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xomakara · 21 days ago

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Between Loads | J.YH

SUMMARY | You hate doing laundry but maybe your next door neighbor, Yunho, can make it worth your time.

PAIRINGS | Yunho x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, pwp, romance, neighbors to lovers, fluff

CONTENT/WARNINGS | the 6th floor has creepy crawlies (but nothing really happens), profanity, flirting, teasing, unprotective sex (wrap it up ya'll), oral sex (both m/f receiving/giving), dirty talk, laundry jokes, just jokes all around, kissing, skin marking, skin biting, hair pulling, fingering, multiple positions, creampies, breeding/impregnation kink

LENGTH | 7,004 words

TAGLIST | @aerangi

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @winerys-collection @cosyhomenet @keopihaus @ksmutsociety @k-vanity

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Thank you @pars-ley for the banner! I love it so much 💛💚 and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @heartikeu for beta-reading the beginning of the fic. And now she is completed! On another note, Yunho. Goddamn Yunho.

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

You hate doing laundry in this ever busy apartment building. Since it's late Saturday morning, all of the washers on the first floor have been preempted by people doing laundry to start their day. It'll take ages before a washing machine opens up, and you know that if you stick around, you're likely to have a load ruined from the little kids running about.

You wish management would provide folks with their own laundry hookups like they had with the dishwashers and stoves. Having one in your apartment would be heavenly. Instead, you have to head down several floors to the laundry room and then wait for God-only-knows how long for the damn machines to free up. The faster you could get in and out, the better off you would be.

"Maybe I'll go up to the sixth floor and use the laundry there?" you muse aloud as you pack away the rest of your clothes into your hamper. "But... Ugh, if it's not one thing, it's another!"

You normally avoid the sixth floor laundry room unless there are no machines available on the first, simply because you don't want the hassle of going into the hornets' nest. With the halls of the sixth floor filled with majority men for some odd reason, you want to avoid any harassment in the communal laundry room. You doubt very much whether they could keep their hands to themselves if you had no protection.

"Why must I face this annoyance?!" you yell as you storm down to the elevator with your basket. "It's a hassle, but, fine! Just this once! But, if they try to grab my butt or something, I'm punching someone! They better believe it!"

Armed with enough detergent and soap, you find the communal laundry room a touch more empty than your norm. With less folks around, maybe it will mean a quick load and not much trouble? The thought crosses your mind, but in reality, you know otherwise.

"You're here too, Y/N?" Your next door neighbor, Yunho, pokes his head out of the open washer as you set the hamper down. "You're not usually here on the sixth floor."

"It's crowded and annoying downstairs," you state. "I don't usually come up here because of the jerks that are on this floor, but desperate times and all of that nonsense."

"Yeah, this floor is crawling with creeps," he agrees.

"I'd love having a washer and dryer set-up in my place. Then I could avoid places like this."

Yunho continues working on loading up his washer, though, you catch his sly glances as you begin sorting things into the next available washers. "Until then, let me know when you do laundry and I'll come up and wash. I promise to help deter the creepy-crawlies."

You can't help but laugh at his offer. "All right, fine. Thanks, I guess." You pushed the last of the clothes into your washer and slammed the lid down. "We'll see how it goes."

How many years have you known Yunho? How long did he live next door to you on the fourth floor? It's been a few years already... Maybe three? Maybe four? Enough that you feel you're used to seeing him, even with his incredibly handsome features, every now and again.

He is very easy on the eyes. Almost a bit too perfect. Tall, with a bright smile, nice arms, and toned thighs... what you would give to climb him like a tree and—

Nope!

No, stop, don't start thinking dirty. Bad Y/N. Bad, dirty brain. Stop perving on Yunho, now.

You glanced up at his bright smile, and turned back to the washing machines. Oh no. It was a sinfully sinful thing to imagine the many ways Yunho might kiss your neck, those hands pushing up your shirt and—

You have to shake your head before things get out of hand. This isn't the time or place to have these kinds of thoughts. The sooner your laundry is done, the sooner you can get back down to your own floor and hide your face behind the closed doors and take care of certain... urges that are beginning to surface.

But as you glance back up at Yunho, seeing him leaning over his own washer as he puts the last of his loads in, a heat pools in the pit of your belly. What you wouldn't do to have him fuck you over one of the washers or against the folding table in the middle of the room. Oh no, there was no mistaking how good and strong those arms would feel wrapped around you, thrusting inside you and whispering in your ear.

Bad... bad thoughts... You don't need this right now. No, you do not need the added strain of Yunho's visuals causing such fantasies. Nope, nope. Don't start, you're getting too worked up thinking about it, stop. You bite down on your lower lip, eyes staring a hole into the washer before you.

"Y/N? Everything all right?" Yunho leans over his washer and peers at you. "You seem distracted."

Oh, how sweet a distraction... If Yunho would shut his mouth, that might make things go easier, right? Shut the door, lock us both in here for hours, and let loose? "I'm fine," you blurt out, flinging a hand towards him. "Just hate waiting for laundry to do its job."

"Sounds like you need something else to take your mind off it. Porn always helps me get through chores faster."

A strange noise escapes your throat, something between a retch and a wheeze. Your entire face flushes darkly, and you rub your palms against your cheeks. "What?!"

"That was a joke," he chuckled.

"Don't say shit like that," you groan. "Especially in a public space. Like seriously, who knows when some other crazy neighbor will walk through those doors?"

"Yeah, no, good point." Yunho nods, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. "How long did you put in to wash those?"

"Just a medium load. So... Half an hour. Probably 35 minutes," you answer. "Then, another half an hour to dry. Can't get out too fast, else I might forget stuff."

Yunho hits a button on his washer and leans his hip against the top of it, making an audible clicking sound from his tongue. "Wanna go for a walk around while we wait? Might help take our minds off chores for a while. And it'll keep those jerkfaces down here from bugging you."

"Sure, why the hell not."

As you two wander the halls, you're somewhat surprised how not creepy everything is. Yunho is, like always, a pleasure to speak with as the two of you trade gossip, funny stories, and daily happenings. This time, however, you focus a bit too much on his lips moving, the curve of his smile, and the soft laugh that breaks the quiet air. Your mind flitters and keeps drifting back to thoughts of that moment, imagining how it would feel.

Fuck, his lips look soft.

That's it.

Yunho's lips are full and plush looking. Very soft. Probably the best kissing lips that a man could possess, even in such a harsh looking face. They practically beg to be devoured. The kind of lips you could easily imagine sliding against your body with ease, tasting each and every inch, and then engulfing you whole.

Fuck.

Even with Yunho talking animatedly, you can't pull your focus away. The urge to steal his lips in a kiss overcame you.

It can't hurt.

"Shit, I want to kiss you."

Or, it might hurt. A lot, in fact, considering Yunho's steps falter, and he almost face plants into the wall. He looks at you with wild, confused eyes. "What?!"

"Shit," you close your eyes and slap your mouth a few times, "shit shit shit, sorry. My stupid mouth. Ignore that." You swallow hard and turn to walk down the stairs, a shameful blush staining your face. "Yeah, just forget all about that. Me saying that. Yeah, good plan."

Yunho watches your hasty retreat, following after with a renewed lightness in his steps. "W-Wait. That's it?"

You reach the sixth floor landing, Yunho still trailing behind you as you head towards the communal laundry. "I am a dumb idiot that blurts things like that out without thinking. Forget I even said anything, please."

"Hey," he laughs as he takes hold of your wrist, stopping your stride to his laundry room, "you can't just say something like that and expect a man to completely forget it!"

"Yes. Yes I can," you assure him. "So, you will."

He laughs again as he follows after. "Absolutely not."

"Yunho, please." You pull out of his grasp and make your way back into the laundry room where only one person sits waiting at the folding table for their dryer to finish its cycle. "I just want to die in a hole. Or the void. Yeah, the void sounds great. I want nothing more than to leave this stupid galaxy and just fade into the vacuum of space."

"Why, though?" he asks.

You open up your washer and quickly begin taking items to toss them into the dryers. "Because... I just... Ugh. I mean." You groan and hide your face against the metal lid of a dryer. "Please, it's embarrassing enough that you had to witness and hear that, you really don't want to know why."

Yunho, not backing down from this new information, leans against his own washer, studying your flushed face. "Why, though?"

"Because..."

He seems to notice your hesitance. "Come on. I won't make fun of you."

You hang your head a moment, taking a breath and holding it as you wait to feel calm again. But, when you exhale, there’s no changing the facts. He isn’t letting it go. "Ugh, you're gonna laugh."

"Maybe. Maybe not." His gentle smile makes your heart skip a beat. "Try me."

You let out another long suffering sigh. "You've just... Always looked like you'd be really good at it. Kissing. And," you continue when he starts to chuckle, "you've always been so friendly and helpful. That, uh, it gets a girl's thoughts going... A-And... S-Sorry."

He bites back his laughter as best he can, cheeks pinkened with delight. "Don't apologize, not for something like this."

"Please," you turn around, your face burning in complete embarrassment.

Yunho notices that the two of you are the only ones remaining in the laundry room, save the lone lady reading. A risky play, but perhaps there isn't any better of an option. As the woman's dryer buzzes, she gathers her things, leaving the room without hardly noticing either of you. The risk is certainly real.

"You still wanna kiss me?" Yunho's grin turns down right mischievous. "Because I gotta say... Now you've got me kinda curious, too."

You stare at him blankly. "Seriously?"

"C'mon." His voice is low and raspy, turning your legs to jelly as he approaches and takes hold of your elbows. "Nobody's around. Give it a shot. Just once."

Fuck he smells amazing. Is that aftershave? You don't know. You can't tell what scent it is, but you don't want to leave the safe cocoon his arms provide.

"J-Just once," you mumble, feeling yourself sinking into his body.

"Just once," he murmurs.

Yunho's thumb glides along your cheek before his fingers run over the shell of your ear and his palm rests gently on your jawline. He shifts and ducks slightly, his eyes drifting closed as the world fades to just you and him.

Warm, gentle lips meet, yours and your heart begins to thunder violently. Slowly, tenderly, his fingers curl around your jaw, encouraging you to follow his lead, coaxing a pleased noise to slip free. The rush of warm desire floods you, and the desire to melt against his solid frame nearly consumes you whole.

Just a simple press of lips, a taste, and just a hint of tongue that nearly drives you mad, and it leaves you wanting nothing more than more. All the build up and heat culminates into a blazing fire that courses through you.

The heavy breathing, the ragged needy moans that spilled free—did they come from your mouth or his? Did they matter, really? This wasn't enough. You wanted more, even as his teeth scraped across your lower lip, his touch and kiss sending you further into oblivion.

Until the buzz of the dryer brings you crashing back to the real world.

Both of you draw back, lips barely touching as the loud buzz of the machine interrupts your world. A sluggish, sheepish laugh is shared as you part, moving to the machines. Yunho drops down onto a chair with a smirk still tinged with a deep crimson across his cheeks as you fold clothes, still working out the embarrassment and slight afterglow you experienced.

"So?" He asks softly as he hands off folded items to you. "Thoughts?"

"Need a few more tries to confirm," you answer just as softly. "You know, so I can give an accurate review."

He laughs, taking his own clothes out of the dryer to fold. "Wouldn't want a biased opinion now."

"Mmhm, exactly."

After finishing folding up the clothing, the two of you make your way back upstairs to your shared floor, teasing and poking, giving and stealing lingering, awkward glances along the way.

It isn't until you parted ways with an airy promise for another "chore" session together that a revelation dawned upon you.

It would be so very easy to fall completely in love with Jeong Yunho.

Yunho stayed true to his words to accompany you in the laundry room on the sixth floor, sneaking in kisses each time, leaving you wanting so much more each time. It was a fun, little secret shared just between you two. And then, eventually, it bled into other things. Like going on dates, a shared couch cuddle and a good movie, maybe an evening of food delivery, stolen glances, and hand holding. You met his friends, he met your friends, more dates came afterward, and then he became your boyfriend.

Yunho managed to convince the building's management to let him get a washer and dryer combination inside the apartment instead of having to trudge a bunch of floors down or up to the laundromat. What a plus. Now, not only could you easily wash a load or two, but you and Yunho could easily watch movies while you waited for everything to wash, dry, and fold.

You were sitting in your apartment one night after putting your clean clothes away, when a knock sounded on your door. You padded over and cracked it open, Yunho looking back at you from the doorway with an impish smirk.

"I think some of your clothes got mixed in with mine," he says, raising one of your lacy panties up as if to display it. "Looks like a pretty important thing for you to get back."

"My, my, Yunho. You sure you didn't just stuff it into your own hamper to bring over under the pretense of 'oopsies' and 'drats, how did these get mixed in?'"

He laughs and shoulders his way into your apartment, the front door shutting behind him with a kick of a foot. "Geez, you got me figured out! Don't expose me!"

Your shared laughter fills your tiny apartment as he picks you up and tosses you on your own bed, a huge goofy grin on his face.

"By all means, please steal away my panties if you wish."

"Oh? Should I get the matching bra too? Make it a matching set?"

"A truly insidious master plot!" You laugh. "What else do you plan to get while you're in my place?"

Yunho steals a sweet kiss and shrugs. "Figured a few kisses would make me feel better, and maybe borrow a girl in lacy undergarments?" He nibbles a bit on your throat. "Only if she doesn't mind."

"Hmm, fine, I guess you can steal away the goods," you murmur, tracing over his lips. "But, you know, the price of a kiss like that is really high. Might even need a couple."

"Are we bartering kisses for your lovely underwear?"

"Yes."

"Then, let's see."

The two of you hold one another, laughing in between long, drawn out kisses. Each kiss grows longer, deeper, and sweeter than the last, and soon, a hot need for something more than innocent kisses begins to consume you. Yunho's touches are soft, tender, and all-consuming, a strange mix of heady lust and gentle caresses that send a rush of adrenaline into your heart. You slip your hands under the bottom hem of his shirt, pushing it up to feel his heated flesh under the tips of your fingers. His back, his broad chest, the muscles under his skin, you want nothing more than to explore every single inch of him.

"Your kisses have gotten very... demanding... lately." Yunho's chest vibrates with his laugh.

"Oh?"

He nips your shoulder, dragging his lips along your flesh. "You keep kissing and kissing and then you bite and suck on my lips, like you don't plan to give me a chance to breathe again."

"Hmm. You don't seem to dislike it, do you?" Your fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt, fingertips scraping against his skin with a delightful friction.

"Absolutely not," his laugh is soft and husky, sending your heart into overdrive and leaving the world behind as his mouth begins mapping every single inch of your exposed skin. "But," he stops long enough to tear his shirt free from his shoulders and fling it aside, "it's awfully greedy of you."

You snort a giggle. "M-Maybe. But," you suck in a shaky breath as he licks up the side of your throat, "I'm not hearing complaints!"

"Not complaining at all." His hand fans out on your thigh, stroking upward, leaving an excited trail of heat wherever he touches, causing you to let out a heady gasp. He laughs breathily against your skin, "Only that," he hooks his thumb around the waistband of your shorts and tugs lightly, "I'm very happy that my girlfriend," the buttons were freed, zipper and all, "enjoys," he presses kisses against your thighs, "a man who puts a little bite into her kisses."

Yunho slips your shorts from your legs, tossing them onto the floor with a growing pile of clothes. When you both laugh at the realization that you were nearly naked, leaving only a lace bralette and matching panties, he can't help but bite your thigh. His tongue laps at the faint red spot, and he grins up at you. "Looks really pretty on you."

"Pretty, hmm?"

"It's definitely something a beautiful girl like you wears and a man like me wants to take off her." Yunho runs a finger up and along the underside of your bare leg, tracing along your shape, the pressure causing your entire body to twitch. "Unless the gorgeous lady says I can't take it off..."

"It means more laundry for me," you giggle.

He hums and gently kisses your knees. "True... But then... I wouldn't mind doing your laundry with mine next time, would that be acceptable?"

"Hmm, I dunno..." you pull his head down towards yours and nuzzle his nose, "what would my hot neighbor slash boyfriend want as payment for doing my laundry?"

"Mmmm," he nibbles at the plumpness of your lips and chases your breathless laughter, "you." He bends lower and kisses the swell of your breasts as he whispers, "All of you."

The sound that rips from your lungs is deep, and wanting, and more than pleased with his words. "Keep talking like that," you laugh against the crook of his neck. "Because I might actually fucking marry you."

His full body laugh causes the mattress to sink and move. "I didn't realize marriage was on your mind. Is that the way to your heart?"

"Oh fuck yeah. Completely. Marry me, we'll have four dogs, and three kids."

"Just like that?"

"Sure, fuck why not."

There's another bright peal of laughter from him as he sinks down on top of your naked flesh. "Shall we call the preacher before or after you give me my next kiss?"

"Dirty, filthy proposal. You're despicable." You groan and thread your fingers through his hair.

"Can't believe you'd consider marrying a guy who has only kissed you in laundry rooms," he murmurs in between long, dizzying kisses. "What is the world coming to?"

You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it's awful, isn't it?"

"Jokes aside..." Yunho kisses his way down your throat, your chest, across your ribcage, and against the skin under your breasts, his words sending shivers up your spine, "Would you want to have dinner, spend more time together outside of the laundry rooms? Maybe go on dates?"

Your arms wind tighter around him, and your laugh is sharp. "Mmm, y'know what?" Your palm gently runs across his forehead, brushing away his messy bangs as you catch a hold of his full attention. "I'd like that. A lot, actually."

"Yeah?" The smile on Yunho's face grows wide and radiant.

"Yeah," you laugh, "and now I want you to show me how talented you really are with those lips."

He hums happily, the sound rumbling against you. "And what exactly shall my gorgeous neighbor ask of me in that area? Keep it civil."

"How about..." you muse quietly, tugging your bra down a bit to expose a hard nub of a nipple to the air of the room, "how about a kiss here."

"This isn't very civil." Yunho's nose runs over the upper portion of the breast. "But if the lady asks..."

"Mmmm, and one right here..." You drag the hem of your panties a bit lower on your hip. "A kiss."

Yunho, understanding where your game is headed, playfully takes the lacy hem in his teeth, dragging it down to expose a tuft of trimmed pubic hair before releasing it and resting his cheek on your bare thigh. "Where does my demanding little neighbor slash girlfriend want kisses now?"

"Hm..." you tap your chin and point downwards at a spot that he finds to be utterly delectable and beautiful. "I can think of one other spot for a kiss."

"Yeah?" His breath whispers across sensitive skin, tickling and sending you spiraling into heady excitement.

"Y-yeah..." your words are barely a whisper. "Gotta say... Kinda looking forward to it."

"Happy to indulge you."

And as Yunho drags the rest of your panties free from your legs, his mouth begins a thorough worship and appreciation of the most intimate area of your body. The squeals and gasps he could wring out of you, your hands clenching his hair and the sound of his name falls from your lips with abandon spurs him on until there is nothing left in his head but pure desire to hear you cum and cry out for him.

Out of all the men that ate you out in the past, none comes close to the skills of Jeong Yunho. The others were rough, amateur, quick and wanting. Yunho took his time, savored every reaction and gasp that came. There is no need or urgency or even demand in his motions. Every touch, flick, lick, kiss, and stroke of his tongue are in total control.

Your thighs clamps against Yunho's head, holding him there, begging him to never stop with soft pleads of 'don't you dare fucking stop.' He chuckles as he gently grasps your wrists, encouraging your hands to hold on tight to his head. And when his long fingers joins in, pressing into every spot that sends an electric pulse running up and down your nerves, there was little doubt that the world stopped spinning and nothing existed but him.

