#Regret not writing down the name the one time I found pictures of it... Need to dig around for it again

[solradguy]

These delivered today too. The top one, HELIOGENOMS A◦D (2001), features Order Sol and Holy Order-era Ky. I think the first few pages were done by someone in the Zanzibar circle that wasn't Denki Akiba, the style is a bit different.

The horizontal one (which is normal vertical format inside), HELIOGENOMS IRREGULAR BOUND (2003), starts with a page from someone else in the Zanzibar circle with the rest of it being entirely by Denki Akiba. It's got a little bit of everyone (GGX/XX Raven and That Man..!) with a general focus on Sol.

I'm very grateful for the postscript notes in these doujinshi; Akiba has made it refreshingly easy to figure out the publishing chronology of these books haha

These were the last of the HELIOGENOMS books on Otaku Republic that were in stock so I'm not going to get any more doujinshi to scan for a long while.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Drabble idea for the ask thing: Steve works at a tattoo shop and Eddie works at a flower shop, they both get odd looks when they tell people about their job. Bonus: Eddie gets a tattoo of a flower from Steve and that's how they meet.

This is like if you took call me sunshine, send me to space and made it cuter with a flower shop and made Steve the tattoo artist instead. I'm just gonna write the bonus scene because that's a lot to keep 500 words or less and we all know how I go on 😂 Don't @ me over the super sappy ending, someone with spoons please write another 50k of this.

🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻🌷🌼🌻

"You want a wildflower bouquet in the space of your full sleeve?" Steve stared at the fully tattooed man over his glasses, brows raised in disbelief. "I'm not one to judge tattoo choices but you seem to know what you're doing and I'm a bit confused as to how that fits with...anything else on your arm."

Steve had definitely done some wild tattoos. He was actively part of so many bad decisions made by people who would live to regret getting their girlfriend's name on their neck or the face of their best friend on their thigh.

But this one was different in that this guy had clearly meticulously planned out every tattoo on his body, and that was a lot of tattoos, and now he wanted to add...wildflowers. In between skulls and guitars and some metal band logo. Right.

"Yeah and if it's a problem, I can go somewhere else, man. I just heard a lot of good things about you and my flower shop is two doors down, so-"

"Wait. You're Eddie? You're the guy who owns the flower shop." Steve perked up, face relaxing more into a smile.

"The one and only. You been by?" Eddie didn't remember actually seeing Steve before.

He'd been shocked to walk in and see a barely tattooed Steve sitting behind the counter. Assuming he was the secretary, he'd said he was here for an appointment with the guy in charge, and Steve smiled and explained who he was.

"I haven't. But someone brought me a bouquet you made when I first opened and it was beautiful. Managed to keep it alive and thriving for almost two weeks, which is a record for me, and then someone said it was because of the way you take care of them before they're sold and the minerals you use in the water and I'm turning into Robin. Jesus."

Eddie was endeared.

Steve was looking down at his tablet in front of him, a barely visible sketch on it.

"Is that what you've come up with?" Eddie asked as he leaned over the counter to get a closer look.

They could talk about his love of the bouquet Eddie made later.

"Yeah, but. Now that I'm looking at you...I'm not sure it's right," Steve sighed, closing the app and looking back up at Eddie. "I can redesign at no charge and set up another consultation."

"Can I see?"

"Sure."

Steve pulled his tablet out and opened the picture back up.

It was beautiful, actually resembled a bouquet Eddie had done not long ago for his friend Jonathan.

"It's perfect. Can it be done in one long sitting or do we need to break it up?" Eddie smiled at Steve, pulling up the calendar on his phone to make an appointment.

"Uh. Well." Steve cleared his throat. "I guess you could probably handle the pain so all in one is fine with me? It's probably gonna be six hours with breaks every hour. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Eddie looked at the tablet again, tilting his head as he thought back to when he'd made this bouquet.

"Do you know Jonathan Byers?" Eddie asked, not looking away from the picture.

His eyes focused on the coneflower that he'd only been able to use in one bouquet before his part time employee found out they were allergic.

"Yeah...why?"

"He got you that bouquet, right?"

Steve nodded.

Eddie didn't really believe in fate or destiny or whatever type of miracle people tended to wish for. He also didn't believe in soulmates or the perfect partner.

But wildflowers grow anywhere, and sometimes love can too.

[jjks1ut]

Crawling Back To You

pairing: toji x reader

summary:after a major argument having you and Toji breakup here you are to get your things from your apartment but he's ready to convince you to stay, you always come crawling back to him anyways.

cw:explicit content edging, cheating, arguing, manipulation, foul language, degrading, pet names, unprotected sex, tit-sucking, fingering, overstimulation, some praise, p in v, heated making out, slight breeding kink

a/n:hi and happy holidays to all my followers, im so sorry for my lack of content for the longest as for a good while I've lost motivation in writing and been so caught up in life. I hope u can come back and enjoy my writing again even if its a bit rusty :)

“You already found another boyfriend?” Toji asks, there’s almost a sneer on his face. “You can’t even handle being single for a month.”

He doesn’t even mean what he’s saying, but he hates seeing you move on. Toji’s self-aware enough to know he’s in the wrong. He wasn’t a good boyfriend. That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to move on, though. Isn’t it obvious he still wants you? Why do you need some other guy? Just come crawling back to him like you always do.

“I’m sorry Toji”, were your only words as you began to pack a suitcase to take all the things you had left in his place.

Deep down inside you really didn't want to leave him but after the last argument you two shared. It had been over something so small, but Tojil continued to reject that he was at fault and it drove you crazy and up the walls of your apartment as you yelled at each other all that night, and when Tojil left to go ‘blow off some steam’ you knew this was the last straw.

So after your breakup you found yourself going to parties, bars, and all kinds of social places while you stayed at your friends place hoping to blow off some steam of your own now without Toji in the picture. So when you found yourself hooking up with a guy or two one of them had finally asked to take things further and make you his lover.

Since then you went straight to dating that new someone to get Toji off your mind and push away your deep down longing. When Toji heard your sudden acceptance and eagerness to leave and move on to someone new it cut him deep.

He doesn’t want you to go. He knows he doesn’t deserve to have you in his life. Not after the way he treated you. But just the idea of you leaving? For another guy? No. He can’t let you go. Not this easily. He can’t let you move on from him. He’s not going down without a fight.

“Wait, please don’t leave babe”,he spoke practically begging you to just hear him out and stay as he went to grab for your wrist. Toji looks up at you, the expression on his face shifting as his expression becomes more sincere. He holds your gaze, making his voice soft.

“Please baby, I know I’ve done a horrible job as your boyfriend these past few years. I took you for granted. I didn’t appreciate you the way I should have. And I regret all of that more than you know”.

He continued as he came closer to you, taking your hands in his own as he began to trail light kisses along them trailing them down until they reached your upper arm bringing out a small moan at your lips bringing a smirk from Toji’s smug grin.

Yet even with the way Toji was making you feel, you felt guilty. Your mind was telling you no, to not put yourself in the same situation you had been in with Toji for so long but your body told you something different as you felt the throbbing of your core as Toji’s ever so hulking form was towering over you. But, to your body’s dismay you followed your mind.

“After everything we’ve been through Toji, I just can’t”, you sighed, pulling your hands away as you went back to packing your things.

As you continue to maneuver around the house getting more of your things each time Toji tries to slow you down or stop you spewing apologies. Even trying to convince you to stay a little longer. Probably just even hear him out but you refuse each time.

Toji’s eyes widened at your refusals, not wanting to let you go so easily. He steps in front of you. "Please. Don't. This time it'll be different. I can fix things, I know I can." He steps closer to her.

"I need you. You can't leave me alone to pick up the pieces." That last sentence comes out just as he intended. He needs you. He needs you to be with him. He can't do this alone.

It’s those first three words that make a small ache form in your heart. Somewhere deep down inside you knew he was lying about trying to fix himself. But, the way he spoke those three words ‘I need you��� made you want to come crawling back but you continued to refuse those feelings.

“It’s no Toji”, you protested as you finished with your bag beginning to make your way to the door with your luggage in hand rolling right beside you. But, what was to happen next you didn’t expect.

As you made your way to the door, Toji wasn’t taking your shit anymore and went to the last thought and resort he had. “Does he make you happy? Does he please you the way I do?”He spoke, leaving you to completely stop in your tracks. It’s a question you never wanted to have to answer when it was coming from Toji.

You had to admit the new guy you were dating was a nice man, a great man even but you knew he could never compare to Toji. From the way his hands would roam over the expanse of your body even outside the bedroom just hoping to get you flustered.

From the way you didn’t even have to ask him and he knew you wanted him. Even needed him to fill the intoxicating throb you felt at your core whenever you two were apart. So that’s exactly why you ran straight to another even after only a month apart hoping to fill that void but to your disappointment it never was.

“What did you say?”,you asked, turning to look at him with a slight eye roll.

“You heard me”, he spoke sternly as he stepped towards you with a slow but almost intimidating pace as he carefully took each step approaching you.

When he finally reached you he slammed the slightly open front door behind you shut, having you jump slightly now backed into the door with his hulking form. At this point you could feel the atmosphere thicken and your skin seem to warm at the sudden closeness Miguel was now bringing at his proximity.

“Toji-“,you try to speak but are soon cut off by his hand covering your mouth, feeling the warmth of skin rise even more. “You didn’t answer my question, y/n”. Toji replied with a smirk forming on his smug face as his other hand brushed some of your hair from your face.

“Now tell me, does he please you the way I do? Make you weak in the knees just at his touch?”, he continues his hands now leave their place on you as he steps back giving you any chance at this point now to leave, to walk right out his home and leave him feeling defeated knowing you’re now not his anymore. But your next words surprise him…

“No he doesn’t, and he never will”,you reply stepping an inch closer as you take his hand into your own.

This now brings a smile on Toji’s face as he steps back towards you placing a hand on the side of your face caressing it with his thumb as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. “That’s a good girl”,he whispers as his kisses begin to trail down your neck leaving you to melt into his arms before carrying you back to his(your shared) bedroom.

Once finally in the room Toji tosses you effortlessly onto the cool mattress where you two spent many heated nights together. That has always been the effect of your disputes. Where he would show how sorry he was through the way he laid you out and used you like his own personal slut.

“Be a good girl for me and strip out those clothes of yours”,he demanded without a second thought. You pulled the sweatshirt of yours over your head and slipped off your pants revealing a lacy bra and panties you had under. “I can’t believe the sight I’m seeing right now”, Toji laughed with an amused look written all over your face.

Just a moment ago you had been eager to leave him but here you were undressed in some sexy underwear as if you came here just to do this with him.

“Now tell me, was this little set for me, or that dumb fuck you’re dating instead of me?”. Toji spoke as he came close to your quivering form to lightly hook his finger at the band of your panties and let go just as fast to hear the quick snap of the material against your skin eliciting a soft mewl from your lips.

In any other circumstance these would be bold words and a straight insult coming from anyone else but from him it just made you need him even more as your thighs clamped together on instinct to hold in the way your core began to leak with arousal.

“Come on, talk to me, pretty girl”, he said, holding your face in his hand to make sure you were looking right at him as his brown eyes bore holes into your skull.

“They just looked nice is all Toji'',you replied, placing your hand on top of his. With your words he smiled, pressing a small kiss on your cheek before he completely pulled off the lingerie, tearing off the bra and doing the same with your panties.

“Toji! That was expensive!”you shouted in protest, now completely bare for his eyes to see as you tried to cover yourself with your hands as heat began to rise on your face, contrasting unfortunately with the cool bed sheets.

“Shut up and just let me pound you into this mattress like the dirty little whore you are sweetheart. Besides we can just buy you a new one once we’re back together just as pretty”,he spoke in an almost cruel tone but his words were filled with sincerity almost hinting at the fact you’ll be coming back to him even with your new boyfriend.

Now with you completely bare in front of Toji everything was open and ready for him to access. So to start the night off he continued to kiss you like he did earlier now trailing his kisses from your neck down to your collarbone until it reached your soft mounds as he took one in his mouth flicking his tongue against the erect nipple and doing the same on the other side but with his finger.

“Toji~”, you moaned in ecstasy at the way his tongue ran circles along the tips, having your whole body quiver beneath his touch already clawing at his back for leverage.

“Fuck I missed this feeling baby, the way you feel under my touch. Tell me, does that new boyfriend of yours make you feel like this?”he whispered as he ran a finger along your silk folds in sensual and long strokes as he watched the way you gasped and trembled at the feeling.

“Tojil..I-”, you began to speak but all that came out was a whimper of yours as you felt him push in another finger into your seeping wet heat. “Speak up, pretty thing, I want to hear what you have to say about the bastard. The one that I know could never make you feel the way I do”. He continued as one finger ran circles around your clit as two others of his thrusted inside your puffy folds.

With one swift motion he began to pump his fingers inside separating your folds apart with two fingers of his. Just one of his fingers felt like two, almost three of your own.

“Just shut up already, Toji.” You whined as his pace increased his hands working in tandem with the way your hips thrusted against his fingers hoping to get the best out of the feeling his fingers had you under.

With each thrust all you could think of was Toji and how well he did you, even if it was just his bare hands he knew each and every spot that would have you squirm.

So as his fingers continued their tantalizing pace inside you, it was only a few seconds until your orgasm washed over you causing your back to arch and mouth to fall open in a silent scream, and no matter if you wanted to deny it or not all that could be heard was you screaming Toji’s name as you left your high.

“I knew you missed me”, he smirked as he could already feel the ache from the forming dent in his pants. “You think your ready for what you’ve been missing out on the most'' he smirks as you can already hear the unzipping of his jeans and as he lifts up his shirt showing off his toned pecs he had always been running to the gym to make even bigger and bulky.

But what really had your eyes widening and mouth watering was the dent in his boxers from his member hidden within his drawers. “You think you can take all of me? Or you've gotten used to that other guy’s micro shit”, Toji teased as he slipped off his boxers, slapping his member against your walls as he let it slide up and down your soaked lips watching the way your pussy seemed to puff up at his member against it.

“Look at you, I haven’t even put it in yet and you're soaking wet practically begging me to put it in”, he continued to tease as he took your lips into his own as he muffled your whiny moans with his tongue sucking in your rambling words of release and for him to already use you already which he obliged happily. “You asked for it pretty thing”

Your breath caught, the unexpected contact of his member sending a shiver down your spine. You met his eyes, finding a silver of vulnerability in his usually cheeky behavior as he let out a breathy groan upon entering your soaking cunt. For a moment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension as he let himself take the final push inside you.

“You good sweetheart? You think you can keep going?”, he spoke softly the first time he generally spoke words of comfort without any backhand talk as he caressed his hand along the side of your cheek his thumb running small circles there.

But, once you nodded in consent his fat dribbling tip finally seeped inside your slick walls. Almost instantly your thighs spread unconsciously for his long legs to take place in between them, an arm snaking from below your side to hold onto your hips as he kept a steady pace slipping in out of your hole that was clenching at the large size stretching your walls.

You feel like a fucking toy under him, just taking all of him at once as he pleased but you wouldn’t deny in the slightest you took in every last bit of his cock as you could hear every noise that was coming from the two of you. From your breathy moans of desperation begging for more of him, to his grunts and groans as you dragged your fingernails along his back gasping from each time his cock would hit that sweet spot inside of you.

The feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix left your body to writhe and squirm. Yet your haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix.

And no matter how badly you want to last longer for him and not come so early you can already feel your brain turning into mush from the relentless ruts against your puffy wet lips.

“Toji~, Please I’m gonna come~” , are your last words as you feel your eyes roll into the back of your lids as tears streamed down your cheeks and drool falling past your lips running down your chest but Toji continued his onslaught even with his precise hits to your canal of nerves.

“You just feel so good princess, let me come inside you first.”, he whispered as his finger slipped between your thighs playing with your clit as he watched the way another wash of release was already on your face. “You gonna let me come in this pretty cunt of yours? Let me be yours instead of that stupid bastard?” Toji mumbled into your ear as he grabbed you by the chin forcing you to stare into those green eyes.

The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? So without a second thought you obliged as you were practically rutting against his thrusts as you watched the way his cock would make its way in pushing the mix of slick and previous orgasms back inside you.

With one final shared moan between you both you felt his hot seed slip inside your walls filling you to the brim. “Fuck I can’t wait to see you with my baby”, Toji sighed with one final breath before falling against the now warm sheets as he pulled you in close.

Later that night, you would wake up to go use the bathroom with Toji dead asleep knocked out with the occasional snoring from the bigger man. But, even with this clear chance to sneak out and leave you had no intention to. Just like he said you would, you came crawling back to him like you always do.

As you pulled out your phone while on the toilet you were met with over 20+ messages from the guy you had been talking to in your time apart from Toji and when you opened the messages you were met with an interesting sight.

There you were sprawled out on the sheets you had just been on with Toji as a video played of your moaning and drooling face crying Toji’s name as he practically made you his bitch on screen ;).

[skzhocomments]

1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

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Request me a story

Thank you for your request ♥

---

1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

Word count: 4k words

Wattpad | AO3

~

Writing Prompt 1437: “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know

~

This sucks. Minho thinks, letting out a large sigh and picking up some painkillers.

He hasn’t eaten much today, or the past few days, really, so it probably isn’t a good idea to take another ibuprofen on an empty stomach. He’s surely going to regret it, already feeling an impending stomach ache, but his head just hurts so badly. It won’t stop pounding.

He’s already tried drinking water, but oh, God, the white light coming from the ceiling is making everything worse. He really needs to take this pill.

The one thing he hasn’t tried is sleeping, but how could he sleep when there’s so much work to do?

A new file came in just today.

~

Kim Soo-ah, 25 years old. Picture attached.

Waitress: Mon-Fri 8:00-14:00 Endstreet 34, Cornerstone Diner

Maid: Mon-Sat 16:00-12:00 Client’s residence

Requirements: Eliminate target during Diner shift. Target wears a silver ring, has a small brown mole underneath. Send finger and ring as proof once you finish the job.

~

What did this girl do? Minho wonders. It’s the second request to finish off a maid he’s received from this client, but he was too busy for the first one, so he passed it over to one of his associates.

Although he dislikes working for this particular client, he always pays generously, so this time, he decides to accept it.

He’s a bit curious to know why his client keeps wanting to get rid of his maids. In case they heard something they shouldn’t have, it’d be much easier to silence them through other ways rather than killing them. Less of a hassle for Minho, at least. However, he can’t ask. That’s not his job.

His job is to simply follow these instructions to the best of his abilities and get paid. Nothing more, nothing less. Curiosity has no place in his line of business, and he’s better off not knowing any other details.

Before having enough time to flip the page and look at her photo, though, his door opens, making him raise his eyes from the papers.

“Boss, someone’s here to see you.” His assistant enters the room with haste, making Minho raise an eyebrow.

No one should know of this location, so he is taken aback for a few short moments, before clearing his throat and deciding that he must know who found him, and why.

“Show them in.” Minho instructs, and his assistant rushes outside.

Damn, this fucking white light. He groans again and decides to end his suffering and simply turn on the lamp on his desk, even though he forgot his glasses God knows where and he can barely see the papers in front of him.

Moments later, his assistant comes back with a woman small in stature. She has blonde, wavy hair reaching her shoulders, and her eyes are a deep shade of emerald green.

She is intimidated, Minho observes, as he sees the way this woman is trembling in front of him, anxiously playing with her fingers and looking left and right just to not look him in the eyes.

“Take a seat.” He orders, and the girl is quick to sit down in the chair he offered on the other side of his desk.

“Thank you…” She says, her voice so small, it almost comes out in a whisper.

“Now, who might you be?” Minho asks confidently, his tone slightly bored, although he’s actually brimming with curiosity.

“Uhm… my name is Soo-ah. Kim Soo-ah.” She replies hesitantly, and Minho immediately looks at the papers on his desk and grabs her picture, and oh, what a pleasant surprise.

It’s not every day that the prey comes directly to your doorstep.

“Are you perhaps… Lee Know? And if not… could you please take me to him?” She asks, and Minho raises his eyebrow again.

He notices her clutching her bag tightly. She is quite literally trembling with fear, which makes him want to laugh. She is so painfully afraid of being in the same room as him, he can’t help but want to play with her.

“That would be me.” He replies with a cocky smirk. “Why did you want to see me, pretty?”

“I… uhm… if I understood your… profession… correctly, that must mean you are a… hitman of some sort?” She tries to thread carefully, and Minho can’t help himself anymore. He lets out a chuckle at this girl’s innocence.

“You are correct, doll. So, what brings you here?”

“I need your help. There’s someone I’d like you to… uhm… to k- to kill. I-I have money to pay you. Uhm…” She stutters and starts rummaging through her bag, pulling out a few stacks of rolled hundreds. “I’m not sure how much your services cost, but…”

“How much is in there?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement. The rolls are far too small, and too few. It can’t be more than a couple thousands, if that.

