

He closes his eyes, blush beautifully creeping up his neck “Y/N…” 

“You asked me to touch you, but I already was…” you say, like it's the most obvious thing ever “So where do you want to be touched, hm?” 

Straightening your spine and angling yourself upwards, your nose hovers just below his chin. Hands starting to go up again, you hear his breath hitched when your palm grabs into the fabric of his pants before letting it go, the sound of it hitting the skin under making you and him release a noise. 

“How do you want to be touched?” 

Looking down, Seonghwa's mouth barely brushes your nose when he says “So it's going to be like this?” 

“It's working for you,” you whisper back, the pad of your fingers pressing on his inner thighs and, when you look down, the tent in his pants curves your lips with pride that shows when you turn to him again “Isn't it?” 

Pupils blown, he bites down on his lip and you see, for a slight second, a switch in his demeanor that makes you want to drop the teasing just to ask him to take you right there, on the floor, on the couch, wherever he wants to. 

But, as soon as your fingernails trace the outline of his cock, he switches back “P-please...” 

He doesn't have to beg you anymore. 

Desperate to have him squirming under your touch, you push a little with your thumbs and he whines, a sweet sound you can't treasure as long as you want to because hand grabs your neck and his mouth crushes yours in want. 

In a few seconds, the button of his pants is off and the fabric is pooling at his ankles. You help him out of them, his mouth never leaving yours except when you two break apart to pass sweet moans in between kisses and barely there bites. 

Boxers succumbing to the same fate as his pants, you get him needy and panting into your open mouth as you finally take him fully into your hand. 

Pumping one and then twice, you finally pull away to look at him and the sight that welcomes you is beautiful, big and oozing at the tip. 

Eyes connecting with Seonghwa’s again, you make sure he's looking at you before gathering spit and letting it fall into your hand. 

He moans. 

And then he moans a little more when you start working his length, butt connecting to the carpet once again to give him attention fully. 

It feels invigorating, the control he gives you makes you float into an intimate space you never had the opportunity to explore before and that just adds up to the list of things you're grateful for. 

You take in his reactions, the way he's having a hard time keeping his mouth shut when you get close to the tip and tease it before going back down, the way his breath catches in his throat when you lean in and blow some air on it before letting yourself have a taste of him. 

Licking around the tip and eyeing him as you do so, you get to catch him throw his head back in bliss. Then, you indulge both of you a little bit more: hollowing your cheeks, you move forward to take him in your mouth. 

And then you moan around him at the feeling and he shivers under the palm you placed on his knee to keep steady as you suck him off. 

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dear,” he encourages and you bat your eyelashes at him teasingly, making him chuckle before whining again. Tangling his fingers on your head to guide you to the right speed, he closes his eyes and curses under his breath “So fucking good.” 

It only makes you want to hear him again. So you do your best to stay on him, breathing through your nose and continuing your ministrations as you moans above you, filling your living room with sounds you want to plaster across the walls, encapsulate in a bottle to hear them again when he's not with you. 

You take him deeper and his grasp on your head tenses before you release him with a lewd sound you didn't really intend to make. 

Breathing hard, you let out a whine when he tilts your head back. He looks at you with indescribable desire, want and a little smile that prones yours. 

“You have no idea,” he starts, leaning in to take you mouth with his again, tongue swiping at the saliva that gathered under your bottom lip “How bad I want to ruin you now.” 

Oh, so maybe he's not as submissive as you thought. You should've guessed it, the slight switch and the little glint earlier would've hinted you his true intimate nature if you weren't so busy trying to get the act up. 

“Only if you want to, of course.” 

And yet, he's such a fucking gentleman. You can practically feel yourself getting wetter at his words. 

Your whisper is sweet, a confirmation on what you want and what he obviously wants to hear “Come here, Ghost.” 

You make space for him on the floor and he doesn't question why the both of you are not on the way to your bed right now. 

He seems to like it, even, so you giggle into his mouth at his eagerness to lay you down on the soft carpet and hum appreciatively when his hands bypass your shirt and grab your bare waist to accommodate you both into a comfortable position. 

With his leg in between yours and his chest pressed against you, he kisses you until you're pliant, needy and janking him down to earn some sort of friction. 

Mouth descending down your cheek, into your jaw and then your neck, Seonghwa scatters kisses in the soft spots like he already mapped you out with his mouth. 

His hands touch you where you like, his knee bumps into your core to keep you there as he works his way through you like he had you like this before and it's addicting. 

It feels right. 

He mouths at the valley of your breasts and softly sinks his teeth into the flesh through your shirt and it makes you dizzy, letting out a moan that makes him smile. 

Touching him too, you give his back some attention before sinking your fingers on his silky hair and tugging at the strands. 

He kisses down, down, down until he reaches your belly and then bites you the same way he did seconds ago “Ghost…” 

“Say my name, Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“I love when you call me Ghost,” he starts, breathing hard and you watch his nose disappear under the fabric of your shirt, raising it a bit more when he moves to be eye to eye with you “but I want you to call my name if I'm making you feel good,” kissing the sense out of you for a few seconds, he talks against your mouth “Can you do that for me, dear?” 

“Yes,” you barely nod, opening your eyes to find his “Seonghwa.” 

The way you whisper his name, needy and teasingly at the same time, seems to wake something else in him. 

Because in a second, he's asking you to raise your body a little so he can take your shirt off. You help him with his and he moves to undo the clasp on your bra after asking for permission one more time and you shouldn't really find his insistent questioning of consent so hot but you do. 

He takes his time with you, exploring you with his mouth as you do your best to keep still under him. He kisses your chest, rounding your nipples with his tongue and taking them into his mouth after.

Lightning illuminates the room and electricity runs through you and settles into your core. 

“Seonghwa…” 

The sky roars when he gives your legs attention over the fabric of your pants, moans blending into the thunder and the sound of the raindrops against the window when he pulls back and raises your left leg to kiss a path from your ankle to your thigh. 

You buck your hips at the feeling, asking for more without really saying anything and he smiles before moving to your right leg and giving it the same amount of attention. 

“You want me to touch you?” He asks and you're about to call him out for being mean and clueless, but his smirk proves he's only teasing “Where do you want me to touch you, Y/N?” voice low and dripping in honey, he unbuttons your pants and you're not too fucked out yet to know he's returning the way you tortured him earlier “How do you want me to touch you?” 

Your pants end up meeting with his somewhere under the coffee table and you smile when he zeroes on the wet patch your arousal has formed on your underwear. 