Lips, tongue, and two fingers dance across your center, plunging and withdrawing until everything begins to blur into one continuous pleasure. Before long, there is nothing to stop the moans and keening wails from escaping into the quiet evening as the rush of climax exploded into ecstasy and absolute joy.

Through it all, Yunho remains between your legs, happily drinking everything you gave.

"You," you manage after the rush and joy, your voice hoarse and raw, "have one hell of a tongue on you. I mean, I already knew it was talented," his shoulders move with soft laughter, "but fuck, I could've used you a long ass time ago."

Yunho emerged between your legs, a silly smirk dancing on his lips. "Good to know I can be of some service to my demanding girlfriend. Need a breather? Or more?"

You laugh, pulling his face up so that you can reach his lips, relishing in the taste of his tongue and your pleasure mixed on them, "Oh, definitely more but I can wait after dinner."

Yunho chuckles at this. "I'm kind of regretting the order this happened, because now I'm too curious to take a raincheck for dinner and just jump straight to dessert."

"You say this as though you weren't just finishing devouring me whole, just a minute ago?" You run a fingertip along his lips. "I wouldn't have any complaints whatsoever. Besides," you move and kiss his throat, licking and nibbling a line up along the soft skin and under his jaw, "I'm looking forward to returning the favor."

He sighs softly at this and hums in thought. "You," he laughs and kisses your sweaty brow, "you know what? Dinner can wait. After."

"Yes, after," you giggle softly as you crawl down his body, eagerly unfastening his belt and pants, and helping him tug the rest of his remaining clothes free. Your lips trail up his knee, along his inner thigh, and then across the other to do the same. "Dinner can wait. Dessert, on the other hand..." You glance up at him and catch a glimpse of his fully erect cock. "Can not."

Fuck, he's big. And you will savor every damn inch of him.

Yunho settles back, propped up slightly by pillows, his fingers combing your hair idly out of your face. "Have at it, my lovely, greedy little neighbor." There was another sharp, surprised gasp from you, accompanied by a laugh, and a groan of 'you did not just call me that'. To which he responds with a soft laugh, "Okay, my little girlfriend."

Your jaw tingles and you shiver at the way his title rolled off of his tongue. "That one works a lot better," you giggle, your teeth scraping along his length, the muscles on his legs jumping.

A rush of heady lustful pride floods your system and you shiver, eager and greedy and hungry for what Yunho would have to offer you. As your mouth wraps around him, his head falls back and his mouth opens with a soft sigh. His fingers didn't stray from your hair and he helps push it back off your face to watch in rapt wonder. You felt your body flush hotter and hotter, a thrill coursing through your core as your gaze met his.

God he's fucking perfect.

Your hand cup his balls gently, rolling them tenderly and watching the way he sucks his bottom lip inwards, the softest whine in the back of his throat. You lick along the length, tasting and testing and relishing in the feeling. The hard length and gentle flesh in your hands, the warmth of his body, it was everything.

When his hips begin jerking and bucking a little, you allow your throat to relax. Yunho watch in quiet fascination and pleasure. "You'll tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

"I got this," you smile and hold his erection still while taking him completely into the recesses of your mouth. Your tongue laps along his girth, tracing the thick vein on his underside, tracing it, flicking, and pressing with each inch. Yunho's breathing hitches sharply, a low rasping groan leaving his throat as his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, not entirely expecting an answer.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Yunho laughs, voice husky and spent and rough.

"Oh, I'm fucking living my dreams," you hum, bending over once again. "I could go all night."

Yunho laughs at your enthusiasm, and you continue lavishing him, wet and warm and insatiable in your hunger. Long fingers in your hair, the heavy weight of his length, the scent, and taste of his own sweat, your desire and want for him never burned so brightly in your veins. It didn't matter that your jaw began aching, that your thighs and core ache for his touch. You couldn't stop, you wouldn't.

A breathless "close" warns you and you take him deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. Your body responds hotly, growing so moist with longing and heady excitement, and an eager ache. The next series of soft, sloppy noises you pull out of him only brought you closer and closer to orgasm. He tense, his length grew harder, thicker in your mouth. You held fast, welcoming the sticky cum splashing over your tongue and coating the back of your throat.

Slowly, you lift your head up and meet his gaze. Carefully, you swallow, knowing how he tasted and how your body was absolutely aching for his. With a smile you slowly crawl upwards. "So?" you ask breathlessly. "Good review?"

"Four. Fucking. Stars."

"Ooh, nice. Would you recommend?"

"Hell fucking yes I'd recommend that mouth. Sign me the fuck up, yes," he let out another breathy laugh and kiss your chest, "fuck yes. Over, and over, and over again. It's fucking gold, baby."

"Excellent," you giggle and cup his face in your palms. "Wanna recommend other things now? I got an appointment that's open and willing and totally empty if you wanna recommend."

Yunho's arms wound around your waist and flip you onto your back with another sweet kiss. "Wish granted, babe."

The months that followed, and the time spent, left nothing to chance. By the end of it all, the laundry was more than folded, there were a lot of meals cooked between both apartments, movies had been seen and many, many dates were had. You wouldn't have had it any other way.

Your hands reach around Yunho, wrapping your arms across his torso and clinging to him tightly. "So... I was thinking."

"Yeah?" He stops folding his clothes long enough to pay full attention to you. "You thinkin' a lot lately."

"Yunho,” you pout.

"Y/N," he places his shirt aside and fully turns his full attention to you. "Go ahead and tell me."

"Is moving in with you... is it something we could consider doing, together? Like... officially?"

"Officially? As in..."

You make a sweeping gesture around the two of your places. "As in the apartment."

His laughter rings in your ears and soon his body is holding yours in a tight embrace. "Ah, we should totally move in together."

"It doesn't have to be your place, but—"

Yunho silences your rambling by kissing you. When his lips part from yours, a brilliant and beautiful smile graces his features. "Baby, we can get a bigger place. Or better yet, our own house." He kisses your forehead. "With our own laundry room, and kitchen, and, yes, three kids, four dogs, and..." Yunho squeezes you tighter in his arms, "a husband. How does that sound?"

A laugh, shaky and bursting at the seams and filled with absolute joy broke the quiet hum of the laundry machines. "Are we back to joking about the marriage thing?"

"If this isn't the woman I'm gonna marry one day, then I don't know who else could top her," his hands cup your face, fingers tickling through your hair. "Let's keep folding our laundry together. One load at a time."

"Stoooop, you are just too cute, I can't," you reply.

His thumb brushes along your cheek and then across your mouth. "For real though, let's look for a bigger place and really settle down. Maybe start with a pet first."

You sigh softly in agreement and stand on tiptoes to kiss the tall man. "Definitely. Totally." Your heart thud and sings at his promise for the future. "And, not that the sex isn't super, mind blowing, incredible. But…if you actually end up being my husband, then... We. Will. So. Break. This. Thing." You lightly slap the washing machine.

"We can start breaking it now, you know," he lifts you onto the counter and nestles between your thighs, "After all, if we are moving out together, might as well christen the appliances that helped us meet and fall in love."

"Seriously?" you question.

"Very, seriously,"he answers with a laugh.

Your hands snake through his hair and you draw his lips close to yours, sighing softly against his lips before speaking. "Are we done with laundry? I feel like we should be done."

"Oh baby, we haven't even gotten started," his words tickles your mouth with every syllable and leaves the hairs of your skin standing on end. "We're in between loads for now."

"Then I propose," your thighs wrap tighter against him, "we start another load now."

"Oh really?" His hand teases up the inside of your knee, lingering close to the hem of your skirt and then climbing upwards, exposing your skin a little further with each soft touch.

"F-for real," you groan softly, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He huffs and cups your cheek as his mouth assaults your sensitive neck. "Like last time?"

"Y-yes. Exactly. Just like last time. But this time you don't need to pull out," your thighs twitchs and press together, trapping Yunho's teasing fingers in their hold. "Give me your whole load, Jeong Yunho."

The loud, amused laughter that shakes through him was enough to send shivers up and down your spine and pool hotly between your legs. "If the lady says she's ready for my load, then the man will do his damndest to fulfill his responsibility to provide said load. Again, and again, and again." His fingers slip down the front of your panties, playing in the soft curls and gliding along your wet center. "Gonna give your hole the biggest load, baby."

"Right here on the counter?" you gasp out with a laugh.

"As much as I love fucking you on the counter," Yunho chuckles softly, removing his hands and picking you up off and from the counter and carrying you off towards his room, "it'll be more comfortable in the bedroom. No spills that way."

"How responsible," you manage as the cold air hits your thighs when he sits you on the edge of his bed.

"Just doing my civic duty," he wiggles his eyebrows.

Your chest rumbles with giggles as you lay back against the plush blankets, watching as he comes crawling after you. His lips and warm, tingling kisses return in full force to cover the expanse of bare skin revealed by his gentle tugging. When all was bare, your thighs wound around him and drew him closer to you.

Yunho chuckles and peppers soft, butterfly kisses across your abdomen, hands smoothing along your sides. "Don't worry, babe," he whispers huskily into your belly, sending a pulse of need running straight up through your body and nestling in your core, "I'll make sure that the next time, and the next time... And the time after, and the next..." His head trails lower, his lips following a slow, arduous path. "And every time after that... Our load is properly taken care of and completed."

You hum a small laugh and quip playfully, "Damn, is there a fine for unfinished loads?"

"You bet there is, and it'll come with a series of hickeys, and bruises," he answers.

"I'll take my chances then," you sigh, the tone teasing, but also bracing and ready. "Charge me up, baby."

His answering laughter was equal parts adorably sexy and oh so arousing.

Fuck, did you want this, right here and right now. To be filled and consumed and dominated by the very man who own you already, body and soul.

A soft, breathy cry escapes your lips when the full weight of him presses down. Your mouths meet, open and hungry and utterly wanting, teeth scraping gently on sensitive lips. Your back arches up when his fingers dance and toys with you, dipping between folds and sinking deeper and deeper still, and when he replaces the fingers with himself, there is a short moment where all sensation halts before a loud, gasping whine passes your lips.

His words, dirty, sweet, hot, loving, all reverberate through you, intoxicating you to the core. "Fuck..." You let out a long, ragged groan. "Fuck, Yunho."

A sweet, beautiful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, eyes half-close and fully lost in ecstasy and passion as his pace gradually begins increasing in urgency and need and desire. "There's my sweetheart. That's my girl. Fuck... just like that..." The breathless moans spill, pushing you faster and faster toward climax. "That's my girl."

Arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your nails score down his back, his hips surging faster, burying him deeper, until all thoughts left your brain and all that remains was his touch, his body. You were alive, the world was alive, everything exists, breaths, pulsates in rhythm with him and your blood sings with the feeling. You are his and he is yours.

Forever.

He meets your lips again, swallowing the breathless whines and whimpers, before kissing your throat and along your clavicle. He pauses his thrusts momentarily, pulling out of you only to flip you onto your belly and urging your ass up into the air.

When his heat covers you once more, his fingers clawing at your hip to pull you even closer, and you bury your face into his sheets to cry out against them. "Fuck," you sob quietly, "ohhh, Yunho. Harder." You need him, everything, the unrelenting passion and unyielding love and comfort that surrounds you. "Oh my god."

He breaths another shaky breath into your neck. "Almost there." His tone is hot, sharp, ragged against the skin. "Got some of this load for ya. Not even halfway through the night. Hold on tight, baby." His voice comes as a rough command that sets your body on fire. "Gonna fuck this hole the rest of the night, just wait."

"Shit," was the only breathy, shaking sigh that you could form. "Oh my god."

Laughter bounced out of him, vibrating through you, bringing another bout of squeals. "Good fucking girl," he praises softly. "Fuck, baby. Such a good girl." He peppers soft, gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a long, deep moan. "You want every drop, sweetheart? Want every single load? Is that right?"

"Mm," your reply was short, sharp, and needy. "Every single drop, fuck."

Yunho drags your hips upwards, angling and pressing the blunt tip of him against the silken recess of your womb, urging himself forward to the hilt as his words fill your brain. "Fill you. Give you the biggest load you've ever dreamed about. Everything you want."

"Everything?"

"All the loads you need," Yunho continue, "hmm? Yes?"

"Everything, fuck,” your shoulders tremble, the sheer ecstasy that passes with his words bringing you to the edge of climax. "Please, everything."

"Good fucking girl," Yunho's grin and hoarse laugh leave you desperate, needy and wanton.

With one final push he has you seeing stars and exploding into orgasm. In the dizzying and wondrous pleasure-filled moment, he buries his face in your neck, shuddering against you, holding you impossibly closer still. His name echoes over and over, barely registering and it was all you could do but sink against the pillows, heaving for breath, unable and unwilling to move.

Eventually, he shifts off and rolls, a heavy, sweaty arm drapes over you and pulls you close. Neither of you said anything, simply staring at one another, breathing slowly and calming the pounding in each others' chests and heads. His gaze rakes slowly over your exposed form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, and finally resting against your eyes, so bright with contentment.

"I still got more in the tank," his thumb and forefinger pinches your chin gently between them. "So just to be safe, we shouldn't miss out on this opportunity."

You snort with laughter and hide your flushed face behind the pillows. "I hope we're moving in soon so there can be room for more clothes. Or better yet, storage space for our 'dirty loads'." You give another hoarse, rattling laugh. "Give me five minutes before you bring out another load."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Yunho playfully chides you, holding your hips gently and guiding your face towards his. He bends over to steal a kiss. "We are nowhere near finishing."

"Your tank doesn't ever run dry, does it?" you laugh softly.

"You are going to break this machine one day," came his mumbled retort but the sparkle of his smile said everything you needed to know.

"This machine better not break," you poke at his dick for emphasis before pushing him unto his back, "or there will be hell to pay, Jeong Yunho." You couldn't quite help the laugh in your throat, and the need that still flared inside.

"Remember, this is a delicate and rare machine. Handling is important,” he retorts with an eyeroll, a smile on his lips.

"How delicate and how rare?" Your laughter erupts, causing him to smile even brighter.

"Rare and delicate. And belongs to one specific and important person in my life," Yunho shrugs nonchalantly. "Sooo, handle me with extra care, babe."

"Dually noted and observed," you promise and reach to slide yourself home.

Fuck, you’re a wreck for him.

And, honestly... You were okay with that.

If his promises came with a load or two more, then all the fucking better for it.

504 notes · View notes

jazziejax · 4 months ago

Text

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐤 ‘𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Cowboy!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - They had always had this lingering tension between them. But not it seems that whatever feelings were there have now boiled over and at the Sweet Tooth Saloon, things get a little hot.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 18+!, MINORS DNI, Heavy tension, sensual dancing, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), soft!Terry, mild dominance, tender aftercare, implied feelings

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - since yall only like me when I write about Aaron Pierre 🙄 I’m not good at wiring smut and I don’t even like doing it but this is something to hold yall over in case I drop off the fave if the earth soon. I have Finals next week :( UNEDITED, sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes. There probably many because my laptop over heated…also, I can’t write a short fic to save my life.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭- 9,567+

The small bell above the door jingled as the large man stepped into the beauty salon, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging dried herbs strung up near the entrance. The scent of lavender and bergamot mixed with the faintest trace of hot iron and other chemicals, the kind used to curl or straighten a lady’s hair.

He had never set foot in a place like this before. Not because he didn’t believe in looking presentable—he just never trusted another person with a razor near his throat. And, to be honest, he didn't mind looking rough sometimes, but he was starting to become a little self-conscious whenever a woman looked at him for too long. Especially her. But the dust of the road clung to him, so his beard and his hair had grown past the point of comfort as he and his comrades spent more time than they thought in Sugar Cane Creek. Everything needed a trim. At least, the mirror at the bar last night told him as much, and Jim had made a comment about him “starting to look like a wild man”.

Terry didn’t care much what people thought, but he cared about feeling like himself.

A woman stood behind the counter, fingers-deep in a bowl of soapy water, scrubbing a comb. The early morning light that poured through the shop window was caught in her dark hair, making it shine like polished mahogany. She looked up, recognizing him instantly—because who in Sugar Cane Creek didn’t know who he rode with? But she didn’t stiffen or frown like some folk did when they saw a man from the Nat Love Gang.

Instead, she wiped her hands on a cloth, tilted her head, and smiled just enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid.

“Well, well." She mused, setting her rag aside. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked in here.” She said, a soft grin on her face. Her voice was as rich and smooth as honey fresh from the comb.

Terry removed his hat with a sigh, brushing a hand over his curls that had gotten a little thick on top of his head. “I think I'm in need of a trim.”

She raised a brow. “Hair or beard?”

“Both.”

Her gaze flickered over him, lingering on the rough edges of his beard. “I’ll say. Starting to look real close to a mountain man.” She quipped. Terry, however, didn’t smile, but something in his dark eyes did shift, a flicker of amusement that only she would catch. They had always danced around one another. Something they had been doing for a while now—exchanging looks in town while Terry earned his keep over at Cotton's and she began to start her work day at The Blush and Brush Parlor, brushing shoulders when they shared time at The Sweet Tooth Saloon. He was a quiet man, but she liked that about him. A man who didn’t talk just to fill space.

Her eyes flickered over his face, then lower to where his suede, dark brown, coat stretched broad across his shoulders. “Take your coat off." She said, already gathering her scissors. “You might be here a while.”

Terry hesitated, looking down at the shorter woman with a tired look. "Don't talk about me like I'm some sort of ruffian, now." He said, his voice deep and his country drawl thick. The brown skinned woman gave him a faux pout with a small laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry, bright eyes, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Now take a seat and let’s get you looking decent again, okay?" She grinned, playing coy with him. Terry didn't flinch at the name, but a small twitch was his lip was noticeable to her before he then shrugged out of his coat and laid it over the empty chair not far from him. He then sat down in the chair she stood in front of, allowing the woman to drape a sheet over his front, tying it at the back of his neck with nimble fingers before combing through his hair. She was gentle, but precise—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

"You know how to do men's hair?" He asked.

"Yup." She said. “Been cutting my daddy’s since I was eight. Used to say I was better than any barber in town.” He could hear the smile in her tone at the thought, though it veered off into something a little sad.

Terry hummed, the closest he’d come to laughter anyways, but he could also tell that the subject was a little sensitive to her. He let her work, let the soft snip of the scissors fill the quiet. Every so often, he felt the barest brush of her fingertips against his skin. He could also feel her large chest brush against the back of his neck every now and then, causing him to look up into the mirror in front of him, watching the woman work. He wasn’t a man who flinched easy, but something about that gentle touch made him tense in a way he couldn’t explain.

The shop was quiet except for the snip of her scissors. She worked with practiced ease, combing through his hair, trimming away the weight. Every so often, her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, light and deliberate. She felt the way he tensed, barely noticeable, but there.

“Relax, cowboy." She teased. “I ain’t gon' hurt you.” She said softly.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, settling into the chair.

She then suddenly grabbed the side of his head, straightening his head and looking at him though the mirror. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he didn't question it as he watched her intensely though the mirror.

“Alright." She murmured after a while. “That’s the hair. Now the tricky part.”

She brush the excess hair from him before she turned to the washbasin, dipping a cloth into warm water before wringing it out. He expected her to hand it to him, but instead, she pressed it against his face herself. She held his head steady with her other hand, gripping his chin. And he couldn't help but wonder if she did the same procedures with all her clients, because even though his hair looked better than before, the way she was touching felt oddly intimate. The heat from her touch as well as the warm cloth sank into his skin, soothing the roughness of travel and the dry air. He hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

She worked carefully, rubbing a mixture of soap and oil into his beard before picking up the straight razor. She tested the blade against her thumb. She hummed before moving over to the leather strap against the wall to give it a quick sharpen. She tested it again, obviously to her liking since she walked back over and tipped his chin up with two fingers.