“Around $3000. It’s not much, but… it’s all I’ve managed to save up so far. If it costs more, I could get a loan, or-”

“$3000?” Minho cuts her off with a laugh. “You can’t be serious!”

The woman’s expression falls, her eyebrows furrowing in a frown.

“Pretty, that much isn’t enough for me to even cut off someone’s finger, let alone kill a whole person.”

“Oh… how much would it be, then?”

“That depends. Who’s the target?”

“My boss…” She clutches the bag tighter, telling him his name and address. Of course, he expected it to be his client, so this doesn’t really surprise him.

“Oh, love.” Minho chuckles again. “That man is one of the most powerful in the country, you must know since you’re working for him. Taking him out would cost millions. You wouldn’t afford it in this lifetime.”

Soo-ah looks away.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want this man dead?”

“I think he’s planning to get rid of me… Actually, I’m sure of it.”

“Why?” Minho inquires further.

“I… I saw something I shouldn’t have.” She replies, clenching her fists.

“Be more explicit, doll.” He says, and Soo-ah shifts in her seat uncomfortably. By her mannerisms, Minho can tell she finds this hard to talk about, or she doesn’t know if she should tell him at all.

She hesitates for a few more moments until she eventually starts speaking again.

“I am a live-in maid… I woke up to go to the bathroom and his room is on the way… the door was opened, and there were some very influential people and a large stack of cash on top of his desk. They saw me, so I ran away and hid. There was this other maid that told me about something she’s seen, and one day, she simply disappeared, so I was scared… I think that's what's going to happen to me too.”

“I see.” Minho nods. “Wrong place wrong time, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“So, how did you find me?”

“Much like last night, I went to the bathroom a few months ago and overheard a conversation-

“Damn, you should really stop going to the bathroom at night.” Minho jokes, cutting her off. She doesn’t seem too amused and resumes immediately.

“I overheard a conversation about hitmen, and my boss told someone a couple of names and addresses.”

“My name? What exactly did he say?”

“Yes. Your name and many others. Lee Know, Hwang, Yongbok…”

“Alright. And this address?”

“Yes. This is the only one I could remember… Considering this… topic… I didn’t really want to hear much else or risk him catching me overhear anything I shouldn’t, so I ran back to my room.” Soo-ah nods, and Minho leans back in his chair.

They found out where he is, which is bad news. Of course, he has many other secret hideouts throughout the city in case something like this would happen, but still. The fact that he didn’t know about it is dangerous. And apparently, this man also has some sort of information about his associates.

This is bad news.

The most relevant thing in his profession is secrecy. If anyone would know where to find him, he would’ve been dead long ago.

“Thank you, Soo-ah. That’s great information you offered me right there. However, just for future reference, information is not free. You just missed out on your chance to negotiate with me.” He chuckles menacingly, and her expression only falls more.

She doesn’t know what to say, but noticing Minho’s piercing gaze on hers, she decides to look him right in the eyes and do something she never thought she would.

She stands up and walks slowly around the desk, his eyes fixed on her, and she kneels in front of him, beginning to tear up.

“Please. I’m begging you. Please help me. I’ll do anything. I… I don’t want to die… I’m so scared, Mister Lee Know. Please.”

Minho is taken aback, and something in his heart stirs at the sight.

Memories he’s long-ago repressed start surfacing back, and instead of seeing her kneeling in front of him, he sees a young boy with bruises all over his body begging for his life.

~

“Mister, please. I’ll do anything. Please help me! I’m begging you, please! I want to live!” Minho was barely able to get out between his tears, his forehead pressing against the cold, bloodied tiles.

“And why would I help you, kid?” The man in front of him laughed. “You’re young and stupid. You’re good for nothing. What can you give me?”

“Anything! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The man laughed one more. “Will you kill someone for me, then?”

“K-kill? Mister…”

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, kid. You’re better off dead.”

“N-no! I will! I will kill! Please teach me what to do, Mister! I will do it!”

“What an obedient child.” The man cackled. “You know what, kiddo? I admire your fighting spirit. Even though life dealt you shitty hands, you still want to live?”

“I do! I want to live, so please…”

“Get up. From now on, your name will be Lee Know. And Lee Know, your first lesson is to never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. That’s how we do things around here. Got it?”

~

“What can you give me, Soo-ah?” He asks, but this time, his voice doesn’t come off amused or menacing. It’s soft and filled with slight concern, and more than anything, with curiosity.

“Anything. I will do anything…” She cries.

“Anything?” Minho asks, and it’s such a contrast to how his former boss treated him. He is not being unnecessarily mean about it, and he is not forcing an answer out of her, although their circumstances are much the same.

He stands up and walks towards her, noticing how bad she’s still shaking.

He knows she’s desperate. However… how desperate is she, really? She’s been trembling ever since she came through the door. It’s clear to him that she doesn’t have it in her to ever be a killer. But still, would she give up her principles to stay alive, or will she stick to them?

He didn’t have the power to stick to his principles on that cursed day way too many years ago, and his whole life changed afterwards. He could never back down.

Would she do the same?

“Anything.” She replies determined, still looking at the floor.

“Will you kill someone for me, then?” Minho asks closing his eyes, his former boss’ words ringing in his head.

“K-kill?” Soo-ah shakes. It’s so difficult to see his past self in this trembling woman.

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, Soo-ah. You’re better off dead.”

The words are burning his tongue as he notices all the air disappear from the woman’s lungs.

She begins crying even louder, her hands moving on top of his shoes, holding tightly. Still, she is still not looking up at him.

“I… I can’t. I can’t… I can’t kill anyone. Please understand. I can’t…” She keeps repeating like a broken record, and Minho’s eyes widen.

She decided to stick to her principles, after all. She is better than him.

“Then-” He starts, but she immediately cuts him off.

“He will kill me. I’m so scared… I’m so scared of him, Mister. What can I do if you won’t help me? What if he’ll torture me to find out exactly how much I heard and if I told anyone else? Fuck, what do I do now? My life must be worth at least $3000. Please… please help me…” She speaks weakly, clutching his shoes tighter.

“Soo-ah, look at me.” He requests, but she just keeps shaking and crying.

Minho grabs her arms and helps her stand up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Do you really want to live?” He asks, and she nods her head rapidly.

“I do. I want to live.” She cries.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live.”

“What?” She blinks, confused for a short moment, until it clicks. “Did… did my boss ask you to kill me?”

“He did. I received your file just this morning.” Minho smiles softly, his eyes filled with sadness.

“Then… I guess this is it for me. I was… I was a fool to come here. I thought… I thought I still had a chance…” She replies dejected. “Months ago, when I heard those names, I didn’t think much of it. However, today… I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I ended up coming here and hoped that maybe, just maybe… if I were to randomly pick one of those names...” She stops speaking, wiping away her tears from her cheeks.

“How did you remember my name and address, though? If it was months ago…”

“My memory is pretty good. Not that it matters anymore.” She smiles sadly and averts her gaze. “I came to the wrong person. It’s alright. It’s… If there’s no other way, will you at least make it quick, Mister? I don’t want it to hurt…”

“Soo-ah.” He places his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him again. “I said, I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live. We’re going to kill her tonight, do you understand?”

“I’m… not sure I do.” She tilts her head.

“From this moment forwards, Kim Soo-ah is dead. You will have to change your hair and your eye colour, and I will give you a new name… What about… Lee Saera?” He suggests after thinking for a few moments, his eyes rolling up.

“Lee… Saera?”

“Mhm. Isn’t it pretty?”

“I like it… but… why? Why are you helping me?” She asks, confusion lacing her tone. “Why are you helping me when you’ve been ordered to kill me?”

“Pretty, no one can order me to do anything.” He chuckles. “I was hired to kill you. But let’s just say… there’s something of me I found in you. Something long forgotten…” Minho replies, separating himself from her and putting his hands in his pockets. “I can’t kill your boss, but I can make sure he believes you’re dead, and in return… you will tell me everything you know about him, and everything he knows about us. You will stay here and help me.”

“Mister Lee Know, I can’t… I can’t kill people.” She whispers with a frown.

“And you won’t. You won’t walk down this path. I will do the killing, and you will do everything else I ask you to, in exchange for your life. How does that sound?”

He extends a hand towards her, and she doesn’t hesitate to grab it with both her hands and shake it.

“Thank you, Mister Lee Know. Thank you. Truly.” She looks him in the eyes, and Minho can tell she’s genuinely grateful. A small thought passed through his head that she could be a spy, but her feelings seem so genuine, he doesn’t doubt her one bit. She is just an unfortunate, young woman, who happened to work for the wrong people and heard and saw too much.

“Minho… Call me Minho, Soo-ah.”

“Minho?”

“Mhm. That’s my real name. Lee Minho. Use it only when we’re alone, and I will call you Kim Soo-ah. When anyone else is present, though, you are Saera and I am Lee Know, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She nods.

“Good girl.” He smiles and pats her head two times. “Now, the first lesson you must learn if you are to join me, is… never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. Not even me. Got it?”

“Okay... But Minho… how will you make my boss think I died?”

“Oh, right.” He sighs, grabbing her hand and dragging his fingers on top of her silver ring, taking it off and looking at the small mole underneath. “Soo-ah, your boss asked me to give him your finger as proof of killing you.”

“My… my finger?” She immediately snatches her hand back and looks at how closely Minho is examining her ring.

“Mhm. However…” Since she is now one of his people, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Not even a scratch. He doesn’t tell her that, though, because he doesn’t think he’ll have a choice.

How should he navigate this? Should he try and find a body with a matching mole? But what if they were to run any DNA tests?

“My ring… is a family heirloom. It’s extremely precious to me.” She speaks, interrupting his train of thoughts. “What if we would burn something and put the ring in the ashes as proof?”

“Oh?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “But what would we tell him to be convincing enough?”

“You found me hiding somewhere, and… I don’t know. You killed me, took my body to be incinerated to remove evidence, but almost got caught, so you burned it and brought back the ashes as proof?”

“I’m not sure that’ll fly with this guy, Soo-ah…”

“Then…” She raises her hand hesitantly in the air, and Minho sees how much she’s trembling. “Cut it… cut it off. It’s okay. It’ll hurt, but I’ll be alive, so…”

He shakes his head. He truly doesn’t want to hurt this woman for some reason. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, not by him, not by anyone.

Still, there’s nothing he can do. Her former boss is a ruthless man, and he won’t believe him one bit if he were to just bring him her ring. He needs more proof than that.

“Soo-ah, will you forgive me if I hurt you deliberately?” He asks after a little while.

“Yes.” She answers without missing a beat. “You spared my life. You can cut it off, Minho. I will survive this.”

Despite her determined words, Minho knows she is just putting on a façade. She is scared, she is shaking, and he feels so bad. He’s never felt like this before, no matter who he had to kill. However, the prospect of causing this woman any sort of physical pain makes him feel terrible. He doesn’t want to do it, but if he is to prove he’s killed her, he must hurt her.

Minho grabs his phone from the desk and calls his assistant to bring in the doctor, and after ending the call, he grabs her hand and holds onto it tightly for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” He speaks softly as he pulls out a knife from his pocket.

Her whole body is shaking, and she shuts her eyes tight.

“I won’t cut off your whole finger. I’ll only cut off enough skin to use as proof, and I’ll take your ring. Alright?”

“... Yes.” She whispers, anticipating the impending pain.

Minho takes in a deep breath as he presses the blade into her skin, listening closely to Soo-ah’s sounds. She places her other hand on top of her mouth and tries to be as quiet as possible as the blade rips through her skin.

She fights the urge to jerk her hand back, not that it would be possible with Minho’s strong hold of her wrist and finger.

“There. We’re done.” He speaks hurriedly as he grabs a clean cloth and covers her hand, pressing tightly on the wound. “The doctor will be here soon. Are you alright?”

“It hurts so bad.” She cries out in pain and Minho pulls her closer, hugging her tightly.

“It hurts, I know. But you are alive, and that’s all that matters. You are alive.”

“I am alive.” She repeats and hugs him back, and she can’t believe that so much could happen to her in a span of a day.

She wishes she would’ve never applied to that job. She wishes she would’ve never worked for that terrible man, but she got blinded by the large sum of money he offered, and she took the offer without any further thoughts on the matter, and she truly regrets it now. She always seems to only make bad choices.

The doctor comes in and cleans the wound, informing both of them that thankfully, it’s not large enough to require a skin graft. He is able to stitch it shut, although he informs Soo-ah that it will inevitably scar.

A scar is a small price to pay for her life, she thinks.

Left alone once more with Minho, she doesn’t know what to do. She stays silent and tries her hardest to stop crying and observes as he begins clearing off his desk.

“Soo-ah, you can sit down until I’m done.” He informs her, so she nods and heads back to the chair she sat in previously.

“What are you doing?” She asks after a little while.

“We need to go. This place is no longer safe, since your boss knows about it. I will also need to call my associates and let them know they should relocate.”

“And then… what?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“What will happen to me?”

“I told you, haven’t I? We’ll get you a fake ID, change your appearance completely, and then… we’ll see. I still need to think about which tasks to give you, since you’re so…” Minho looks at her and stops, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m so… what?” She tilts her head to the side.

“So… righteous and innocent. I don’t even know what to do with you. You seem like you’d tremble and cry at the slightest mention of a murder.” He replies, and as if on cue, a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of potentially seeing a dead body, and she shakes.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologise for being this way, Soo-ah. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sighs. There really isn’t. Not everyone is made for this life, and he knows it. But unfortunately, some good people are forced into living like this, and she is one of them.

“I’ll do my best to not inconvenience you…”

“You can do some housework or… I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Or… as I told you, my memory is pretty good. If you’re stumped with work and have too many documents to check, or information about anyone… I can read all of them for you and just summarize. I will certainly remember everything.” She suggests, and Minho smiles softly.

“That's good to know. But for now, let’s just get out of here, hm? We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“Alright.” She nods and smiles back. "Once we go to the new hideout... you should get some rest, Minho."

"Hm?"

"You seem tired... like you haven't slept in a while." She says, and Minho can't help but smile. She is observant.

"Alright. I'll make sure to sleep once we leave this place." He replies, and she smiles satisfied.

Soo-ah is glad that coming to him ended up being the good choice – the only good choice she’s ever made, she believes. She wonders how she could trust him so much in such a short amount of time.

Still, she trusts him, and he seems to trust her too, and she is alive. That’s all that matters.

~The End~

[madhatterbri]

The Regret and Reunion | M.J.

Summary: Can you write an imagine with Matt Jackson (cocky and arrogant) & the reader breaking up; he breaks up with her once he feels his career is picking up but regrets it and does whatever he can to get her back. Fluffy and smutty.

Author's Note: Sorry it's so long. I, uh, got into this one. 😂🤷‍♀️

Requested by: Anonymous

Matt Jackson Masterlist

Taglist: @smallestsnarkestgirl @bullet-clubs-bitch @magicalbuttertarts

Pure Fiction

Matt always loved the attention that came from being a professional wrestler. The attention from the women in particular made him cocky and arrogant. His girlfriend, Y/N, was the opposite. She loved being in the background. A wall flower that always cheered him on at all the matches she could attend. They had been together since the beginning of his career, but Matt felt bored. He needed someone with the same zest for life like him.

The wrestler found himself starting arguments with her for no particular reason. One minor argument later, he finally wanted to end it. They met after one of his matches. He leaned against his car without a care in the world. Her belongings that once stayed in his place now stored in a cardboard box on his car.

"This isn't going to work for me," he told her. He moved his long brown hair away from his shoulder. "I think we should go our separate ways,"

Y/N let his words wash over her. She noted the way his brown eyes stayed on her. The words stung. Her heart felt like it was ripped in half. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Wow, okay, is this my stuff?"

Matt nodded. He was thrown off that she didn't seem too upset. Y/N walked to the cardboard box. She closed the lids on the top and scooped it up. His now ex turned on her heel and walked away. No goodbyes. He took a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Now, Matt was free.

The regret took a while to him, but when it did, it hit like a tsunami. The women who threw themselves at him no longer satisfied him. Nights when he came home sore felt longer. Y/N was no longer waiting for him with Advil and ice. Now, his body was met with bitter, cold sheets. One night, he lay in bed. His mind started to get the better of him. Soon, he found himself typing her name in a social media search. Her profile popped up.

Matt took an unsteady breath and clicked on her name. He scrolled to see her pictures. To his shock, and perhaps some disappointment, she looked happy. Her smile still lit up the whole room. She certainly kept herself busy with friends at different events. Pictures of her times at concerts, fairs, and even the beach littered her page. He clicked away from her profile and vowed to never search her again. He lied.

After looking her up, he started to miss her more. Her laughter whenever he did something silly to make her laugh. The way her face lit up when she saw him walking to the ring. Her concerned face when he had an injury. Matt screwed up. He knew he did. Now he was paying for it.

A few weeks passed, and he continued to look for her profile. After every match on the weekend or every date with a shallow woman, he would go back to see the woman he left behind. Y/N was eating away at him. He had to reach out to her. To speak to her to see if there was anything left of their lost relationship. He had to give it a shot.

One night, while laying in bed, he stared at her number. A number that would forever be engraved in his memory. His Y/N. The cursor blinked on the screen as if to mock him. Finally, he had enough.

Hey, can we talk?

Matt immediately laid the phone face down on his bed and cursed. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled. That was the best he came up with. No proclamation of love. It's just a basic message that some teenage boys would tease him on. He was pulled away from his thoughts when his phone buzzed. Matt nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw she texted back.

Everything okay?

Matt felt his heart sink. Despite being a bastard, she still cared about him. Maybe he could have a second chance. A fresh start to get Y/N back. Nothing would ever make him let her go again.

Can I come over so we can talk?

This time, he didn't lay his phone down. He waited with bated breath. She started to text back immediately. His heart pounded loudly in his chest. He couldn't hear anything else.

Yes.

Matt didn't hesitate in fear that she would change her mind. He dressed quickly, ignoring the aches and pains from his match. With one last look in the mirror, he rushed to his car.

No thoughts except her invaded his mind. He couldn't screw this up. This was his last chance. He knew he didn't even deserve this chance. Luck was on his side. The lights seemed to be green for a little longer. When he parked his car at the apartment complex, he ran to her door and knocked.

Y/N opened the door and smiled briefly. Nothing like the smiles in the pictures with her friends. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she thought him coming over was a mistake.

"Hey," he spoke softly and smiled briefly. A contrast to the lively character he portrayed in the ring. She greeted him back just as short. "Can I come in?"

Y/N opened her mouth to speak yet stopped. The hesitation was noted by Matt. She looked over her shoulder before giving her answer.

"Come in, Matt," she spoke. The words they both never thought they'd hear again. She would never admit it to him, but it felt oddly comforting to say.

When Matt stepped inside, the apartment felt different. All traces of him were gone. He felt stupid for thinking that she would hold on to him coming back.

"You are starting to worry me. Is everything okay, Matt?"

Matt gulped. This was his final shot. "I messed up. I need you. I'm sorry. You mean so much to me, Y/N. I regret that day every day,"

Y/N stared at him in shock. "Matt, I've changed since we were last together. I like the new me,"

Matt felt his heart shatter. He swore shards of his heart caused his chest to hurt him. He wanted to run to his car.

"But maybe you've changed too. Let's just take things slow for now,"

A glimmer of hope caused him to smile. The conversation was after was rough. They were open and honest with each other. Y/N cried, and Matt could feel the lump in his throat. Tears formed in his eyes. He had to make things right this time around.

When Matt drove home, he hatched a plan to win her back. The first few weeks saw them revisiting their special places. The place where they first met, her favorite date spot, and the place he told her he loved her for the first time. They started a memory box together. Little notes and momentos to remind them of their times together.

He made time for her. Whenever he was on the road, he would show her that she was on his mind. Each morning, she woke up to a good morning text from him. Each night, before she drifted off to sleep, a good night message was sent to her. One day, she wasn't feeling well. Matt ensured Y/N's favorite flowers were delivered to her.

When Matt returned, he took Y/N to watch the sunset with him. A simple picnic date, but it would eventually lead to the best night of their lives. She didn't know it just yet, but a ring box was in his pocket. A promise ring to symbolize their new relationship. A promise that he would prove he loved her until his last breath. That is exactly what he told her when he dropped her off at her apartment.

Y/N felt the tears spring to her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered. He grabbed her hand and slid the ring on her finger. Matt kissed her goodbye and started to walk away.

She looked at her door and then him. They had a promise not to go into the other's place. The relationship wasn't going to be built on physical needs. He showed her how much he grew up.

"Matt, I want you to come in," she called to him. As expected, he immediately stopped in his tracks. He turned on his heel to look at her. Y/N opened the door as he made his way towards her.