And, unlike him, you're not actually humble in asking what you want “Don't you want to taste the mess you've made, Seonghwa?” 

When he eats you out, he makes sure to taste it real good. Open you up with his fingers, learn the right pace and pressure until heat pools on your lower abdomen and you're incoherently babbling praises under your breath. 

When you come undone on his tongue, you make sure to repeat his name like a mantra. Over and over again until he's sated with his meal and leaves the remnants of it in wet marks as he makes his way up to your mouth. 

Tasting yourself on his tongue is heaven. 

“Sound so pretty for me, you're so… Fuck, Y/N.” 

Taking him into your hand again, his dick twitches at the sudden attention it's getting and you explore the skin on his neck, lap at his collarbone and nuzzle against it because you just can't get enough. 

“I want you inside me, Seonghwa,” you whisper against his skin and you see him close his eyes when your other hand joins you on his chest, thumb against his nipple “Ruin me like you promised, hm?” 

He grabs your chin, eyes dark with passion and affection in a way you never want to forget “Your filthy mouth might be the death of me.” He whispers and you giggle, bratty.

“Good, I never want you to forget it,” you whisper back “I never want you to forget me.” 

“Never in a million years, dear.” 

Happy at his response, you kiss him and feel the warmth of his hand leaving you to try and grab his pants again. You giggle when he curses lowly, letting go of him so he can take a condom out of his wallet with a smile on his face. 

He looks back at you in the process, shaking his head in amusement at the way you're taking the tender pause and he's smiling when he rolls on the condom as well as when he lowers himself so he can kiss you senseless again. 

When Seonghwa enters you, the whiny mess he was when you first touched him makes its comeback and you welcomed it as you sink your nails into the skin of his waist, accompanying his slow movements as he eases you open. 

Soon, you're a whiny mess too. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear and kisses your shoulder while you hug him tight to you and let yourself get lost in the buck of his hips and the way he slows downs to make the moment last, like you're not planning on keeping him in your life and making him see stars whenever he wants. 

When he picks up the pace, the living room is warmer than it was when you first came in and the cold from the storm outside it's forgotten as his sweaty forehead rests on yours and his hips snap into yours with vigor.

“That’s it, dear. God, you feel so good…” 

Ruin you he does. Because this time, as he flicks your clit with his thumb and you come, it solidifies the fact that there's no one else you want. 

Is it crazy and a little rushed because you just met him? Yes. 

Do you give a damn? No. No you fucking dont. 

He ruins you for good and for everyone else, as well. 

“Seonghwa! Fuck, fuck, don't stop.” You beg, overstimulated and hips aching, but wanting him to reach his high so badly none of that matters. 

When his hips stutter, you take his ass with your hands and keep him in place, buried deep inside of you and walls pulsing around him as he comes with a beautiful cry and a rasp of your name in his throat. 

Panting, you take the opportunity to kiss his face as he comes down, nose slowly caressing his with affection and gratefulness and emotion you can't express because it's not the time yet. 

“God, Y/N.” He breathes out with a chuckle and you reciprocate it, kissing his mouth once more before deflating against the soft carpet under you. 

“I know,” you look at him, at his fucked out expression and the cute way he kisses the hand you use to wipe the sweat out of his face makes you feel giddy and in love, even if you know you're aren't in love with him yet “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.” 

Laughing, he nods in agreement “God bless the fucking thunderstorm.” 

He kisses you again and then pulls out, making a quick work on the condom and asking for the bathroom so he can dispose of it before making his way back to you. 

When he does, you're already sitting down, still naked, but sipping at your forgotten water bottle. Sitting down next to you, he places a kiss on top of your head.

The carpet is definitely going to use some cleaning after tonight, but that's okay. 

There's a bit of comfortable silence as you both recover from the amazing sex you just had. He takes a sip of your water bottle as well and then there's another thunder that shakes your window and all, making you both jump a little. 

Seonghwa “Do you… Mind if I stay over?” 

You snort “I wasn't planning on letting you go anywhere, Ghost.” 

He smiles, getting close to your face again “Even if it stops raining?” 

You nod, pecking his lips “Even if I have to go and clean up my room just for you.” 

“Oh, wow,” he whistles loud and you push him in feign annoyance, looking around for your underwear “You like me, like me.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

He attempts to hug you but you push him away again and stand up, making a quick job of putting your panties back on “Say that you like me and I'll let you kidnap me if you want.” 

“That's not how kidnapping works, idiot.” 

He gets up as well, taking his underwear and putting it on as he follows you around your apartment. 

You quicken your step, but he catches you right as you enter the mess in your bedroom. He hugs you tight, you back against his bare chest and his chin on your shoulder a second later “I'll honestly let you keep me even if you say you hate me, Y/N.”

Is sweet and it should make you cringe but you all but melt against his touch. There's no really a need to tell him you like him when you place his hand on top of your chest so he can take in the way your heart beats for him for the second time tonight. 

“Good,” you turn a little, smiling at him and then turning to your room again “Do you want to help me clean this up just to make it messy again?” 

“Y/N!” 

Seonghwa doesn't help you clean your room. He, in fact, makes it a lot messier as soon as you two get into bed and when he falls asleep he dreams of a life where he can be by your side every night. 

The only thing that disturbs his sweet dreams is the way you squirm in his hold and he can't quite place the reason for it until he hears the loud, banging alarm ringtone he has set at six thirty so he can get ready for work. 

Murmuring and still half asleep, you slap his chest so he can tend to it “Turn it off, Ghost.” 

He does and he checks the time and the screen of his phone to find a message from his boss. It reads something about taking the opportunity to take the rainy day and work from home or something like that and Seonghwa can confirm, looking through your bedroom window, that the rain falls softly against it still. 

He smiles, grateful to have his laptop with him so he can work on his report if you decide not to kick him out first thing in the morning, and then rolls back to you so he can cuddle you and sleep in for the first time in months of commuting to the office. 

Then his phone rings again. 

Both of you groan at the sound and you sit up, the big t-shirt you put on after taking a shower gathering messily around your waist and he almost forgets about the call at the sight of you. 

You're so beautiful. 

“Pick it up and tell them to go fuck themselves for calling you so early. What the fuck.” 

He smiles “Bossy.” 

“You like it.” You say, smiling back and falling on top of him as he answers the call from an unknown number, your cheek resting on his chest. 

He makes sure his voice sounds extra sleepy when he does “Hello?” 