“You ever had a woman shave you before?” She asked, looking up from inspecting his unruly beard to lock eyes with his bright ones. It was a simple question, calling for a simple answer, but their gazes were intense. Terry shook his head, just barely, caught in her big eyes and soft touch as he licked his lips.

His response, or lack there of, caused her to grin. “Good. Means you’ll keep still.” She said, only leaning in briefly as she joked with him, but her sudden contact made allowed him to catch a whiff of sweet scent like, something like Ambrosia.

“Lean back,” She instructed, her foot hovering over the pump that allowed the chair to recline. Terry hesitated, blinking at her. It's not that he didn't trust her, he'd known her for quite some time now. He trusted her hands in his hair, but a blade near his throat? That was different. He never trusted anyone that much, not even his closest comrades. It's the reason why all his self-cut's were a little choppy. Something that wouldn't have mattered if he was still up to his outlaw duties and on the road. But now he was spending his time in saloon's and around beauties they didn't offer at home.

She caught the shift in his posture, her smirk turning knowing. “You scared?” She questioned.

Terry met her gaze, his own steady. “No.”

“Then sit still.” She said before she pushed down on the pump under the chair, allowing it to recline. And that he did, opening his growing facial hair to her, ample room left in case of his worst fear. But he had no reason to fear her and her intentions, because her blade was steady. Her hands were sure, and he trusted her, even though he had no reason to.

The razor glided slow, careful. She kept her grip steady, the blade sharp and sure as it skimmed along his jaw. The heat of the late afternoon pressed into the shop, thick and lazy, but it wasn’t what made her skin prickle. It wasn’t what sent that slow, creeping flush up her neck, settling warm in her cheeks.

No, that was him. It was his eyes that were watching her.

They were unblinking, steady, tracking her every move like a man who had nowhere else to be. He was always like this—silent, still, and always looking—but something about it felt different now. Maybe because they were closer than usual. Maybe because she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the slow rise and fall of his chest under the weight of her touch.

She set her jaw, trying not to let on just how much she felt him. The every move he made under her touch.

Instead, she focused.

“Bet you’re the kind of man who don’t like feeling vulnerable." She murmured, trying to make small talk with staring man.

Terry’s eyes stayed on her. “You talk too much.” He said, quirking a brow at her. She chuckled, dragging the blade along his jawline. “Maybe. But you don’t talk enough, so it evens out.”

Her hand shifted, fingers pressing just beneath his chin as she tilted his head for a better angle. He was warm beneath her touch, his pulse steady, but she felt it jump when her nails scraped lightly against his throat. She tilted his chin just slightly, her fingers light under his jaw, and dragged the blade down his throat in a slow, deliberate motion. He let her, not moving, not even swallowing, though she could see the tight pull of his muscles beneath his skin, right at the peek of his shirt.

She shouldn’t be looking there, but how could she not? This hunk of a man was lying below her, almost open and willing as he gazed up her with a soft look in his eyes. The air between them was thick, something unspoken curling at the edges. Her grip on the razor tightened just a little as she worked, and his gaze burned hotter for it.

“You always watch this hard?” She asked finally, keeping her tone light as she wiped the hair she cut on a rag after shaking it off in the water basin and then wiping it away. She glanced up some, catching sight of his lips—pink, full, and slightly parted—tipped up at the corner. “Always.” That single word, rough and low, sent something straight to her stomach.

She swallowed as she continued working, trying her best to focus, steadying herself. She wasn’t about to let him get the better of her, no matter how much heat curled between them. But she also took her time finishing the shave, enjoying the rare sight of the outlaw that is Terry Richmond—silent, still, and at her mercy.

“You’re awful quiet for a man with so much to say in his eyes." She murmured, brushing away the lingering shaving foam with the pad of her thumb. Her hand lingered a second too long, caught in the shape of his jaw. Terry still didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just watched her.

“Didn’t know I needed to talk." He said, and she could’ve sworn she saw his blue eyes flicker to a sea green as the light hit them. The warmth in her cheeks…and else where, deepened. She pulled back, making quick work of the last stroke of hair she had to eliminate, but her hands weren’t as steady as before.

And he knew that.

By the time she was done, the shop felt too small, too warm, too much. She grabbed the cloth and wiped his face cleaning, looking at her finished product around his mouth. Her eyes met his briefly as she took in the goatee she set him up with, a small smile beginning to grace his feature as his eyes bounced across her face. She cleared her throat softly, wiping an imaginary spot of lather from his jaw and leaned back to admire her work. “There. You clean up nice, cowboy.” She said with a grin.

She turned, quickly wiping the blade clean, setting it aside, and moving a few steps away to compose herself as she gathered the material she sat out in front of the mirror.

But then she felt him stand up from the chair, taking the cape off. She felt the shift in the air when he got close—just behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back. She glanced up, watching as he inspected his face in the mirror from behind her. He rubbed his large hands across his face, taking in his fresh look. He only did that for a few seconds before his gazed dropped to the round woman below him. He her her eyes in the mirror, nothing but an exchange between their eyes. She was the only to look away first, cleaning the station.

Terry sat the hair cape he had in his hands in the chair, looking as himself one last time before he hummed in content. He place his hand on her shoulder, large over her breakers that was far from small. “Good job.” He said, voice low near her ear. He then stepped away, his hand dragging down and across the back of her waist as he moved over to shoulder on his coat. She froze at the feeling of him touching her, and then gulped at his fingers tracking off her body. She looked up, looking herself in the eye and blinking, making sure this was all real, before looking in the mirror to watch him put the coat over his large frame.

Terry ran a hand over his chin, feeling the smoothness. He met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them.

“How much?” He asked after putting on his hat, straightening his clothing, and she tried not to get distract by the way he grabbed his belt, using it to adjust his pants. She turns, tiring her head at him as she gave him a noticeable once over. “Hmm.” She stated with a hum, placing her hands on her hips as she stepped closer. “Well, if you were any other customer, I’d charge five cent. But for you, Terry Richmond, I’ll charge you three.” She smiled.

Terry’s lips twitched, his expression unreadable as he glanced off into the distance out side of the parlor’s windows. He adjusted his belt, the large buckle dinging softly while the leather shifted under his grip. His eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked back to her.

“Three cents, huh?” His voice was smooth, lazy, but there was an edge to it—like he was turning something over in his mind. “Mighty generous of you. Can’t help but to think I’m special.” He quipped, though his tone never really wavered from his deep baritone and his serious manner.

She lifted a brow, arms still crossed as she tilted her head at him. “Well, I’m feelin’ kind.” She smiled, playing along to the game she knew she started, all for the hell of it.

That little smirk of his deepened. He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, closing some of the space she’d put between them. She felt it immediately—his warmth, his presence. It was impossible not to.

“You always this kind? Or only to me?” His voice had dropped, rough and low, like gravel dipped in honey.

Her pulse skipped. She held his gaze, not backing down, but he knew what he was doing. He knew the way his voice curled around her, the way his eyes made her skin prickle. Her breath caught, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she kept her expression even, playful, letting her smile linger as she tilted her chin up at him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She murmured, voice smooth as satin. “Mr. Special.” She finished, a certain glint in her eye as she tilted her chin just slightly—like she wasn’t the least bit affected. Like she wasn’t keenly aware of just how close he was now.

Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharp, knowing. His gaze flickered down, just briefly at the Lowe part of her face, before settling back on hers. His presence was suffocating in the best way, heavy and warm, filling up the little space between them.

“I would.” He admitted, voice slow and deliberate, like he was testing the weight of the words. “Got a feelin’ the answer might keep me up at night.” He said, crossing his arms.

She let out a soft laugh, looking away from his heavy stare as she shook her head. The heat curling in her stomach was unmistakable. He was good—too good. And she didn’t now how’s long she last in this little game they always played before she pounced on him.

“Don’t go losin’ sleep over me, Richmond.” She teased, even as her pulse thrummed in her ears. She breezed past him, making sure her side brushed against his as she moving over to the small counter on the left side of the door. His eyes trailed down her figure once her back was to him, taking in her round and voluptuous curves from behind. “Wouldn’t wanna be the cause of your troubles.” She finished as she turned to look at him from behind the counter. She leaned her weight in the counter, her hand clasped together with her forearms resting on cold wood. She watched as Terry stood there for a moment, the look in his eye darker than before as he stated at her. He then blinked before moving, not taking his eyes from her with his pace slow and deliberate before he stood on the other side of the counter, looking down at the woman.

Terry tilted his head slightly, studying her like he was seeing something no one else had the sense to look for.

“Too late for that.” He said. The words were quiet, but they landed heavy between them, sending a shiver straight down her spine. Before she could find something clever to throw back at him after gulping, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver dollar, and placed it on the counter in front of her hands. His fingers brushed hers, Cushing him to glance down at the small touch.

He then looked back up, his blue eyes staring into her brown ones. “That oughta cover the next few visits.” He said, voice even, but there was that flicker of something else in his eyes again—something smug, something dangerous.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That’s too much.”

Terry simply shook his head, glancing away from her. “Nah.”

She narrowed her gaze at him, lips parting slightly, but he was already shrugging into his coat, the weight of his scent—tobacco and something deep, something him—lingering in the air. “And here I thought you didn’t like to talk.” She mused, watching him, arms placed on the counter as she thought over all their silent but pleasant times together in the Saloon while the rest of the gang chatted.

Terry confined to gaze at her, his eyes taking across her face. “I don’t.” He said, his smirk lazy, knowing. He paused, casting her a slow, lingering glance—one that made her stomach twist up in knots. He then turned to the door, but before pausing and casting one last glance over his shoulder. His gaze swept over her—slow, deliberate, enough to make the air feel thick with something unspoken. Then, after a beat—“But you make it worth it, Mrs.Special.” Then he tipped his hat and walked out.

And then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her heart racing, her face burning hotter than a summer’s day in Cane Creek, her fingers gripping the counter a little tighter than before and the lingering ghost of his eyes still burning against her skin.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Sweet Tooth Saloon was alive tonight—thick with the scent of whiskey, tobacco, and the heat of too many bodies pressed close together. Laughter and conversation swirled beneath the hum of string instruments, boots tapping against the wooden floor. The music was thick, rolling through the air like smoke, wrapping around every body packed into the space. Heat clung to the walls, thick with whiskey, sweat, and the deep, throaty hum of anticipation.

But all of it quieted—just a little—when she stepped onto the stage. Her deep red dress hugging her curves, sinching in her waist and pushing up her breast.

The pianist struck a slow, rolling tune, and a hush fell over the crowd like a held breath. She let them wait, dragging her fingertips along the microphone stand, tilting her head slightly as she took in the sea of faces before her. Then, just when the tension thickened, she let her voice pour out, smooth and rich like warm molasses.

The song was sultry, the kind that curled its way around a man’s spine and made him lean in just a little closer, made him think about things he shouldn’t in a room full of people. And Lord, did they lean in. The entire saloon was hanging onto her voice, watching the way she swayed, the way her fingers trailed down her own arm, the way she made every lyric sound like a promise whispered against bare skin.

Men leaned closer, their drinks forgotten, their gazes fixed on the woman commanding the stage. Her voice was rich, full of promise, of something dark and sweet.

But there was only one pair of eyes she felt, steady and unwavering through the thick haze of smoke and lantern light. In the very back, where the light barely reached, where the smoke curled the thickest—she saw him.

Terry Richmond.

He was leaning against the bar, broad and still, his hat tilted low but not enough to hide the way his bright eyes. He was half-shrouded in shadow, his bright blue gaze cutting through the dim like a knife. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t talking—just watching.

Her heart skipped a little.

Heat licked up her spine at the intensity of it, but she didn’t let it shake her. She didn’t falter under his gaze. Instead, she let it fuel her, let it shape the way she sang, the way her lips curved around the lyrics, the way she dragged her fingers over the curve of her own waist. If he wanted to look, she was gonna give him something worth looking at.

She kept singing, dragging out the final note, letting it settle over the room like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. By the time the last note left her lips, the saloon erupted in cheers, men whistling, clapping, stomping their boots against the floor. She gave a slow, knowing smile, dipping into a slight bow before stepping down from the stage.

She didn’t make a show of looking for him, but she knew exactly where she was going.

The moment she reached the bar, a whiskey was already waiting for her—on the house, as always. She took a slow sip, letting the burn settle deep before finally turning, finally meeting his gaze up close. The bar was crowded, but somehow, the space next to Terry was clear. He didn’t look at her right away, just lifted a hand slightly to catch the bartender’s attention. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just looked at her, that same unreadable expression on his face.

“Whiskey?” He asked, voice low, smooth like dark molasses as he gave a small gesture to the glass she already downed. She leaned against the counter, close enough that the edge of her skirt brushed his leg. “You know me too well.” She grinned, already feeling the buzz that the alcohol as giving her. At that, Terry slid a silver coin across the counter, and within seconds, a glass was in front of her. She looked away from him as she took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in her chest. She could feel him watching her, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. That was the thing about Terry—he could say more in a look than most men could in a thousand words.

“You always stare this hard, Richmond?” She asked, looking over at him with a tilt of her head once she had enough of the hard liquor, her voice still thick with the remnants of the song. His lips quirked, just barely, his eyes drifting over her figure. “Only when I like what I see.”

Her stomach flipped at his words, but she kept her expression even, playful. “That so?” She asked, a smirk in her lip and quirk of her brow. “That’s so.” He repeated in confirmation, then kicking his lips. Terry then leaned in just a fraction, close enough that she could feel the heat of him, close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and cedarwood clinging to his coat.

“So much so.” He murmured, “That I might just have to get my hands on it.” Her breath caught, pulse quickening, but before she could say something sharp, something smart—before she could even decide if she wanted to—Terry’s head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering to the dance floor.

A new song had started.

Something slow. Something meant to be felt more than heard. She barely had time to set her glass down before Terry’s hand slid to her waist.

Without another word, without giving her the chance to refuse, his other hand reached for hers, his grip warm and sure as he led her away from the bar. Her breath hitched. Her heart pounded as she let him pull her into him, his palm settling low against her back. He didn’t ask. Didn’t say a damn word. Just pulled her onto the dance floor.

If he wanted to play with fire, she was more than happy to let him burn.

The moment they stepped into the space, bodies made room for them. Not out of fear, not tonight, but out of knowing. Because everyone in Sugar Cane Creek had eyes. And at that moment, everyone had seen the way Terry Richmond looked at her. The way she looked back.

The tension wrapped around them thick as smoke, curling in the air, pressing against their skin.

Terry moved slow, deliberate, his hand firm at the small of her back, the other clasping hers as he pulled her close—closer than what was proper, closer than what was wise. She let him, her breath shuddering as she settled into him, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. The saloon blurred around them, the lights dim, the chatter distant. None of it mattered. Not when his blue eyes were locked onto hers, not when she could feel the slow drag of his thumb against the back of her hand.

“You dance?” She murmured, her voice teasing, her lips dangerously close to his jaw. She felt him take in a breath with her chest against hers, and if she paused attention, she could’ve sworn she felt the way his heart was beating. “Only when I got reason to.” He answered, his voice a low rumble against her skin. “You given me plenty.” He said, his lips close to her ear as they danced.

She swallowed that his tone so close, heat curling in her belly. “Is that so?”

His fingers flexed against her back, pulling her that last inch closer. His breath, warm and slow, ghosted over her cheek. “Mmhmm.” He hummed with a lick of his lips, the sound causing his body to rumble against hers. She exhaled softly, turning her head just enough that their noses brushed, just enough that if either of them leaned in—just a little—they’d be past the point of no return.

The music swelled, the rhythm thick and slow, wrapping around them like a promise. The way they moved now—close, slow, like something dangerous just beneath the surface—only confirmed what they both had long suspected.

His hand was firm against the small of her back, his other clasping hers as he led her through the steps. It wasn’t a fast dance, nothing rowdy or wild, but it was just as electric. Every turn, every shift, had them pressing together. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear when he leaned in, his grip tightening just enough to let her feel the strength in his arms.

“You always hold a woman this close when you dance?” She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. Terry’s lips barely curved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Only when I don’t plan on lettin’ go.” He said, his eyes inspecting every crevice her face had to offer. He didn’t know if he’d bee be this close to her again, and he was taking advantage of the blessing he had to hold her in this way, and gaze at her face as he did.

Her breath hitched.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them blinked.

Lord, the way he watched her. He looked at her as if she was the only thing in the room. Like he was memorizing her in real time. She met his gaze, bold as ever, and let her fingers trail slow up his shoulder, tracing the line of his coat until her nails met the hot skin of his neck. A muscle in his jaw ticked at that. His grip on her waist flexed. They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

And then, just when she thought he might tip his head and close the space, just when she thought she might lose her damn mind waiting for it—

He pulled her into the next step of the dance, smooth as silk, a satisfied glint in those blue eyes of his. He was teasing her. Daring her.

If he wanted a game, she was more than happy to play.

“Oh, is that how you want to play?” She asked, feigning innocence while her pulse quickened with anticipation.

Terry’s smirk returned, a challenge wrapped in his expression. “You started it, darlin’.” He replied, stepping into her space that was no longer available due to him, their bodies flush against one another. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, lulling her in despite the playful facade they each wore. He controlled their movements with a firm yet gentle lead, the world around them fading as she lost herself in the intensity of his gaze and the cadence of their bodies moving in sync.

She narrowed her eyes, but her smirk was knowing. Two could play that game. She let her body press just a little closer, her curves molding against the hard lines of him, her breath a warm whisper against his cheek. He swallowed, his fingers tightening against her waist, a sharp inhale the only sign of restraint.

She felt it, that slip of control, and it sent something hot through her veins. "Careful, cowboy." She murmured, voice all honey and silk. "You might not want to let go, but I ain't so sure you can handle holdin’ on."

His eyes then darkened. His grip flexed, strong fingers digging into the curve of her waist, keeping her against him like he had no intention of letting her go. Not now. Not ever. Now, Terry didn’t scare easy. Didn’t flinch and didn’t fold to many.

But her?

She was dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Her voice, all thick honey and slow-drawn silk, wrapped around him, testing, teasing, tempting as it spilling through his ear and ran though his veins like it was his blood. Keeping his heart pumping. He could feel the shape of her, soft and warm against the hard planes of his body, the sway of their dance turning into something far more dangerous, far more intimate.

He leaned in, just enough that his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “You think I can’t handle you?” He asked, his hands drifting lower as he practically engulfed her in his body. She let out a breathy little laugh, conveniently covering the way she took in a sudden breath at his touch, one that made his pulse jump, made his restraint strain at the edges. "Wouldn’t be the first man to try and fail, cowboy.” She whispered to him, her fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, feeling the freshly shaved haircut he had gotten only hours prior.

Terry exhaled through his nose, amused, darkly so.

She was pushing him, daring him. And he welcomed the challenge. So he let his hand slide lower, fingers grazing the base of her spine, just above the curve of her ass, applying the slightest pressure that had her breath catching. She was quick, though. Slipping her arms around his shoulders, she placed her hand on the back of his head, nails scratching ever so lightly. That same muscle in his jaw ticked again.

Her smirk widened.

That was it.

The last frayed thread of his patience snapped.

Without warning, Terry spun her, pressing her back against his front, effectively caging her in. The movement had her chest rising, her lips parting, and damn if that wasn’t the prettiest sight he’d ever seen as he looked down at her. His voice dropped, a low murmur only for her.

"Darlin'..." His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of her neck, lingering at the base of her throat. He could feel her pulse hammering beneath his touch while his other hand rested low on her waist in the front, easing down to a place unimaginable in front of folks. “You’re playin’ with fire." He muttered.