"What? Are you sure? The agreement-"

Y/N stopped him by kissing him. He wrapped an arm around her waist. With his other hand, he pushed the door open. They made it inside. His heart fluttered when he saw the pictures of them on her wall. Things were starting to go back to normal.

She held his hand. Their fingers locked together as they made their way to her bedroom. Matt stopped at the threshold of her bedroom door to take it all in. Their memory box lay on the nightstand of her bed. More pictures and even some of his notes to her hung on her walls.

"You just gonna stand there?" She teased. Matt saw her sitting on her knees on her bed. Her dress is a balled up mess on the floor. He smiled at her. His heart pounded loudly enough for him to hear. All the blood in his body seemed to go south.

He stood in front of her. Her hands grabbed the hem of his shirt. She pulled the shirt over his head. Soft kisses planted on his lips and neck. A smirk planted against his skin every time she heard him whisper her name.

Her fingertips ran down his chest and stomach. They stopped at his belt. Her fingers worked to unbuckle him. She felt the strain of his pants. When her hand grazed his bulge, he sucked his breath.

Matt would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this exact moment. The two of them in her bedroom. His love of his life taking control like this. He was one lucky man.

"Close your eyes," she commanded. Lost in thoughts, he hadn't noticed she managed to unbutton his pants and slide them around his thighs. He licked his dry lips and nodded. He closed his eyes long enough for her to notice. When he felt his underwear come down, he watched her through his lashes.

Her warm hand wrapped around his cock. Matt closed his eyes as she pumped him a few times. The tip of her tongue met the head. He grunted her name as her hand slowly slid down his shaft.

Her lips wrapped around him and slid down him. The same slow pace that she pumped him with. Matt begged for more. Her lips curled in a smile around him. She obliged.

Y/N's throat contracted around him. He opened his eyes slightly. His brown eyes mesmerized at the sight. His beloved Y/N on her knees took him in. "I want to touch you, please,"

Her hand grabbed his wrist. She let his fingers snake through her hair. Matt ran his fingers through her locks before gripping them. He started off slow. Maneuvering her to take a little at a time before fully enjoying her mouth. His head rolled back. A few more thrusts, and he released her hair.

"Lay back," he ordered. Y/N moved her legs to sit on her butt. She slowly slid back until her head rested against her pillows. Matt allowed the rest of his clothes to hit the floor. The cocky side of him rose when she couldn't look away from him. "Like what you see?"

"You know I do, Matty," she answered. He crawled on the bed on his hands and knees. She licked her lips in anticipation. The love of her life kissed her. His hands propped him up above her. Matt sat on his knees. His fingertips brushed her inner thighs before meeting at her underwear. He couldn't hide his shock at the wet spot that already formed.

"Already?" He teased. Y/N blushed and nodded. His thumb pushed the fabric inwardly. She let out a soft moan. His name fell from her lips. Matt's lips met hers. With hooked fingers, her underwear slid down her legs.

"You know what you do to me," she gasped. His fingers coated in her juices. He slid his fingers inside of her. Fingers curled inside of her. He thrusted in and out of her at a quicker pace. Matt loved this part. Seeing her so needy for him and only him. Her moans made him ache. He needed her. Not long after, he pressed himself at her entrance.

"I love you, Y/N," he spoke. His eyes filled with love as he stared at hers.

"I love you, Matt,"

Her legs wrapped around his waist. Slowly, he inserted himself inside of her. Eyes closed to revel in the fact that she was his once more. No one would ever take that away from him again. She was his soul mate. Now and forever his.

His pace picked up the moment he noticed she was trying to keep quiet. It was late at night. Her neighbors would surely be asleep by now. That wasn't his problem. He needed to hear her. His ego needed to know he was doing a good job.

"Oh no. Don't be shy. I want the neighbors to hear who makes you feel this good," he told her. "Say my name,"

It was a quicker pace to get a reaction. His hands gripped her waist roughly. Her walls clung to him.

"M-Matt," she whimpered. It wasn't good enough. His thumb found her bundle of nerves. She bucked her hips immediately. He placed a hand on her lower stomach to keep her in place.

"Not quite, baby. Who makes you feel this good?"

"You... you do,"

"What's my name? Huh? Tell them my name,"

"Matt!" She called out. Her body tensed under him. Toes curled as her orgasm washed over her. Her walls gripped him. He fucked her through it achieving his own orgasm. Sweetly reminding her that he was there to catch her.

He slid out of her. Matt laid down next to her. Their arms wrapped around the other. She rubbed his back sweetly. The cool metal of her promise ring rubbed against his back.

"I love you,"

"I love you too,"

[nanowrimo]

10 Ways to Turn Revision Into an Adventure

For some of us, revision may be your next big challenge during Camp. Sounds a little intimidating, doesn’t it? Well, have no fear! NaNo participant Madison Vaughn-Parra is here to make revision fun! So… you’ve got yourself a first draft. Perhaps it’s years worth of work, or perhaps it was the product of the frenzied rush that is National Novel Writing Month. Either way, you’ve deemed it a complete work, which means only one thing: it’s ready for revision.

Did you picture lightning striking on a dark and stormy night when reading the big “R” word? If so, you’re not alone! For many, revision is even more intimidating than dreaming up a novel from scratch. If writing a first draft was an adventure of epic proportions, then revising that same draft is a slog through already-explored terrain, right?

Wrong! I’ve found that revision can be just as grand of an adventure as writing 50K in 30 days! To prove it, I’d like to share ten ways you can turn your revision journey from a dreaded duty into an exciting adventure:

1. First things first: make a copy of your first draft, and then don’t touch the original! You don’t want your adventure bogged down by regrets, after all, and having an untouched first draft will ensure that if you’re unhappy with any changes, you’ll always have the original to fall back on.

2. Be prepared! Just as you wouldn’t want to forget your socks and undies, you’re going to want to pack everything you need to help you on your revision adventure. NaNoWriMo’s “Now What?” revision guide should come in handy, for starters!

3. Take a trip off the beaten path and explore all of the “What If’s”, no matter how wild they might seem. What if you added to the chemistry of your main characters and turned your action-adventure novel into a full-blown romance? What if the murder mystery mastermind was the other guy? The possibilities are endless!

4. Go on a hunt to find the most hilarious typos born from the fever-induced ramblings of the NaNo mind, and share them with your writing group for laughs!

5. Make it a game! For example, does your novel have a character who keeps disappearing from scenes they’re supposed to be in? (Mine was a tiny dragon named Mouse…) Every time you write that character back into a scene, reward yourself with a treat for “finding” them!

6. Gleefully chop away at tangents, plot twists, and descriptions you included in your first draft simply for word count. No one can stop you from backspacing now!

7. Try new tools! Is there any better feeling than using a brand new travel accessory for the first time? That’s how I felt when I first tried Scrivener’s split-screen feature and discovered just how fun it made revision. Why not check out NaNoWriMo’s offers page to see if any new tools spark your excitement?

8. Delight in discovering passages that you have absolutely no memory of writing! If you’re anything like me, there will be quite a few of them, and you’ll find you can improve them with the ease of editing someone else’s writing.

9. Capture your favorites! Create a “Snapshots” document or folder and fill it with all the first draft passages that you got right the first time. If you start feeling discouraged during revising, simply pull up these snapshots and remind yourself of your own genius!

10. If you really want to capture the NaNo spirit, try rewriting your novel from start to finish without even glancing at your first draft. This trick terrifies me, personally, but I know folks who swear by it! Congratulations! You’re now ready for your revision adventure! Pack up your bags, be kind to yourself, and have fun exploring your novel again. I’ll be right there with you!

Madison Vaughn-Parra is a lifelong writer and passionate geek, who technically works a corporate job in program management but prefers to spend her time in fantasy and science-fiction worlds of her own creation. She’s happily lost in the woods of her own revision adventure at the moment and hoping to dive into the publishing process next. She rarely posts on Twitter, but you can still follow her @vaughn__boyage if you’d like! Header Photo by Leah Kelley from Pexels

[kamryn1963]

Chicago PD Fanfic: Ten Minutes

A quick little thing for International Whump Day. Which is my new favorite day. I couldn't think of anything to write until my fucked up mind came up with this.

Summary: After tragedy strikes, Hank thinks about one of his biggest regrets and how he failed Alvin.

(TW: Descriptions of suicide. Read at your own risk.)

Hank had a lot of regrets in his life. He could spend hours naming them all. It was no surprise or secret that he’d fucked up a lot. 

This was no exception. He had been ten minutes late. 

Two weeks ago at around ten at night, Hank got a call from Al. Except Hank was in the shower at that time, his phone in his room so he didn’t even notice Al had called until after his shower. Hank called back right away but got no answer. 

He didn’t think much of it at the time, just thinking whatever problem Al had called about had passed and he didn’t need Hank anymore.

 Hank would forever regret that. 

The next morning Al didn’t show up for work which was really unusual for him. Especially since Lexi’s passing as he was always there concerningly early. Before anybody could head to his house, Hank got a call from a hysterical Meredith who had also noticed her husband’s car still in the driveway and went to the garage to check. 

Just to find Al dead from his own bullet. Suicide. There was no debate about it. No foul play, just Al on his couch a picture of his late daughter in his hand and notes addressed to Hank, Meredith, Trudy and the team on the table next to him. 

If Hank had just showered later or heard his phone rang he could’ve helped, could’ve talked Al down before he did this. Al had been reaching out for help and Hank had failed him. 

But he was too late. Now his best friend, his and Trudy’s little brother, was dead.

Hank finished tying his tie looking blankly at himself in the mirror. It was Al’s funeral today. Hank knew he had to be strong, for Meredith and for Michelle who lost a dad she just found. He couldn’t break down. Not yet. 

“I’m so sorry”. Hank whispered as his eyes fell on a picture of Trudy and Al he had taken only last year. 

“I should’ve answered. I should’ve seen the signs. You were trying to get help”. Hank said to an empty room like it’d make everything okay. It wouldn’t. Nothing would be. 

Hank took a deep breath, and left his house heading to the church for the funeral. He met Trudy on the way and they both stood there, just embracing each other. 

“He’s really gone”. Trudy said, her voice breaking and Hank just held her tighter. 

“Yeah. He is”. 

Alvin Olinsky was dead. And Hank had failed him in his final moments. when he had needed Hank the most, he had let him down. 

[coockie8]

Wait what? Girl what happened? Do you mind talking about it? We could go to dms if you'd like cause I've never seen Anything on that

It's pretty public, like at least two posts about it will come up if you search my username (unless you already have these people blocked, or vice versa), so we don't have to go to DMs, but this will be long, so I'm gonna put it under a Keep Reading.

About 3-4 years ago on the original variation of my Dark Ace ask blog @red-eyed-raven, a user whose username I can't remember (who will from here on out be referred to as A), and won't share anyway because despite what they did, I don't think they deserve to be harassed, started interacting with Dark Ace, and chatting with me a bit.

We moved over to discord to engage a bit of a more personal relationship (a decision I will rapidly come to regret), they realised that I was coockie8, and briefly gushed about how they'd been a fan of my art for a while. I joined their discord server, I had a (deeply uncomfortable due to my anxiety) voice call with them, and I'd even given them the (real life) name I'd been going by at the time.

On the ask blog, there was also another user (who we'll refer to as B) I'd been kinda low key roleplaying with (who I also moved over to discord with at a point), and the roleplay did get sorta spicy in spots (by "spicy" I mean Dark Ace suggested showering with this person's character at one point). Now, I will admit B had "high school student" written in their bio, but as someone who was in high school until their literal 20's, that didn't actually give me any indication of their age. Given the usually spicy content on the blog, I figured they were 18+. I am fully willing to admit I made a mistake here; I should not have made assumptions.

Anyway, at some point I noticed that I'd been removed from the discord, and when I asked A, who was the server owner, about it, I was told they didn't approve of the dark content I was writing with a friend who was running a Lightning Strike blog at the time, and they'd rather I not be in the server, and I took that in stride, blocked A so they wouldn't be forced to interact with me in any way, and moved on. Prior to this, the Lightning Strike blog in question had received a nasty anon accusing them of romanticizing abuse because of the "stockholm-ish" nature of the way we were portraying Dark Ace and Lightning Strike's relationship.

After a few days of Dark Ace not getting interactions from A, someone asked if something had happened, and I explained A wasn't comfortable with the kind of dark topics I cover (understandable), and that, in retrospect, they might have even been who'd sent that nasty anon to my friend.

This was the catalyst. A wasn't blocked from @red-eyed-raven, so they saw the ask andhad a full blown meltdown over me just suggesting that they might have sent that anon hate.

It was at this point A started hunting me down on other accounts, taking screenshots of any art they found objectionable (including a picture I'd drawn at 14 of Aerrow getting raped by Mr. Moss) and poured all of it into a callout post accusing me of being a pedophile and a groomer, and called me a "backstabber" for hiding this from them (if you've been following me for any amount of time, you know I don't hide this). They posted (poorly censored) art they fully considered to be "child porn" Gods I hate that term publicly for all of their followers to see. But I was, somehow, the only one committing a crime in their mind. I don't know.

I don't need to explain where the "pedophile" part comes from; these people believe a cartoon character assigned the narrative trait of a number below 18 is the exact same thing as a real, living, breathing 14-year-old. As a CSA survivor, this grinds my gears for obvious reasons.

The "groomer" part was over the barely spicy RP with B, as well as the fact I'd admitted to them that the police had seen my "objectionable art" in the past and did nothing (this part is crucial, at least to me, 'cause there's at least 1 user who's been trying to claim I've been convicted. I have not. I have no record. They're lying.), because drawings are not the same thing as hurting a real person, and there's literally nothing wrong with creating dark and taboo art. The act of stating this objective fact (that art is not real life) is, apparently, "grooming", I guess.

A couple more "callout" posts were made, rife with all the same misinformation, and I left the fandom for a year. Upon tentatively returning about a year later, I immediately got attacked by these people, and promptly shut down for a while until I'd established myself in the proship community, and didn't feel so isolated anymore. This is when I fully returned, and it's taken at least 2 years for me to stop drowning in anxiety every time I hyperfixate on this show.

So yeah, that's the gist. I know it's long, sorry.

[dancingsalome]

The Historian: Part One, Chapter 1.

A little housekeeping. The Historian has several narrators, all, but the teenaged narrator in the 1972 parts, are named. So for ease, I will call her N, instead of the nameless narrator. Also, these posts will contain spoilers.

Summary:

How these papers have been placed in sequence will be made manifest in the reading of them. All needless matters have been eliminated, so that a history almost at variance with the possibilities of later-day belief may stand forth as simple fact. There is throughout no statement of past things wherein memory may err, for all the records chosen are exactly contemporary, given from the standpoints and within the range of knowledge of those who made them.

Part One starts with this quote from Dracula, by Bram Stoker. It reinforces the idea that The Historian is a true account, a collection of papers that tells a story that has really happened.

In chapter 1 we learn a bit about N. She's 16 and lives with her diplomat father in Amsterdam. Her mother died as a baby, and she lives a very sheltered life, mostly occupied with her studies. At this point N thinks her father’s effort to shield her is because he is her only parent. But the reader may wonder if it’s not to protect her from something. One day she finds a book, and collection of letters in her father’s library. N doesn’t tell us what she finds in the book that captivates her, and she only reads a little from the first letter before she puts it away, but it’s a rather sinister paragraph:

My dear and unfortunate successor:

It is with regret that I imagine you, whoever you are, reading the account I must put down here. The regret is partly for myself – because I will surely be at least in trouble, maybe dead, or perhaps worse, if this is in your hands. But my regret is also for you, my yet-unknown friend, because only by someone who needs such vile information will this letter someday be read. If you are not my successor in some other sense, you will soon be my heir – and I feel sorrow at bequeathing to another human being my own, perhaps unbelievable, experience of evil. Why I myself inherited it I don’t know, but I hope to discover that fact, eventually – perhaps in the course of writing to you or perhaps in the course of further events…

Instead of asking her father about her find at once, N begs to follow him on his next diplomatic journey, something she has so far never been allowed to. He agrees, and she accompanies him to a Yugoslavian city she calls Emona. Well there, N tells her father what she has found, and now it is revealed that the book contained the printed image of a dragon, and she asks him to tell her about it, which he reluctantly agrees to do.

The real name of Emona is Ljublana, which today is the capital of Slovenia. N points out this is where the story starts, but up until this re-read I could never understand why Kostova chose this particular place. Not until this time, did I notice that N and her father cross a bridge, guarded by bronze dragons. The Dragon Bridge, Zmajski most, was built in 1901, and as you can see from the picture, the dragons are impressive. By walking over it, N truly walks into the start of this story, where the motif of the dragon will return again, and again. Ljubljana also has a dragon on the city’s coat of arms, referring to a legend that this is the place where the Greek hero Jason slayed the dragon. Or, possibly, it’s about the legend of St. George and the dragon. Either way, Ljubljana is a city of dragons, and I find it very fitting to start a book about Dracula here.

[leviathan-ghoul]

Creative Intuition // Ghost OC Ficlet

Hello! This will make my first post on this website— on any website in a long while— but it’s just an idea I had late at night and now I’m staying up writing instead of finishing much needed tasks. If y’all want, I can upload a bio for my OC later on. But as of right now, just know that it’s a he/they androgynous fellow named Marcel. <3

Summary: Papa goes to his top creative mind, Marcel, in need of something new and exciting to show off.

>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>

It was late in the night when he had shed the clothes from the day, rank with the sweat of his anxiety. When he’d washed off his corpse paint and combed his hair, glanced at himself in the mirror one final time before the warm grip of his weighted blanket would pull him into a deep sleep.

Late in the night, when he heard a knock at his door. And due to his irritation, he had nearly jumped out of his flesh. Though it was a timid knock, he had been very put off by it. His tranquility collapsed. And in his frustration, he stormed over to the door and flung it open.

Much to his surprise— and regret— the form of his Satanic Pope stood brilliantly before him. His heterochromiac eyes bore into his own, and there was a moment of silence before the figurehead cleared his throat.

“Good evening, uh, Brother Marcel.” Oh, how that voice did not match his gallant appearance. “I hope my sudden intrusion did not find you in an… ill manner.”

“Of course not.” Marcel sighed, lying through his teeth as he bowed his head. He could only pray that this would take a moment, and he could return to his doing absolutely nothing in a moment. “What is it that you need?” He’d sounded too impatient. Oops.

“Well, it’s been made clear to me that the Ghost project is in need of a new face, now that I’ve, uh… ascended to the papacy.”

Oh no. “… I see…” Marcel contained his dread, even though his hopes of a good night’s rest had been crushed. He folded his arms across his chest and listened in well.

“So I thought, since you’ve designed the ghouls’ recent line, that you could perhaps… fashion a new one?” It sounded a lot like a question. A question that Marcel would love to refuse at this time of the night, when everyone in the surrounding halls was asleep— and he should be too.

“… yes, Papa. I can do that.” He made his best attempt to lighten up his voice, soften his hazel eyes and relax his jaw. And at these motions, something had stirred in Papa’s expression. Discontentment was Marcel’s first guess, and he stiffened up again to present as more dignified. Willing. He strode over to his dresser and snatched up the pocket-sized notebook from atop it, and the pen by its side, flicking through the paper to find a blank page.

“Do you have any ideas in mind? Any requirements?” Marcel began. Hopefully this would make it a bit easier, if he already had an idea of what he wanted, rather than starting from scratch. He could picture himself now, spending days on designs and prototypes and having them all rejected because they didn’t fit what Papa would like.

“Well…” he began, “this new album is a lot more focused on the conflict of the modern world. Something with modernization as a… sort of theme.”

Marcel nodded slowly as he wrote, mentally drawing up one blank after another. “… okay. Anything else?”

Papa thought for a moment before shrugging one shoulder. “Not… not particularly. The rest is up to you, really— I’m sure I’ll be happy with anything you come up with, fratello.”

I doubt it.

Marcel bit his lip and set the notebook back down, approaching the doorway once more. “Very well— I’ll get to work on those as soon as possible. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

He wasn’t expecting Papa’a firm hand to grasp his shoulder the next second, giving it a light squeeze. “Get some good rest.” Papa had softened his voice as he ducked down slightly to look them in the eyes, “And take good care of yourself, eh?”

Marcel found a look of kindness in those eyes— real care— and couldn’t refuse it. Those haunting, glimmering orbs pleaded them, and the grip on his shoulder tightened ever so slightly.

“I-I will. Thank you, Papa.” And with that, he waited for the man to release him before backing into his room and closing the door, listening for those footsteps to trail away.’

Modernization. Industrialization. The Industrial Revolution. An alternative future. Dystopia— what could’ve been.