“Good morning, mister Park!” It's a woman on the line, a voice he recognizes but can't quite place yet “I'm sorry to wake you up, but yesterday you asked me what good you're to me… Guess what? You can find out today!” 

She sounds sarcastic and tired and like she drank seventy energy drinks to stay awake. Seonghwa scavenges his brain until the memory hits him “Miss Kim?” 

You look up at that, curious. 

“The one and only. Now, tonight you will accompany me to a party and—” 

“Miss Kim—” 

“I'm not finished,” you cuts him off, annoyed “At the party, I need you to pretend to be my boyfri—” 

“No.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“No, I will not go to the party with you and no, I will not pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

Now, you sit up on the bed again and frown at him. He shrugs and sits up as well.

“This could be a really great opportunity for you to gain connections and—” 

“Miss Kim,” he starts and, after taking in the sudden desperation on her voice, he sighs “I'm flattered you have taken me into consideration for this… Particular, uhm, job?” He offers, feeling awkward as hell “But my day is taken and I'm not single anymore, so I can't do it.” 

He watches you as you break into a little knowing smile and he smiles back, not even the disappointed sigh Miss Kim lets out on the other side of the line can break him away from the spell you so easily put him under. 

“This is very inconvenient for me but I hope you and the cool girl I saw yesterday are happy together… Even if it ruins my happiness forever!” She sounds like she doesn't really mean the last part but it's trying hard to make it seem like she does “God… Ugh. Don't mention this to my brother and please cover that stupid tree up, okay? Goodbye.” 

She hangs up before he even gets the chance of saying goodbye or asking if she'll be okay. He has friends who wouldn't pass the opportunity to fake a relationship and go to a party, anyway. 

“So,” you start, getting on your knees and making your way back to him “What the fuck was that?” 

He reaches for your waist without really thinking about it, like he's been doing it his whole life and you sit on his lap like this is a morning routine you two crafted with years of experience. 

“I don't really know. Remember my client's sister?” you nod “She wanted me to be her fake boyfriend at a party tonight, I think.” 

“And you told her you're not single anymore to save face because you didn't want to go?” 

“I told her I wasn't single because I'm not,” he says, honestly “Even if you're not my girlfriend right now… I don't really want to see anyone else but you, so…” 

You fake a gasp and he rolls his eyes, smiling like an idiot when you lean in to leave a peck on his lips “And I was about to kick you out ten minutes ago!” 

Pouting, he holds you tighter “Why?” 

“That stupid alarm almost made me.” 

“I turned it off!” 

You laugh at the way he pretends to be offended and you're about to say something else before his phone starts ringing like crazy. 

It's not a call, it's a message notification. 

He turns to it and sees that Yunho is spamming the group chat with emojis. 

“Oh, God,” he sighs “What now?” 

“Is that your friend from yesterday?” 

“Mhm.” 

When Seonghwa scrolls to the messages to find something that can indicate what the hell is going on, he reads something a little alarming. 

Does anyone want to skip town tonight? 

He blocks the phone and tosses it into the bed, turning to your worried form with a smile “Do you want to meet my friends tonight?” 

You seem to get it immediately. 

“I would love to, Ghost,” you lean in to kiss him again, softly “Only if you introduce me as your girlfriend and not your mechanic, though.” 

Heart beating with a wonderful song, he agrees with soft yes and kisses you dumb for the first time today. 

He almost misses the deadline for his report, too. 

It's not really his fault that he can't get enough of you. 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[achilles-rage]

Return the Favour

summary: after buck saves reader when her apartment building goes up in flames, they run into each other at a bar. buck's on an awful first date, and reader decides to help him get out of it.

word count: 5.6k

request: I was wondering if i could request a story about Evan Buckley saving a plus size reader for like a fire or some dangerous situation and they're both attracted to each other but neither of them acts on. A few weeks later or so Buck is actually saved by reader while he's on a bad date he's trying to get out of and (like she makes up an excuse for him or plays along with something he says) and he ends up asking her out.

A/N: i'm sorry this took so long but it's finally out and i may have gotten carried away! this was my first buck request, and it was really fun! and i'm so used to writing good luck charm now that i had to search "evan" and change them all to "buck" at the end LOL also i threw in some abby shade, can you find it?? hehe. anyway, enjoy <3

warnings: reader is caught in a fire, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You wake up in the middle of the night to the fire alarm in your building echoing off the walls of your apartment. You’re immediately disoriented, as the booming sound makes your ears ring and your head spin. You jump out of bed and make your way out to your living room, and your breath catches in your throat when you see the smoke quickly filling the room. You make your way to your front door, but jump back in pain as the flat surface burns the back of your hand.

Dread fills your belly as you look around the room frantically. You see your cat cowering under your kitchen table, and you quickly run to grab her before she hides under anything where you won’t be able to reach her. You grab her and she lets out a loud meow, but you keep her squirmy body in your arms as you make your way to your window.

You’re four storeys up, and your landlord has still not fixed your fire escape, although you’ve been asking for months. Either way, you throw open your window, hoping to get some fresh air as smoke fills your lungs and burns your throat. 

You run to your room and grab your phone, quickly dialing 9-1-1 as tears form in your eyes.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks.

“3246 Weston St. My apartment building’s on fire.” you tell her frantically, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder as you struggle to get onto the fire escape with your cat still in your arms.

“Yes, we know about that. I see fire escapes on the outside of the building. Can you get down?” she asks you calmly, and you feel an odd sense of calm fill your body as her voice fills your ears.

“It’s broken, there’s no ladder. My landlord won’t fix it.” you tell her softly, squeezing your cat to your chest as more tears start to fall.

“What’s your name?” You answer her, sniffling softly.

“Hi, I’m Maddie. We’re gonna get through this together, okay? There’s already firefighter’s on the scene. Can you tell me what side of the building you’re on?” You shake your head, but then reply quickly, knowing she can’t see you.

“I don’t see any. I’m on the back side of the building, on the fire escape. On the fourth floor.” She mumbles an “okay” as she types on her computer. 

“Alright, I’m sending a team over to you, they’ll be right there. Is it just you in your apartment?”

“Just me and my cat.” you mumble, feeling a little silly at your response. The smoke is starting to waft out onto the fire escape, and it makes you cough loudly.

“I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay? We’re gonna get you down. The firefighters should be there now. Do you see them?” You wait for a moment as you look down at the ground, and your heart drops once you see the bright lights turn the corner.