She tilted her chin up, leaning her head back against his chest, gaze smoldering. "Good thing I ain't afraid to burn.” She whispered. And that was all he needed. He quickly spun her around and his mouth was on hers, rough and consuming, his kiss leaving no room for question, no space for anything but him—his hands, his body, the heat of him pressing against every part of her.

She met him with equal fervor, fingers fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer, gasping into his mouth when he pressed himself fully against her. The saloon around them might as well have disappeared.

Nothing else existed in that moment. Just him and just her. That and the fire threatening to consume them both.

One moment, they were moving with the rhythm of the music, spinning slow in the dim glow of the saloon lights. The next, he was leading her off the floor, through the press of bodies, past the thick haze of cigar smoke and whiskey-scented air. The second the cool night air hit her skin, she was backed against the wooden frame of the saloon’s outer wall, the rough grain pressing into her spine, his body caging her in.

There was no more teasing, just as there was no more space between them. She barely had time to breathe before his lips found hers again. Slow, at first, like he was still savoring, still memorizing, but the second she sighed against his mouth, the second her fingers slid into his hair and pulled, something broke between them. The kiss turned hungry and deep.

Like he’d been starving for this—for her—for longer than he cared to admit.

She gasped when he gripped her thigh, hitching it up against his hip, pressing her flush against him, making her feel a bulge she that didn't know was his belt buckle, the crease of his jeans or his manhood. Heat coiled between them, urgent and burning, his mouth trailing from her lips to her jaw, down the curve of her neck. She tilted her head, giving him more, losing herself to the feel of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the quiet growl he let slip when she dragged her nails down his back. "Oh, Terry," She breathed, and damn if he didn’t shudder at the sound of it.

He lifted his head, his forehead pressing against hers, their breath mingling, their bodies still tangled together in the shadows. "I ain’t lettin’ go," He murmured, voice rough, edged with something dangerous. "Not tonight."

She grinned, breathless, running her fingers down the side of his face, feeling the slight roughness of his freshly shaven jaw. "Good." She said before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him to place her lips against her. The kiss lasted for mere seconds, a mash of panting breaths and slick tongues before Terry pulled away. He didn’t say a word before he took her hand, his fingers wrapping firm around hers, rough and warm. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes, the quiet pull of his grip, said enough.

She followed him back through the saloon, past the clinking glasses and low murmur of conversation, past the haze of cigar smoke still hanging thick in the air. The wooden stairs creaked under their steps as he led her up, slow and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against her palm like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Or like he was memorizing her touch.

She should’ve felt nervous. Should’ve felt some sense of hesitation as they moved further away from the music, from the people, from any excuse to slow this down.

But she didn’t. All she could focus on was him.

The broad stretch of his shoulders. The slow, deliberate pace of his steps. The way he glanced back at her over his shoulder, his blue eyes dark with something unreadable, something that made her stomach dip and heat coil between her ribs.

They reached his door.

And for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, facing the wood, his breath slow and measured like he was giving himself a second to think—to decide if this was a line he was ready to cross. Then, without a word, he pushed it open. The second they were inside, it changed.

The tension that had been simmering, stretching between them in the dance, in the way he watched her, in every unspoken moment leading up to this—it snapped.

She barely had time to take in the room before she was against the door, her back pressed against the worn wood, her breath stolen by the press of his body. Terry’s lips crashed against hers, no hesitation now, no teasing restraint. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for too damn long, like he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance again, and she felt it all. The hunger. The need. The slow, deep pull of something dangerously close to devotion.

She gasped when his hands—big, warm, calloused from work—spanned her waist, dragging her closer, molding her to him like he needed to feel every inch of her against him. His hands tacked down, bending slightly to gather the bunch of her skirt. He hiked it up, catching a feel of her warm thighs that molded under his grip. The feeling of her hands caused her to moan in his mouth, her hands moving over him feverishly as she was filled heat she was giving her. He didn’t hold back, moving his hands up for the back of her legs and gracing over the smooth skin of her ass. He tightened his grip, needing it and causing her to gasp into his mouth. He took his as an option to slip his tongue deeper, almost sucking on hers while he moved his hands to begin to untie the strings of her corset.

She didn’t hold back either. Her fingers found the buttons of his vest, fumbling with them, her hands eager and desperate to feel the heat of his skin. His breath hitched against her mouth when she dragged the fabric from his shoulders, then she felt the quiet rumble of a chuckle against her lips when she yanked his shirt free and ragged her hands down his ribbed abdomen, impatience getting the best of her.

"So eager.” He murmured against her lips, voice low and teasing.

She narrowed her eyes, nipping softly at his bottom lip with her teeth, her nails grazing down his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he took at the touch. "So are you." She purred.

And he didn’t argue. He didn’t need to.

Instead, he reached back down, cupped her though just under her ass, and lifted her, carrying her further into the room like she weighed nothing at all. She barely had time to register the shift before she felt the softness of the mattress beneath her, his weight pressing her down, his mouth trailing slow, lingering kisses down the column of her throat. His touch was slow and sensual, his hands finding any place to rub and caress. Like he was still memorizing, like he was savoring.

But the moment she whispered his name—breathy and wanting—something shifted again. His slow, deliberate control had snapped.

And neither of them held back anymore.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulled him closer as if she was trying to meld them into one. Terry's breath caught as his bulge hit her core, his hands gripped her tighter, holding her as if he were afraid she might slip away. The world outside faded -no clinking glasses, no murmurs, just the vibrant thud of their hearts battling for attention in the silence between their kisses. Their mouths slid together with a hunger that left her breathless. Every kiss deepened the fire sparking between them, waves of adrenaline crashing over her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even closer as he dipped down to claim her throat once more. He kissed his way down, worshipping her skin with heated touches and soft bites, igniting every nerve ending in her body.

"Tell me what you want.” He murmured against her collarbone, his breath hot against the cool air of the room. “Come on, tell me baby. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” He breathed out. There was something dangerously tender in his rough but needy words, as if he genuinely wanted to know-not just in the heat of the moment, but in that space where everything was laid bare.

She didn't hesitate. "You. All of you. Right here, right now, baby. Give it to me." It was a wild and brisk admission, and a thrill shot through her at the honesty in her voice. She could feel Terry's pulse quicken at her words, a primal urge coursing through him. He raised his head, looking directly into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood. This was more than a fleeting encounter. This was a collision of desires that had been simmering for far too long.

With a sharp intake of breath, he dove back into her mouth, a feverish kiss that stole her thoughts and drowned her in pleasure. She felt the weight of him press into her, his body a delicious contradiction of strength and softness. He paused for the briefest moment to catch her gaze, the heat in his eyes burning deeper than before, and she sensed the shift—not just in the proximity of their bodies, but in the intensity of everything that hung between them.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, pulling back just enough for her to see the uncertainty mingled with desire in his eyes. She could sense it— the weight of the moment, the gravity of their choices. "Absolutely.” She replied, her heart racing with certainty. She reached for him again, pulling him closer, and felt a grin split his face as he dove into her once more, taking her breath and leaving nothing but a breathless gasp in its wake.

Their clothes were off in an instant.

Once her corset was off and the full expanse of her skin was showing, he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart's content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. "I love the way you sound." He said before grumbling out her name.

"Yeah?" She sighed, eyes closed as she took in the feeling of his tongue as he licked up her sternum. "I love the way you say my name." She breathed.

"Yeah?" Terry releated as his hands drifted lower in her body. “ I love your body. Your perfect." He paused to place a kiss on her stomach. “Perfect.” Another kiss, this time below her belly button. “Perfect, body.” He finished, his warm breath blowing on her core. His hands moved from her waist, deriding lower to ease her legs apart as he took in the sigh before him. He audibly moaned at the sight, practically drooling as he looked at her. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered. He wanted to taste all she had to offer. Before she could sink in, She placed her hand on his head, pushing his head back. “Wait.” She said.

Terry looked up at her, his large blue eyes dark and blown with lust. “What is it baby?” He asked, licking his lips as his eyes trailed over her form laid out before him. Her eyes sifted away from his stare, biting at her bottom lip before she spoke. “I…I’ve never had a fella go down there before.” She said softly.

Terry’s smirk faded, his expression shifting into something softer, something reverent. He rested his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking slow and reassuring circles against her skin, before he placed his head on her bender knee. “Ever?” He asked. His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but there was no judgment—just understanding, just care. And something a little more that neither of them knew.

She shook her head, eyes darting away, almost shy. “Ain’t never been with a man who wanted to.” She shrugged a bit, still biting at her lower lip.

Terry exhaled sharply, his brows pulling together for the briefest moment, like the thought alone frustrated him. He cupped the side of her thigh, grounding her, making sure she felt him, felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Well.” He said, voice warm and steady, “You got one now.”

Her eyes flickered back to his, searching, cautious. But all she found was certainty. His lips brushed against her skin, his breath warm as he murmured, “You just tell me what feels good, darlin’. I got you. I just want you to play back. You ain’t gotta worry no more.” He said, his voice going back into the deep ruble that set her ablaze. And the way he said it—so sure, so gentle—made something deep in her chest tighten. Because she believed him.

So that’s what she did, ladies back against the pillows and open her legs further, barring it all and offering it to him. And Terry took it with life, gratitude, as well as pure lust. Like a magnet, Terry's fingers found their way to her slick lips as he gathered wetness before dragging his skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle before he pressed his lips against her plump thigh, squeezing with the other hand. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.

He then lunged forward with hunger, letting his tongue do all the talking, slithering inside of her warm walls as his nose nudged her clit. She tensed up with every nudge, let out small pants at the unfamiliar yet raviging feeling that washed over her. He glanced down, watching as he freely put his face in her center. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of her, her pussy glistening like he just doused her in oil.

"Ohh, look at you, baby.” The grumble that came deep from within his throat as he watched her cute clenched around nothing as she continued to whine from the loss of contact from above. And his green eyes on her most intimate parts made it so hard not to get hot and bothered even with him not doing anything. Her poor nub was jumping with excitement as he used his large fingers to spread her lips open. “Look who’s happy to see me." He said as he took in a sharp breath, feeling her slick coating his fingers, the sound of her wetness loud within the room. “You happy to see me, hun? Huh?“ He questioned, looking up at her.

She moan and nodded eagerly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth at the stimulation he was giving her down under. Terry smiled at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, looking into her large orbs that were filled with pleasure and a slight sheen of tears at his touch, but her pussy that just kept sucking his fingers in had him in a trance as his sick standing at attention in his underwear. “Tell me you’re happy I’m down here. Making you feel so good.” He demanded. His tone didn’t leave anymore for defiance, which she took as she angered him. “I’m so happy you’re here, Terry. You feel so good, baby.” She whined out as best as she could, breaths short and rocked her hips into his fingers.

"Mmm, yeah, I know.” Terry grinned. “When the last time sometime touched you, huh?" He asked, but this time he got no response watching as she began to reach her high and feeling her clench around his finger. Tweeting pulled his hand back at that, causing the woman to whine at the loss of contact. “Tell me, hun, and we can continue.” He said.

"I-I don't remember.” She said, and she was telling the truth, she truly couldn't. It had to be nothing worth remembering, especially in comparison to what he was making her feel now.

"Well, I’m gon’ make sure you remember this, hear" He then bent down to deliver a bite to her plush thigh, almost as if he was warning her for what's to come before he dove his face back into her heat, slurping at her hard and soaked clit. Her belly was doing summersaults, she could barely contain her volume at the feeling of his long and warm muscle working a magic she’s never felt before. But her sounds were the last of his worries, they were actually only fuel to his already burning fire.

As he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned in her, letting he know and feel that he was having just as much fun as she was.

Her legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, her hands gripping onto the white sheets of the inn bed since that was all she had to hold on to after he practically ripped her’s and his clothes off beforehand.

"Yes! Yes, oh, yes! I'm so close, Terry baby.” She struggled to keep her eyes on him even with his staring back up at her over her pudge, his eyes low lidded and dark. They beckoned her to stay, to not go levee the edge just yet, but her pleasure had came rolling through like a monsoon and wiped all the thoughts from her brain. She was a shaking, blubbering mess under his weight as he continued to lick and eat at her juices. He moved his mouth away from her pussy only to replace it with his hand, rubbing her clit in tight circles as he subconsciously moved her hips.

"Just feel it, baby. Let it happen.” He cooed in that sexy country drawl. She tried to fight against his hand, her thighs subconsciously closing around his wrist. But he smacked his large hand into her juicy thighs and kept at it with his other hand until he felt like he was done. "Be still and met it happen, baby." He cooed, enticing another moan from the woman. She felt like she was literally about to float up into the heavens, her back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

"Okay! Oh, Fuck!" She screamed. “Yes, Terry!” He moved his hand to allow her to go through the motions, watching as she twitched until that special feeling left her center. "Good job, baby.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on her thighs. “Good job, my pretty girl." Another kiss from him was placed beside her opened mouth as heavy breathing left as he moved up her body.

As the tremors faded from her body, she lay there, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim lights of the room. Her limbs felt weightless, boneless, as if she’d melted right into the bed.

Terry was still there, right where he had been, his hands firm on her thighs, holding her steady like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. He pressed slow, lingering kisses to the inside of her knee, then another, trailing up, as if savoring the aftermath.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found him watching her, his expression unreadable at first—like he was memorizing her in this moment, like he was trying to etch the sight of her pleasure into his bones. A slow, lazy smirk then tugged at his lips. “Ain’t never seen somethin’ so damn pretty.” His voice was rough, thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers finding their way into his hair, rubbing lightly. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, cowboy.” She smirked. Terry hummed with chortle, leaning into her touch, his hands sliding up to rest at her waist as he crawled up beside her. “Ain’t about makin’ you feel special.” He murmured against her skin, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “You already are.”

Her breath hitched, her heart fluttering in her chest at the way he said it—so simple, so certain. She turned her head to look at him, finding those piercing blue eyes already on her, unwavering. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. There was no need to.

Instead, she reached for him, guiding his face to hers, and kissed him slow—letting him feel exactly how much she believed him. She slowly came back to herself with her lips attached to his, still basking in the warmth of his touch. She let her fingers trail down his chest, her nails scraping lightly over the fabric of his briefs. She could feel the way his breath hitched, bus bulge rubbing against her. The tension still coiled tight in his body despite the easy way he lay beside her.

A slow smirk pulled at her lips as she traced top of his boxers, slipping her hand into them with practiced ease. “Reckon I should return the favor.” She murmured, her voice soft, teasing.

But before she could go any further, Terry’s hand caught hers—not rough, not forceful, just firm enough to stop her in place. She looked up, brows furrowing in confusion, but the look in his eyes made her pause. “Ain’t about that.” He said quietly, his voice still thick, still warm, but full of something deeper. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing slow circles into the back of her hand. “You just came down from somethin’ real intense, darlin’. I just wanna hold you right now.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his words, by the tenderness in them. “Terry, I—”

“I know.” He gave her a small, lazy smile, shifting so he could pull her closer against him. “We got time for all that. Just… let me have this. Let me have you right here in this exact moment. We might not ever get it again.”

And the way he said it, like holding her in his arms was just as much of a pleasure as anything else, sent something warm through her chest. The way he already planned for this to be something more made her body flutter in a way only he can make happen. She sighed, settling against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. “That’s my good girl.” He said before placing a kiss on her warm skin.

And with that, they stayed there, tangled up in each other, letting the night stretch out slow and easy.

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monkebearness · 3 months ago

Text

A Shoulder to Lean on

Park Minju (ILLIT) x Male Reader

Tags: smut, fluff, (most likely more than) friends-with-benefits, (just a little) angst

Word count: 4.1k

a/n: just wanted to write something relatively quicker, while also taking a break from tripleS and longer fics (for a bit). as you may have also noticed, this one's in second person pov. I wanted to experiment on my writing style for this one, but it's not permanent.

It just turned seven on your wall clock. From your windows, the lights of the city have never looked brighter amidst the darkness, but that's not where your eyes are fixed on.

Park Minju has been sitting beside you on the couch for about half an hour now. Below the television, the volume of the speaker is still higher than usual, but you can see and feel her state of silence from her spot, provoking your constant concern towards her.

Stealing a glance beside her, you try to switch things up for once, taking a look at your console below the television. Beside it, you visually rummage through your catalog of games. “You up for a game or nah? It's your call tonight. We can even play League—”

“Maybe later,” she answers, but you sense her lack of enthusiasm, only staring down at her half-empty mug of coffee, instead of watching the performers on the screen. “I don't feel like it.” She's the one who played them, having picked the songs she would often perform at the bars or cafés they visit with their friends.

Minutes ago, you thought that Minju could just be listening in her own world, daydreaming about making it as a solo singer a few years from now or imagining herself as a girl group member in another life, which she's told you both in either embarrassment or when she's simply asking for your opinion. You've told her nothing’s impossible since you're still both in your mid-twenties. Some folks reach stardom at a much later part in their life.

Maybe except for the girl group part, since the industry garnered a wave of scandals and controversies in the last few years. You’re just thankful she has a well-paying full-time job, even if she’s not in love with it. Nowadays, you think it's better to have a job to live with than a dream to chase.

And yet—knowing Minju's for years now—you can tell from her blank face: not much is going on in her head. No words. Not a hum. No meaningful or nonsensical discussions about anything. And that’s enough to worry you, especially with what happened to her recently.

Perhaps, thinking about her dreams is far from the first thing that's bugging her, knowing that one was crushed not too long ago.

“It's okay…” You still try to play it cool. “We can just keep watching and listening. But, just so you know, we are closing into the last song on the playlist, so...”

She chortles, before turning to her right to face you. “Gomawo, Dongyul-ah.” Her lips curve upwards.

“Don't mention it,” you look down for a second, trying to avoid her gaze of sweet gratitude. That always gets you, but she probably knows you're too shy to show it. Show your own vulnerability, like she does with you.

“It’s just—” she tilts her head, trying to form her next phrase with her mouth agape. “Whenever I hit you up, you always seemed so cool with just me hanging out here in your own place. And I wonder, have you not ever brought anyone else here recently?”

“I have.” You defend yourself. But you know they haven’t been here, not as much as her. “The rest of the gang’s been here a month ago. We play games here. Watch movies when we feel like it. But this ain't just the PC Bang or the movie theater. This crib is mainly for chilling, so they don't always have to be here.”

“Jincha? Well... I gotta admit, it is pretty neat living that you're only a few minutes from your workplace,” she tells you, just before she takes a sip of her lukewarm coffee.

Ah, yes, the perks of working near your apartment. You never imagined feeling thankful for not having one stable and full-time job, even though your parents kept pestering you about it, but you have felt that gratitude a few times. Much like right now. Minju is one of those reasons. The times you were with her, you regret little. No, you regret nothing.

“Speaking of which, I haven't seen Namgi at the cafe around,” you bring up, a smirk subconsciously forming in your face. "I think he seems to have finally given up—”

“Stop,” she tells you up front, taking another sip of her drink. “I... Don't wanna talk about that piece of shit right now.” Your lips curve downward in an instant, almost panicking in your mind. Great. You just had to mention him.

It's only been a month since she dumped that cheating asshat. Men are trash. You're one yourself, but that doesn't invalidate that argument. You try not to be like them, you just remain yourself. You don't know if that's a good or bad thing, but Minju still keeps on meeting you by herself and you barely questioned it. She's one of the sweetest, kindest people you know.

Since the latter half of your college years, she has always leaned on your shoulder, and it's kept her at ease, whether she brings you tears of sorrow or joy, or none at all.

You felt the same way, strangely enough. She's a weight that has never bothered you.

“Okay, then,” you raise your hands slightly in the air. “Mianhae... I'll keep that in mind.” Why did she even date that prick? your ego wonders. Any of your buds would've been a better choice. But you also hate that you considered that.