These ideas flooded his exhausted brain as he began with a sketch. He stood at his desk, back beginning to ache from his hunched posture and head pounding from the headache that his tensed shoulders had produced.

A gas mask. No— the classic steampunk goggles would fit the ghouls nicely. They would help disguise their features perfectly.

They let his imagination destroy him, venturing deeper into the hours of the night.

It would be well near the witching hour when he’d finally allow themself to rest.

Tfw you lost motivation halfway through. Anyways I didn’t really like how this turned out but oh well… it’s content.

[follebutbella]

Dear B,

I am writing this letter to let you know that I am not okay and you have to come home now and take me away from here. You’ve been gone for six years and I got no news from you. You could’ve sent me a letter. Or visit me in my dreams. Or tell a common friend your whereabouts. In that way, I would know that you’re still alive. But, nothing. Just completely and hopelessly gone. You’re dead to me but no tomb to cry on. Sometimes, I picture myself orchestrating your death. It could be a thousand scenarios. And every single one would be hurtful. But this is my favorite. We’re in a boat. We’re both paddling. We were happy, screaming our lungs out to the song, Helena. And you’re giggling, like a child. Then, suddenly, the waves were drawn to us furiously, causing the boat to be upside down. We fell into the water and drowned. I thought of saving you since you couldn’t swim. I held you. You clung to me like your life depends on it. But it was too late. New waves found us and it took you away from me. The last thing I held was your hand until it slipped away. I wailed, called your name but didn’t reach you. I pulled myself up and managed to be in the boat again. I paddled my way back home. I cried not because I wasn’t able to save you. I regretted that I didn’t say goodbye. We both knew we’ll have tragic deaths. You used to say, “If I’m about to die, you have to look at me with your eyes saying goodbye. I don’t need words. I just want you to stare at me and let your eyes do the talking.” And I always laugh every time. “That’s hilariously uncomfortable.”, I replied.