“I see them.” you whisper, holding your cat tighter as the sirens spook her. You barely even hear Maddie’s response as your heart hammers in your chest. You make your way to the railing of the fire escape, watching as the aerial ladder is extended up to you.

You let out a sigh of relief once two very attractive firefighters are almost up to you on the ladder. You can’t help the embarrassment filling your body as you look down at your oversized shirt, with no bra, just long enough to cover your short spandex shorts, but you’re too happy to finally get off of your fire escape that you don’t care. 

“Eddie, you get the cat, I’ll get her.” one of them speaks, and the other one, Eddie, nods as he holds out his arms towards you.

You let out a soft sigh before you hand your cat to him, watching nervously as he starts making his way down the ladder with your cat twisting around in his arms. Buck takes this moment to trail his eyes down your figure, taking in your thick thighs and soft tummy. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but there’s no time for that.

“Alright, let’s get you down.” Buck tells you, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours. You cross your arms instinctively as your eyes trail down the ladder. He senses your fear, and holds his hands out.

“I’m Buck. What’s your name?” he asks when you don’t make a move to the ladder. He sees the gears turning in your head as you mumble your name, and he smiles softly, rolling it around on his tongue, committing it to memory.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right behind you the whole time.” he says softly, trying to coax you out onto the ladder. Your eyes move to his hands before going back up to his face, and you nod slowly. You put your hands on the railing, ready to hoist yourself over the railing and onto the ladder.

“Alright, I’m gonna hold onto you to keep you steady. Is that okay?” he asks, and you nod as nerves fill your belly. He grabs onto your plush hips firmly as you swing one leg over the railing, and he helps guide your other leg over the ladder until your bare feet are on the ladder. 

“There you go, I got you.” he whispers once you’re pressed against him. He moves one hand off your hip and grips the railing of the ladder, then urges you to start making your way down backwards, with him going down first behind you. 

You close your eyes for a moment and let out a shaky breath, then start to move once you open your eyes again. He keeps one hand on your hip the whole way down, keeping his body tense in case you slip. He tries to keep his eyes respectfully on the back of your head, but he can’t help it when his eyes trail down to your ass, just barely covered by your shorts as your shirt rides up.

“You’re doing so good. Just a few more steps.” he speaks once you’re almost to the bottom of the ladder. You smile softly at his words, despite the way your heart is pounding out of your chest. His presence calms you.

Once you’re finally down on the ground, you turn to him with a shy smile. 

“Thank you.” you say softly, looking up at him.

“Of course. You should get checked out. Make sure you didn’t inhale too much smoke.” he tells you, returning your smile. Now that he has the chance, he studies your face. If he was still the old Buck, he would ask you out, loving your sweet voice, pretty face, and gorgeous body. But he doesn’t date people he meets on the job anymore, and he’s cursing himself for that rule right about now.

You let him take you over to the ambulance, and you’re surprised when he stays there with you. The fire is for the most part out, as a few other stations were also called, so he doesn’t feel bad staying with you. He stands in front of you as Hen checks you out, taking your cat from Eddie while he waits.

He can’t help but strike up a conversation as he pets your cat, desperate to know more about you. He asks where you’re from, and what you do, and even manages to ask if you’re single. He doesn’t flat out ask that question, but after asking about your apartment, he learns that you don’t often have people spending the night, and he’s relieved.

You learn more about him too. You learn that his sister is the operator that you spoke to on the phone, and that he’s from Pennsylvania. He tells you a little about his travels before he landed in LA, but there’s not much time to go into detail, as Hen finishes looking you over quickly.

He hands you back your cat, and your hands brush each other’s as you take her back. You both freeze at the small contact, lingering for a moment too long.

“Well it was nice to meet you. Thanks again.” you trail off as you look up at him. You want to see him again, but you’re sure he’s just this nice with everyone while on the job.

“Yeah, it was nice meeting you too. Do you have somewhere to go tonight?” His voice has a hint of concern, thinking about you having nowhere to go. He lets out a relieved sigh as he sees you nod.

“My friend lives a few blocks away. I can get an Uber over there.” you reply.

“We’ll wait with you. Don’t want you alone out here.” Your smile widens at his kindness, and you can feel your cheeks heating up at his insistence, although you’re sure it’s probably just protocol. You feel butterflies in your tummy at the idea of him wanting to stay, regardless of the reason. 

In reality, he just wants to spend more time with you. He’s on the verge of asking you out, but as your Uber pulls up, he decides he shouldn’t. Maybe it’s better this way, he thinks.

You thank him once again before you get into the Uber, also thanking Eddie and Hen quickly, who are standing back and watching you and Buck with raised brows.

Once you’re in the car and it’s finally out of sight, Hen and Eddie can’t help but laugh. Buck turns to them with furrowed brows, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“What?” he asks as he fights back a smile, still thinking about you.

“For a second I thought you were gonna invite her to go home with you.” Hen teases him, bumping her shoulder with his as they walk back towards the front of the ambulance, which is right behind the fire truck.

“I don’t date people I meet on the job anymore; you know that.” he says with a soft laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s a shame. You two were really hitting it off.” Eddie adds onto Hen’s teasing, smirking as they all walk side by side.

“Yeah, I know.” Buck murmurs, getting slightly upset. He’s starting to regret not asking for your number; he’s already desperate to see you again. 

He’s forced to push it aside quickly, however, as he hears Bobby’s voice over the radio calling the three of them to the front of the building for triage.

A few weeks later, you’re still staying with your friend, Jordan. You’re lucky, the fire had only gotten to a small part of your apartment, and most of your things were left untouched, but you still aren’t allowed back in your apartment. You immediately told her all about the cute firefighter, of course, and she was almost as upset as you were that you didn’t try to ask him out. 

You can’t help but think about him still; he’s the most attractive guy you think you’ve ever seen, and he’s kind, and funny. Either way, you were way too nervous at the time, and he was on the job. Even if you didn’t meet while he was working, you don’t think you would’ve said anything anyway. And he hadn’t said anything either, so you try your best to forget about him.

Buck spends the next few weeks thinking about you too. He even tried a dating app or two, hoping your photo would pop up on his screen, but to no avail. He thinks about your pretty face often, but his mind also seems to wander to your soft curves, and how your thick thighs were on full display for him to take in in your shorts.

He finally agreed to go out with another girl he met on an app, deciding he should just move on rather than driving himself crazy. He knows he could ask Maddie to pull up the call log and he could get your number, but he knows that would be weird. And a little bit creepy.