“No, I'm sorry.” Her tone immediately tones down with a hint of guilt. “I'm the one who asked to visit you out of nowhere.” She places the mug on the table. “But I guess it's just fair ‘cause I rarely mentioned Yunah-yah when—”

The woman's eyes widened, realizing what she just said to you. “Oh... Mianhae... There I go again,” she places her palm on her face with an embarrassed chuckle. You feel a pang straight to your heart, even if you don't wanna acknowledge it. “And I thought I was the reasonable one.”

“Don't be sorry... I'd say you still are the reasonable one between us,” you inch towards her, maintaining your face of concern and comfort. “Minju-yah, you're always welcome here, whenever you need something. Don't forget that... Besides, what are friends for?”

You wanted to tell her she’s better off without that guy. Your heart wants to tell her that you care, and that you’ll always worry for her. You know it’s true, but she’s heard many variations of those derivative words and phrases from her friends—their friends… But tonight, with just the two of you, she doesn’t need to hear more words. Friends might have been what you said, but you're both feeling more than that.

This time, she just wants your presence. Just you.

You two only lock eyes in silence for a moment. Her smile has never been clearer. Her lilac scented perfume has never been stronger and more irresistible. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. That's all you hear on your chest. She must've heard it, as she takes the remote from the coffee table in front of you and turns the TV off—before immediately returning her eyes to you. The louder you hear your heartbeat, you feel more and more magnets gathering around you. Pulling you and closing the distance between your bodies as seconds pass.

Minju leans in first, reaching your lips without a heads up. Closing your eyes, you lean down, wrapping your arm on her back while you both make an effort to deepen the kiss, as your exchanges of saliva creates sounds of smacking, almost just as loud as the speakers playing the pop and indie playlist earlier. You allow her tongue to enter your mouth, amplifying your noise. You taste the latté on her lips. The sweetened coffee in her tongue, with a mix of the chocolate-covered almonds she munched on a while ago.

Your nostrils can't help but flare like a raging bull who lets loose, but you act like this because you don't want to let this moment go, even if you're starting to run out of air. You miss this woman beyond the boundaries of platonic friendship, you crave her presence beyond the labels of melodrama and romance. Her magnificent curves, from top to bottom. Her everything.

Eventually your kiss breaks, mostly 'cause of your abrupt hesitation plus the limit of your breaths after almost a minute. “I, uhhh, I'm not taking advantage of you, am I?” you open up. Your prideful and lust-driven mind berates you for bringing it up in the first place, but your guilt and conscience have broken and slippers through your mouth.

“Aniyo,” she immediately answers, keeping her finger on your moist lips and her other hand holding onto your chest, maintaining her gaze of hunger for you. “Dongyul-ah... That's the last thing I feel about you.”

You lean in this time, giving into your lust now that she's given you a better reassurance. It's probably the first time you've asked her if she's sure, ever since your actual first time together. You look back to how you've reached this point. This connection none of your mutual friends are aware of—that you know of, at least.

For a while, you've always been hung up on Yunah, but she never gave a rat's ass about your feelings. Just the thought of her now still gives you an ick. Meanwhile, Minju has always been willing to hang out with only you whenever you aren't meeting with your nosier and noisier closest pals, no offense to them.

You always find yourself wanting some time to breathe, outside the bars, the samgyupsal spots, and the café you are working at. Even if that means breathing with her within a few inches, whether it's whenever the sun is sinking on the horizon or when the moon is already hovering among what your own eyes excuse as stars.

Lifting her up with all your might in a bridal carry, you walk yourselves to the bedroom, your lips and tongues still dancing, but not before you turn on the table lamp instead of the much brighter lights of your room.

Your brain reminds you that you just got the sheets cleaned. Whatever. It should probably last another two weeks, you tell yourself. Maybe this one will be quicker, you add another possibility, since you haven't done it with her in a while, after all. Just don't disappoint her, another voice reminds you while you place her down on the lowermost area of the queen size bed.

Without any word, you undress each other, with Minju helping you take your shirt off while you unbutton her sweater and pants until they drop on the carpeted floor. Igniting another makeout session, you take the chance to explore her delicate body with your hands, giving her petite breasts a gentle squeeze, inciting a yelp from her for a moment. “Still a naughty boy, I see,” she purrs, her hand gripping your slowly hardening crotch.

After half a minute of familiarizing your bodies like a map, the woman gets on one knee after throwing your boxer down, but you stop her, leaving her with a tilted head to your response. “What is it?” she asks.

“Let me,” you take her hand. Maybe it's the spirit of chivalry that just possessed you, but you know that you just want to serve her. Not simply because she recently ended a rough relationship—but because she deserves the best. Even if it's from what you can offer. She lets you do your ‘thing,’ sitting on the surface of the bed while she exhales a grin—unable to conceal her excitement while facing you in her unashamed and impatient naked form.

Keeping yourself together with a deep breath, you leave a few kisses on her skin, starting with her lips, nibbling down her neck and collarbone, teasing her with a few licks on her petite mounds and nipples, until you finally crouch and kneel to the level of her opening, something you haven't seen in almost a year. Her cunt’s clean shaven, as you last saw it. You begin drooling, lubricating and warming up your own mouth for your next service.

Giving it a test run, you tickle her clit with your thumb, making her bite her lower lips, muffling her moans from growing louder almost immediately. Now, you unleash your index and middle finger together as they enter her hole, continuing her symphony before she covers mouth with her palm while keeping her other hand anchored on the mattress with her fingernails. With your two fingers making circular motions inside her, you push them in further and add your thumb to the mix as it goes to her clit, rubbing it the same time as your fingers.

“Fuck!” she yelps, unbeknownst to you that she’s finding the striking similarities in the movement of your own finger with the real thing. Just like your cock, you make a few similar motions, thrusting it in and out of her hole just to tease her as she groans, somewhat helpless with bracing herself towards the ripples of stimulation that you keep giving her.

Within a split second, you take out your fingers and replace them with your mouth, latching onto her folds as you give it a few kisses, making it look like you’re sealing her fluids from spurting out. Thankfully, there aren’t any yet, so you continue with your piehole taking the lead on her cunt.

“Aauuuuggghhhh, babe,” she mumbles, which only encourages you to bring your tongue out. It's like you're picking locks in an Elder Scrolls game, waiting for that right spot to click and unlock to enter her more pleasurable regions. In Minju’s case, however, she has more than one. You then make a swirling and circular motion across her nethers, switching between her clit, her lips, and her opening in the next several minutes. You’re not the type to count. You prefer results, and you’re getting them as your lips feel and your tongue tastes something warm spurting out of her glands.

The taste of her cunt has always entices you. Sour, sweet, sharp. They're only three of the plentiful varieties of words your mind remembers whenever you eat her out, most of the time, they just mix, like a concoction. And you've enjoyed all of them.

Adding to your oral performance, you give her feet a little tickle with your sweaty fingers, which you hear her giggling in response. At least in the first few seconds, because you also start hearing the woman as she reaches her limit through the slow trembles of her voice.

“I'm cu—I’m cumming!” With that unrestrained scream, Minju gives into her climax, leaning her head backwards and howling above the ceiling until she loses her voice to the breeze of their room. A wave of her essence fires into your face and on the edge of the bed. It takes eight seconds for her to stabilize her own breathing as you hold and caress her shivering legs from the floor without tightening them.

“Y--you… did great…” she takes one hand, slightly lowering her posture to pet you like a—well—a pet. “Holy hell.” You even try to wipe your face off her fluids like a dog, but Minju does the favor and gets up from the bed for a moment. On the nightstand, she takes two sheets of tissue from the box and sits down to help you get a little cleaner.

You hold her hand—her fingers interlock with yours—and look up at her with comfort, finding her smiling softly while panting. And if you're still in sync with your memories together, you should both know where things will lead to next. You smile back at her.

Despite only following each other’s body language, both of your guesses turn out correct. After eight minutes of taking a breather in the kitchen, you’ve now moved to the middle of the bed, facing each other, with you on top of her.

“Hngggghhh... Fuck, Minj—” you whimper, unable to coherently voice out how much you revere her body, especially with how tight she is. After all this time. “I can’t he—”

You always make sure thrusts aren't too rough, but she always tells you to do her harder. This time, she’s not even complaining that you're plunging in and out of her harder than before. From the moment she whispers “I'm safe tonight” to your ear, something comes in you. Possessed you. Her moans only keep echoing through the room while both your harmonious friction keeps on squeaking the bed as you shake each other’s worlds.

You wanted her to be on top, but she insisted on lying down while she now looks up to you while working together in rhythm with her as your bodies grind against each other's direction. With every plunge and pull inside her, your tip keeps rubbing onto her cervix. She tightens her arms around you to extend her neck and reaches your chest, sticking out her tongue to give it a few licks, treating your dripping sweat as if it's a mineral lick. More shivers drive through your spine as her tongue touches your right nipple, moving it sideways.

“Ugggghhhh, Minj—” you still can’t complete her name in this intoxicating commotion, but it keeps repeating in your mind in the last few seconds.

“Yooouu're—auggghhhh, still big... How in…” Minju moans loudly. You don't have a cohesive answer; her query only makes you smirk as you keep on thrusting. She still looks mesmerizing, you cannot help but touch lips with her again—and much to your surprise, neither can she. Every time your lips smack and your tongues tango, you start to realize how slow your heartbeat gets even if this whole thing costs them their breath. “So—much… Big–ger than that—Fuuuuuck,” she murmurs while catching her breath in-between your kisses. That's one compliment you'd like to accept, it somehow boosts your stamina simply having your ego well-fed.

Deepening your makeout session, Minju hungrily tastes of her own juices while feeling another wave build up inside her thanks to the continuous thrusts of your shaft inside. Your lips part, leaving a string of saliva and traces of her fluid. Her hands immediately move down to your hips, slowly tugging them with each pound you give her. She must want you to go even harder, and so you do it. “Yeeessss… Muuuuuh—more, Dongyul!”

You’re a slave to her, even if she wants to be the submissive one. That thought pushes you to keep going. To thrust with your hips faster and stronger. She rewards you with her screams of delight, her faces of gratification, and her claws of desperation digging into your back, triggering a grunt from you. Even that turns you on, every pain you've felt from her in bed, or anywhere else you’ve done it, converts to your satisfaction.

Reflecting your rising pleasure, your assorted harmonies echo through the walls. You might get a noise complaint from the neighbors next door later or in the morning, but you’re more than willing to take responsibility for craving your close friend this badly. You miss her, and you can't be any happier that she's here, not letting go of your skin, even if it bleeds or somehow gives you scars. You show how much you miss Minju by lowering your head to give her neck a sloppy kiss, inadvertently hitting a high note through a loud moan. A music to your ears, even at a perverted moment like this.

“Dong—yul-ah!” Her voice raises. “I’m getting close.” You hear the clashing of pleasure and exhaustion in her cracks, and yet she makes sure to remind you what she’s already told you. “In…side—me, please!” Now, she’s begging you.

Just in time, you’re just as close as she is. You keep your pounds in the same level of roughness, but you slow it down to one thrust per two seconds. “Okay…” you whimper, seeing her eyes half-shut as they roll backwards with her mouth opening wide. That look used to scare you when you first did it. You were never a fan of horror films, something Minju herself always takes the opportunity to make fun of. Now, that face keeps your cock hardened even though you feel her finally reaching her second climax with her fluids spurting through the gaps of her entrance, still sealed by your thick shaft.

“Miiiiiiinnjuuu-yaah!” With one last loud moan at the top of your lungs, you cry her name as you let loose inside your dear friend just about a few seconds following her, your warm, white load clashing with her fluids. The thought of filling her up “to the brim,” as they say, is tempting, but you still pull out, despite remembering her words clearly—still not wanting to risk anything. You both lie next to the puddle of your own mixed sweat and fluids, not caring that your legs are feeling the sticky sensation on the bed covers. You spread it the more you wiggle your still dripping cock and slide your feet, but that’s the least of your worries.

It’s a Friday night, and you and Minju just fucked each other's brains out for the first time in a year, and both of you regret nothing about. Without a thought in mind, you lean in to give her a kiss on her forehead. You've always wanted to do that. Minju can only look down, trying to hide her blushing cheeks from you with her disheveled hair, yet her adorable ears still stand out. You've teased how they look like elf ears, but you can't help but find them enchanting.

As you both maximize each side of the bed with arms spreading wide, you freely heave together, taking your time to catch your breaths through jolts of laughter and recollect your thoughts ‘til one of you speaks something intelligible once again. You take a deep breath, making the first remark between you two.

“I can't believe... I’m this lucky,” you huff with a chuckle. You don't even know why you said that out loud. You never have—but you don't feel any protest from your own mind, like you often do. It seems they couldn’t agree more.

Minju only shakes her head with a soft hum. “If anyone's... the lucky one here... It's me, Dongyul-ah,” she rebuts, slowly placing her hand on the side of your right cheek.

Your heart begins to race. Again. Perhaps, you're still just catching your breath in front of her. Perhaps her messy look and her blushing face is something you can't take your eyes off. The longer you look through her big eyes, the more you realize how brighter they shine than any of the stars every night. That’s stupid, but that's just how you see her oftentimes. You see either that or glitters, which is more or less visually the same.

“Agree… to disagree,” you shoot back, your mouth forming a grin.

She giggles. Still as cute and beautiful as ever. “Maybe, let's just both agree?”

“That we’re both lucky?” you ask her.

“Mm-hmm.”

How can you resist such a wise, precious, and stunning woman like her? You obviously can’t. You tried before. But there’s no good reason to do so.

“Arasseo,” you submit to her final rebuttal with a chuckle.

You like her, that's true. You like her more than anyone you’ve liked. More than anyone you've dated and slept with, which wasn't much. You like her even more than you like yourself at times; make yourself realize you don't have to be such an ass to yourself.

Maybe, you even love her—as you have with her eyes, her lips, her body, her jokes, her compliments. Do I? you contemplate. You don't even know what you are. Does that really matter? Maybe, maybe not. Yeah, who fucking cares? You want her to be here. She does too. Clinging onto your arms. Cherishing this moment. You’ll keep cherishing it—until she meets someone better than that jerk. Better than you. That’s how special she is.

You brush off those doubts the only way you can. At least Minju does so, the second she shuts your thoughts down with another kiss, comfortably wrapping one arm around you and pulling her closer to your chest and left shoulder, facing each other sideways. In this silence, you share your warmth together.

“Gomawo, Dongyul-yah,” she thanks you a second time, readjusting her position so she can lay her head on your chest while you lay down on your back.

“Anything for you, Park Minju,” you assure her, placing your hand on her head. Despite looking away from your eyes, you feel her smile forming—before a giggle follows. Half a minute later, she inches closer to give you a long soft kiss to your lips and a sultry wink, which are enough to reignite your burning passion for this charming, wonderful woman.

= = =

I tried my best not to make this longer, which I'm somewhat thankful for lol. I'm not a super stan of illit myself, but I love their music. still, I hope you enjoyed it. thanks for the read. 'til next time!

#kpop au #male reader #kpop fluff #male reader smut #kpop smut #male reader fluff #illit smut #illit fluff #minju smut #minju x reader #minju x male reader

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cosmickid-inmotion · 4 months ago

Text

What: An event to highlight disability visibility in the Pedro Pascal and Oscar isaac fandom! Writings or art MUST include some disability. In the header, I have chosen 4 characters with canon disabilities, but you can write for anyone! For examples:

Marcus Acacius losing eyesight Llewyn with a reader with a reader with epilepsy Javier Pena x Steven Murphy and Steve has cancer

Fics and art can be NSFW, friends, romantic, canon characters only, x reader, solo fics, ETC. If you want to explore a bonus chapter within a series you already wrote, that works, but,

MUST BE NEW CONTENT!

Who: Anyone who wants to make art or write a fic!

Where: Tumblr, but if you want to post on ao3 and send a link that works!

When: Through the month of May!

Why: It's important for all of us to look at the beautiful diversity of this fandom! There have been many discussions around race and gender/sexuality biases especially in the PPCU recently, and I want to not derail, but rather add to this conversation.

Rules: I'll try to keep it simple

Not a dead dove event: While dark content can be discussed or shown and I am not a dark hater, please no dead dove, non con etc. Not for this event.

Minor characters are allowed, but obviously no NSFW minors. You want to have Marc and reader in their teens, thats fine! but not smut.

No minors!: I am aware I cannot stop nor do I wish to stop minors from reading, but interacting with this event is strictly 18+

Non-disabled people can write, and disabled folk can write for disabilities they do not have, but do research: Reach out to friends who have a disability you want to write about. Watch youtube videos. Read book and blog posts. I'll link some resources at the bottom!

TRY not to fall into trope or harmful traps. Again, I'll link tropes in the bottom, try our best!

Try to end light. This is about the beauty of diversity. Like with my pride event, I'm not naive to hardships the disability community faces and we can explore that, but lets not let that be the main focus.

Readmore: Use the READMORE option! I'll reblog all fics but ONLY if theres a readmore

Add alt text to any pictures. I have literally done this maybe twice and that's my fault. it takes a minute, I have no excuses, but its very important for people who use aids online.

And this isn't a rule but a few notes. try to avoid the inspiration porn shit. If you don't know what it is, look it up and if you're still not clear you can ask me! Also, I recognize major depressive disorder , PTSD, anxiety ETC can be disabilities, these are things that are depicted a fair amount in fics already. If you choose to write to draw with these disabilities, that is okay! I'm still more than happy to include your work! I just want to gently encourage people to think of other disabilites we can try to include so others feel welcomed!

And as always with my events, I want to encourage you to think beyond the standard x fem reader. It's all wonderful and beautiful, but if you wanted to write reflecting your experience as a black disabled woman or a trans disabled man or writing about Santi's experience being queer and disabled I WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT ALL!!

Events tend to not have a lot of art, so I'd really love to see artists participate too!

HOW: SEND ME THE LINK ASKS OR DMS! asks in preferred so I can keep track. Do to internet safety, I wont look at anonymous links. If you have to be on anon bc you use a sideblog (looking at you, Haru!) then tag me in your fic or post, I'll open up a dm with you on that blog and you can send it there. I''ve had issues in the past trying to keep things organized so this is best for me! Everything will be reblogged, and then put into a masterlist!

I will be posting the masterlist on my new blog, @cosmic-kid-in-motion. I wanted to start the event here where I actually have followers, but the final product will be on my new blog, transferring things over.

I am so excited to see what you all come up with!!!!

Disability Visibility Project: An online page talking about disability issues. The sight is ran by Ali Wong. She also has a book of essays from different people called Disability Visibility, I HIGHLY REC. We read this book and used this site heavility in my intro to disability class, its why I named the event this!

Ableist tropes in media

Youtuber who is a friend of mine, Andy

Deaf awareness by same youtuber

Another youtuber I like

Disabled palistinian comedian

If anyone has other links they recommend im all ears!

I also open for any questions, and if any other disabled tumblrinas wanna open up for questions, comment below! You totally dont have to, but a wider range is always great! I have a few physical and mental disabilites and like I mentioned, I took a class. Im also good friends with the tuber i linked above and he's done a lot of disability advocacy and I've learned a lot from him, So I feel confident but if theres another I dont know I'll open it up! Any input or ideas are welcome!!!

Im so excited to see what everyone comes up with!