So, what now? You can’t be dead because you drowned. You must hate me so much to the point of leaving me. You didn’t even say farewell. You ruined me. Do you have any idea what I’m feeling right now while I’m writing this?? I AM SO ANGRY AT YOU. I loathe you! You know that I can’t live without you! Now, I’m depressed and all I can do is write you a letter that you’d never receive. Unbelievable. I wish that you really drowned somewhere, somewhere far and alone.

~~~

B, I am sorry. Please come back. You have to help me with my mind and my heart. I’d rather die now than be unsaved. My heart sinks. My mind’s bad. I don’t know what to do. I can’t live my life by always writing you a letter every time I feel this. I’d rather be in your arms while you sing, Beige. You are my Beige. Please come back to me running. We can die together or save me, B. I promise not to lose you this time.

~R.

[waiting-in-green]

My little sunflower

It's been years since I've sat down and wrote down my thoughts, but I've never been in a place where it's felt more needed than now. I met someone I thought was really special. Everything about him. The way he smiled, the way he spoke, the way he said my name. We had so much in common and it felt like we could talk about anything, but most Importantly, we connected almost on what felt like a spiritual level. He compared our realationship to a Ying Yang. Two complete opposites that found eachother, but completed eachother. It all came crashing down however. He was in a 3 year realtionship he was unhappy with and struggled to let go despite not feeling happy or loved for a long time. I felt for him, I had been in that same situation before If not worse. I related to everything he said. He painted the picture to me as if he was on his way out of this realtionship. My only mistake was not waiting until he did that himself.

As time went by we grew closer, more inseparable. Before we knew it we had fallen in love. We made promise bracelets with eachother, a bracelet that represented our favorite colors, our love to one another, ying-yang and a forever promise that we would end up together someday. More time passed and we decided to take the risk and meet in person. I flew to him and we stayed together for a very short but never to be forgotton 3 days. I've never felt the love that I felt when beside him, while holding him, while looking into his eyes and when our lips finally touched my heart exploded. He was everything I've always wanted and so much more. From that moment on I promised to only show him true love, and to never activate his fear of abandonment, I wanted to be there for him always, to protect him from everything, to keep him safe and live a happy life with him, that life flashed before my eyes, but it was all destined to fail, our love was built on a foundation that was not ours to build on. It was time to go home, and the reality kicked in. What will we be going forward I asked? There's no way I can go home after spending this time together and be okay with you still being in your realtionship. He took some time to think about it and he ultimately decided to choose the other guy.

The story doesn't end there however, I didn't trust that he would tell his partner that we had been together. That was my condition. If he didn't choose me then he needs to tell his partner or I would. Ultimately I ended up telling his partner at the time out of fear he would push this under the rug. I regret everything. They broke up, but now we were a mess too. I broke his trust, I went behind his back and made the decision for him and only now writing this down do I realize how awful I was for not trusting him. I can only imagine how hurt and betrayed he felt by me. We became distant, things were difficult, I wanted to be with him and support him but he was confused. Apart of him wanted to still try and make things work with his now ex, and the other part still wanted the connection with me, ultimately resulting in us both being neglected. It was a rollercoaster, hot and cold, but I stayed by his side no matter what decision. In the end he decided not to choose either of us, because the thought of either of us going forward only brought up the pain he felt from his guilt and maybe even the betrayal from me. He calls me his savior now, he says that I saved him from a situation he felt trapped in for so long but that he would not be ready for love for anytime soon again. I stood by his side and tried to support him in anyway I could.

Sadly, he ended up finding another love Interest, and sadly he had been talking to this love Interest all along. While with his ex, while talking to me and even before I visited him. My heart shattered to a million pieces finding this out, and I still haven't been able to find all the peices to this day… From that moment forward he dropped all his feelings for me as if they were nothing. What about the promises we made I asked? What about our bracelet? He grew numb and repressed anything he felt for me. He says he found love with this new guy. This new guy took him away and distracted him from all the guilt and pain and makes him feel good. How can this be love? I understand it's hard to face the reality of OUR actions, but we could have fixed anything together. Why didn't you give me a chance? Why do I still want a chance?

As we neared the end of our once beautiful story that only we could understand, we spoke one last time. I tried and tried and tried to win him back at any expense, but he is convinced this new guy is what he needs and that I am no longer what he wants. It hurts more than I could ever manage to express in this entry. So many unanswered questions, so much love wasted, repressed. Was it ever really love? to this day he says it really was, and I felt it was as well, but how could you do this to the person you loved? Because things got hard? Because you felt shame? Because you felt judged by your family? We decided to cut contact with one another. It's been one of the hardest things I've ever had to accept. He hurt me more than anyone ever has, so why do I still love him? Why do I not hate him? Why have I forgave him so quickly? Why do I hope one day he comes back to me so we can work this out? Am I a fool? Some might say desperate, but I'm a pretty good looking guy. I can easily find another person, but only our hearts with truly every understand the pull we had for one another. Only out hearts will ever understand the butterflys we felt when we first embraced eachother in Virtual Reality only for it to become real someday.

We aren't talking anymore, we agreed to block eachother on social media, but we left some doors open. Our numbers are not blocked and we share a collabrative playlist on Youtube together and a new promise was made. That we would grow, and communicate through music and someday we will find eachother again. What that connection will be if that day ever comes? I honestly couldnt say, but I know for certain despite everything, I forgive you. I love you and I'm sorry for betraying your trust the way I did. You see I was also scared, or losing someone so special to me and I regret ever saying anything. In the end you're happy it was done, but It should never have been me. So for now I fight the urge to search you on social media, because everytime I do the wound is reopened everytime I see you posting about him, using the same emojis, posting the same song lyrics, but now it's all about him. Like I meant nothing.

I'm doing my best to move forward now, but I will always hope my little sunflower returns to me. I'll truly love you forever. If you ever come back I'll be right here. I know you say you don't deserve it and maybe you don't, but my heart has never burned with a flame brighter than ours. People deserve second chances and that second chance will be here for you when we are more grown.

I love you so much my little flower, the ying to my yang, the one that got away…

Love,

Anty

P.S. blue + yellow = green

Green, the color of hope, painted with tears, Holding onto memories of our time together. You say blue is where your heart now lies, But in green's embrace, your love never dies.

[casspurrjoybell-18]

Mutual Desire - Chapter 31

*Warning - Adult Content*

Damien Clark awoke abruptly to the persistent ringing of his doorbell. 

He had no idea who dared disturb his deep sleep but when he casted a glance at his phone and saw four missed calls from Dimitri, he figured who was likely behind it.

"Are you on a crutch to take ten years to open the door?" Dimitri let out his humorous exaggeration as soon as Damien opened the door for him.

Dimitri was standing in front of the entrance, a grocery looking bag in his hands where Ed's Breakfast was writing on. 

Next to him was the always so kind Samuel, who held a white box in one hand with pictures of donuts printed on it and a tray with three cups in the other. 

When the smell coming from the bag that Dimitri held reached his nose, Damien quickly forgave his friends for the rude awakening they had caused. 

He had never wanted to drink a hot coffee as much as he did now.

"Hey guys," Damien greeted his friends, his voice betraying his exhaustion.

Damien took one last look with his tired semi close eyes at his friends before grabbing one of the cups from the tray, turning away and going to the bathroom, as if his friends weren't even there.

"I think he just woke up,"

Damien overheard Samuel say to Dimitri with amusement in his voice. 

Damien entered the bathroom, leaving his guests to themselves. 

He had an urge to empty his bladder and couldn't wait any longer. 

After satisfying his needs, he washed his face and brushed his teeth. 

Then he went to the kitchen where he found Dimitri and Samuel seated at the table facing each other and already eating their food.

"So, what's up guys?"

Damien took a seat next to Samuel and put his cup of coffee and his phone on the table. 

He rummaged through Dimitri's bag and took out two sandwiches.

"I should be the one asking you this. Lately, we haven't seen you at all," Dimitri replied before taking a bite of his sandwich.

Damien thought Dimitri was exaggerating, as barely a week had passed since the last time they had encountered each other. 

Admittedly, Dimitri had proposed they get together a few times, which Damien had to refuse each time due to the lack of space in his sudden busy schedule the past few days. 

Despite that, the two friends didn't spend a week without seeing each other at least once, especially in the summer, so Damien could see where Dimitri was coming and that his friend wasn't really wrong of complaining.

"I saw Sam yesterday," Damien said, nonetheless justifying himself. "And why weren't you at the bowling? You let us down."

Dimitri took a sip of his coffee and a sneering grin brushed his mouth.

"Don't try changing the subject, pretty boy. And it was a couple's night and as far as I'm concerned, I'm free like air."

"It didn't stop you from bringing some of your one-night stand a few times," Samuel said with a slight smile.

It took Sam to tell it like it was even if he barely spoke. Dimitri casted a quarrelsome look at Samuel but his widening smile showed that it didn't have the desired effect.

"Don't remember asking for your two cents!" Dimitri swayed in a fake cold voice that didn't reach his eyes.

Damien and Samuel exchanged a meaningful smile.

"So, why aren't we seeing you anymore?" Dimitri said, returning on Damien's case.

Damien smiled mockingly at Dimitri.

"Aren't you seeing me right now?"

Dimitri was about to reply but was interrupted by Damien's phone, which had suddenly vibrated on the table. 

Craig's name appeared on the screen and brutally, the memories of last night or rather of this morning appeared without warning in Damien's head. 

The profound regrets and genuine remorse he had managed to more or less block resurfaced and a need to vomit took him. 

Yet he revealed no such thing to his friends and continued to eat normally, simply ignoring the call.

"You're not answering?" Dimitri asked after the third ring, his mouth full of a piece of his sandwich.

Damien gently cleared his throat and pretended to look into Dimitri's bag, faking a search of another sandwich when he hadn't even touched his second bagel egg bacon yet.

"No, I'll call him later," Damien replied promptly with a voice he wished sounded unaffected.

Damien really hoped his acting game was on point and that he had efficiently managed to foul his friends because nothing in the world could force him to talk about Craig right now or even see him. 

He would've ten times undoubtedly preferred having a discussion on politics or even religion, two things he hated, before discussing about Craig.

"No, go ahead, you can answer," Dimitri told him, granting Damien a permission he didn't need at the moment.

Damien wanted to sigh with exasperation. 

For once, he behaved respectfully towards his friends and gave them all his attention and it had turned against him. 

Life was so unfairly made. 

Dimitri didn't seem to perceive it that way anyway. 

The hard-hearted bachelor was insisting so much that it caused Damien to wonder whether his friend might be aware of something or had sensed something was wrong.

"No, it's fine, I'll call him later." Damien insisted in return.

Dimitri and Damien exchanged a look that Damien felt lasted for an eternity. 

Then the bachelor shouted a look full of insinuation towards Samuel which didn't please Damien at all. 

He knew precisely what would ensue.

"What's wrong, Dee? You had a fight with Craig?"

Oddly, it was Samuel who asked the question that Damien dreaded the most.

"No I..."

"So why aren't you answering the phone?" Dimitri asked, interrupting Damien.

As Dimitri spoke, the phone stopped vibrating on the table to then vibrate right after.

"Because I'm with you guys. It's impolite," Damien tried with a pathetic excuse he knew was no way going to work.

Damien turned the phone, hiding the screen. 

He bit into his sandwich deliberately avoiding any visual contact with his friends, especially with Dimitri who was facing him.

"Looks like the lovebirds got into a fight," Dimitri teased with a smile.

Damien wanted to level his eyes. 

If he had left his phone in his room instead of dragging it with him wherever he went like a baby, none of that would've happened. 

And since when did friends complained of not answering a call in their presence? 

Wasn't it supposed to be the opposite? 

Damien felt that he'd been living in this upside down world for the past few days.

"What did you do, Dam?" Samuel asked, with a slight smile.

The completely sincere and tender glint in Sam's eyes made Damien want to reveal everything to him. 

But though his friend was considered the ‘good guy’ of the group and the one who showed the most empathy, he wouldn't be able to genuinely understand Damien. 

The guy was about to get married for heaven's sake. 

He seemed to be on cloud nine with his fiancée. 

It was really hard for Damien to foolishly imagine how he was going to explain to a man who was about to go down the aisle that he had let another man other than Craig kissed him. 

Samuel wouldn't t judge him or make any derogatory remarks about the situation, it wasn't part of his character at all but he wouldn't understand and wouldn't t be able to advise Damien. 

And that was what Damien needed right now. 

As much as he wanted to be honest with his close friend, his precarious situation couldn't be told impulsively to anyone. 

Just like Nick, the whole case involving Nabokov was out of bounds for Samuel too.

"Craig and I didn't argue, Dim," Damien Clark repeated softly, his head down.

"Then why don't you call him back and put the phone on speaker," Dimitri suggested with a mischievous smile.

Damien took a piece of his sandwich and he chewed softly while smiling playfully.

"Sorry, I'm eating and my mom told me to never speak with a mouth full."

Dimitri opened the box stacked of donuts and took out a chocolate one.

"Well, you must not talk often since you always have your mouth full."

Samuel gently shook his head slightly with a faint smile as Damien lifted his middle finger towards Dimitri with a sarcastic grin. 

Dimitri bit into his donut before provocatively licking his lips and winking at Damien. 

Craig’s name was no longer invoked in the conversation, much to the relief of Damien, who mentally thanked Dimitri for it, since he had involuntarily diverted the subject with his perverted phrase. 

The three friends continued enjoying their breakfast, catching up. 

They chatted and laughed. 

Well, it was more Damien and Dimitri that were talking and laughing. 

Samuel stayed a little behind as usual.

"We have to go to the movies today. There's this movie I have to see before Eric."

Damien leveled his eyes. 

Dimitri and Eric were worse than kids. 

They were still going on with their foolish game where one goes to see a movie before the other to then spoil it for the other one.

 Damien still remembers the time Dimitri went to the movies to see the latest Avengers as soon as it came out. 

Following that, he sent a video he took to Eric where the Iron Man character died. 

Damien still hasn't been able to figure out how Eric had managed to find the strength to forgive the unforgivable to his friend. 

Damien naively believed after Dimitri's diabolical plot that his friends would've learned their lesson and stop this ridiculous game but it seems that this hobby between Dimitri and Eric remained active.

"I have to go," Samuel suddenly said after Dimitri's movie proposal, his eyes plunged on his phone.

Damien turned to Samuel and raised an eyebrow.

"Already?" Sam got up from his chair, his eyes remaining on his phone.

"Yes, sorry. Andrea needs me to help her with something for the wedding."

Damien couldn't help but look at Dimitri, knowing well what he was going to see. 

Dimitri's expression darkened a little and he took his phone, playing on it as if he no longer wanted to be part of the conversation that was going on between Samuel and Damien. 

Fortunately, Samuel saw nothing, much too busy looking at his phone screen too.

"I'm heading now guys. See ya."

Damien said goodbye to him and Dimitri did the same but vaguely, directing all his sudden attention to his phone. 

Dimitri's unusual expression didn't change. 

He was looking at his phone but Damien could tell something had changed. 

He was quite aware of the reason for this sudden change of mood. 

Though he will never admit it to Sam, Dimitri doesn't really approve of his best friend's wedding. 

Perhaps approve wasn't the accurate word. 

Dimitri was, of course thrilled that his friend had found someone to share his life with and Sam did look very much contented but Damien perceived a certain fear in Dimitri.

 A well-founded fear of not maintaining the same close relationship he has with Samuel after the wedding.

[hwan-g]

This one was a long time coming, and I'm SO glad I finally can sit down and write the review this chapter deserves.

Of course, we start with the simple fact that you've completely corrupted me, Mari. I am now a full on hard Changbin stan, and there is not an ounce of regret in my body. I want to sincerely thank you for introducing this man in my life in the most awesome way, and for genuinely changing the way I view him in the group. Like, there was always this appreciation and adoration for me, but through your writing it skyrocketed to a whole other level. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for that.

I already touched on Seungmin in the previous chapter, but I just want to add, once again, how great of a characterization this is. Hard-headed, betrayed, just total Virgo behavior here, but also a deeply rooted Kim Seungmin behavior. Yes, I love this boy. Yes, I yell about him any chance I get.

He glares at you and sighs deeply. “Like I just said. Two reckless shit stirrers.” 

You chuckle and gently nudge his arm. 

“Seriously, Min,” you say. “I’m really sorry. I was an idiot.” 

“You still are,” he points out, and you have to agree.

*chants his name in a sacrificial way*

The bar fight. It did something to me, it altered my brain chemistry. Picturing all our favs just going at it, Changbin smashing skulls, Chris fighting two people at once--Mari, please. Hanging on by a thread here. And then the little Hyunlix story, my babies, my heart. 'You used to see the leather cut, and the leather cut only.' The character growth, I still remember the way it made me feel. I'm pretty sure I was about half-way through a bag of chips, yelling 'SEE I TOLD YOU' at my tablet's screen. Minho the onion. Minho our lord and savior. Minho the guy that cannot be chained down, everyone's man. I love him. I love him so much. There's something real, something authentic in the way this poly relationship works in the story. It never felt weird or too much; every person gave something, like colors blending together to create a whole other shade. It was organic, it just worked.

I also just like the simple fact that he'll never be tied down, and everyone knows this, and it still doesn't change the fact. I think in more ways than one he loved Trouble. But it wasn't a life altering love, it was a falling-in-love-with-who-you-are-as-a-person kinda thing, it would run deep like friendship in the long run, if that makes sense. With Changbin it was like coming home, it just made sense--a soulmate connection, perhaps. It would always be end game, I felt that since the first time the characters met. Ugh, Mari, I can talk about this story for hours. I mean I'm sure you can tell; I have so much to say weeks after reading it. I told you it'd stay with me, and it has. I think about this story, its characters often.

Hyunjin, my soft boy Hyunjin. He's just such a pillar in the MC's life. He's the kinda guy you go to after you've been wandering endlessly, you know what I mean? A comfort person. Someone with the right words, as Felix said. 'Hyunjin strokes your hair as you cry and tells you you’re not a bad person.' This messed me up.

Now, one of my favorite parts. MC feeling lost not being in contact with the club, feeling ostracized, especially during a time when Seungmin is also not talking to her. I feel like this must've cleared up so many things for her, but it also made her miss the people she, perhaps, took for granted. It's a great character moment, it almost feels like a little interlude before the third part of the tory, you know? And I loved that it was Jisung she found, the Lost BoyTM, the outsider observer. My mind just goes completely scrambled when it comes to him, I'm still rooting for a spin off. My soul needs it, Mari beloved.

“I would, but I barely remember it myself.”  I NEED ANSWERS. I NEED THE ANGST, THE ARC, THE ROMANCE.

THE FLOWERS MADE ME SMILE LIKE A FOOL. Look at biker gang leader caring, soothing her worries away. He's so cute when he wants to be. *dreamy sigh*

AND LOOK AT OUR MAN DOING JAIL TIME AND SHIT. Hottest thing ever, me personally thinks. I can imagine Binnie just teaching his jailmates how to lift or something, and well now I'm drooling. Oops. The MC listening in on him... Mari, let me tell you, you painted a very explicit image in my mind, and I cannot unsee it. He's haunting my every thought; I need professional help.

MINHO'S "I'm starving for you, doll." HELP HELP HELP HELP--

Riding a fucking bike with Seo Changbin, are you fucking kidding me. The mental picture of this, the irregular beating of my heart, my labored breath... I can't. I just can't. A man of few words, that will show you rather than tell you. It's what I need, it's who I need--him. I need him, Mari. It's critical for my health, I'm sure you understand.  'I could stay here all night. You could drive me to the stars and back, and I’d never let go.' YES, EXACTLY. SAME MC, SAME.

"Now. Let's not do this now," he said, and I MELTED. I physically felt my heart melting off my chest, girl, I wish I was kidding. He's so soft for her, so careful. He wants it to be right, to feel good, to not look cheap. I'M SOLD. PLEASE SOMEONE GIVE ME THIS MAN, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED.

“Because he’s my oldest friend, and you’re my favorite girl.” Look. I am genuinely a whore for these two men. I would let them own me, body and soul, and I'd thank them. Hell, I'd pay them. The way you write, you freaking goddess, God there are no words. In any capacity, in any way, universe, time and space. I just cannot explain what you've done to me. 'As much as Minho makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, Changbin is already at its bottom with his arms wide open.' Such a perfect way to describe this relationship. Even in real life, I feel like it applies spot on. On some yin and yang shit.

“Not just rumors, man. A lot of people want you dead.” 

“Then they should line up and take their shot.” 

FUCK ME. FUCK MEEEEEEEE *clears throat* I mean... haha, yes. He's so funny. *sweats profusely*

FINALLY WE REACH THE HOUSE SCENE. God, there's only like four written scenes EVER to touch me like this one did. It's engrained in my brain forever, I think about it every day. This is no exaggeration, by the way. I can't lie about the effect your Changbin has on me. I was screaming, CRYING, shaking, reading this. And you know, it might be your love seeping through him that makes this even more addicting. I personally felt so close to him during this scene, it just felt so intimate.

'The danger. The risk. Minho would love to see you like this.' I loved this little thought. For some reason it meant a lot to the trio, it added an appropriate layer, and enhanced the poly! feature of the story.

“Fuck, Changbin,” you sigh. “You haven’t even touched me yet.”  “I don’t need to,” he whispers, leaning his head forward. His lips graze your cheek. Your ear. You breathe heavily. “I already know.”  “What?”  “That you’re what I want. What I need.”  He kisses your skin. Your earlobe. You shudder.  “I want you to be mine.” 

THIS? Holds me prisoner, feeds me every day, harvests my crops, hydrates my skin. It's a source of life, of youth. It singlehandedly saved 2022. Be proud of this scene, Mari. Of this series. And of everything you write in general (currently reading your 'be my mistake' series so I'm generally in my feels about your writing) it holds so much weight, it means so much.

Not to mention the smut scene of the fucking year after this. I come back to it often, purely because it's filled with so much passion, so much intent. It feels purposeful, you know, not just flesh on flesh, but a surrendering, a consummation.

THANK.YOU.FOR.PUBLISHING.THIS.STORY From the bottom of my heart, Mari. Thank you.

I'll meet you over at the Chan one-shot. I got SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT IT. Love you, darling. <3

in flames

in flames — part two of the smell of roses [ ← part one → part three (tba) ] [ series masterlist ]  [ playlist ] [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors do NOT interact!! no real people are represented. 

•  lee know x female reader / changbin x female reader / lee know x female reader x changbin (NOT a love triangle), all other stray kids members are featured but not main characters.

• non idol au, bikers au, rivals to lovers au, small town au. inspired by sons of anarchy. (not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes/typos)

• word count: 14k (14,679)

• warnings: mentions of all sorts of illegal activities. corruption and blackmail. a lot of drinking (sometimes excessive). swearing and insulting. drug consumption (weed only). anger management problems. pyromania. mental health issues. mentions and depictions of violence. bar fights. mentions of blood, broken bones, stabbing and general violence. threatening. motorcycle pursuit. guns and gunfire (no wounds). polyamory. smut. fingering, dirty talk, slight voyeurism (hearing only), mentions of "sharing," use of pet names, making out with multiple people.

He’s put down his spoon, his elbows on the table, and is looking at you like he’s two seconds away from killing you – but you’re starting to understand that’s just his face. 

• taglist: @upallnight-s ; @ughbehavior ; @changbinluvr ; @valreadsfics ; @ppiri-bahng ; @mchslut ; @lady---boner ; you? (let me know if I forgot you, I lost my post-it note with your usernames)

The drugstore is quiet, which you are grateful for, because you can grab the morning after pill somewhat discreetly, although everyone knows everyone in this town. At least, the pharmacist is a woman you’ve never seen judge anyone, so you pay for your purchase and escape without a word. 

Once you’re outside, you breathe in the morning air. The breeze is chilly, the sun warm. It’s a beautiful day for being in complete denial of what you’ve done.

You don’t regret fucking Lee Minho. 

You regret fucking the president of the Vices Motorcycle Club. 

As if they are two different people. 

You’ve woken up determined not to erase what happened from your memory, but not acknowledging it either. It was good – great, even – but now you can move on. 

Right? 

You have a message from Seungmin telling you an order is ready for you at the hardware store, so you stop by once you finish work. You’ve been alone all day, feeling both exhausted and fearful, grateful that you didn’t have to explain your mood to your father. Oh, what’s up? Not much, Dad. Just let my greatest enemy fuck me senseless in his clubhouse last night. The usual. 

Well. Of course it sounds bad when you say it like that. 

“Hey, Min,” you smile when you enter the shop. 

You expect him to give you his usual smile, but he avoids your eyes. “Hey.” 

Without another word, he bends, grabs a bag and puts it on the counter.

“Your order. I’ll add it to your tab.”

He’s still not looking at you.

You take a step forward, taking the bag between your fingers. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