He’s sitting in a small bar close to his apartment, a small, absent-minded smile on his face as he stares across the table at his date. This is the longest date he thinks he’s ever had. It was very clear as soon as his date started talking that she has no interest in actually getting to know him, the first give away being that she chose the dimly lit dive bar. While he wouldn’t necessarily say no to it, that’s not really what he’s looking for anymore. 

He’s listening to a story of when she went on vacation to Colombia when he hears a soft laugh coming from the bar. His eyes trail over and see you standing there, talking to what he assumes is two of your friends.

His throat goes dry as he takes in your figure, studying your soft curves and slightly revealing outfit. He can hardly hear the woman across from him now, studying your every move and expression.

He tears his eyes away from you after a moment and refocuses on his date, not wanting to seem rude. He keeps his eye on you out of the corner of his eye, however, ready to run after you if you leave before his date ends.

He keeps listening to his date, who has barely let him get a word in, but he looks very clearly bored. He can’t help it; he tries to reply every time she pauses, but his heart is pounding. He finally found you, and it was a complete coincidence. Like fate.

You don’t notice Buck right away; you’re so wrapped up in your little girls night out to even look around the bar. It’s not until your friend Jordan points to him, saying how hot he is, that your eyes finally land on him.

You can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face, and your eyes are trained on him for a few seconds until Jordan’s voice finally breaks through your haze.

“What?” she asks with a small laugh, and her smile fades when she sees the way you look over at her with a dazed expression

“It’s him. The firefighter.” you tell her, biting your lip as you look back over at him.

“You have to go talk to him. Before you lose him again.” Jordan tells you with a gasp as your other friend, Alyssa, asks what the hell you two are talking about.

Jordan explains to Alyssa while you think her words over. You don’t think you have it in you to go over. Maybe if you were much more drunk than you are right now, but currently, you wouldn’t be able to will your feet to move. 

“He’s on a date. I can’t just interrupt them. And what would I even say?” you argue softly once she’s finished explaining, looking over at Jordan. You chew the inside of your cheek nervously. The girl he’s with is gorgeous, and you begin to think that he was definitely just being so nice to you because he was working.

“Look at him. He looks so bored. He definitely doesn’t want to be there. Go save him.” Alyssa chimes in after she’s caught up, eyes glancing between you and him.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” you mumble, turning back to the bar and ordering a cocktail once you flag down the bartender. 

“Actually, we’ll just get 4 shots.” Alyssa says, smirking as she looks at you sideways. “You just need a shot or two in you, then you’ve gotta get over there. Before it’s too late. You’re gonna regret it if you don’t.” she tells you once the bartender walks away to get the bottle. 

You sigh, shaking your head. But before you can speak, the bartender puts the shots down on the table in front of you. Jordan immediately puts a shot in your hand and lifts it to your lips. You begrudgingly swallow it, letting in a sharp inhale as you feel it burning your throat. 

Your friends then each grab a shot and throw them back, then Alyssa grabs the last shot and holds it out to you.

“Come on, you just need some courage.” she teases, and you roll your eyes again before you take the shot. You were planning on drinking tonight anyway, and whether or not you’re going to go up to him, you figure you might as well take the shots. 

A little while later, you can feel the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’ve been swaying softly to the music as you talk to your friends, but your eyes never stray far from Buck. You always end up looking at each other at different times, so neither of you know that the other person knows of each other's presence. 

“I think now is your chance. He looks ready to kill himself.” Jordan tells you over the music, and all three of you look over at Buck’s table. He has a smile on his face, but his eyes lack any real emotion. 

You take a deep breath, and before you can even think, you let out a soft “okay.” Your friends smile widely, both taking turns to fix various parts of your appearance to make sure you look perfect. Jordan smooths down your top while Alyssa fixes your necklace, and then they both look up into your eyes.

“Go get him. Your ass looks great in those jeans, he’s gonna love it.” You feel your cheeks heating up at Alyssa’s words and you laugh softly. You can feel your hands shaking, but you quickly push your nerves aside and finally make your way over to him. He saved you once, and now it’s time for you to return the favour, although this situation is much lower stakes. 

“Oh my God, Buck! Hey!” you say once you reach his table, a large smile on your face. His eyes are on you in an instant, and he smiles widely, unable to stop his eyes trailing down to your cleavage peeking out of your top.

You open your arms, and he stands up quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist while you loop yours around his neck. 

“Do you want help getting out of this date?” you whisper in his ear, and you smirk as you feel his slight nod against your skin. “Follow my lead.”

You pull back, barely even looking at his date as you continue to speak. You’re glad he said yes, or else this would be really awkward.

“I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been?” You don’t even give him the chance to reply before you turn to the girl.

“How do you know my ex-boyfriend? He’s a handful, I’ll tell you that. Good luck.” you tell her with a smirk. You turn back to Buck and look at him with as much desire in your eyes as you can muster, not that it’s hard, and he matches your expression immediately. 

You know this will work; most girls don’t want to have to deal with a guy that’s still so close with their ex. You see the girl’s face fall slightly from the corner of your eye, and you look back to her, waiting for her answer.

“Oh, um, we don’t really know each other that well.” she replies with a small smile, and you can see the way she tenses slightly, starting to feel a little awkward.

“Lucky you.” you tell her with a soft laugh, looking back up at Buck, whose arm has found its way around your waist. Even still, he keeps his hand hovering over your skin, just close enough for no one else to notice, not wanting to make you uncomfortable just in case you came over just to be nice. 

“I’m sorry. I should let you get back to your date.” you tell her, an apologetic look on your face, although your eyes have no hint of remorse. “Oh, and Buck, are you still coming over tomorrow night? My roommate’s going out of town.” you tell him, licking your lips. He nods, in a daze. He knows you’re not being serious, but he can’t fight the images that his mind is creating. 

“Actually, it’s getting pretty late. I should probably go.” she mutters, standing up from the table and putting her purse over her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you. I’ll text you.” she tells Buck softly, but all three of you know she doesn’t really mean it. 

Once she’s out of sight, you turn to Buck, suddenly feeling your brain catching up to your actions. He senses your quick flip, and removes his arm from your waist, mumbling a quick “sorry.” 

“No, you’re good. I just don’t normally do stuff like this, and I’m just now realizing that. I’m sorry, maybe I had too much to drink.” you admit sheepishly, your face growing hot once again as you feel yourself rambling.