#ppcu #disability awareness #pedro pascal #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fandom #marc spector #anselm vogelweide #joel miller #ezra prospect #event #fan event #fanfiction event #fan art event #joel miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #steven grant x reader #javier pena x reader #im so bad at tagging

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 6 months ago

Note

HIII I LOVE YOUR SEB X READER FIGHTING OVER THE BLACKLIGHT and wanted to request smth similar to it? Mutant!reader still, ( maybe the same as the other fic) who helps the Expendable(s)/MC much more than sebs when explaining how each monsters works (giving more info than sebs) and sebs getting annoyed by it? especially if mutant!reader sort of roams alongside with then expendable(s) and is seen chatting with them (bc maybe mutant reader misses being human?) until sebs pulls reader away to complain abt it (how reader shldnt be so relaxed in this situation)

Aw thank you! I'm happy you liked that one ^^

.........

"So you keep dying to creatures that are classified as an Angler, but none of them are the Angler itself, and he just...refuses to tell you how to avoid them?"

"Um, yeah..pretty much. The file said they were only discovered after the lockdown, so maybe he doesn't know-"

"Oh, he knows damn well how they behave. He's just lazy and expects you to figure it out on your own. Which one got you last time?"

The expendable abruptly stopped in their tracks, trying to recount their most recent untimely demise, while you--one of Urbanshade's mutant experiments--waited for them to gather their thoughts.

You two were just casually walking down one of the blacksite's long corridors....or rather, they were walking and you were slithering.

The only reason they were still alive and didn't have their gear detonated was all thanks to your own little scrambling machine. It was attached to your belt, being a lot easier to carry compared to that massive thing Sebastian lugged around.

You were lucky to find them during the chaotic lockdown, and now you were able to chat with expendables without worrying about HQ finding you and/or killing them for talking to you.

Even though you hated Urbanshade for turning you into this creature, you couldn't hate the folks who were just trying to earn their freedom. You knew nothing of why they were even here in the first place--and quite frankly you didn't care to know. There's no point to it.

You were once a sociable human being, and this was how you could still pretend you were.

Of course, that proved difficult as many expendables would rather run, use the flash beacon, or hide in the nearest locker whenever you showed your face. But you reassured them you mean no harm and just wanted to talk.

After overhearing a few grumble about Sebastian treating them like idiots due to their recent deaths (especially with Wall Dwellers), you took it upon yourself to give them better advice.

Advice that would actually stick with them.

While the documents mostly explained the monsters' behaviors clearly, information on the Angler's variants was severely lacking. That was understandable and something you were more than happy to elaborate on should they ask.

"Oh, I remember now...it was some big..creepy frog thing. It had a lot of teeth."

"Ah, that's Froger. She's different, alright. And a smart girl at that." You chuckled. "I've been watching her movements for a while. Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure...do I need to pay you data or..?"

"No. I don't need that stuff."

"Oh..okay."

"Anyways, you know how frogs like to hop around? Well, she does something similar. She'll pass you by, and then do another sweep of the room because she knows you're there. Then after awhile she'll hop back to wherever you are to catch you off guard. Does that make sense?"

"That...actually does. I did get caught off guard the third time because I thought she was gone. Um..thank you." They smiled a little bit.

"Of course. All you need to do is make sure she passes you thrice, and you'll get to keep your pretty little head." With a tiny smile, you patted the top of their head for encouragement. "Now I have business to attend to. I can't chat for too long, or else-"

"I think you've chatted with them long enough, [y/n]."

Blinking, you saw Sebastian pop his head out through a nearby vent, frowning at you.

"Ah. Why hello, Sebastian." You smiled innocently, tilting your head.

"We have a erm..business meeting, remember?" His eyes shifted to the expendable, who seemed utterly bewildered at his presence outside the shop. "If you'll excuse us."

"Yes, please excuse us...and don't let my advice go to waste!" You hummed, bidding them farewell before following Sebastian into the vent, making sure it closed behind you.

For a few moments more, they stood there in silence.

Until the lights in the room flickered and made them dash to the nearest possible hiding spot.

And of course...it was Froger.

.........

"That's my job, you know."

"Well you kinda suck at it." Flicking your tail, you climbed onto the stack of crates within Sebastian's shop, smirking up at your fellow fish monster. "If you're tired of meeting them in the same place when they die, at least give them better advice."

He just turned to face you, looking almost offended.

"You think Urbanshade is paying me to spoon-feed their expendables every tiny detail?! Should I start making Powerpoints for every damn thing that crawls their way?!" He spat.

"..all I'm saying is that calling them "morons" and "idiots" isn't going to help them get very far."

"And chatting them up isn't going to help us get very far, either." With a small huff, he slithered over to a desk cluttered with documents and other assets previous expendables have delivered to him, sifting through the piles. "We can't let them reach the crystal. Not yet. We need more time."

"Ugh, how much more time do we possibly need?" Taking a small DNA vial, you examined it closely between your fingers, admiring its blue glow. "I can only be your little scavenger fish for so long. This place is bound to run out of data. I say let 'em take the crystal, and while everyone at Urbanshade is distracted by that-"

"Jeez that sounds like a GREAT plan...FOR GETTING US KILLED!!" He snarled, swiping the glass vial from your hands. "And be careful with this! It could shatter and explode all over my wares! And I'll be making you pay for them!"

Normally, his anger would scare even the toughest expendable, but you weren't fazed in the slightest and just chuckled. "Woah, no need to get your fins in a twist, Sebby. I was only kidding."

"See? That's exactly your problem...you're too relaxed over all of this." He gently set the glass vial down like it was a baby deep sea bunny. "Those prisoners aren't our buddies, you know."

"I'm not trying to make friends with any of them. I'd just like to see them live a bit longer. It's interesting to hear about their experiences. Plus, they're willing to fork over any data they might have on 'em. So I'm completely focused on our mission."

"Still, we're trying to get out of this place before they terminate the Expendable Protocol. And that means getting out of here before anyone reaches the crystal-"

"And we will. I promise they won't get any closer just because I told them how to evade that dumb frog." You huffed, slithering off the crates and grabbing the nearby lantern. "I'll go pay Painter a visit. See what data he's gathered so far. You mind if I borrow this?"

"...why would I care?"

"Huh..impressive."

"What?"

"Oh nothing. I'm just glad we've moved past fighting over blacklights like toys." You grinned cheekily.

Sebastian's eye twitched. "I wish you'd stop reminding me of that.."

"Well you gave me the marks. So it's hard to forget." You chuckled, crawling into the vent and making your way to the heavy containment sector.

'They're probably gonna go chat up some other expendable.' He thought, annoyed as he went back to organizing his wares.

"Heads up."

"Who said tha---OH SHIT!!"

His ear fins perked up at the distant sounds of your shouting, which was quickly followed by a loud static buzz and a red light that he noticed sweeping through the adjacent room.

Seconds after that, your head popped back through the vent, your expression bewildered. "SEBASTIAN WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?!!"

"Oh? I thought you knew everybody here." He snickered. "He's just another acquaintance. Don't worry. You probably won't see him again."

"...I better not. Bye."

"Bye~"

#clanask #anonymous #roblox x reader #roblox pressure x reader #pressure x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #mutant reader #monster reader #platonic

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cacodaemonia · 3 months ago

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I was unfortunate enough to come across this ask from someone I don't follow a while back. It was one of those wtf moments that was so strong, I had to show the screenshot to a friend who isn't in fandom and never has been. They know the basics of how fandom works, and I've told them about the pro-censorship people in fandom, but this post really required some extra explanation, and I thought I'd share how I broke it down for them:

Obviously, most antis are very young. We all know this. That doesn't mean that all young people are anti-sex, pro-censorship, or unable/unwilling to distinguish fiction from reality, but it's much easier for young folks to get caught up in dangerous and toxic communities—in both real life and online.

From what I've seen over the years, there are all kinds of reasons why antis campaign against fiction they don't like and why they harass other fans and small creators. But I think a key point is that they seldom target big name authors, movie studios, or other media companies who make 'problematic' things.

That right there tells you a lot about one of their primary motivations: power over others.

They want to feel morally superior to people who create art (including writing, etc.) that they dislike. And because they can't influence powerful individuals and companies, they turn their personal disgust and outrage on people who are their relative equals or on those who have even less socioeconomic power—especially marginalized groups like queer and disabled people, who make up large portions of fandom.

There are plenty of other factors that impact this radicalization, of course, but I really think that the power aspect and feeling like they're one of The Good People are the most important elements.

But anyway, the screenshot above got me thinking about how someone could reach the point where they genuinely believe that government censorship of fanworks is necessary to... what? Prevent people from making (subjectively) 'gross' art because... that will lead others to commit actual real life crimes?? That's what the anti above seem to be suggesting with the slippery slope comment, and when I got to this point in the explanation to my non-fandom friend, they were BOGGLED. They simply could not comprehend the massive leap of 'logic.'

So I paused for a moment and considered how I could explain it, based on the various stages of indoctrination I've seen among antis over the years.

I think that a lot of these young people are probably very new to fandom. They find out about fanfic and go onto AO3, and they likely assume that some algorithm will handfeed them what they want—even though they haven't bothered to learn how an archive like AO3 works and haven't used any search filters to include or exclude things they like or don't like (this required a whole explanation about AO3 filters to my friend btw).

So anyway, these people who have grown up on sanitized mass media fail to heed any of AO3's many warnings, including creators' tags, and they come across something that they think is gross or that makes them uncomfortable. For example, "Ewww, fics about underage characters having sex is gross and makes me uncomfortable." That's fine. Hit the back button and use filters to avoid that. Problem solved!

But then maybe they go on social media and complain about someone making art they don't like, and they rapidly get sucked the echo chambers of cult-like anti communities. And this is where they all amp each other up by exchanging conservative talking points dressed up in ostensibly progressive language. They begin to feel angry and self-righteous and certain that they have to do something about this issue they've collectively fabricated. After all, "Think of the children!!"

I should also point out that most antis don't seem to even understand the words they use. For example, in that screenshot, it's pretty clear that the op is using 'censorship,' 'glorification,' and even 'slippery slope' as emotional catch phrases rather than words that have useful and concrete meanings outside of fandom.

Finally, their crusade against the fiction they dislike becomes such a huge part of their identities and 'friend' (more like mutual purity surveillance) groups that they just keep building it up into this huge moral panic until they're unironically saying things like, "Writing a fic about a 17 year-old and an 18 year-old kissing is actual pedophilia and the author should be harassed and doxxed and imprisoned."

When I got to that point, my friend was still boggled, but it was more of a horrified sort of boggled, where you just stare into space and contemplate the merits of a giant space rock hitting earth in the near future.

I really wish people getting sucked into anti mindsets would take a moment to consider how bathshit their beliefs sound to the average human being on the planet who doesn't spend huge amounts of time on social media.

#purity culture #antis #censorship #fiction =/= reality #fiction #fandom #fandom wank #long post #moral panics #harassment

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staybabblingbaby · 7 months ago

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Best Friend Protocol #14 (Team Meeting part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible.Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: 2672

Notes: IT'S FINALLY HERE! ALL HAIL THE LEGENDARY FIRST WRITTEN PART OF BFP! I meant to have this out over a week ago, but it's here now! I will be attempting to get a regular chapter out here shortly to fulfil my promised 4 november chapters. Wish me luck! Huge shout out to one of my beautiful beloved betas, @brbwritingfanfic for taking the time to make sense of this damn thing lmao. I appreciate you spotting all my errors, you a real one <3 For those familiar with my archive style and curious, this is A3D2 for this chapter. It was kicking my ASS. If enough folks are interested I don't mind releasing the other attempts, but BFP is a bit divorced from the usual archive proceedings, so I'll leave that up to y'all. I actually really loved how Felix's character came through here, and i'm pretty pleased with how the dialogue turned out. My poor fiance had to sit through like 5 separate rants about how i could not roll back the details enough and kept having to scrap dialogue so it sounded less like AI attempting classical literature.

Warnings: She/Her Reader. Sort of? Polyamory negotiations. More like, the possibility is tossed out there.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

The meeting goes something like this;

They pile into the living room of his and Seungmin’s shiny new dorm without discussion. It makes Felix both nervous and grateful. They’ve always had these meetings wherever Chris happened to be, before. It feels like an unspoken declaration of allegiance. Like they’re letting Felix take the lead, here.

The pressure is kind of getting to him already, as they all settle in. He doesn’t even know how he feels about it all himself, making a decision doesn’t seem like something he should be in charge of right now.

Still, he’s grateful. They’re being so mindful of him in this, and he kind of wants to cry about it. He feels seen, and loved. A bit too seen, maybe, but as embarrassing as it is he’s still a bit gooey inside about it.

Felix drags a beanbag over to where Hyunjin has settled on the couch, plopping down to lean against the other man’s legs. A hand automatically goes to bury itself in his hair, like an anchor against Felix’s stormy thoughts.

The grounding warmth of one of his best friends soothes Felix as Chris calls the meeting to order.

“So!” Their leader casts an inquiring gaze around the room, “Who wants to start? Where are we at right now?”

A few glances are cast Felix’s way, but he tips his head back against Hyunjin’s knees to avoid their eyes. Everyone must get the message, because no one prompts him.

Jisung is the one who eventually bites the bullet, and Felix sends a silent ‘thank you’ to his birthday buddy.

“Well, I’d like to clarify everyone’s, like, goal in this?” Jisung puts forward tentatively, “Because I’m at the point where it’s more of a ‘I’d like to get to know her’ thing than a ‘I want to date her’ thing.” he shrugs to himself, “I haven’t talked to her much yet, I just think she’s cool.”

“I’m a little bit smitten,” Changbin admits from across the room. He gives Felix an apologetic grimace, but all Felix can do is wave him off with a worried smile.

“We talked for quite a while the other day and, I dunno... We clicked? I guess? I feel like we did, anyway. I kind of want to see where that could go if we let it.”

Changbin sends an almost appealing look to Felix as he speaks, and honestly? Super awkward for Felix right now.

Because, see, Felix’s first instinct is to get super defensive and shut everything down. He doesn’t really want to be talking about this, and it scratches at something delicate and boyish in him that they’re having this discussion at all.

It’s embarrassing to know that the feelings he’s kept so close to his chest for so many years are out in the open. It feels a bit like a betrayal that this meeting is about the fact that most of his friends have feelings for the girl he’s had a crush on basically his whole life, instead of planning how to get him to stop being stupid about said crush.

It’s just... Uncomfortable. On so many levels. An ugly monster wants to tear out of Felix’s throat as he locks eyes with Changbin, but a light scratch at his scalp from Hyunjin stalls the beast.

Right. Felix reminds himself that these aren’t any old friends. These aren’t just some acquaintances he could burn bridges with, or strange men he had to protect his angel from.

No, these were his brothers, the people he’d shed blood, sweat, and tears with. The men he’d lived with, grown with, the guys who’d seen more of him than any other person in the world.

Felix finds it in himself to spare Changbin a strained smile. He means it to be reassuring, but he’s so tangled up in his thoughts right now that it’s the best he can offer. The older man seems grateful for it anyway.

He turns his gaze up to Hyunjin, the catalyst of all this, and Felix’s current rock in the storm. He tries to keep in mind how much he loves these people as he moves the conversation forward.

He has to hear them out, at least.

“Thoughts, Hyun?” Felix gently inquires.

Hyunjin briefly presses his lips together, gathering his thoughts into words.

“I’ve been pretty open in my flirtation from the start, I think.” he finally says, “So I guess I’m more surprised that anyone else is? Surprised, I mean.”

Felix has to hand him that one. For all that his ‘no flirting’ rule had been mostly a joke, it did mean that he’d expected them to flirt with her.

He wonders what makes things different now? He’d been okay with the flirting when he’d thought everyone was just joking around, has anything really changed now that he knows it’s real?

Felix sits with that thought while Minho throws his two cents in.

“I don’t think surprised is the right word,” their second eldest ponders aloud, “I’m personally more... worried about how this might work out.” He draws the words out slowly, like he’s tasting the flavor of them before he speaks.

It’s off-putting to hear Minho speak so cautiously- he’s usually so blunt with his words.

“I’m more worried about how this will affect us as a group,” Minho admits, “I mean, I like her, she’s fun, but I don’t want her if it’s going to cause issues among us.”

And the older man has a point. Anything that causes discord in a group like theirs is a disaster waiting to happen. Especially something like this, where a misstep could lead to long-term resentments and jealousies.

Felix feels pressured by the group’s regard for him all over again. One word from him, and he knows it all ends. The moment he says he can’t handle this is the moment that the rest back off. The emotions won’t fade, Felix knows, but they’d do it anyways.

Because they love him.

He loves them right back.

“I really like her,” Seungmin pipes in, face blank. His eyes cast toward the floor for a moment, before rising again to meet Felix’s. “I really like her,” He repeats, “I don’t know that I would be okay with letting go without trying.”

Felix pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods at the younger man. His head tips toward his lap while he thinks, brow furrowing as he loses himself to his tumultuous thoughts.

It helps to hear everyone’s feelings put so bluntly, Felix thinks. Having everyone’s stances laid out clearly like a map in his mind’s eye.

Han, who’s not invested but interested anyways.

Changbin, who’s probably in deeper than he’d really like to be.

Hyunjin, who’d been open about his intentions from the start.

Minho, who the fact that he’s even considering her means more than Felix thinks the man realizes. And yet, he’d give her up at the first seed of discord among the group.

It’s kind of heartwarming, when Felix thinks about how much love their second eldest had shown them with those words.

Finally, there’s Seungmin. A man whose compliments are hard earned, and whose feelings are closely guarded. A man who’d just handed Felix his heart on a silver platter, trust and love etched in every word, spoken and not.

Felix’s first instinct is still to shut them down. His clouded heart tells him to scoop up his angel and hide her away like a dragon with its hoard. To claim her as his and his alone, and feel slighted if anyone tried to contest that.

But that’s not fair. Not to his members and not to her. Not even to himself.

They’d shown him respect and care every step of the way, the least he could do is give them more than a knee-jerk reaction.

“Is it really all that complicated?” Jeongin ponders aloud.

Their maknae looks almost bored from his armchair, staring at them all. His furrowed brow gives away his worry, as does the way he allows Chris to pull him into the elder’s side with an arm around his shoulders.

“I mean, it’s up to her in the end, isn’t it?” their youngest continues, “she’s the only one that can really make a final call.”

“Could we handle that?” Felix finally speaks up. It’s a little scary having everyone’s attention snap to him like that, but this is the crux of the matter, he thinks.

“If she chooses one of us, could we handle that?” he elaborates.

A contemplative silence descends over the room. Felix kind of wishes he could peek into the member’s brains at this moment. He wants to know if they’re as worried as he is, if they’re worried about the same things he is.

Because, quite honestly, the more he thinks about it the less he really minds if they flirt with his angel.

It’s taken him this long to untangle the ugly knot of emotions in his chest, and he still can’t see all of it for what it is, but the core of it all, he thinks, is fear.

He’s afraid that, at the end of it all, he’ll be left behind. That he’ll lose two of his very best friends, his favorite people in the world, to each other.

He doesn’t think he could handle that.

It’s an unjustified fear, Felix knows. His bonds with all of these people, the seven present in the room with him and one halfway across the world, are stronger than anything. Forged in fire and elastic with time, he’s sure there’s nothing that could ever truly break them.

That doesn’t stop anxiety from creeping up his spine.

Felix lets his eyes wander around the room, landing on each of his members in turn. It’s like something in him believes that they could guide him in this, just by looking at them, the way his gaze lands heavily on each of their forms.

Hyunjin’s hand drops from his head to knead at the base of his neck, and Felix feels himself soften. A little bit of the anxiety drains from him at the comforting touch, and with it gone he can see something new under the miasma of fear and uncertainty.

It’s bright, like hope, and a bit more exciting. A giddy little thought bubbles up with it-

“What if she chose more than one of us?” Han beats him to the punch. His eyes flick between them all anxiously, looking very much like the rodent he’s nicknamed for, and when he’s met with six confused stares and Felix’s suppressed grin, he starts to babble.