His eyes stay focused on the form he’s filling, his jaw clenched, his face closed. Something’s wrong. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he replies, but his voice is sharp and angry. 

“Seungmin…” 

He clenches his fists, seemingly trying to stay calm. Your heart is squeezed so tight in your chest it hurts. Your friend is angry at you. Really angry. And you don’t know why. 

You hope it’s not what you think. 

“Did I do –”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” he finally snaps, looking up at you. His eyes break your heart – dark and resentful. They pin you to the spot. 

“What –”

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t spend the night at the Vices’ clubhouse last night.”

You swallow. Your throat is dry. Oh no.

“Yeah,” Seungmin chuckles bitterly. “You really thought no one would notice? That no one would see you? It’s all over fucking town. I had to hear it from my mother.” 

Your cheeks burn with shame. “Min, I…” 

“How did you think I felt hearing her tell me that you, my friend, the one who was always the first to support me in hating these guys, spent her evening cuddled up with their president, drinking beer and watching a goddamned movie?” 

“I was going to tell you,” you mutter, shaking. “I can explain. It just happened, it…” 

Seungmin sighs. “I don’t even want to hear your excuses.”

“Please just hear me out. Minho invited me, and I –”

Seungmin’s eyes widen and you realize that is the worst thing to say.

“Minho?” he repeats. 

You bite your lip. You feel it slip it out of your hands. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“This must be a fucking joke. Are you friends now?” 

The thing you hate the most about yourself is that you’re an open book. So of course your friend reads it on your face. Of course he does. 

“Wow,” he lets you, his voice completely flat, and it’s even worse than the anger. “Are you… Are you fucking him?” 

“Seungmin,” you plead pathetically. 

“You know what these guys did to my mother, how scared she is, and you do that? Above all things, you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

“I told you, it just happened, and it didn’t mean anything, I swear,” you cry out.

“Get the fuck out of my shop.” 

His voice is ice cold. It sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Get your shit,” he enunciates, “and leave.”

You look into your friend’s eyes, but there is nothing. You feel his disgust, his spite, his disappointment – and each is a digger sinking into your already bleeding heart. You know it’s useless to argue. You don’t have any excuses. 

So you look away, and then you walk away, avoiding the sight of your reflection in the shop’s window as you go along it. 

Hyunjin calls your name, but you ignore him. You throw a middle finger behind you and keep walking. Your steps are far from straight, but you don’t care. 

You’re too drunk to care about anything, which was the whole point. 

It’s bitter cold outside and you’re not dressed for it, because you barely feel it. All you know is you have to find a place that will serve you alcohol, since Rossi’s will not. You’ve been there for the past hours, asking for drink after drink until Hyunjin started to glare at you, only to eventually say you’ve had enough. 

You managed to argue for another one but then he had shaken his head. I’m getting you home. You snarled at him. No.

Who cares, anyway? 

You didn’t have anything.

You didn’t have anyone. 

You were a mess. 

“Y/N!” Hyunjin calls again. He’s stepped outside the bar and watches you go. He can’t follow you – he’s the only one on the clock tonight – but you know he’s hesitating. 

As you keep walking away, you hear the faint sound of his voice, but it’s not addressed to you. Maybe he’s calling someone. Ha. Joke’s on him – no one will want to come and get you. You don’t care.  

You stumble through town until you finally get to another bar. You rarely go there because it’s not really your crowd – they don’t have the liquors you like and instead of the music you can hear at Rossi’s, they show sports matches. It seems like it’s football night because the place is crowded, but you push through the crowd until you get to the bar, where you ask for a drink. 

You down two shots of whiskey and ask for a beer. You’re not a football fan, you don’t even know what teams are playing, but you still cheer with everyone else. A few guys invite you to their table, and you let them pay for another drink. 

One has his arm around your shoulder. You faintly recall he’s a construction worker – not like you care who he is. He gives you attention and you relish in it, playing hard to get. He leans towards you and slides his hand on your thigh, which he rubs not so gently, and you’re so deep in your self-hatred you consider letting him do whatever he wants to you. 

It’s not like you want to feel something. 

Quite the opposite. 

His lips are on your neck, and you smell his breath and you close your eyes. 

“What the fuck?” someone close to you says. “What are they doing here?” 

Your eyes flutter open, the guy against you pressing himself against your ass. 

“Dude, I think…” 

A hand grabs the guy by the collar. Another collides with his nose – it snaps in a loud noise. You blink, unstable on your feet. 

You’ve seen this scene before – except last time, Minho just let Jisung go.

He doesn’t this time. 

There’s blood and screams and crunching noises. 

It’s not just Minho, it’s a bunch of them, all in their leather vests, fighting against the thigh-guy and his friends. You see him, his silver hair a mess, fists tight in anger, blood sprayed on his beautiful face.

Changbin crushes a guy’s skull against the bar. 

Chris is fighting two guys at once and winning.

Jisung shatters a bottle against someone’s head and is shoving the shards in his chest. 

You stagger and someone holds you up. Felix. 

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice deep, guiding you gently towards the exit. 

You can’t comprehend a single thing that is happening – but you follow him outside, squeezing his hand so hard you’re sure you’re hurting him. From up close, you see he has long eyelashes and so many freckles you keep losing count. 

You both enter a car. A taxi, you imagine. You don’t notice. 

“Felix,” you slur, slumped against him. “Felix.”

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Why do you like fire so much?” 

You’re not articulate in the slightest and you wonder how he understands you, but he does. He chuckles. 

“Because it’s alive.” 

You stare back at him. “That’s beautiful.” 

He smiles. “I agree, Y/N.”

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Home.”

“Ugh,” you groan. “I don’t want to.” You start to struggle against him, but he just chuckles.

“Not your home, Y/N. Ours.” 

You’re surprised but strangely delighted, so you stop arguing. Instead, you start asking Felix questions about fire – how long it takes for this or that to burn, what is his favorite thing to set fire to. It’s not a long ride, or maybe it is, you have no idea. Felix doesn’t even pay the taxi, if it even is one, and helps you out of the car. 

A small house stands in front of you. It looks modest and even desolate but still cozy. You head towards the house, and Felix holds you up and it’s a good thing because your legs barely work, your brain even less. 

“Will you show me a fire trick?” you ask him. 

“I have to get you to bed first, otherwise the boss will be mad.” 

“Ooh,” you chuckle mischievously. “We wouldn’t want him to get mad, right?” 

Felix shares a knowing look with you. He guides you inside the house, which is plunged in darkness, so you don’t see anything. You just stumble through the corridors and doors until Felix helps you sit on a bed. You bring your legs against you, rubbing your eyes. 

“What happened back there?” you ask. 

Felix shrugs. “Just some scores that needed settling. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Did you know I was there?” 

“Yeah,” Felix answers carefully. “Hyunjin said you might need a lift home.” 

You gasp loudly. “You know Hyun?” 

“Everybody knows everyone in this town, Y/N. You should know that.” 

“Yes, but how?” 

Felix indulges you, playing with his pack of matchsticks. He tells you the old story of how he met Hyunjin. He had just lost his parents in a car accident. Hyunjin’s parents owned the funeral place, and they had talked a lot the day of the burial. Hyunjin had been the one to tell him all the right things. They stayed good friends, though they didn’t talk every day. 

When he’s done, you have tears running down your cheeks. “That’s so beautiful. I’m so sorry about your parents…”

“That’s ok, Y/N. It was years ago.” 

“My dad must be so ashamed of me,” you moan, sobs shaking your shoulders.

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right?” 

You’re not sure that advice applies to Temperance, but you’re too drunk to realize it. Instead, you smile at Felix. 

“Let’s play with fire together.” 

You both sit down on the floor, and he brings a variety of things to show you how fast they burn. You’re both giggling like teenagers when the front door of the house opens to let in a few people, their heavy boots making the floorboards shake. 

“Felix?!” a voice calls.

“Here, boss.” 

He stands up just in time for Minho to appear, but although you’ve sobered up, you’re still too drunk to move quickly – Felix’s speed almost makes you dizzy. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Minho asks. 

“Just – I was –”

“I told you to get her in bed,” Minho hisses.

“She kept talking to me,” Felix mutters. “Besides, she’s here safe, right? That’s what you wanted. We were just talking.” 

You had forgotten about the matchstick you were holding, and the burn stings your finger before you let it go. 

“Aouch, FUCK,” you snarl. 

“Safe, huh?” Minho says. 

Felix bows his head, but Minho only sighs, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Yongbok. You can go.” 

A second later you are alone with Minho – he crouches next to you. 

“Hey, Trouble.”

You smile drunkenly at him, pointing at his cheek. “You have something here.” 

“That’s called blood.”

You pout. “Ew.” 

“Be grateful it’s not brains.” 

He says it lightly, and his face looks so gentle, it’s a brutal contrast with the blood on his cheeks and fingers, that you notice as he cups your cheek. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Fantastic,” you answer. 

“Y/N.” 

You’re pretty sure – but you’re very drunk – that it’s the first time he’s called you by your name. Not Trouble. Not doll. Your name. 

You bite your lip. “It should feel like a mistake,” you whisper. “But it doesn’t.” 

“Life’s too short for regrets, doll,” he says. “Your true friends will come around.” 

You look up at him, eyes burning with exhaustion and tears. “Is everyone okay?” 

“Jisung got a nasty cut, but he’ll be fine. Don’t worry about him.” 

“And Changbin?” you ask. 

Minho smiles. “Changbin’s fine.” 

“Okay.” 

After a second, he takes you gently in his arms, lifting you up. He helps you remove your shoes and your clothes – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you before, anyway. He hands you a t-shirt, which feels soft against your skin, and you lay down in bed afterwards, slipping under the covers, and he strokes your hair. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

“Hm?” 

“This is my room.” 

“Oh,” you chuckle. “So this is the squeaky bed?”

With a mischievous smile, you start to rock your body – and just as expected, the bed squeaks, the headboard slamming into the wall. You snicker. 

“That’s very loud.” 

“Told you,” he says with a wink, closing the lamp on the bedside table. 

You instinctively close your eyes, and the darkness almost instantly puts you to sleep – you’re just conscious long enough to feel a kiss on your forehead, and in response, you whisper Minho’s name and wish him good night. 

When you open your eyes in the early hours of the morning, you are not alone. There is a warm body against yours, an arm around your hips, a breath against your neck. The blinds are drawn, but pale light pierces through enough for you to see around you. You blink, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your mouth opens in a yawn, and you slowly turn on your back. 

Minho is still asleep, his face buried in the pillow, his hair a tangled mess in front of his eyes. His mouth is slightly open, letting you glimpse at his cute teeth – he looks so young. So kind. So beautiful. 

He takes your breath away.

You would have thought you’d be bothered to wake up next to him, but you’re really not. You even find yourself smiling fondly, playing with his hair a little. His hand has fallen on your stomach, warm and heavy. His arm is still bandaged from the other day. His scar is pink, and you want to kiss it. Like you, he’s dressed – it’s weird to see him in just a plain t-shirt, though. His bed is not very big, so you have no choice but to stay close. You take a few seconds to look at him, trying really hard not to let your thoughts wander, but it’s hard. 

You used to see the leather cut, and the leather cut only.

Then you saw Lee Minho, president of the Vices. 

Now, you just see Minho – and yet, he’s all of those things at once. 

It’s silly. There’s no future with Minho. You don’t even want that – he just makes you feel good right now. Not an old lady type of guy, he said. 

You need to go. You need a glass of water, something to eat, and a shower. You’re working this afternoon. You have a life to get back to.

Sort of. 

You think about your father. About Seungmin. About Hyunjin. 

What do they think of you? 

Not much, you tell yourself.

You inhale slowly, chasing the thoughts from your head. You can’t apologize for who you are. You’ll apologize for the hurt you’ve caused them because you feel awful about it. But you can’t be sorry for who you are, as messed up as that person is. 

Gently, you take Minho’s hand to put it aside so you can leave the bed, but when it’s barely in the air, his fingers sprawl around yours and clutch them. 

“Hmm.” 

He guides your hands, intertwined, towards his lips, and places a soft kiss on your fingers. It’s a good thing you’re laying down because your legs turn to melted butter.  

“Am I pretty when I sleep?” he asks.

You scoff. “You look like a little bunny.” 

“Bunnies are cute, aren’t they?” he says, his voice hoarse, opening his eyes slowly. 

“Sometimes.” 

He smiles lazily at you. “Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, I think.” 

“I slept more than fine. That sweet ass was right against my dick, keeping it warm.” 

You shake your head with a sigh, although there’s an obvious smile on your face. “You start early.”  

“I just never stop.” 

He was inches away from your lips, so it’s not a stretch or a surprise when he steals a kiss. You think you must look terrible, smell foul, but he clearly doesn’t care. His tongue slips into your mouth, curling against yours, and you can’t help but arch your back, wriggling closer.

“I have a question,” you breathe. 

“You start early,” he teases. 

“Your scar,” you ask. “What happened?” 

He gives you a long look, but his smile doesn’t go away. 

“It’s a long story, Trouble. I’ll tell you around a drink.” 

You nod in agreement. 

His hand leaves yours, slipping down your chest to grab your breast, teasing your nipple above the material. You shudder against his lips, breathing heavily, forgetting everything about what you should be doing. You love lazy morning sex, and Minho is offering you just that. 

“When I came to bed last night,” he breathes, his other hand sliding inside your underwear to caress you. You hiss, bucking your lips. You hadn’t been particularly aroused, but his touch is making quick work of it. “And saw you there in my bed, your hair a mess, that sweet mouth of yours parted…” He slips a finger inside of you, tentatively, and you moan. “Fuck, I wanted to slide between your legs and wake you up by devouring you.” 

“Minho…” You’re breathing hard. Your hand cups his ass before you start to stroke him above his boxers. He’s still soft, but you feel him harden against your touch. 

“Maybe we can try it sometimes?” he pants. 

“Yeah,” you agree, moaning softly. 

“Or would you prefer waking up with my dick caressing you instead of my tongue? Once you’re awake, you can moan for me, and I’ll fill you.” 

You’re hazy with sleep and your hangover and his words are making you lose control. He has a few fingers inside you now, and you’re soaked and in need of him – and so is he, by the way his length throbs in your hand. 

“Do you have –” 

You weren’t safe the other day – but this morning you need to be. 

“As you wish, doll,” he nods. 

He rolls over so he lays above you, sitting up to reach inside his bedside table drawer. He slips on the condom, raises one of your legs, and enters you. You gasp softly, your body adjusting, and he starts to roll his hips. 

His bed is very noisy, but you hope it’s early enough so that his roommates won’t be bothered. You’re too into the moment to really care, anyway, your arms around Minho’s neck, his breath mingling with yours. 

“That’s so good,” you whisper. “You fuck me so good.” 

“Tell me, baby doll,” he sighs. “Tell me how much you like it.” 

You do, in his ear, against his neck, around his lips. His thrusts are deep and measured, hitting you in all the right spots. His bed is like background music and you feel your mind unravel. You’re so close to coming, and you tell him not to stop. He grabs your chin, more gently than he has before.

“Look at me,” he whispers. “Open your eyes and look at me as you come around me.” 

You’re lost in the daze but you manage to open your eyes, finding his wide open – they catch yours and hold you there. You can barely moan anymore, your breath caught in your throat. 

Minho lifts your hips slightly, angling your body so he can go deeper, and that finishes you – you come like a roar of thunder after lightning strikes. 

“God, that feels good,” he groans, slowing down just to accelerate again. His breath hitches, and he pulls out, stroking himself as he comes. 

You let your head sink further into the pillow, your mind completely empty. Minho falls beside you, kissing your shoulder. You need a shower, you need to go home. But you just want to sleep again – and you do, just for a while, until the sun is bright and warm. 

It’s a quiet life you’re living. 

You wake up alone, go to work, come back to your apartment, and go to sleep alone. 

Seungmin still doesn’t talk to you. Your dad and you avoid each other as much as you can. Only Hyunjin still feels like your friend, but you’re scared it’s just to keep an eye on you – so much you barely go to Rossi’s anymore. 

You haven’t seen Minho in a while. 

You heard he’s busy. The pick-up driver Changbin put in the hospital decided to press charges, another police department behind his back – apparently the beat-up happened out of Temperance lines – and it’s a whole mess. 

Changbin is in jail, temporarily, until everything is figured out. 

You don’t want to bother anyone. 

But you’re worried. 

About Minho. About Changbin. About all of them. 

You hate the feeling. 

Never were you supposed to get attached. 

One night, you’re in tears, your body trembling from confusion and loneliness. You’ve inhaled some weed but the smoke just made it worse. You wander in your apartment but you grow too restless and can’t stare at the walls anymore. So you grab a hoodie and your keys and you seek refuge outside. 

You want to see Seungmin. You want him to tell you, with this steady voice of his, that you’ll pull through. But your friend is out of reach. 

So in the fog of self-doubt, your feet lead you to Hyunjin. You’re ashamed, but you still go. It’s late, and you look terrible, with your red eyes and your tear-stained face. You don’t care. 

Hyunjin opens his door, wearing a tank top and boxers. From the state of his hair, you’ve pulled him out of bed. He rubs his eyes, frowning. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hey,” you say, voice breaking. “I woke you up, right?” 

“It’s fine. Seo-ah is still asleep, though.”

You nod. “I’m sorry, I just…” You sigh. “Fuck, why am I here?” 

You shake your head. You’re high, you feel sick, and you can’t stop crying. Hyunjin puts a hand on your shoulder, pulling you inside his apartment. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, his voice tense. 

“No, I just… I don’t…”

You let out a whimper, falling against his shoulder.  

“I don’t feel so good, Hyun.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you sob quietly. 

“Why are you sorry? C’mon, don’t be silly,” he asks, stroking his hair. “Sit down.” 

You listen to him, and he sits with you. Instantly, you feel better - you just need someone to hold you. 

After you calm down, he heats some food up for you, like he knows you haven’t eaten correctly in a while and talks with you as you eat. His eyes are stable. His presence is soothing. He calms your tears just by being here, and listens to you as you tell him everything. How you’re ashamed and not at all, how you miss Minho and not at all, how you wish for Seungmin’s forgiveness and not at all, because you don’t deserve it.  

Hyunjin strokes your hair as you cry and tells you you’re not a bad person. 

You wish you could believe him. 

It’s only noon, and you have nothing to do. 

Your father is taking care of the shop this afternoon, and he’s insisted you go home because you look tired. You didn’t have strength to argue with him, so you agreed. 

Now you’re walking around town aimlessly, not wanting to go home, trying to resist going by the clubhouse to see if anyone’s there.

It’s been a while. Weeks.

You’re not sure. 

As you walk, you inhale deeply, the sun warm on your face. You decide to stop and get yourself an iced coffee, and it helps with the headache – but it soothes nothing else. 

You decide to head home for a nap when you spy blue hair ahead of you on the sidewalk. 

Your heart clenches in your chest. 

“Jisung!” you call, accelerating your step.

He keeps on walking, seemingly not having heard you, and he’s quick, so you have to speed up. 

“HAN JISUNG,” you yell out, and finally he slows down and you’re able to catch up with him.

“Oh, Y/N,” he says. He’s not wearing his cut, which is odd. Just a white shirt and jeans – he looks strangely normal. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.” 

Any of you, you bite down.

“Right,” Jisung says, blinking excruciatingly slowly. “It’s been a little busy.”

“I heard…” 

Jisung gives you a smile. “I have somewhere to be, but if you want to meet up later we can. I really need to get high.” 

“You and me both,” you sigh. “Come to my place?” 

You make plans for later, and although the knot in your stomach remains, it feels a little looser. Before you head home, you go to the grocery store, grabbing beer and snacks. You take a shower, change, and start pacing. 

Jisung, of course, arrives 48 minutes later than the time he gave you, but you’re relieved to see him, to have company, you don’t even bring it up. 

You sit on your couch, music playing in the background. He starts to fill his glass pipe and you munch on Cheetos.

“How is he doing?” you ask Jisung when he mentions Changbin. 

He shrugs. “Okay, I think. Jail is no joke but we have friends there. Vice’ll be fine.” 

He lifts his eyes to give you a smile. 

“I’ll tell him you’re thinking of him. That ought to help.” 

You slap Jisung’s shoulder so hard some weed spills on the ground. 

“I swear if you say anything, Han Jisung…”

“Careful with the weed, dude,” he just chuckles, continuing his task. 

You bite your lip. “What about Minho? He’s not in town, is he?” 

“No,” Jisung says, shaking his head. “He’s laying low.”

“Like in a safe house?” 

“Something like that.” 

You moan, wriggling on the couch.

“C’mon, Ji, give me something.” 

“If it is a safe house, then telling you about what would defeat the purpose, right? You ask too many questions.” 

“Tell me about it,” you groan. 

“He’s fine, Y/N,” Jisung grins. “Think about it this way. When he comes back, the distance will just make the sex better, right?” 

You scoff at him, shaking your head. 

“What happened to you, Ji?” you say. “Where have you been all those years? Will you ever tell me?”

“I would, but I barely remember it myself.” 

You know he’s half-joking, but you decide not to insist. You don’t need to know, anyway - and you find it’s an enthralling thing about him for his past to remain a mystery. Instead, you start talking about random things, exchanging the pipe to take your hits. The weed is very good quality, so you feel yourself drift away quickly. 

It’s a night of snacks, laughter and smoke. 

You wake up the next morning, still on the couch, Jisung sprawled on the floor. He looks like a baby when he sleeps. You shake him slowly, just in case he has somewhere he needs to be. He sniffles, mumbling something about an appointment, and he leaves your apartment with his eyes only half open.

The next day, someone walks in the shop looking confused. It’s a delivery driver, and he’s holding a single rose. You recognize the name on his baseball cap - it’s a flower shop from a nearby town. You arch an eyebrow at him. 

“Can I… help you?”

“Are you Y/N?” he asks, glancing at his phone. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

He shrugs, like he gives up on trying to make sense of the situation, and hands you the rose. 

“Delivery for you.” 

“You’re delivering flowers to a flower shop, you know that, right?” 

He shakes his head. “Just doing my job.” 

“Right. Thanks.” 

You take the rose. It’s the color of blood, so dark it almost looks black. Its thorns are sharp. You glance at the label. 

Heard you were worried.

Cute.

Don’t cause too much trouble without me. 

You can’t hold back your smile.

It’s a beautiful night. A light breeze, an indigo sky. 

You arrive in front of the Vices’ house. It’s as you remember, except all the lights are on, and you can hear faint music coming from inside. You walk slowly to the door, feeling strangely nervous. 

Jisung wrote that morning. 

Vice is getting out. We’re back. Party at 10. 

It’s been weeks - and they almost feel like a dream. But you’re just happy to see them again, thrilled at the idea of being a little less alone. 

You miss Minho. All of them, even. But mostly Minho.

You’ve dressed up a little for him. Fishnet tights, a black dress. 

You’re pretty sure he’s going to like it. 

The door opens on Jisung, who hurries you inside. 

“We’re getting the cake,” he explains, guiding you into the living room. People are chanting something like happy you-got-out-of-jail-day and you find yourself joining them. You catch Minho’s eyes from across the room. He looks tired but happy. Relieved. 

Changbin has a smile on his face when they place the cake in front of him – you’d never see him smile before and you think it really suits him. He looks even more tired than Minho, his hair is longer, the circles under his eyes dark. But he’s smiling. 

There are no candles on the cake. Apparently Felix stole them all one night for an experiment and forgot to buy more. 

Changbin chuckles, applauding with the rest. Then he looks up at you, and you give him a warm smile. He echoes it with a nod, eyes sparkling. 

The crowd breaks around him and you just laugh with Jisung, who gets you something to drink, and you promise to share a few hits later. You stand there quietly, a few minutes later, when Minho walks up to you. His grin is mischievous. 

“My little Trouble,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” 

“How do I look?” you say, turning around to show the outfit you’ve carefully selected.

“Like a fucking treat.” 

His hand slides across your thigh, softly stretching the fishnets you’re wearing. 

“I can’t wait to rip those later.” 

You laugh, and he throws an arm around your shoulder like you’ve seen each other only yesterday. You want to ask about the past weeks, but they are clearly in mind to celebrate, and you don’t want to ruin the mood – so you just let yourself be carried away by the festivities. 

You drink a little, not too much – you want to keep your senses close to you. You still get a hit with Jisung as promised and then decide to cook mac and cheese with him, but you both forget to turn on the stove and the saucepan is quickly forgotten. 

You’re squeezed between Felix, who is whispering to a giggly Cherry, and Minho. You mostly listen to their conversations, feeling both out of place and like you belong there. It’s an odd feeling, but you’re soothed by it. 

Changbin is right in front of you. 

There’s a new tattoo on his arm. 

He keeps smiling. 

You can’t help but stare at him. You don’t know what it is, but you’re hypnotized. There’s just something about him tonight you can’t get enough of. 

It might be the way he’s holding the girl next to him, stroking her thigh.

You look at his fingers, the rings he has on them, and you suddenly imagine them in your mouth. Focus. The weed must be getting to you. You let out a giggle and try to focus on something else. 

Time passes and you find yourself glancing at Changbin again – he and the girl have started making out. You’re just in time to see him grabbing her head and swirling his tongue inside her mouth, and you have to clench your jaw to stop your whimper from escaping your lips. Discreetly, you cross your legs, applying just a little bit of pressure. You’ve been a little touch starved, but damn. You need to get yourself together. 

Luckily Minho never lets out of his grasp for long, either stroking your hair or softly caressing the skin inside the little squares of your fishnets. You have to promise you’ll be right back when you stand up to go to the bathroom. 