“No, I appreciate it. Honestly, I’ve been thinking about you since we met. I was gonna ask you out, but I sort of have this rule that I don’t date people I meet on the job.” he tells you, smiling down at you. He licks his lips as his eyes trace your face, studying it, memorizing it. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise. He wanted to ask you out? The thought makes your stomach flip in excitement, and it causes a new wave of confidence to flow through you. 

“Well, you’re not working right now, right?” you tease him softly, a hopeful look on your face. 

“Yeah, I guess not. How about I buy you a drink?” he replies, his smile morphing to a smirk. You nod slowly, so focused on him that you don’t even think about your friends watching you from across the bar. 

You decide on something without alcohol instead once you get to the bar, not wanting to risk a hangover the next day. Your friends realize quickly that you aren’t coming back to hang out with them, and they’re happy for you. They keep an eye on you for an hour or so, but when they realize how into each other you are, they decide to leave.

You talk for hours, talking about anything and everything, until the bartender does final call, and you both realize how long you’ve been talking. 

“I guess I should get home.” you say with a sigh. Your cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling so much, and you’ve drifted so close together over the last few hours that you don’t even notice his leg has settled between yours as you sit on the bar stools. You wouldn’t have to lean very far to connect your lips, you think to yourself.

“Or, you could come back to mine?” he asks with hope in his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t be asking you this; he wants to take you on a proper date first, but with the way you’re looking at him, he can’t stop the words that slip from his mouth. You bite your lip as you fight back a smile, but nod after a moment.

“Okay.” you murmur, and that’s all it takes for him to grab your hand and drag you to his jeep, but not before slamming some cash on the bar counter. You laugh as he drags you outside, amused by his eagerness. Once he gets to his jeep he pushes you against it, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. 

A soft noise escapes the back of your throat as your back hits the door, but you happily kiss him back. Your arms make their way around his neck again and one hand lands in his hair, your fingers weaving through it. He keeps his hands on your hips, but he’s itching to touch you everywhere. 

He pulls back after a moment and opens the door, his pupils blown and his jeans getting tighter. You smile up at him and then get into the jeep, watching him dreamily as he makes his way to the driver’s side. 

He keeps his hand on your thigh the whole way home, rubbing your inner thigh with his thumb. He squeezes your flesh every now and then, smiling over at you each time, and once he pulls into his building parking lot, he’s quick to jump out of the car and jog over to your side. 

He keeps his hands on you the entire way up to his apartment, trailing up your sides, and once you walk into his apartment, he pushes you against the wall and meets your lips again in a dizzying kiss. 

He slides his tongue into your mouth, and both of your hands are clawing at each other, eager for more. His hands travel down to the back of your thighs, and he whispers “jump” against your lips. You hesitate for a moment, nervous about him lifting you up. He picks up on your hesitancy and pulls back for a moment with a smirk. He grabs the back of your thighs hard and lifts you up, pinning your back to the wall once again.

His lips are immediately back on you, kissing and nipping down your neck to your collarbone. You’re so focused on his lips on you that you barely have time to react to his strength. You’re not used to being lifted like this, and it makes desire pool between your legs. 

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you off the wall, keeping his hands under your thighs as he moves to the stairs. You look over your shoulder at where he’s heading, and your arms tighten around his neck as you laugh softly. Your head is spinning as he walks up the stairs; he lifts you up so effortlessly, and you can’t wait to see how else he puts his strength to use. 

He throws you onto his bed, staring down at you as you sit up on your elbows, chest rising and falling rapidly as lust overtakes every sense. He smirks as he takes in your body sprawled out on his bed. He looks down your body, taking in your chest, and your plush belly, and your thick thighs, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” he mumbles before he grabs your ankles and pulls you towards the end of the bed, making you squeal softly.

The next morning, you wake up naked in a room you don’t recognize, as you were too focused on Buck last night to notice anything around you. The events from last night flood your mind as you feel an arm firmly draped across your waist, and you can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face. 

You can hear his steady breathing from behind you, and you know he’s still asleep. It’s probably early, you think, as the hint of light coming in from the bedroom window looks like the sun hasn’t quite broken over the horizon.

You try to move his arm slowly, seeing his bathroom door connected to his bedroom. As you do, you feel his grip tighten, and he pulls you tighter against him.

“Where do you think you’re going? I just found you again, I’m not letting you go this soon.” he teases in a raspy voice, just barely above a whisper. You laugh softly and turn in his grip to face him, smiling as you take in his sleepy eyes and soft smile.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” you whisper back, as if trying not to ruin the calmness surrounding you both. He groans, and finally releases you after a moment, but not before he leans in for a soft kiss. He turns to lay on his back, folding his arms behind his head to watch you walk to the bathroom. He smirks as his eyes observe your bare figure, licking his lips.

Once you’re done in the bathroom, you go back to bed, laying on your side beside him and resting your cheek on his chest. He grabs your thigh as you drape your leg across his hips, humming softly as he feels your soft skin. 

“You want some breakfast?” he asks after a little while, giving you both some time to wake up. You raise your head and rest your chin on his chest as you look up at him, nodding. He smiles as his eyes glance across your face, admiring the way the sun is hitting your face, having finally breached the horizon. 

He then leans down to give you a soft kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to your cheek. Once he pulls away, you keep your eyes closed for a moment, reveling in his touch and warm gaze.

“What kind of breakfast?” you whisper once you open your eyes. He shrugs before he speaks, still trying not to disrupt the comfortable quiet surrounding you.

“Anything you want. Eggs, waffles. I’m pretty skilled in the kitchen.” he teases, winking. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. How is he still single? Cute, kind, smart, and a good cook? You can’t believe it.

“Do you have strawberries and blueberries?” you ask softly, smiling once he nods. “Let’s make waffles.” 

He nods at your words, sighing loudly and stretching before he sits up slowly. You move off of him and watch as he gets up and puts on some grey sweatpants, and your eyes wander down his body quickly, making him chuckle. 

You get up and find your bra and panties on his floor, putting them on quickly. You debate on putting back on your jeans and top from last night, afraid Buck’s shirt wouldn’t fit you in a cute oversized way, but you decide against it. It’s too early for jeans, and with the way he was worshiping your body last night, you don’t think he’d turn down the opportunity of watching you walking around his kitchen so exposed.

He pulls you into another kiss once you’re semi-dressed, his hands making their way to your cheeks. You smile against his lips, and bite your lip gently once you pull back, and he keeps his eyes closed for a moment. 

“Jump.” he whispers after a moment, and you oblige this time, letting him lift you in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he makes his way to the stairs.