“I- I mean, we’ve all shared partners before. Like, sexually, at least. I just- I mean- We’re not strangers to sharing, is all I’m tryna say!” Han explains himself.

His shoulders rise up to cherry-red ears under the weight of their stares. Minho places a calming hand on his thigh, even as he pokes holes in the other man’s claim.

“We’ve never shared romantic partners though,” He points out, annoyingly reasonable, “That’s a completely different thing.”

“I’d be willing to give it a shot,” Hyunjin shrugs when all eyes turn to him.

He was, admittedly, the last of them Felix had expected to back the idea. Hyunjin was the most romantic of them all, and the least likely to indulge one of them in sharing a partner or two.

“I love you guys, and I really like her,” Hyunjin states plainly, “I don’t see an issue with it.”

“So.. what? We try for, like, a.. polycule kinda thing if she wants?” Changbin questions. He scrunches up his face in concern at the concept, pointing out, “That feels a little unbalanced, doesn't it? Is it fair to hinge the whole thing on her?”

“It's going to hinge on her whether it's fair or not,” Jeongin interjects, “You all have crushes on her, not on eachother.”

“I just don’t know how comfortable I can be with that,” Changbin explains, “There’s one of her, and currently six of us. I don’t think it’s humanly possible for her to split her time enough for all of us, and it’s really unfair of us to expect it of her.”

“It could be a good thing, though,” Han argues, “None of us have the time to dedicate to a relationship how we should. Having more than one of us to turn to could be a good thing.”

“Okay, but you’re all forgetting something very important in this hypothetical,” Jeongin stresses the word, making pointed eye contact with his hyungs, “situation. She has to agree to it too. We can’t make a decision without her.”

Felix can't help but be proud of their youngest for reminding them of y/n’s place in all this. It’s not like they’d forgotten, but it was a good reminder anyway. It did feel a bit icky to be talking about their relationship with her like it was a foregone conclusion.

“I’m just saying!” Han proclaims, throwing his hands in the air, “It’s a possibility that we should be open to if it happens!”

Finally, Chris loudly claps to get everyone's attention and forestall any oncoming argument.

“Oh-kay!” he enthuses, “Let’s refocus. Show of hands, are we okay with everyone flirting with her if they want to?”

All hands go up, none of them opposed to anyone else shooting their shot. Felix pretends like all eyes aren’t on him as he easily raises his arm.

“Alright, next” Chris pushes on, “Do we think we can handle it if she chooses one of us?”

Hesitant murmurs sound around the room at this, but Felix has come to an understanding with himself during this meeting, so he speaks confidently when he says, “I think we’ll be okay.”

His words seem to reassure the others, and a ripple of agreement and gentle ribbing starts circling the room.

“Alright,” Chris nods to himself, interrupting the wave before they could get started with any mischief. He really does know them too well.

“And finally,” he starts, an indecipherable expression crossing his face, “show of hands, who’s alright with the poly thing if it comes to it?”

This subject is more divisive, Han, Hyujin, and Felix’s hands going up, but Minho and Changbin stay quiet with worried faces. Seungmin holds his arm out in front of him with his thumb held out sideways. When questioned, he just says he’s not sure how he feels about it yet.

“We’ll circle back on that later, then.” Chris decides, “I think that’s one of those things we need to be unanimous on.”

Agreements sound out, and the atmosphere relaxes. The evening quickly devolves into an impromptu game night, the group quickly descending upon Felix’s console games like a pack of hyenas.

Felix gets up to switch the TV over to his switch, intentions of strong-arming everyone into playing Mario Party in mind. Chris grabs him by the elbow as he walks by, nodding over to the kitchen. Felix follows him over, already unbearably fond.

“You sure you're good?” Chris asks lowly, “You've been her friend the longest, and we quite literally thought you were dating her already for a while there. They'll back off if you ask, you know.”

Felix nods, smiling softly at their leader’s care. “I'm good I promise.” he swears, “I meant it when I said I liked it when my favorite people get along.”

He turns to look through the doorway back at the living room. Despite the strange and personal nature of their conversation, jokes and laughter flow easily now. As if there was never any tension at all.

Felix can feel himself practically melt as he looks at them, a sentiment he knows their leader shares.

“It would hurt,” Felix admits, “If she chose someone else. But there’s no one I’d trust to hurt me more, y’know?”

Chris doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t really need to. He squeezes Felix’s elbow gently as the younger dives back into the chaos, and Felix knows he’s been understood.

Worm List <3 :

@thatgirlangelb , @hyeon-yi, @velvetmoonlght, @missvanjiii, @hanniemylovelyquokka, @vegetablesarefuntables, @scribblesnsketches05, @kkamismom12, @alexateurmom, @baribaaari, @tayla2351, @heart-trees, @unicornwhisperer666, @aalexyuuuhm, @stilldontknowhoiam, @brbwritingfanfic, @kaciebello, @ririzisblu

Perma Tag List <3 : @mbioooo0000

#skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fic #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #baby writes #w.i.p fic #w.i.p #BFPSMAU

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kathryn-writes · 12 days ago

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Fanfiction is the reason I'm not as worried about AI (as a writer)

If you've been reading the internet at all in the last few years, you know, according to the CEOs with a vested interest in this being true, that the next Tolstoy is lying in wait in a server farm currently guzzling up so much power it's changing the climate somewhere in Nebraska. AI is going to write books so well that there won't be any need for authors anymore! People will be able to just put in prompts and magically vomit out the stories they have always wanted to their personal standards!

There are not-so-outrageous claims that publishers are flirting with AI-genned and possibly people-guided stories already. And several publishing houses popping up to publish all those amazing AI-generated stories! And I'm not going to pretend that the writer in me didn't feel a twinge of worry.

Are they coming for my stories? Are these server farms going to replace the hours and days and weeks that I put into having an idea, constructing a plot, filling in ALL the words that connect the plot, editing to make the work cohesive all while paying attention to characterization, prose, voice, pacing, world building, realistic dialogue, humor, continuity, theme, and all the infinite little flourishes and details that go into creating a story? Apparently, so say the AI company CEOs who are totally not trying to sell you snake oil!

These insta-stories that people seem to think are a huge market have a really interesting testing ground: fanfiction. Because if there's any place where there is an instant audience voracious for reading stories that often repeat the same themes and tropes and characters, it's here. Look up the two cakes meme if you don't believe me. It's the perfect market for AI slop, providing an endless stream of soulmates fics featuring our favorite blorbos.

But what have we seen in practice? At least in the fandom I'm involved in, the few folks who have tried to make AI slop happen have... had trouble. Not only do the stories get flagged by members of the fandom as being suspicious, but they get very little to no engagement. People aren't interested in these stories. They avoid them. I want to remind everyone that fanfic is free. It's a click and sometime scrolling AO3. The prompts one would need to feed into ChatGPT are really narrow, since you probably already have the tropes you want in mind and the names of the characters. It's exactly where one would expect AI slop to have an audience, and it just doesn't.

If these models have already used the entire internet to train (which they have, even when people have told them to STOP using their content), and the only people who seem to be claiming we're within arm's reach of artificial general intelligence are the CEOs who are trying to keep the venture capital money flowing, then... do I fear that they are going to be able to compete with human creativity? I don't.

Because it can't even get people who've trawled the depths of AO3, of FFN, and even of Media Miner in a desperate search for a bazillion Destiel soulmate ABO fics to turn to the slop that ChatGPT makes.

#writeblr #creative writing #ai slop #anti ai

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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This is in no way of hating but i want to know why do you enjoy writing noncon/rape? When I first downloaded tumblr which was couple of months ago i was surprised by the amount of noncon fics here. I eventually came to enjoy them which makes me question myself. Whenever i read a noncon fic and enjoy it i feel like im betraying women who actually went through those traumatic events. Plus I actually don't really like dark romance books? I love cod dead dove and that is mainly because i really love the characters and the authors are so talented. I rambled so much and i hope you don't get this in the wrong way i don't mean to hate AT ALL i love the stuff you write. Maybe i shouldn't think too much and let myself enjoy what im reading lol

first of all, no worries! i wasn't sure about your tone/intentions at first, but by the end i was totally fine with the question.

i actually don't mind talking about this stuff - i just sometimes avoid it on main because i prefer chatting about it privately.

second, i'm no psychologist or sociologist, so i probably won't be able to give you the most satisfactory answer, but i think there are a lot of different reasons. i can only name a few. one thing i should mention right off the bat is that rape fantasies are very normal (and this is true whether you're a survivor of SA or not) and writing/reading fiction can be a safe way to process those thoughts/feelings.

one of prevailing reasons is, of course, that many survivors of SA use noncon/dubcon literature/art as a way of processing their experiences and taking ownership of their trauma.

and look, people are going to go back and forth on this point (i've seen it all before - many people refuse to believe that engaging with noncon lit/art is helpful, and in fairness, it's NOT helpful for everyone because every person is different), but at the end of the day, if a survivor tells you "writing/reading this was helpful in my recovery" then that's that!

additionally, for many women and non-binary folk (i can only speak as a cis woman, but i'm sure this is a shared lived experience across many different people), we're also taught from a very young age to suppress our sexual desires / that being open about our sexuality is morally reprehensible and shameful. and a lot of people carry that shame for years, impacting them well into adulthood. so dubcon/noncon fantasies can be a way of being able to enjoy sexual scenarios where you don't have to be the initiator, thus taking away some of the emotional weight and shame.

plus, at the end of the day (and im sure many people will disagree with this take, it's something that i'm still figuring out myself), there is a kind of weird underlying consent implicit in dark fics. like, you might be reading a fic or novel that's ostensibly noncon, but you're also actively seeking out that literature (hopefully it's not just sprung on you - i do very much agree with tagging to the fullest extent and my lukewarm take is that I think all books, even traditionally published ones, should come with content/trigger warnings too).

there are a medley of reasons why someone might write or read dark fiction/dark romance. again, i'm just one person and i can only speak from my own experience!

i think at the end of the day, the important thing to realize is that fiction is fake, and as long as the writer appropriately tags their work and ensures that the audience is aware of what they're getting into when they start reading, they're not coercing the reader into something they aren't prepared for.

and it's totally fine if you have limits (like, you can read and enjoy dubcon, but not noncon) or can't engage with the material at all, but it's also unfair to say that it reflects someone's real life values - the same way that we don't say that the people who enjoy crime fiction must love murder.

and the last thing i want to say because this got a bit out of hand lol, is that, yes, for some people dark fiction is genuinely harmful, whether or not they're a survivor. it's not for everyone and that's completely fine and i'm aware of that, which is why i agree that you should tag as much as possible (even if you feel like you're overdoing it sometimes), but someone else's discomfort doesn't give them the right to tell you how to process your own emotions/experiences/desires/etc.

as long as no one's getting hurt, there's no issue as far as i'm concerned. and sorry but, no one's getting hurt by reading a fic or a novel unless the author didn't give proper content warnings - if you "forgot" to read the tags or read anyway DESPITE being warned, im sorry but that's life.

#this is sooo rambly but doing my best to give my perspective

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firenati0n · 2 months ago

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wip wednesday <3 :)

hello :) thank you for all the past tags!

i don't want to share anything from lake house au (posting soon), so here is a snip from a doc i have titled (mostly as a joke) henry wick. which should be explanation enough. don't look at me.

Henry isn’t sure whether to feel comforted or aggrieved at the fact that the interior of the Continental is almost the same as it was five years ago; the opulent and luxurious Art Deco features shroud the building in mystery, concealing the blood in the crevices. The entire structure is frozen in time, from the lavish architecture, to the suited attendants, to the rich jewel and gold tones. As he walks to the front desk, he steadfastly avoids the curious glances from guests lounging in the lobby, no doubt ready to spread the word—the prodigal son returns. Best not to make a fuss. However, no person on Earth is immune to the easy charm of the concierge. Henry smiles in greeting; pleasantries were considered inefficient. “Sir. You look well,” Percy says from behind the desk, hands clasped in front of him. He gives Henry a once-over behind stylish gold frames that complement his deep plum suit. “Two nights?” Henry flicks a spot of dried blood off his jaw. “If you would be so kind. I may need to extend my stay, depending on how business goes.” “That can be arranged. We’re only at seventy-two percent capacity.” Henry makes a show of looking around, taking in the new furniture and clearly remodeled foundation. No amount of paint can erase the bone-deep pain, though. “You’ve clearly cleaned up around here.” “We gave her a facelift around three years ago, but some things stayed the same.” The slightest raise of an eyebrow, anticipating Henry’s next question— “Same owner?” Percy gives him a knowing smile. “He’s expecting you.” “Is he now?” Henry slides a gold coin across the marble, and Percy hands him a key with a nod. “Thank you, Percy.” “Room 202. As always, a pleasure having you with us again, Mr. Fox.”

xoxo roop

p.s. just letting you know right off the bat that david is UNHARMED in this fic. arthur, however—

+ open tag and tagging folks back <3

@sherryvalli @cha-melodius @run-for-chamo-miles @porcelainmortal @suseagull5914 @anincompletelist @wordsofhoneydew @caterpills @onthewaytosomewhere @orchidscript @14carrotghoul @alasse9 @thighzp @zwiazdziarka @miharaikko @tailsbeth-writes @kiwiana-writes @stereopticons @getmehighonmagic @clockwrkpendrxgon @sophie1973 @eusuntgratie @rmd-writes @dumbpeachjuice @blueeyedgrlwrites @fairflowered @theprinceandagcd @incalamity @rockyroadkylers @judasofsuburbia @onward--upward @saguaroblossom @anchoredarchangel @myheartalivewrites @seths-rogens @indestructibleheart @everwitch-magiks @clottedcreamfudge @tintagel-or-cockleshells @cricketnationrise @smc-27 @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @leaves-of-laurelin @welcometololaland @ninzied @freneticfloetry @smugvillanelle @shesfromboston

#wip wednesday #roop writes #rwrb fic #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #idk what's going on here #fic: henry wick #john wick #my absolute beloved #why is the john wick series my go-to for comfort #what does that say about me as a person

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curiouspupsicle · 4 months ago

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WIP Joy - or why I read WIPs (and maybe you should too)

Currently, I'm following--check's notes--68 works in progress. And I'm having the time of my life.

So many people refuse to read fics in progress that I thought I'd share some of the benefits in hopes of convincing a few of you.

[Note: I understand some people will never read WIPs. They don't have the spoons, their brain needs certainty, they have too much happening in their lives. If that's you, I'm not trying to guilt trip you. Just trying to reach persuadable folks who will enjoy it as much as I do.]

Benefits of Reading WIPs

Hit of happiness whenever you get an email notification of a new chapter - always subscribe to your WIPs.

Seeing familiar names in the kudos list and comments reminds you that you're part of an international community.

Another hit of happiness when you get the email notification of a reply to your comment--you do comment, don't you?

Oh, and talking of happiness, did you know that anticipation fuels joy?

I love people who spend their free time writing great stories for me to read. Following along as they're published allows me to encourage the writers I appreciate so much.

The comments section on AO3 is a safe space for me to be wildly enthusiastic about the things I love without worrying about someone telling me I'm stupid for it.

Being in the vanguard discovering the next cool fic that many people are going to love but haven't read yet because they avoid WIPs.

After commenting every single chapter on a 30+ chapter work, you really start to know a writer and they get to know you. I never thought I'd beta read works. But I've gotten to do it because writers thought my comments showed insight.

Love gossip? Commenting on WIPs gives you a first look at real time news and gossip. Which writers are playing kissy face with each other? Who is experiencing big life changes? And what are they working on next?

Encouraging writers during the process helps at least some of them stick with it. Writing is hard. And it feels good to show gratitude for their efforts in the moment.

Commenting on WIPs is fun. Sometimes you'll turn up in a story. Or influence the direction of a tale. And then there's the great affirmations (without identifying info since I didn't ask for permission before taking a screenshot, sorry):

Have I convinced you to give WIPs a try? There are some amazing ones publishing now. And most of them are regularly updated, some up to 3 times a week. So check out my pinned post of recommended fics with a few of my favorite WIPs at the bottom of my page. And reblog if you're on Team WIP!

#good omens fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fics #fan fic #wip #why you should read WIPs

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that-student-that-has-homework · 1 year ago

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Al-Haitham Headcanons 01

All SFW Here Folks! I think? There's like one bit that's kinda suggestive. If you - no you don't need to squint. It's not vulgar though. Tumblr MasterList

I think his love language is acts of service.

Al-Haitham reads a lot, if he finds something that would be useful to you, he'd likely make note of it with sources, especially if you were going to use it in a paper.

Oh you got into an argument? Someone said something you disagree with? You struggled to support your point? He found some piece of information that supports your argument? Or maybe he found something that negates the other person's? He'll bring it to you.

Perhaps you had asked a random question: you were curious or wondering about something? If he comes across useful information again, he'll bring it to you, and explain it if you need him to.

Maybe you're stressed or struggling or your body hurts in some way? He's doing research and bringing it to you.

You've got a big daunting task? He's broken it down for you, maybe even helped you delegate and even eliminate some things too

Drapes his cape over you when you're napping and cold.

Drapes his cape over you when you're cold in general.

Someone is trying to belittle you? Let it be known that Al-Haitham has no problem silencing them, and in a truly intellectual manner.

Yeah no, he has no tolerance or anyone talking trash about his beloved.

Quality Time is another love language

As we all know: Al-Haitham dislikes having a large social circle. So if he is choosing to spend time with you, outside of work (or anything else that's necessary) nonetheless, he definitely values you.

For whatever reason I feel like he's more cuddly and probably goes for hugs more?

(For anyone reading Rationality of Emotion: when you see this appear again in that fic...well I mean I was always gonna use it there...)

I imagine his physical affections are more him holding you in some way, and mostly in private, and I mean just you and him private. Initially, when Kaveh was practically watching him like a hawk to see if he could display affection, Al-Haitham is deliberately avoiding any action that Kaveh was looking for.

That being said, if you're both reading on the sofa/couch looking thing in his house, he really enjoys kinda having you nestled into him? So you've got your back against the arm rest (you have it cushioned don't worry) with your head resting on his chest and your legs across his lap. Each of you just reading and enjoying the silence.

He usually isn't wearing his sound proof earpieces when you guys are doing this.

I can also imagine him going from mostly hugging due to requests to initiating hugs himself.

Yes he has hugged you from behind before, it was a hell of a day, he's kinda overstimulated, he's got his face in your neck, and is just leaning on you a bit. Please let him rest there for a bit, even if he's kinda heavy.

As for when he does kiss you though

I think Haitham's kisses are like cute little pecks on your temples or your head, or the juncture of your neck and shoulder. I don't think they're very common either.

If it's anywhere else he's probably got ulterior motives

But that's okay because he's your husband

(yes even when it's on your pulse)

(especially when it's on your pulse)

While he is mostly private, he will absolutely state his claim if necessary

I don't think Al-Haitham is a very jealous guy

he trusts you, he understands that for the most part you know how to handle yourself (sometimes you need help when hilichurls are involved)

however he doesn't exactly trust strangers

so if someone wants to try their luck, and can't take a hint, he will absolutely be by your side, with a hand on your lower back as he excuses the two of you and guides you along

That hand of his stays there the whole way home.

if you aren't picking up on the fact that this person is trying to hit on you: I think he'd only watch for a little bit, curious if you're going to pick up on it, before appearing to help you exit (especially if you look tired)

#alhaitham #genshin alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfics

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kanagenwrites · 9 months ago

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Hey folks. My name is Kanagen (It's pronounced Ka-na-ngen. Kana is fine.), and I'm a writer. I mostly write sci-fi with a more or less sapphic bent, and I'm not shy about putting lewd content in what I write because fuck petty moralism.