The house is not too big so it’s easy to find your way around. You find the bathroom and grip the door’s handle – but you stop. Since the music is quieter here, you can hear faint noises coming from another room. You glare at said door. It’s unmistakable – the sighs, the moans, the thumping. People are fucking. You remember Changbin grabbing the girl’s hand and leading her away. Oh.

Oh. 

You shouldn’t – you really shouldn’t, but fuck it, you still do. You approach the door on tiptoes, although you’re convinced they’re not going to hear you by all the noises they’re making. Well, her, mostly – but it seems like you can hear muffled groans that are more masculine than feminine. You put your ear against the door, listening. Faster, Vice, she says, and you bite your lip like your life depends on it. 

You can’t resist. You listen. 

She tells him to go harder. He slaps her skin – you can only guess where. When her moans start to annoy you, they suddenly get muffled, and you imagine Changbin’s hand around her mouth, quieting her. You close your eyes, your fingers going between your legs to just press your sensitivity. 

“Really, Trouble? I didn’t expect you to be a voyeur.” 

You spin around, both of your hands going on your hips, your face on fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m not,” you scoff. “I was just…”

Minho raises an eyebrow, approaching you slowly.

“…making sure no one was getting killed in there. Noises were weird.”  

“Hmm, hmm,” he nods, stopping an inch away from your face. 

“Turns out, she’s fine. Just fucking,” you chuckle. 

Minho just stares at you, and you scowl. 

“Fine,” you snarl. “So what? I was just curious.”

“Our Vice certainly seems to have caught your attention, doll,” Minho says. “Did something happen between you two? You’ve been thirsting on him all night.”

“Wha – I have not been –”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eyefuck him,” Minho sighs. “Pressing those little legs together. Your cheeks have been red all night.” 

You slide your tongue against your inner cheek, but your shoulders roll back. It’s no use with Minho anymore. “Was I that obvious?” you admit in defeat. 

“Not to the casual observer,” he shrugs. “But I keep a very concerned eye on you. I haven’t seen you in a while.” 

You play with your fingers, biting your lip. 

“Does it… bother you?” 

“That you’re interested in him?” 

“You have cockblocked me twice before,” you sigh. “You said nobody touched what was yours.” 

Minho laughs, pushing away a strand of your hair. He smells like burnt wood and whiskey. “That doesn’t apply to Vice. He’s the only one I can share with.” 

You arch an eyebrow. “Really? Why?” 

“No particular reason. It’s just like that.” 

He leans towards you, starts kissing your neck, and you close your eyes although your mind is elsewhere. You could say you’ve forgotten how soft his lips feel against your skin, but that would be a lie. “So you… You wouldn’t…”

“Mind if you made a move on him? No, doll. By all means. I’m sure he’d oblige. We have similar taste in women and I caught him staring at your ass several times tonight.”

You sigh softly, leaning into him, your hands sliding against his waist to pull him closer. Then you realize what this could sound like, and you blush furiously, putting a finger on his chest to push him away – just enough so you can look at his face. 

“Not that I need your permission to do anything,” you precise.

“I would never think that about you, doll. You’re like me – you go get what you want. So if you want Vice, go for it.” 

“Maybe later,” you breathe. “Right now I need a fucking drink.” 

“I wish you didn’t say that last word.” 

You give him a slap on the chest. “Maybe later,” you repeat. “Besides, what are you doing here? I said I needed to pee.” 

“I thought you might want company.” 

“Jesus Christ, Minho, you’re like a cat. Leave me go to the bathroom alone.” 

He moans, pouting slightly. He grabs your head, biting your shoulder. You gasp at the feeling. “I’m starving for you, doll. That body… those moans through your lips.”

His hands slide over your body. 

“I want to fuck you over the bathroom sink.” 

You shudder. You have to admit the noises coming from the next room have turned you on – and you haven’t seen Minho in a while, let alone had any action. Also, the thought of fucking right next door to Changbin excites you even more.

So you open the bathroom door and whisper to Minho to follow you inside. 

“It’s, hm… It’s good to see you.” 

You instantly regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late. Changbin raises his head to look at you from the other side of the table, his spoon hanging above his bowl of cereal. He’s not smiling anymore, but he feels less threatening. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent enough time with him – but you’re still scared. Even with his hair all over the place and his eyes not yet rubbed out of sleep, he looks like he could snap you in half and not blink. He just has that energy about him. 

“Right,” he lets out eventually, but his voice sounds uncertain, like he didn’t know what to say. 

You smile awkwardly at him, taking a bite from your toast. “You must be happy to be home.” 

You have no idea why you’re trying to make conversation with Changbin of all people, but here you are. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Much better than jail.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. “I can imagine.” 

“Can you?” 

You stare at him, frozen. He’s said it in such a low voice, almost threatening, and you’re terrified you’ve just said the worst thing possible, because of course you can’t imagine what he’s been through, or what jail is like, so you stammer – and then Changbin winks at you. 

“Just fucking with you,” he states. 

You close your mouth, which had been stupidly opened. You scoff. “Jerk.” 

You’re not looking at him so you can’t be sure, but you’re pretty sure you spy a smirk on his lips – which he hides by taking a spoonful of cereal. 

“I heard you asked about me.” 

You feel your cheeks redden. “Who told you that?” 

“Jisung.” 

“That son of a bitch, I swear…” 

“A part of me was expecting a visit.” 

You eye him, arching an eyebrow. “Woah there. Wouldn’t go that far.” 

“What are you doing tonight?” 

He’s put down his spoon, his elbows on the table, and is looking at you like he’s two seconds away from killing you – but you’re starting to understand that’s just his face. 

“I – nothing. Why?” 

“I have to drive next town over for a spare part for my dad’s bike,” he explains. “You want to come with me?” 

“By drive, you mean…” 

“Have you ever seen me drive a car?” 

You must admit he’s right. 

“Sure,” you answer. “Why not. I close the shop at 6.” 

“I’ll pick you up there.” 

You open your mouth to tell him no, that you’ll meet somewhere else, because you don’t want people to see you, but you stop yourself. It’s useless, anyway. Not only are people going to find out anyway, but everyone already knows. 

Once you’re done with breakfast, you head outside and walk back home. It’s a long way but you don’t mind – the sun warms your face, the breeze airing your neck. You've borrowed – well, stolen, you’ve decided – a t-shirt from Minho, so it doesn’t feel at all like a walk of shame. You’re just going home. 

Home, with your heart strangely full.

When you step out of the shop, later that day, the breeze is gone and it’s just hot. You instantly start to sweat because of the humidity, and you’re grateful to only be wearing shorts and a light t-shirt. You turn to lock the door, making sure everything is secured, and as you do, the roar of an engine fills your ears. 

Strange, how it no longer fills you with spite. 

It almost makes you smile.

It almost soothes you. 

Changbin slows down and stops his bike in front of you and you almost faint at the sight of him. Your throat dries, your legs wobble. 

The arms. 

Because Changbin is only wearing a tank top underneath his cut, his arms are entirely visible to you. Stretched on the handles, you can trace the lines of his muscles, lifelines dug into his skin. They outline the curve of a bicep, the angle of an elbow, and swerve all the way to his hands. You stare at his fingers, gripped around the handles, his usual rings shining in the sun. 

His helmet covers his black hair. He’s wearing sunglasses.

And, for the love of heaven, he’s wearing leather pants. 

Is he trying to drive you mad?

Because it’s working.

“Hi,” you say pathetically. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Is he chewing gum?

How can chewing gum be so attractive?

Is this a trap? 

“Yeah,” you answer, your voice a little high-pitched. 

“Do you have your sunglasses like I told you?”

“Yep.” You take them out of your bag and slip them on.

He tells you to put your stuff in the saddles and you do before you get on the bike. Your legs are shaking and you’re sure you’ll fall on your ass, but you make it there. Behind Changbin. Against him.

“Tell me if you need a break,” he says, and you nod. 

You used to dislike motorcycles for the sake of it, because they were how the Vices drove around, because they reminded you of them. Now, you’re not so sure, because when Changbin says that, you think to yourself, I could stay here all night. You could drive me to the stars and back, and I’d never let go. 

Changbin’s got his spare part, and you’re driving home. The night has fallen, the sky deep black. You’re driving on a scenic road, so there’s not much light except for the occasional streetlight. The asphalt trails alongside the mountains, and it smells like leaves, like wind, like leather. You breathe in tranquility, your cheek against Changbin’s back. Your hands are crossed around him. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of him in one of his rearview mirrors. He looks so peaceful. 

He slows down suddenly and stops at a viewpoint, which is just a patch of unpaved road at a curve. He stops the engine, and you take the cue, getting off the bike. You shiver a little, because it’s colder now that the sun has set, and Changbin lays something heavy on your shoulders. 

His cut. 

You glance up at him in shock, but he doesn’t say anything - so, neither do you. You slide your arms through it. 

You expect disgust, or even just a shudder, but there’s nothing. 

The both of you walk to the rail, staring at the distance. There’s no noise except for the sound of the wind in the trees. 

“Look up,” Changbin says to you, pointing to the sky. 

You do - and as a cloud rolls away from another, you see a patch of pitch black, covered in tiny stars. It’s so beautiful it steals your breath, and you stare in awe. You’re silent for a few minutes. 

“Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?” he simply states.

You find yourself nodding. “It really does.” 

You turn to him, looking at his profile. He let his bike’s lights open, and they set dancing shadows upon his face. You’re so entranced, you forget to be reasonable, and soon he glances back at you. You don’t look away, though - you really can’t. He’s so different from Minho, and yet so similar. They’re like two sides of the same coin, you think to yourself. The arrogant and the angry. 

The talkative and the silent.

You think about what Minho said. 

We have the same taste in women. 

A spark passes in your eyes. Changbin catches it. 

His hand slides on your cheek. His rings are cold against your skin. You lift your heels to meet him halfway. 

His lips are warm. You shiver against them, his other arm hugging your waist to urge you closer. Your hands grip his shoulders, and you sigh in his mouth as his tongue teases yours. 

He leans you against the rail, but you’re not afraid of falling. 

He’s holding you tight.

Your fingers drift on his arms, on his chest. His trace your ass. Your hips. 

His mouth leaves yours. He breathes heavily. 

You open your eyes to see him, jaw clenched, shaking his head. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask in a small voice.

“Yeah,” he says. “Sorry. Let’s not do this.” 

He steps away, walks back to his bike. He doesn’t look angry, so you don’t ask if it’s your fault. You don’t feel like it is. You hope it isn’t. 

You follow him carefully, taking the helmet you left on the seat to put it back. 

“Now,” he says quietly. 

“Huh?” 

“I mean now. Let’s not do this now.”

You look at him, registering the words. It takes you a second, your heart faltering, before you put a prudent hand on Changbin’s arm.

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

He gives you a surprised look, then softens. After you give him a smile, he nods, and you drive away without another word.

He gets you home, and you thank him for the evening. Before you go, you put a kiss on his cheek. 

It’s an extremely slow day at work, and you’re in no mood to be productive, so you’re on your phone scrolling at memes when Minho enters. You don’t even have time to welcome him, he just strolls to your counter, flashes a smile, and tells you he needs a modest but tasteful bouquet – and he’s in a hurry.

You show him to ones you’ve prepared. He takes the first, hands you a few bills and walks out without another word. You stare at his back, shaking your head. He’s exhausting, and you’re a little pissed he hasn’t asked you how you are, but your stupid face can’t help but smile. 

Later that afternoon, you get a text from Seungmin and raise an eyebrow. 

Mininie 

Are you busy tonight? I need to talk to you

You

?? Sure. You want to get a drink?

Mininie

Rossi’s at 9

You agree to the plans, feeling both confused and anxious. There was no way Seungmin would’ve done that if it wasn’t important. You rack your brain, trying to think about what mess you’ve made recently, but there’s nothing that really stands out. You haven’t talked since the last time – you’ve left him alone like he promised. Should you have reached out? Is he mad you haven’t? 

You groan, exhausted of yourself. 

When you get to Rossi’s, Hyunjin is alone behind the bar. He nods towards a booth to his left, and you spy Seungmin’s brown hair. You approach him slowly, biting your lip. 

“Hey,” you say once you’re standing in front of him.

He glances at you and you can’t read him and it’s making you nervous.

“Hey,” he replies. “Sit down.” 

He waves at Hyunjin, pulling two fingers up. 

“Two pints, Hyun.” 

The latter nods and then gives you a glare – don’t fuck up, he seems to tell you. You want to pull your tongue at him but you feel that might be a little impolite to do in front of Seungmin. 

“Min, listen, I know I should’ve…” 

“Did you tell them something?” he says, cutting you off. 

He doesn’t sound mad, but he doesn’t sound happy either. Your heartbeat accelerates. 

“What? Tell who?” 

“The Vices. Have you talked to them about my mom?” 

You feel the blood drain from your face, and you stammer. “Wha – why are you – did something happen?” 

“They visited her today. At her house.” 

“What?” 

“She called me as soon as she saw the bikes because she was scared,” Seungmin explains. “When I got there she was having tea with Lee Minho, a huge smile across her face.” 

You try your best not to burst out laughing. “Tea?” you repeat.

Seungmin nods. “Tea.” 

You bite your lips really hard, but you can’t hold it back. You can’t. It doesn’t help that even Seungmin seems seconds away from bursting out that loud laugh of his. A snicker escapes your lips, and you close your eyes, inhaling slowly. 

Hyunjin appears right then, setting down two full beers on the table, eyeing you both for a few seconds before he quietly turns around. 

You breathe out.

“She said he came to apologize,” Seungmin says after taking the first sip of his drink. “That he had never wanted to scare her, and they felt terrible about it. That they just wanted her to feel safe and protected – that it was the whole point of them being around.” 

“Oh.” 

“I thought to myself, it could just be a sudden change of heart, but he’d brought a bouquet of flowers with him, for my mom,” Seungmin adds, arching an eyebrow.

“What does that – oh. Oh.”

Seungmin nods. “So you see why I wanted to talk to you.” 

You shake your head. 

“Min, I swear. I never asked them to do that. I’m just as confused as you.” 

It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts. You’ve only mentioned Seungmin to a handful of people, because you needed to talk about your falling out. Hyunjin. Jisung, a little. Where did it come from, though? You can’t be sure.  

“I let him sweet talk my mom,” Seungmin says, his voice a little softer. “But I followed him outside and we had a little talk before he left.” 

“Oh?” You ask, trying not to sound too interested – but you are. 

“He’s completely insane, Y/N,” Seungmin sighs, shaking his head. “You can’t trust someone like that.”

“I never said I trusted him,” you mumble, but it’s a weak retort. 

“But he made some good points.” 

You glance at Seungmin, who shrugs. 

“I’m not saying I like him. I definitely don’t. But remember when you said they were not like you imagined? I kind of get that.” 

“You do?” 

Seungmin gives you a pointed look. “I’d never hang out with them like you do, I couldn’t, but talking with him… I see how you and him could hit it off.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you can’t help but be a little arrogant. 

“Aw, Minnie, are you giving me your approval?” 

He glares at you and sighs deeply. “Like I just said. Two reckless shit stirrers.” 

You chuckle and gently nudge his arm. 

“Seriously, Min,” you say. “I’m really sorry. I was an idiot.” 

“You still are,” he points out, and you have to agree.

You raise your pint towards him. “Cheers to that.” 

“I heard when you spent some time with Vice.”

You and Minho are laying on your bed, the sheets tangled around your limbs. He’s beautiful, almost glowing, entirely naked except for the silver chain around his neck. You play with his silver hair, twirling strands around your fingers. 

“Yeah, a little,” you say. 

Minho pushes your hair out of your face, putting his arm behind his head to support it so he can look at you better. 

“Did you make a move? He wouldn’t tell me.” 

You pout. 

“C’mon, now, Trouble. Don’t get shy on me now. Two minutes ago you were riding my dick.”

You roll your eyes. “We kissed. He stopped it.” 

You must be making some sort of face, because Minho lets out a laugh. You hit in on the chest as hard as you can – of course, he barely budges. 

“Don’t fucking laugh at me.” 

“Don’t despair, Trouble. He likes you.” 

“That’s what I thought, too,” you sigh in annoyance. “But he’s been avoiding me since.”

You give him a glare.

“Not unlike someone I know.”  

Minho raises an eyebrow. “Have I been doing that?” 

“Yes. Am I not interesting anymore because you’ve fucked me?” 

“I wouldn’t put it like that…”

“Like what, then?!” 

“Don’t get anxious, doll, there’s still a number of things I plan to do with you. I was just leaving space for Vice.” 

You arch an eyebrow.

“I knew you wanted to try him. And him you.” 

You scoff. “You should tell him that.” 

“I told him to go for it, that he’d have a good time. But when I mentioned fucking you, he said something about you not just being a piece of ass.” 

“He… what?” 

The words surprise you - and yet they don’t. Let’s not do this now, he said. You thought he meant it was the wrong moment, but it might be something else. 

“Don’t get excited, it’s not like he’s secretly romantic and soft hearted,” Minho sighs. “But he is less of a whore than me.” 

You decide to bring up the fact that Minho just called himself a whore later.

“What about the other night? The girl?” 

“Guy spent weeks in jail, you expect him not to want some pussy? He didn’t want it to be you, though. I guess he was too frustrated that night. So you can expect him to take his sweet time with you once his mind is made up.” 

You smack him lightly. “Jesus fucking Christ, you talk like I’m going to let him do anything he wants to me whenever he wants it. I’m not just a fuck toy, you know. What if I’m not in the mood?” 

“Then he’ll wait,” Minho answers, laughing. “But let’s face it, doll. Vice walks into this very room right now with his dick hard and his eyes all over you, would you really say no?” 

You stammer slightly. “If I didn’t want to, yes.”

“But what if you did?” 

“Tssk. Why are you so invested in this?” 

“Because he’s my oldest friend, and you’re my favorite girl.” 

You sigh, shaking your head. Minho sits up, his fingers grabbing your chin gently. His face hovers yours. 

“It’s not like we’re in love, Trouble. I just want us all to have some fun while we’re young. A day without your exquisite body getting venerated is a day wasted.” 

“Tell him that, then,” you blurt out. Quickly, you shake your hands. “I mean fuck, no, don’t tell him that.” 

Minho squeezes your ass in response, a smirk on his lips. “Have I told you I fucking love this look on you? It’s a very “slut just got rammed” look.” 

You bark out a laugh. “Did you just call me a slut?” 

“Apparently.” 

“Careful, I just might start to call you whore.” 

Minho barks out a laugh. “Gladly.”    

Being with Changbin is easy. 

Almost too easy. 

You glance at him from across the convenience store, his brows slightly furrowed as he tries to decide which brand of beer to buy. You see his face reflected in the refrigerator windows, his head tilted. With his back to you, you can take in the sight of his wide shoulders and his cut. 

You’ve been spending more time together - most of the time, he takes you for rides around town, finding excuses to run the engine for a little too long. You’re grateful for it because when your arms aren’t around him, holding tight, the rumble of the motorcycle under you, you almost miss it. 

Eventually he makes his choice and you walk back towards him, holding two bags of potato chips. You surprised him when he came to get you earlier. While you’re wearing one of your usual sundresses, you paired it with a new jacket - a leather one. His crooked smile had been instant - and he gives it to you again as you stop next to him. 

“You sure you don’t want anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

One of his hands is holding the pack of beer - his other arm he settles on your shoulders, keeping you close. As much as Minho makes you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a precipice, Changbin is already at its bottom with his arms wide open. 

He walks with you to the cashier, telling you about some stupid thing Jisung has done lately, and you listen to him, enthralled with the sight of his smirk, of the rare spark in his eye. You’re so focused on him you don’t notice the guy in front of you, who is standing there, taking up all the space in the aisle so you can’t walk forward. 

Changbin does. He stops, tightens his hold on you. 

“Seo Changbin,” the stranger spits. “Surprised to see you put a toe outside Temperance knowing the price on your head.” 

Changbin arches an eyebrow. “I thought you’d be smarter than to listen to rumors, Santiago.” 

“Not just rumors, man. A lot of people want you dead.” 

“Then they should line up and take their shot.” 

The guy chuckles before giving you a long look. 

“Cute. A shame, really.”  He looks back at Changbin. “It’s nothing personal.” 

Changbin tenses. “Do what you gotta do.” 

You look up at him. The man walks away, drawing his phone to his ear. Changbin puts down the pack of beer.

“Leave it,” he whispers in your ear. “Quickly.” 

You leave the bags and follow him outside. In a matter of seconds, you’re back on his bike and you’re driving away. He’s speeding, you can feel it - his hands are gripped around the handles so hard his joints are white. Your heart is beating fast, and you’re not sure you understand what is happening - just that it’s bad. 

Changbin burns a red light. 

“We need to get back to Temperance ASAP,” he tells you. “No one can touch us there. Don’t be scared. I got you.” 

You swallow and nod although he can’t see you. You grip him tighter. 

You’re close to town when you hear the deafening noises of multiple engines. You look around nervously - and then they appear. A few motorcycles, four of them, approaching you very fast. In the darkness you can’t see too well, but you’re sure they’re wearing cuts too. They are not friendly. 

Changbin accelerates and you watch the movements of the other bikers. They’re fast, and they make a lot of noise. In the rearview mirror, you see one of them take out a gun. 

“Changbin!” you shout. 

He’s already seen it, though, and swerves sharply in a nearby street to avoid the gunfire. It’s like you can’t breathe, as Changbin guides you through narrow streets. The other bikers aren’t far behind, but Changbin is good. He knows the area better, perhaps, because he takes his turns at the very last second - and soon you can only see two bikes behind you. 

Changbin heads for the main road again, and your eyes are full of tears. Temperance is right there, and when you pass the town border, Changbin suddenly breaks. He turns his bike to face your pursuers, lifting his visor to stare at them. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he snaps at them. 

The next seconds are tense - they stare at each other, anger emanating from every inch of them. You can only watch and hope for the best. Fortunately, the other bikers relent. They turn and drive away - on their cuts, you can read Skulls. 

Changbin breathes out. “Fucking pest,” he spits. 

“What’s going on, Bin?” you ask. 

“Just people thinking they own everything outside Temperance.”

“That never happened before.” 

“They’re trying to prove themselves,” he sighs.

After a few seconds of silence, Changbin relaxes, rubbing his eyes. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you home.” 

“No,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I want to stay with you.” 

You can’t see his face well, but he nods. 

“Okay.” 

He drives away. You expect him to go to the clubhouse or the house the Vices share, but instead he drives a bit further, down a street you don’t know very well. You look around in confusion as he enters a driveway. The house in front of you is small and looks abandoned, like no one has lived in there for years. 

Changbin pulls out his phone and activates something on an app - in front of you, the garage door opens. He parks inside it, closing the door behind you. 

You disembark, taking off the helmet, still a little shaken from the pursuit. 

“Where are we?” you ask.

Changbin leaves his helmet on his bike and you do the same. “I’ll show you.” 

He takes your hand, guides you inside the house. It’s not as decrepit inside as you would’ve imagined it. The house is empty except for a few pieces of furniture here and there. It smells a little stuffy but it’s clean. 

“It was my father’s house,” he explains, putting his hands in his pockets. “It’s mine now. I don’t want to sell it.” 

“Why not?” you ask, taking a few steps in the main room, heading to the kitchen in curiosity. 

“I’ll live here one day. Make it mine, with my old lady.” 

You turn to him and give him a smile. “So you’re the type, huh?” 

He nods, and you find it endearing. You wouldn't've thought it - Changbin always looks so withdrawn. That he eventually wanted to have a family, to raise it in the house where he grew up - it was beautiful. 

“I can see it,” you say with a smile. “A big table. Curtains floating in the summer breeze. Kids running around the yard.” 

“Yeah?” 

You turn to him and smile. “Definitely.” 

You walk closer to him, staring at him. Adrenaline is still pumping in your veins from earlier - it would be lying to say that a part of you didn’t enjoy it. 

The danger. 

The risk. 

Minho would love to see you like this. 

“Are you asking me something?” you tell Changbin in a low voice. Slowly, you sink your hands in his pockets, covering his hands with yours. 

“What if I am?” 

“Fuck, Changbin,” you sigh. “You haven’t even touched me yet.” 

“I don’t need to,” he whispers, leaning his head forward. His lips graze your cheek. Your ear. You breathe heavily. “I already know.” 

“What?” 

“That you’re what I want. What I need.” 

He kisses your skin. Your earlobe. You shudder. 

“I want you to be mine.” 

“Changbin…” you breathe. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“Why not?” 

“Because I’m… What if I’m…” 

You chuckle nervously. You put a hand against his chest, pushing him slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What if I’m terrible in bed?” 

His chuckle is low. “I know you’re not.”

“You can’t know that.” 

“I can. Minho told me.” 

At the sound of his name, you tense slightly. Changbin smiles.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not asking for you to just be mine. I know you by now. We can share. And he’ll never settle down. I will.” 

He kisses your neck. 

“I can make you happy, Y/N. I can make you whole. Please let me.”

All you want is to say yes. All you want is to give yourself to him - but can you? Will you? Giving your entire being to a person? You’re not sure. But you know it’s not really what Changbin is asking. His words and his eyes tell you you’ll always be free. Your heart won’t have to be constrained. It can just breathe - it can love as fully and widely as it wants. 

“Don’t answer now,” he breathes. “Just wanted to be clear with you. About what I want. What I see. I’ll take you as you are if you’ll have me.” 

“So politely asked,” you chuckle, your hands traveling up his arms. 

He laughs against your skin, then steps back to look at you tenderly. “Can I kiss you?” 

You snort, shaking your head. “Dude, you basically just asked me to raise a family with you. And now you ask permission to kiss me? You’re so weird.” 

He just shrugs, and you giggle. 

“Yes, you lunatic, you can kiss me.” 

His lips come in contact with you, sucking them around his, tasting every inch. He kisses you so well you forget everything but the fire inside you, and you wrap yourself around his body to deepen the kiss. He nibbles on your lip, rolls his tongue around yours. 