“You really don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know.” you say with a soft laugh. You turn your head to watch where he’s going, arms tightening around his neck instinctively as he reaches the stairs.

“Nuh uh, come on. I saw your face last night. Don’t lie, you love it.” he teases you, squeezing your thighs. You shake your head and your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you realize that he noticed. 

Once you get to the kitchen he sets you down on the counter, his hands lingering on your hips as he tries to memorize the sight of you, almost naked on his kitchen counter, your soft belly on full display for him. He backs away slowly as he takes one final look, then turns and starts grabbing ingredients from the pantry and fridge. 

You notice he’s making waffles from scratch, and your heart swells at the thought of him putting in so much effort. You try to tell him you can help, but he cuts you off, insisting that all he wants you to do is to “sit there and look pretty,” which makes you giggle. You can’t help feeling giddy around him; you feel like a lovesick teenager.

Once he’s finished with breakfast, you slide off the counter and make your way to the kitchen table. He brings the berries, the maple syrup, and some whipped cream over, and you both dig in.

He waits to see your reaction, and grins widely when he sees you moan softly in contentment, closing your eyes. You look over at him as he admires you, and you look down, smiling softly, not used to this kind of attention. 

“Can I take you out?” he asks you halfway through breakfast. He chuckles softly as you look up at him with a raised brow, and he reaches up to wipe a bit of whipped cream off your upper lip. 

“You already took me out.” you reply softly, licking your lips after his thumb brushes over them.

“That doesn’t count, we just happened to be there at the same time. I want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe a walk or something after, get some ice cream. What do you say?” he corrects you, giving you a wink. You smile, nodding as you mumble a soft “okay.” 

Once you’re finished with breakfast, he leads you to the couch and wraps a blanket around both of you. You’re leaning against his chest and his arm is draped on the back of the couch behind you, which makes your stomach flip.

He turns on a movie, but you’re too busy talking and laughing with each other to really pay attention. As he looks down at your pretty face, his smile stays plastered to his face. He’s so glad he agreed to that God awful date, and that you were willing to help him out of it, because now that he has you, he never wants to let you go.

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[dark-moonlust]

Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night. 

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride. 

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way. 

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her. 

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos. 

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down. 

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal. 

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes. 

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her. 

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her. 

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair. 

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body. 

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them. 

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart. 

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way. 

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long. 

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life. 

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her. 

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds. 

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing. 

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars. 

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled. 

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds. 

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans. 

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating. 

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers. 

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection. 

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him. 

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch. 

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix. 

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in. 

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva. 

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them. 

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth. 

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock. 

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass. 

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes. 

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy. 

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt. 

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her. 

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both? 

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?” 

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure. 

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass. 

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear. 

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh. 

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her. 

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!” 

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae. 

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks. 

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.” 

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy. 

But they were far from done. 

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers. 

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure. 

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb. 

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs. 

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on. 

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her. 

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end. 

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before. 

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?” 

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece. 

They’d claimed their soulmate. 

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month. 

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.  

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.  

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.”  You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.  

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.  

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.  

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.  

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you. 

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

 She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.  

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.  

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”  

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.  

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

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[ghostfacd]

THE KING AND HIS QUEEN, — king george iii

pairing: king george iii x fem!queen!reader

summary: your new life of being queen has been quite a struggle adjusting to. thankfully, you have the perfect king to stand right by your side.

genre: royal!au, fluff, mentions of arranged marriage, reader said to be a princess from france but ethnicity is not specified, plot kind of differs from queen charlotte: a bridgeton story, talk of wanting children

author’s note: the plot is different from that of the netflix series so don’t come at me ! wanted to write for george because his character is very intriguing to me and also bc the actor for young george is so mighty fine 😋😋 enjoy!

“Are you alright?” The king asked you. His face examined yours, locking his eyes onto your frame.

“Yes my king,” you say, staring down at your plate with a forced smile. In all truths, you were not alright. You had just wedded the week before, and the life of a queen was taking much more of a toll on you than you’d expect.

You remembered like it was just yesterday. Well, technically, it was. It was barely a week ago.

“Will Her Royal Highness, Princess of France, take His Majesty, The King as husband, from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part; according to God's holy law?”

“I, Princess of France, in the presence of God make this vow, from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part; according to God's holy law.”

“Very well, you may kiss the bride.”

And just like that, you were proclaimed Queen of Great Britain and Ireland.

“You’re spacing out,” George inquires, face filled with concern. You almost wonder why he cares. The two of you were not inlove. The marriage had been an arranged deal between your father and his since the day you were both born. Your fate had been sealed as soon as you came out your mother’s womb.

“Leave us.” He motions to the guards standing. They obey him like robots, leaving at his command. Now, it was just the two of you alone.

“YN,” for the first time since the two of you met, he had said your first name. No ‘my queen’ but just YN.

“Yes, my king?”

“Please, just George.”

You sigh, finally deciding to look him in the eyes. “Very well. George?”

“You know you can always tell me what is wrong, right?” He looks almost saddened. Or was it pity? You didn’t know him very well—the two of you rarely communicating since the marriage had been finalized.

“Of course my king,”

“George.” He corrects.

“Apologies, it was out of habit.”

He stands up, motioning you to come over to him. With raised eyebrows, you do as he wants, your long gown flowing onto the marble floor beautifully.

“Come with me,” he says, taking your hands into his. “To our chambers.”

You flush up at the feeling of George’s hands holding yours. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before marrying him, your father being very keen on keeping yourself innocent and pure for the King of Great Britain.

When you two arrive at the large tall entrance of the chamber, George waves off the two guards standing in front.

“Marital duties?” One of the dukes asked. “Great job Georgie, knew you had it in ‘ya.”

The King rolls his eyes at this, though he makes sure the duke hadn’t caught it. When you’re both inside the chamber, George finally lets out a breath of relief, situating himself onto the large mattress.

It was even larger than yours back at your palace in France. It was meant for the King and Queen, you and George, to sleep in at night and perform your marital duties.

“Sit, please.” George says, patting the empty space next to him. You sit down awkwardly, not sure where to look.

“Listen, I know it’s hard,” George lifts up your chin with his finger. “Adjusting to your life as my queen. The Queen of Great Britain and Ireland. But I assure you, as long as I live, I will make sure nobody will ever lay their hands on you or our future children, and that I will provide you with my love and support as I do with our country.”

Your eyes softened at his mini speech towards you, and your heart fluttered with joy. You were scared the two of you would end up in a loveless marriage like your Father and Mother had been—only together to provide the next heir of France. The heir ended up being your brother, your parent’s firstborn, King Charles of France. Second in throne was your other brother, Prince Louis, the spare. The only reason your parents had you was because your father had wanted a daughter to spoil, not because they were “inlove”. God no.

“Thank you my king. I appreciate this greatly, you have no idea. The stress of being Queen has taken quite the toll on me, and I was afraid of confiding in you about my worries.”

“You have no reason to be afraid,” George takes your hand, placing a soft kiss on it. “You are my wife, and I am your husband. You should never be afraid to confide in me. We promised that only death can do us part, and that we will love each other in sickness and suffering.”

“You are right my king,” you say, placing a peck on his cheek. For the first time, you were making a move, not him.

The two of you stay in each other’s embrace for the next hour, a comfortable and comforting silence fulfilling you both.

For the first time since you’ve step foot into Britain, you felt safe and loved. Loved by the King himself.

“You mentioned protecting me and our future children?” You tease him as you pull away. He bashfully looks down, letting out a small embarrassed laugh.

“Yes, my queen. The future heir, our lineage.”

“I hope it’s a boy,” you blurt out. You wanted your firstborn to be a boy because you’ve always seen your big brothers as a clear example of well raised princes, and you wanted the same for your future children.

“A boy would be ideal,” George says, pulling you close to him, “but I wouldn’t mind a girl. Spoil her rotten and braid her hair.”

You laugh, nodding along with George’s words. “I suppose a girl wouldn’t be so bad. As long as our future baby will be healthy.”

“Yes.”

The next few hours are spent with you and George mapping out the future, forgetting all your responsibilities for just the moment. George wanted Edward for a boy and Marionette for a girl, Nette for short. He expressed to you how he always dreamed of a normal life, farming and doing astronomy. However, he was grateful for growing up in royalty, never surrounded by poverty.

And just like that, the night you and George connected had flew by and you were expecting your second child in a few weeks time.

“Edward!” You say, giggling at the boy running around your legs. Edward was five, and quite the rowdy one. He took after his father’s handsomeness and had the eyes of George, the same ones that had looked at you with concern 6 years prior on that fateful night.

“Mummy!” Edward shrieks in delight. His eyes brighten when he sees his Father, who picks him up in an instant.

“I hope you’re not giving mummy a hard time,” George says, booping the young prince’s nose. “Are you, Prince Edward of Wales?”

“Course not daddy!” Edward scrambles to be let down on the ground, making George grunt as he sets the boy down. “Just wanted to hang out with mummy, that’s all.”

“Yes, my handsome little prince was doing no harm dear,” you reassure your husband. He rubs your baby bump softly, admiring your beauty.

“Just worried about you and Marionette is all,” he says with a soft smile.

“Me and Nette are fine,” you say, “now Edward, would you like me to tell you the day I became Queen?”

“Yes mummy!” Edward grins excitedly.

George can’t help but admire his little family as you told the story to your son Edward, brushing small strands of his brunette hair out of his face. In a few weeks, little Marionette will be arriving, and he couldn’t wait.

He wouldn’t trade what he had now for anything, not even for the whole wide world.

[rationaliity]

gonna just drop a bulletpoint story out there because this aint a lot to go off of but you're soooo right, speak your truth i love you. you're putting two of my favorite things together, ratio and kitsune / foxes

♡ kitsune! ratio who got eight tails, some joke its one tail for each subject that he's graduated college with a master's degree for

♡ he's really is far more playful than people give him credit for, although in his own deadpan kind of way

♡ like, no, he doesn't outright make jokes, but he'll say stuff that goes over people's heads and then loudly exclaim " why do i even bother ?! " with a feigned annoyance, but it's okay because its ratio and it's cute

♡ he really takes the ' sly fox ' thing to heart. i mean, he already works in the shadows, sly is just a part of who he is

♡ but he is still a good person !! people may often assume that he's not because of how he acts and they attribute that to being a kitsune, but he really does care about humans

♡ especially one stupid little human who likes to visit the shrine he lives at a lot

♡ yeah, you caught his attention, but he would much rather die than admit that to you

♡ he doesn't say anything when you offer him the good tuna while he's in his fox form, even though it irks him a little bit because he's a fox, you moron, not a wild cat

♡ shouldn't you be trying to run away from him anyways ? why are you so brazen about walking up to a fox ? don't you know that they're wild animals and they can hurt you if they wanted to ?

♡ you're so lucky that he doesn't want to, otherwise it would be a problem on your side

♡ he eats the tuna every time you bring it for an offering, enjoying it even though he bites back a snarky comment every single time

♡ he's smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds him. his shrine is so far out into the woods that you're really the only one who comes to visit him from time to time, something that he was silently grateful for

♡ he's not tied to the shrine, he can leave if he wanted to, and he's often out and about doing whatever he wanted to, usually finding a hapless human like you and quietly guiding them towards a better solution

♡ but you liked to visit the shrine every wednesday, so he made sure he was there every wednesday

♡ why ? because he wanted to

♡ when he finally revealed his true form to you, it was purely to educate you on something stupid that you had done, at least that's what he told himself

♡ you'd gotten cut by the bramble out in the forest while making the trip to him, and so of course he had to show his true form to bandage your wounds, that was only proper of him

♡ while biting your ear off about not even worrying about the wound until you were at the shrine. what if it got infected, or worse ? you truly were a foolish human

♡ all eight of his tails are angrily flicking the ground below him as he patches you up the best he can, meanwhile berating you for your idiocy, something that he cant stand

♡ and you're just smiling like a moron, too, despite being injured ! he can't wrap his head around you !

♡ finally, once youre all taken care of, he has to ask why you offer him food, when he just looked like a regular fox to you at the shrine

♡ possibly the most annoying thing ever, you don't have a good answer. no profound understanding, just because you want to

♡ he's so frustrated with you he's sure he may pop a blood vessel, and you offer to leave, but he tells you to stay. it would've made the trip and your injury meaningless if you left so suddenly without staying for anything

♡ and when the sun begins to set, you find him... following you away from the shrine ?

♡ ask him what he's doing and he's just going to give you a simple answer, and if this should've been common knowledge to you all along, and you were an idiot for asking

♡ " of course, someone has to watch over you to make sure you don't accidentally get yourself killed. "

— ♡ rationaliity 2024