“Fuck, you’re such a good kisser,” you breathe, and he smiles. 

You desperately need him to touch you. 

“Changbin…” 

“Hm?” 

“Can I take your hand?” 

“Hm.” 

You gently align his fingers with yours, and you guide his hand in between your legs. You bring up your dress, and slide his fingers against you. You gasp at the contact, and he groans, curling his fingers. 

“Can you feel it? How wet I am for you?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are closed, his mouth open. You hear his heavy breathing, you feel his tense muscles. 

“There’s just something about you, Changbin,” you whisper, slowly moving his hand. “Don’t you know the effect you have on me?” 

He opens his eyes, then, and they are so dark, you can only plunge head first in them. “I don’t think you have any idea of the effect you have on me.” 

You can only stare – because he’s moving his fingers on his own, in all the most delicious ways, and your legs start to feel weak. 

“Minho got to you first because he’s a sweet talker and I’m not,” Changbin hisses. “But the moment I heard you in the flower shop, I knew I wanted you.” 

He pushes a finger inside of you, and you gasp in the darkness of the empty house. 

“You know me and Minho had a few drinks, that night? And you know what we said?”

You shake your head. 

“How delightful it must be to get you to moan our names.” 

“Tsk. I don’t believe you,” you taunt him.

He smirks. “It’s true though. The fire inside you…” He inserts another finger, and you grip his shoulders. “Made me want to be consumed by it.” 

You sigh as he accelerates his movements, letting out a whimper. He bites your earlobe, sucks it in his mouth.

“I wanted to wait a little,” he breathes. “Get to know you, see what kind of person you were. That just makes it all better, I think. When you know the person – when you finally understand what makes them tick.” 

You wish you could hold up your end of the conversation, but you’re lost in the haze. You clench around him, ready to come. 

“Minho had his turn. It’s mine, now, right?” 

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Tell me.” 

“It’s yours, Changbin. I’m yours.” 

He suddenly removes his fingers and you groan in frustration. He ignores your complaint, lifting you up and pushing you against the nearest wall. He devours your lips again, his hardness pushing against your legs. You moan against his mouth, your body shaking under his touch. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “I need to feel you around me.” 

“Please, Changbin,” you sigh. “Please fuck me.” 

“I’ve made you wait, haven’t I, beautiful?”

“Too fucking long,” you groan. 

He smiles. “I have an idea.”

Almost too easily, as if you weighed less than a feather, he wraps you around him, your legs secured around his waist, and starts to walk back to the garage. 

“Where are -”

“Just wait.” 

Once in the garage, he walks over to his bike, and you stare at him with wide eyes. Oh. He chuckles at the look you give him. 

“What is it? You don’t like the idea?” 

Gently, he sits you on the leather seat of his bike, and you kiss him hard. 

“I think I like it a little too much,” you breathe.

He takes off your panties and unclasps his belt. As he takes off his pants, you sprawl yourself more comfortably on the bike, opening your legs wider for him. He gives you a dark look.

“A fucking sight,” he lets out.

You chuckle and you help him with his buttons, reaching in his boxers to stroke him – he groans, immediately grabbing your wrists to put them on each side of your body, pinning you in place.

Well that reminds you of someone.  

He takes another step forward, his length pressed against you, and the pressure makes you shiver. You’re dizzy from desire, and you barely register as he guides your hands. He puts one around one of the handles of the bike, the other around the edge of the seat. He hovers over you, grinning. 

“Hold on tight.” 

He enters you slowly, and you roll your eyes back at the feel of him. He pushes all the way into you, and stays there to take a long breath. He’s taking all the space, and it feels almost too natural, like he belongs there, and you wish you had the words to tell him. 

“You’re so warm, fuck,” Changbin sighs, and you feel your breath against your hair. 

“God, Changbin,” you breathe. “Fuck me.” 

So he does. His thrusts are measured, not too fast, but each is enough to bring out a moan from between your lips. You hang on to the bike, who trembles at every move – but the sight of Changbin fucking you on his bike is too much for you to really worry about it. He looks like a storm, his sweet lips parted, his muscles contracted. He’s big and strong against you, and you pull him closer. 

Your breath accelerates as the same time he does, pounding into you, and you’re clenching around him, feeling your orgasm all the way to your toes. Your nails sink into the leather of the seat. 

“Oh, fuck, that feels good. You feel so good coming around my dick.” 

“Holy shit, Bin…” you whisper, feeling your body relax. 

But Changbin shakes his head, placing his fingers on you, circling your sensitivity, making you tremble.

“I want to make you come again,” he whispers. 

“I don’t… I…” 

“Don’t slip away from me. Stay right there. I’m so close.” 

He never stops fucking you, and your mind is in a daze – his fingers are grasping at the last remnants of your orgasm, assembling them into a new knot ready to unfold. You almost whimper against him, feeling your skin in flames.  

You open your eyes to look at him – like you, he’s sweating, his hair wet, and the sight is enough to send you on the edge. He grunts, holding you tight, and he comes inside of you. You follow him, gasping, your legs shaking. 

It takes a while for you to recover – you’re not sure if it’s minutes or seconds. Changbin is panting, his forehead against yours, and you never want to move. 

You want to cover him in kisses. You give him just a few, but it feels like enough. 

“So?” you ask, mischievous. “What is worth the wait?” 

“Every second,” he sighs. “Fucking the woman of my dreams.” 

You shake your head, biting your lip, smiling. “Well, I will say this,” you say, your voice hoarse. “It’s my first time fucking on a motorcycle.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Changbin says with a smirk. “Did you like it?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Then let’s do it again. I need that pussy to drip on that leather so much it’ll leave a stain.” 

You bite your lip. “That was filthy, Changbin.” 

“I’m not sorry for it.” 

You grab his face by the chin and kiss him. “You better not be.”

The next night, you go over to the Vices’ clubhouse for a party, and there’s a cake waiting for you. It reads “congrats! you finally fucked” – and Minho howls in laughter when he sees the look on your face. 

“Really?” you sigh.

“I’m just proud of you,” he says, stroking your hair. 

You look for Changbin, and easily find him – he’s smirking not far behind. It’s not that you didn’t believe Minho when he said he wouldn’t mind you fucking his Vice, but it’s a relief to see it’s actually true. The two even seem closer than before, playing a friendly game of Texas Hold’em together, testing each other’s poker faces. 

You find yourself talking to Chan’s old lady a lot, and she tells you a few stories about the club, about her first months around them, and you’re laughing so hard there are tears in your eyes. She’s hilarious - and you catch glimpses of Chan looking at her adoringly. 

After a quick run to the bathroom, you want to take some air - you go through the garage, which is the quickest way from there, and you open the door of the office on Felix making out with Cherry. 

“Oops. Fuck. Sorry.” 

You peck your lips, trying really hard not to laugh.

“No worries,” Felix smiles brightly before he cups Cherry’s cheek again, sinking into her arms, kissing her deep. 

You stay for a second too long because Felix looks like an amazing kisser but you eventually close the door, giggling hysterically. 

“So that’s where he is, the little fucker.” 

You turn around, jumping at the voice behind you - to your surprise, it’s Hyunjin. He’s tied his hair back and is wearing a leather jacket. How on theme. 

“Told me he’d meet me outside. Guess he forgot.” 

You gape at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Felix invited me. Said you were having a party. I brought a guest, too.” 

You glance behind his shoulder, expecting his girlfriend, but it’s Seungmin you find standing there. He looks a little embarrassed to be there, staying back, as if afraid to come closer. 

“Min,” you mutter, advancing towards him. 

“I know what I said.” He raises his hands. “I just, I was alone, and I wanted to check up on you, and…” 

He stops talking when you collapse in his arms. It feels so good to have your friend here. All your people here. Your heart could burst with happiness - and it has nothing to do with the few drinks you’ve had. 

“I still don’t like them,” Seungmin mumbles into your hair. “But I heard the parties were pretty cool.” 

“Let’s get you a drink, then,” you say, clenching his hand. 

Hyunjin smiles fondly at both of you. 

“Adorable. Can I get a fucking drink for once?” 

You grab Hyunjin’s hand as well, smiling widely, and lead them inside. Everyone is happy to see them - Minho welcomes Seungmin with a smile, and Changbin goes behind the bar to prepare shots for you three. You take them a little too quickly, laughing. Seungmin takes some time to unwind, but you let him - you understand his reservations more than most. You’re just happy he’s there. 

You know he’s being your friend.

And you want to be his. 

You play darts together as Hyunjin, Changbin, and a few others take over the pool table. Felix and Cherry are nowhere to be seen - Minho starts a game of Mario Party with Jisung, who is just sitting there with the controller in his hands, not even playing. From the vacant look in his eyes, he’s stoned out of his mind. The atmosphere is relaxed, the music not too loud. 

That’s when you hear the police sirens. 

At first, they sound faint, buried under the sound of music and conversation - but soon the blue and red lights shine through the windows and no one can ignore them. You see Changbin tense, but Minho stays calm, sitting on a couch, legs sprawled. Changbin walks over to them, utters a few words in his ear, and they both nod. You catch Minho’s eyes - he winks at you. 

You grab Seungmin’s hand. 

“What’s going on?” he asks you in your ear.

“I don’t know,” you reply nervously.

A few police officers enter the clubhouse, led by their sheriff. Jeongin is among them, but he’s not smiling as he usually is. Instead, he looks around like he’s going to spit on the floor in disgust. His colleagues are the same. 

Changbin waves towards the bar, and the music gets cut off. 

The silence is deafening. 

“Having a little party, are you?” the sheriff says, looking at Minho, who still hasn’t moved. “Celebrating something?” 

Minho smirks. “The pleasures of the flesh,” he replies smugly. “I’d offer you cake, but there isn’t any left.” 

“How about a drink, then?” 

It’s like time is slowed for a few seconds, as the sheriff and Minho stare at each other - you look at Jeongin questioningly, and he winks at you. Oh. 

“Prospect,” Minho says. You notice Felix has just arrived in the room, his hair dischevelved, his lips swollen. 

“Yes, boss?” 

Cherry is hiding behind him, giggling silently. 

“Get a drink for the sheriff and his friends, will you? The good stuff.” 

“Right away, boss.” 

It’s then that the sheriff breaks into a wide grin, walking to Minho to shake his hand. The music starts again, and the other police officers disperse around the room, their serious looks completely gone. 

“What was that all about?” Seungmin breathes, shaking his head. 

“Must be some inside joke,” you reply nervously - it has unsettled you, too. 

“Holy shit, is that Kim Seungmin I see?” 

Jeongin barks out a delighted laugh as he walks towards both of you, pulling Seungmin into a hug. He ruffles his hair, Seungmin sighing deeply. 

“Turned to the dark side, have you?” 

“No,” Seungmin retorts, pushing Jeongin away. “Just… playing darts.” 

“Don’t tease him, Jeongin, will you?” you tell the officer with a glare. 

Jeongin raises his hands. “Cross my heart, hope to die.” 

“Tssk. The last time I heard you say that was at the town barbecue after you promised not to flirt with my cousin and you ended up flirting with my mother,” Seungmin says darkly. 

“Well she wasn’t your cousin, was she?” 

Still, Seungmin looks like he has relaxed again, and the boys start to move towards the bar - but you feel a hand on your waist, sliding from your back to your stomach. Minho spins you around this way, his eyes digging into yours. 

“Missing some Trouble,” he breathes against your lips. He smells like vodka and gasoline, and it’s intoxicating. 

“Don’t you have enough of that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at the sheriff, who is currently doing shots with the club’s secretary, whom you’ve found out is Chan’s uncle, one of only ones from the old generation who is still alive. 

“They always do that,” Minho chuckles. “Their little show. Try to act like they’ve still got any kind of authority around here.”

“Hm. But you’re it, aren’t you?” 

“You know it, Trouble,” he growls, embracing you in a deep kiss.

It feels a little embarrassing to do so in the middle of the room where there are so many people you know - Hyunjin, Seungmin, even Changbin who days ago was fucking you on his bike - but you don’t push him away. It’s not like they don’t know. Everyone is too busy drinking and partying to care, anyway. 

So you kiss him back, hungrily, and he squeezes your ass. You slap his chest in response. 

“You know what your nickname should be?” you squint your eyes at him. “Greedy.” 

“Greedy and Trouble. We make a good pair.” 

You chuckle. Something flashes in Minho’s eyes, and he grins. 

“Sparkle some Vice in there and you’ve got one hell of a party.” 

You stare back at him, eyes wide. “You mean…” 

“Wouldn’t you love it, Trouble?” he mutters, his soft lips grazing your jaw, your neck. You shiver against him.

“The two of us, just for you. Two mouths to kiss you. Two tongues to lick you up and down,” he continues, kissing your neck. You close your eyes, not even caring about how exposed you are. “Four hands to worship all parts of you.” 

He comes back up to kiss your cheek, his lips then grazing your ear. 

“Two hard dicks to fuck you until you can’t breathe.” 

You gulp, indulging in the fantasy - the tension between your legs is almost unbearable, and you have to breathe out slowly to calm yourself. 

“That sounds a little overwhelming,” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. 

Of course, he looks particularly happy with himself. “Oh, don’t worry. We can go slow. Ease you into it. But I think you’d like it. Have you ever done it?” 

“A threesome?” you ask. When he nods, you shake your head. “No.” 

Minho smiles. “Then think about it.” 

He laughs. 

“Although I think I already have my answer. You’re soaked, aren’t you? I can smell it on you.” 

You slap his chest again, and he keeps laughing, but he’s not mocking you. 

“Wait for me in my office,” he says. 

You nod as he walks away. You head for the bar, and get yourself a shot. Minho is talking to Changbin, who glances at you. Is this happening tonight? Oh God. You’re not prepared for this. Still, you can’t stop it. You won’t. 

You are shuddering in advance. 

You look for Seungmin, because you don’t want to just disappear on him, but he’s in a deep conversation with Jeongin. His smile is calm and sincere, and he looks happy, so you’re not too worried. You head for Minho’s office, closing the door behind you. The sound coming from the main room is faint, and the sudden calm acts like a cold shower. 

What the fuck are you doing? 

You really should stop. It’s getting out of hand - but you can’t bring yourself to. You know the second Minho will walk in, you won’t be able to say no. He has a hold on you - a delightful, heavenly hold. And Changbin. Changbin, you feel, has become a part of you, settled into your heart without difficulty. It’s just easy with him. You know you can’t have them both. Not for more than a few hours. 

You still want to. Your heart is in their hands. 

You’ll have to let them go at some point.

Both of them. 

You’ll have to see them with other partners. You’re not jealous. 

But you’re a little possessive. 

You’ll have to keep living your life. How, you’re not sure. You feel yourself bound to the club now. Too many ways in.

No way out. 

Lost in your thoughts, you jump when the door opens. Only Minho walks in, though, and he doesn’t leave you any time to say something - he just grabs your face in his hands and pulls you into a kiss. You moan against his mouth, pushed against the desk, burying your hands in his hair. 

“Such good memories from this room,” he chuckles after kissing you for so long your lips feel raw. He bites your lower lip, inciting a little whimper from you. ���I can barely get any work done here anymore, I just keep thinking about it and get hard.” 

You laugh, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Really?” 

“That makes you happy, doesn’t it?” he chuckles. 

“Well. I’ve dreamed about ruining your life for some time now,” you admit cheekily. 

He slaps your ass. “My little Trouble. Except it hasn’t exactly gone as planned, right?”

“Hm. You don’t know that,” you admit, kissing his cheek, his jaw, the corners of his lips. 

“You’re telling me it’s all part of your evil plan to fuck not only one, but two Vices?” 

“Going down the hierarchy,” you say. “I’m gonna burn it all down.” 

Minho laughs and kisses you again. 

“Let’s fuck some sense into you,” Minho breathes. “After tonight you won’t want to leave.” 

“I already don’t,” you sigh before you can think about what you’re saying. Minho stops for a fraction of a second, but soon kisses you again, even more feverishly. You swirl your tongue around his, grinding your hips against his. 

He kisses you slowly and deeply, and you’re so lost in the moment you don’t hear the office door opening and closing. You faintly hear the sound of a lock, and suddenly there’s another pair of hands on you, fingers pushing away your hair, lips kissing your neck. 

“Sorry, Vice,” Minho says. “We got started without you.”

“That’s fine,” Changbin breathes. 

You’re pressed between both, feeling your thoughts already wander off. Your throat is dry, your chest in a tight knot. You turn to Changbin, because you need to see him. He’s looking at you, softly, hungrily. 

“Hi,” he mutters. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you. You look beautiful tonight.” 

It’s a bit hard to focus because Minho is pressed against you, his lips not leaving your skin. 

“Changbin,” you breathe, sliding a hand on the back of his neck. “Are you really okay with this?” 

“Are you?” he asks. 

You nod, although a little timidly. 

“Then yes,” he says, leaning towards you. 

He steals your lips. Minho caresses you, grabbing your breasts to massage them, and you moan in Changbin’s mouth. Then it’s Minho you’re kissing, Changbin breathing hard on your skin. It feels like a dance, and you are swept away, letting your body relax. You can trust them. 

You’ve only been kissing for less than a minute when someone knocks on the door. You all tense, like you’re kids getting caught, and Minho leaves you in Changbin’s arms to answer the door. He envelops you, devouring your lips, and you desperately want to rip off his clothes to see him better. 

You faintly hear Chan’s voice on the other side of the door, catching a few words - Felix, fire, the sheriff - and when the door closes, you know it’s over. 

“Sorry, Trouble,” Minho says. He looks good with his hair ruffled by you, his lips bright red. “Felix has apparently set fire to a car outside, so I need to take care of that before he gets arrested. Vice, I need you to talk to the sheriff, he’ll only listen to you.” 

Changbin lets out an annoyed sigh. “That fucking kid, I swear…” 

Minho gives you a smile. “Don’t worry, doll. Minor setback. We’ll have to do this another time.” 

“That’s okay.” 

He kisses your cheek, and Changbin your forehead. They leave the room, and you’re left there, frustrated but slightly amused.

Hello! Thank you sooo much for reading. I hope you enjoyed the second part of this story. Let me know what you thought with a comment if you can, it's motivation fuel, and who knows, it might help me post the rest faster. Lots of love xx

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[its-deputy-caleb]

Hiii, could i have a request for how the gang members would react to meeting a historian or explorer in the wild?? thank you! I love your blogs sm!!

anon ily <3333 i went wayy overboard with these but i regret nothing bc this was soo cute and fun to write. I hope u enjoy and i made it gn for everyone. I only did the VDL boys for this but if enough ppl like it i might do the girls with something similar idk yet?

Dutch Van Der Linde

Dutch first laid eyes on you when you were hanging off the edge of a cliff after slipping when you got too close to the edge. He immediately ran over to you, helping you off the cliff and getting you settled back on your feet.

He seemed genuinely concerned and agreed to help you safely record the rock carving that was on the side of the cliff face, keeping you from falling.

You were a historian and had been studying these mysterious rock carvings after meeting an equally mysterious man, Francis Sinclair.

You didn’t see much of Dutch Van Der Linde after that until you ran into him again in Saint Denis in the saloon. He remembered who you were instantly and started up a conversation about your work where you chatted away for hours.

You became very close after that and he often accompanied you to Museums and fancy fundraisers that you were invited to.

He’d always get dressed up and complimented your finer outfits which was such a difference to the field gear you’d have on. You’d spend all night chatting away over nice champagne and dancing together before actually engaging with other guests but you didn’t have a care in the world with Dutch in your life.

Arthur Morgan

Arthur finds you standing in the middle of a field, flipping over rocks and staring numbly at what appeared to be a map in your hands.

When he approached you he soon learnt you were a young amateur explorer about to get your big break with a treasure hunt but you couldn’t find the gold bars for the life of you.

Arthur gave you a heart warming smile and held up a gold bar after retrieving it from his satchel having felt a little bad that he’d discovered it not a week before you.

The two of you laughed about it, calling yourself a fool for trying to find it for so long when it was clearly missing— the thought that someone took it clearly never crossed your mind.

Arthur was always a gentleman however and promised to make it up to you. After taking you to dinner and getting to know him better, you spent the next few days camping out and finding a new treasure together.

You travelled through caves and through valleys of flowers to find this treasure. Sometimes it was so beautiful that the two of you just stopped by a stream to let your horses rest and enjoy the scenery.

When you finally found the treasure you gave Arthur a big hug in excitement which caught him by surprised but he happily returned. He let you keep the treasure and wished you luck with more exploring but of course that wasn’t the last time you saw Arthur again.

Charles Smith

Charles meets you one day while you’re out surveying wildlife. You specialised in conservation, wanting to study and protect animal species.

Fresh out of the university from Saint Denis you’d been dying to get out of the confining city and explore the heartlands. That’s where a kind gentleman named Charles Smith had offered to protect you and show you around the herds of bison you’d taken to studying.

You spent days together riding the over the hills and following the herd as they travelled. While you were Charles told you all about his family and the respect and love they have for the beautiful creatures.

It was amazing the array of knowledge Charles knew about bison and you couldn’t stop the smile on your face as he told you about the characteristics of the bison. You rushed to take notes in your journal, knowing that all that he told you would help you study and protect these animals.

“Do you think it’ll actually do any good? The work you’re doing?”

“One can only hope Mr.Smith but I will do everything in my ability to protect such beautiful creatures.”

Even when you had to return to the city for study you constantly wrote to Charles, staying in touch and keeping him updated with all your work. It was hard to say goodbye to someone you’d grown close to but you made regular visits to each other long after that.

John Marston

You first found John in the saloon after a long day at work, in desperate need of a drink. Being a zoologist you instantly noticed the scars on his face and would’ve guessed a wolf was the animal that caused the damage.

The two of you instantly started up a conversation and shared all kinds of stories. He told you about being up on the mountain while you showed him the scar on your arm from your run in with a cougar.

You were collecting a compendium of all the animals across the heartlands and during the months you worked on it, you ran into John more than once.

He was always curious about your work and you often spent time together in the afternoon sun, showing him the animals you’d found so far.

“What about the stray dogs in town or do you only deal with cougars and wolves?”

“Well they’re animals too aren’t they not?”

Even though you couldn’t see John all the time, he often came along with you to see the wildlife and covered you when you were around particularly dangerous animals and you enjoyed every second you had with him.

Micah Bell

When Micah met you he had absolutely no idea what you were on about. In his mind the whole idea of a palaeontologist is ridiculous and made up, much less the fact that you chose to read books and study in your spare time.

At first he doesn’t do anything but mock your work but after running into you time and time again he finally started to come around.

He grew more and more curious when he saw the drawings in your sketch books of dinosaurs and even more so when he laid eyes on the fossils. But knowing Micah, he’s still incredibly stubborn.

“Ain’t no way that thing is real.”

“One needs an open mind to comprehend what’s prehistoric Mr.Bell. It requires a certain practice.”

Every so often on your work you’d run into Micah who’d be riding around on his horse, just passing by. By now you’d consider him a friend and your face lit up as he pulled a small ammonite fossil from his bag.

It wasn’t really your area of expertise but you could tell he wanted to impress you and seemed almost nervous as you examined the fossil. Nonetheless you could tell it was real and you let him keep the small fossil as a reminder of you until the next time you saw him.

Javier Escuella

Javier meets you when you’re down my the docks, trying to capture the sunlight and noticed him fishing.

Not wanting to disturb him you kept out of his hair until you heard him cheer loudly at a catch he managed to pull in. In your particular interest in animals, you couldn’t help but ask if you could take a photo of the fish he’d caught.

From then on the two of you became friends, often running into each other as you tried to capture landscapes and wildlife.

You’d always spend the day together and you’d show him how to use a camera while he showed you how to fish and play the guitar.

When you spent time apart you’d often write to each other to fill the gap. You’d always send pictures with little writing on the back of them while he sent you poems and songs that he wrote for you, promising to play them for you next time you’d meet.

In your personal journal you have the first picture you ever took of Javier, kept safe between the pages. He’s standing along the docks, facing the away from the water as he holds up a large sturgeon and a large smile.

You and Javier always stay in touch and after he told you of his chaotic and dangerous time in guarma he made light of it by telling you about all the different wildlife he saw while he was there.

Bill Williamson

Bill stumbles upon you in the wild by accident. He’s out scouting a lead when he ended up getting lost through the shrubbery and found you examining flowers closely.

When you told him you were a botanist he looked as if you’d just spoken a different language to him because he didn’t have a clue as to what that meant. Bill always made you laugh fondly at the confused look when you told him all the scientific names of flowers.

In Bill’s mind, a flower was a flower. There was purple flowers and blue flowers and even red ones but they didn’t have their own names.

The next time Bill ran into you he brought you what he thought was a bouquet of white flowers. Instead they were actually a species of weed that was poisonous when eaten but it didn’t stop you from smiling and hugging him which was the intended purpose.

In light of that incident Bill was actually curious about some plants, trying to learn about them more. When Bill went exploring with you he pointed out some of his favourites and you picked a few to put them in the brim of his hat for him to take him back to camp.

When you run into him again Bill tries to give you another flower, this time actually understanding the plant he’d picked was a Vanilla Flower Orchid or the Vanilla planifolia but he never learnt how to pronounce it unlike you.

With a high blush Bill placed the flower behind your ear and you pulled him into a hug, being careful not to crush the beautiful flower.