I'm active in the Human Domestication Guide writing community, where apart from being an author (see below), I'm also a Loret, which means I help maintain and update the lore of the setting, help new creators with questions about it or how to fit a story into it, and so on. All of my publicly available fiction at the moment is HDG content, but I plan on working more on my own original settings and concepts in the future.

I have a Patreon, where I post my current long-form project's drafts chapter by chapter, once weekly. I also occasionally talk about my writing process. I'm hoping to expand content there in the future as well.

I don't use social media very much because I remember what the internet used to be like before walled gardens and techbros ruined it. (You kids really don't know what you're missing.) Nevertheless, the life of a freelance writer rather demands I put myself out there somehow, so here I am. You can also follow me on Bluesky, if you want. Ask me questions, behold the weird stuff I reblog, and try not to get too parasocial with me. I'm just a weird lady who puts words in funny shapes.

Bibliography

Long-Form Fiction

To Dine on Dust (ongoing) - A detective walks the streets of a weird, Jazz-Age Neo-Assyrian Empire that never was, trying to track down a missing goddess. A noir mystery-thriller with ancient Mesopotamian flavor, the coruscating power of divinities and the dead, and of course lesbians. Lots and lots of lesbians. This is one of my stories, after all. This is my current project, and unlike my HDG work, I won't be liveposting it publicly every week; if you want to know more about it, check out my Patreon.

Human Domestication Guide

Long-Form Fiction

No Gods, No Masters - A revolutionary leftist copes with the subtle differences between her own idea of the perfect world and the just-a-little-off version of it the Affini offer. First novel-length work in the Tillandsia Trilogy; highly suggested you read this before The Floret in the Mirror and especially Freedom's Ember.

The Floret in the Mirror - A mystery/thriller about identity, digitization, and impossible simulated lewdness. Content warning for amnesia resulting from traumatic brain injury as part of the setup. Sequel to* No Gods, No Masters*.

Freedom's Ember - Sixty years after the Affini conquered her world, a woman clings to her independence; sixty years after being frozen for cryogenic flight from the Affini, a woman struggles to discover who she really is when freed from her father's influence. What is freedom, and what does it mean in the context of the Compact? Sequel to No Gods, No Masters and The Floret in the Mirror, conclusion of the Tillandsia Trilogy.

Sui Generis - A martian attorney living on Earth finds adjusting to life with the Affini easier than most; she was already keeping her wife as a pet before they arrived. The real question is, where's that strange jealousy coming from?

Short Fiction

Mainspring - A Terran secret agent is captured by the Affini, trapped by artist for whom his body is a canvas, and she means to make of him her magnum opus. Wind-up doll content, and probably my most commonly cited story for "this rewired my brain"-style reactions.

Reading the Leaves - A tea-obsessed barista, an affini new to humanity, and a sweet (if awkward) romance culminating in a very raunchy ending. Entry for the HDG February Fluff Fic Jam 2024.

The Fifth Fundamental Force - This story is a silly joke. It should not be taken seriously, though many inevitably do.

Aftertaste (stalled) - A former quadrillionaire and epicure who just barely avoided domestication is tracked down by an affini culinary anthropologist who wants to use his brain to reconstruct a lost flavor using his long-buried memory - he was the last human to ever taste bluefin tuna. This fic is only sporadically updated because the stars must precisely align for my brain to be in a state to write boyliker fic. Sorry, I'm just really gay, y'all.

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atzfilm · 2 years ago

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— 『 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋; 𝐨𝐭8 』 [1] (M)

— 𝚠𝚘𝚗 • 𝚍𝚎𝚛 • 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚕, adjective. having someone who serves as a pillar in your life, who offers a sturdy place to lean in times of trouble. somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly and are completely infatuated with.

❝humans were such strange creatures. wretched in their mere existence. none of the eight were ever truly interested in them until they found you. they just find it strange that despite their status and rank, you'd rather spend time with your lover. that isn't much of a problem, though. one they can fix with ease.❞

〘ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ, ᴍʏᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜰᴀᴇʀɪᴇꜱ〙(m.list)

— pairing: ot8 x reader (this chapter); seonghwa x reader; 10.6k

— note: this is a yandere fic. sensitive topics such as manipulation, gaslighting, murder, and other topics involved with the genre. please heed the warnings and read this work of fiction while keeping this in mind.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: murder, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, torture references, dark magic, kidnapping references, emotional turmoil

You keep your head down, grip tightening as you make your way through the marketplace. Conversations are hushed, eyes warily rolling over your figure. It's enough of an irritant for you to pull your hood over your head. It's easy to spot strangers around here. Unfortunately, you are still one. Despite your relationship with Soobin, none of them have treated you as part of the community. And it’s not as if you haven’t tried. Inviting them over to your shared apartment, greeting them each time you passed by. All of it was met with blank stares, scowls curving their lips. You're sure if you strained your ears enough to listen you'd hear side comments about you; how you don't belong, how you've brought the faeries into the city. None of it is true of course, you stepping foot into town and the sudden disappearances happening at the exact same time are just coincidences.

It's what you hope, at least.

"Hiding in plain sight?"

You step into his shop, catching him placing a book lightly on the shelf. He glances at you, a soft smile on his lips. He steps around the counter and despite the now leaning stack of books in his hands, he leans around it to press a light kiss to your lips, then your forehead. It eases your anxiousness briefly, your hood slipping off your head as you lean against the counter. In moments like this it reminds you of what you’re here for, why you tolerate the silent isolation they give you. If it weren’t for Soobin you would have left town long ago.

"Think it'll keep their eyes off of me?" You murmur. He sends you a sympathetic look, enough for you to think otherwise. You sigh, pulling at loose strands. "I know I know, long shot.”

“They will learn to love you as easily as I have,” he moves back in front of the shelf, glancing at the titles before placing them in the correct spots. “I know that their words are alarming, but you moving in with me has no effect on the town disappearances. Some people just don’t find their way home,” he shrugs, watching as your eyes narrow. “It’s the truth!”

“Bin, they won’t accept me until the people are found. You know that.”

“Then we wait until they are found, y/n. Don’t worry yourself over things like this. It’ll be fine.”

You nod only to calm him down for the moment, your thoughts otherwise. From what you hear, faeries haven’t been seen around this town in decades, most targeting the large metropolitan areas rather than cities with populations in the lower thousands. Interestingly enough, despite your move from the city to here, you have yet to spot one faerie folk. Unlikely that you would. Though, you do hear the older residents speak of them.

The Fae folk are often mischievous, luring their victims into the thickened woods with soft words, tempting sounds. The Rowan trees at the edge of town are often the type of forestry that they reside in, stealing unsuspecting people from their lives. You’ve avoided the path since you’ve learned of it. Moreso now due to the vanishings. Who would have known that the tales of the past were riddled with truth? It only unsettles you more, knowing that there’s other things out there not yet discovered. But still, the information on the Fae is limited. All you’ve found is minimal, unimportant. No human has yet to figure out a way to stop them entirely – or if they are even real at all. There’s a myth that four-leaf clovers stop them in their tracks, so you see the paintings across every part of town. It has done nothing to stop the disappearances. The attempts are all in vain.

What is known is that you do not pray in circumstances like this. The ones that will listen are not who you would like to grant your wishes. You were never religious, your upbringing leaning towards a more lax nature. But even you think that you should keep the missing in your thoughts. At least enough to hope they return safely. You doubt it's the mysterious unseen faeries, but you can't help but try and aid somehow.

“How’d the interview go?” He asks, grabbing your attention.

You slowly sink into one of the seats. “Remember when you told me Ben and you were friends? And that he’d go easy on me?”

He groans. “What did he do?”

“Told me that he’s only doing this interview for you and shut the door. Loudly by the way, then I left. I’m pretty sure he lit some type of spiritual incense to get rid of my bad energy.”

“It’s not that. You know that.”

“Well, I did,” you murmur. “Not so sure anymore. It’s fine, don’t worry too much about it. I’ll get over it.” You strongly do not think you’ll get over it, but you just hope that the thoughts don’t linger in Soobin’s mind too long. He’s insisted weeks ago that the two of you move away from this town and open his bookstore somewhere else, but you’ve convinced him otherwise. The two of you aren’t even married yet nor engaged. You wouldn’t want him to pick up his whole life just because you feel slightly uncomfortable with the stares on you. Or the whispers each time you enter a room. You can handle it. You just need to let out your grievances occasionally.

“Telling me not to worry will only make me worry more, love,” he places his hands on either side of the chair you sit on, lightly nudging your forehead with his. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not going to leave you because some townsfolk are scared of a woman who made a popcorn bag catch on fire in the microwave.”

“Soobin!” You nudge him and he laughs, moving away from you and back to his tasks. “You’re such an ass.”

He rolls his eyes, continuing to stock his shelves and tend to customers. You’ve noticed that some are startled when they see you, so you decide to hide out in the back of his store, headphones over your ears to drown out the whispers of disdain and dread. Soobin scolds them each time they do it, but it only seems to drive their intentions. After a few minutes of hearing him argue you decide it’s best to no longer listen.

“It’s your turn, Seonghwa. Continuing to tuck yourself behind literature will not slow down time. Soon the others will come and find where you’ve hidden yourself.”

Seonghwa sighs as he listens to San’s words, peering over the stack of writings. Its grown since the last time San entered his room; piles upon piles of literature is littered around him, some of it very close to the entrance of the room. The others never really bothered to enter his personal space because of it, but San was just in here yesterday. How is it already crowded? Especially considering how neat Seonghwa is. “Must it be tonight? We’ve delayed it for longer.”

“We’re all hungry. You know what happens when it’s taken too far. I’d rather not clean up any of our messes again,” San points out, Seonghwa’s frown only deepening. “It’s our second to last one for this town, then we’re moving on. Too many disappearances will make the authorities search the Rowan. It’ll only cause more slaughter.”

“Then so be it,” Seonghwa says. He hides himself behind the stack once more. The sound of pages flipping fills the quiet.

“Hwa…” His voice drags now, whining, twisting each syllable. “The Seelies are on our backs."

“Fine,” Seonghwa places the book on the top of the stacks, stepping around it to meet San’s eyes. His sleepwear wraps around him, glasses resting at the edge of his nose. For a moment, he finds the sight endearing. “There’s a fair tonight to ward off faeries with their limited resources. Enough of a distraction to steal another.”

"Great!" San replies happily.

"It's a bit cold to have a festival, no?" You say, passing Soobin his bag. He thanks you, placing it on his back. "The harvest will be fine like it always is. And you're a bookstore owner, not a farmer. Ever think about not attending one?"

"It's to support everyone in the neighborhood, y/n. We know everyone, and they'll know I'm not around. Plus, it'll bring a great harvest of customers to the bookstore," He grins at your eye roll at his pun."Come and you'll see. It'll be fun."

That's the last thing you want to do. Be around people who hate you in the middle of the night around burning logs? A recipe for a disaster. "I don't know…"

"They said you wouldn't show," he adds, grabbing his hat off the coat hanger. "This will prove them wrong. Maybe it'll stop the weird rumors that are spreading for no reason? They'll see you're kind and pretty and safe, and have nothing to do with the disappearances. They'll love you like I love you."

You shouldn't care what others think. In fact you really don't care much at all. But Soobin cares deeply, and having you around the bookstore meant that you would have to care. So you give him a brave face, following him out the bookstore and twisting the lock behind you. The two of you have had prior discussions, most ending in a moot point. You care for each other more than anything – you'd give him the world if asked. And he consistently, without falter, told you that he would leave this all behind if you couldn't take it any longer. You've thought it over. If tonight doesn't somewhat boost your position in this town – you're not sure you'll be able to stand it any longer. There's only so many snide remarks one could take.

Soobin and you pass by closed shops and darkened porches, making your way to the gathering. You see the clovers painted on walls and doors, handing up along roofs and banisters. He catches your eyes, smiling.

"Think it makes the faeries go away?"

You purse your lips, "Probably not. They're more clever than we make them out to be." If they're real, you finish in your head. "It stumps me a bit how a formation of leaves would stop them in their place. They love nature don't they? Why would they hate a perfect formation of it?"

"A folktale," he shrugs. "That's why I keep it in my sign. People around here heard about a woman being saved because she had one in her pocket, so they think it'll save them when a faerie comes crawling around." He rolls his eyes. "Doubt it'll stop them."

You laugh along with him, meaningless conversation exchanged between the two of you. Eventually, you make it into the clearing. Most people you recognize already, all giving greetings to Soobin. Some even say hello to you, much to your surprise. You stand a bit away from the crowd, thanking Soobin for passing you a marshmallow and stick. You chat along with him for a while, until something from the corner of your eye bothers you. You don't look, at first, a creepy feeling crawling over your skin. Eventually, you decide it's best to get it over with than continue to feel uncomfortable.

A man across the fire shifts your attention for a moment. He holds a cup in his hand, sipping slowly as he stares into the flames. You’ve never seen him before. Strangers do often enter the fairs to enjoy a vacation away from their homes. Ordinary in itself, yet there seems to be someone odd about him. He wears a long, black overcoat despite the temperature, hair pulled back by darkened frames on his head. His eyes slowly move, almost meeting yours until you look away.

The air around you feels a bit colder.

“You’re going to break the cup if you hold it any tighter,” Soobin laughs, tilting his head to block your view. His smile slowly drops, concern in his gaze. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, just feeling a little chilly,” you murmur, moving a bit closer to the fire. Soobin pulls you into his side, giving you a chance to send a fleeting glance at the man. Unfortunately for you, he no longer stands there. And even more odd, it feels as if he's still there, watching you.

You’re not the superstitious type due to you never seeing faeries, a part of you doesn’t believe in them at all. But rarely did anyone ever come to these celebrations that didn’t live here. The way that the stranger stands out makes your insides twist. Him fading into the darkness – no human could do such a thing.

Perhaps you should have stayed home after all.

"It is a bit chilly tonight," Soobin agrees, tucking you closer underneath his arm. "The winds must be telling a story." You know he's trying to comfort you. You're not hiding whatever is bothering you at all. A bit comical that you're attempting to. You were never one to conceal your emotions, face as literal as a child's painting. "Are my reassurances that boring?" He teases.

You pull yourself from the grip of your thoughts, shaking your head. "I think I should go," voice barely louder than the buzzing of the fireflies. "I don't want you to freak, but something feels off."

"Off?" His brows furrow, glancing around. "Like?"

You're thankful that he always believes in your intuition. "Like there's something in the crowd that doesn't belong. I know it sounds stupid, and I know I'm the last person to believe in that stuff but I just feel it, you know?"

"We should leave then." He stands up, hand sliding into yours with ease. "We've hung around enough already. No need to stay longer than necessary."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to follow."

"I wouldn't let you walk back home alone."

He agrees swiftly and you're thankful for it. Soobin guides you around the crowd of people, exchanging goodbyes as you leave the gathering. Soon enough it's only the two of you leaving the woods. You walk swifter than him. sparing a glance every once in a while to make sure he's close.

“One.”

“Two…”

“Soobin, come on,” You try peeking through the mask he holds over your eyes, but he secures his hold, giggles echoing in your ear.

“Two,” you groan, though smiling.

“Three!” He pulls off the blindfold, stepping away from you. At first, you’re a bit confused, at least until you look at the counter. Your own eyes widen at the sight, looking between it and Soobin. A very unlike you squeal escapes your lips, running over the carpet and piles of books he has yet to put away. You grab the small journal, hand dragging over the ridges and markings. It’s one you’ve had your eye on for months now, hoping and praying (and saving) that no one would be able to buy it before you. Just a week ago, you complained to Soobin – very much on the verge of tears – that you saw it was sold and couldn’t handle it. He comforted you in that moment and told you that things happen for a reason. Back then, you were too distraught to notice the slight grin on his lips as he held you close. You look back at your partner.

He stands there proud, hands on his hips, chest puffed out. Without another word you stumble over the books and things laid about, throwing yourself into his arms. He laughs at the sudden push, steadying himself against the wall. Once he stabilizes himself, he holds you close, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Like it?”

All you can do is nod into his chest, overcome with emotion. It might be a bit silly to other people, the way you’re reacting to a mere journal. But it means a lot to you. It’s something you’ve dreamed about holding in your hands for years, and he fulfilled your wish. You’re not sure anything else could top this. It's been a few days since the incident in the forest. Your life is as mundane as ever and you're thankful for it.

“I love you,” you whisper. “I really do love you."

“I know,” he murmurs back. “I love you more.”

“Shut up,“ you punch his chest lightly, ignoring the tears falling down your cheeks. “I can’t believe you spent so much – “

“Ah ah ah,” he presses his pointer finger against your lips, shushing you. “You’re not allowed to talk about the price. I know how you are.”

“But it’s so –“

“Beautiful, yes. It’s beautiful just like you,” he agrees, laughing at the frown on your face. His thumb wipes away your tears, “y/n, I know you’ve been trying to hide it. I know you don’t like it here. And I know you’ve been struggling with being ostracized by the townsfolk. I’ve noticed how it’s been affecting you. I’ve asked so many times if it was okay and you insisted that it is even though you feel otherwise. So, spending money on something you can enjoy is the least I can do. You’ve sacrificed a lot for me to have this bookstore. If I can make you happy, I’d do anything.”

Without another word you press your lips against his, a laugh escaping him as he holds you tight.

Seonghwa slams open the door, throwing his coat against the rack. He doesn't bother picking it up, majik floating it back to the hook. The others soon pour in, groaning at the lack of a sacrifice behind him another day more. Just as they begin to scold, Hongjoong enters first. Seeing the anger rising in Seonghwa, he tells the others to leave the room with a brief look. San looks the most worried, but Hongjoong pats him, a silent comfort. Once they’re all gone Hongjoong moves to his potions. He doesn't bother waiting for Seonghwa to speak, knowing that he would just let it brew until he explodes.

"Is it about that human again?"

Seonghwa meekly nods.

"What did you see?" He asks simply.

"A human, there was a human woman. But it wasn't like any other…" He trails off, mind lost. "I cannot explain it. But it didn't even flinch at my attempts to shift its mind. It only blinked at me, Hongjoong. I thought it might be because I haven't fed, so I tried it on another and it worked. How is that possible? Tell me.”

Hongjoong frowns, delicately balancing a glass between his fingers, “Delusions?”

“It was real!”

“Alright, no need to yell,” Hongjoong waves the steam from the glass through the air. “A human woman, you said? And you’re sure it wasn’t a Seelie teasing you?”

Seonghwa begins to pace back and forth. “There was no majik used while I was attempting to enter her head. But there was a wall, something blocking me from it. I tried to penetrate but stopped once I noticed my majik draining rapidly. No one was ever able to do anything like that to me. Never. In all honesty, I would have dragged her here to be tested but her human partner intercepted.”

“It made you out to be a fool,” Hongjoong teases, ignoring the glare he shoots at him. “It’s a human, Seonghwa. There isn’t a shield in their mind that you cannot penetrate. But it doesn’t matter now, you’ve brought the other with you, right?”

"The other…?"

"The human, Hwa. The one to feed on."

“Yes, but –”

“Then let the others feed. We can figure out this strange human later. Look in your literature if you must, but it shouldn’t be anything too odd. Perhaps it’s just an anomaly. Though it happens once a millennia, it is possible.”

“...So I shouldn’t worry?” His brows furrow, looking at his friend. Hongjoong places his glass on the side, moving closer to Seonghwa. He rests his fingers on his collarbone, slipping them beneath his cloak. Said man shivers at the touch, eyes shut. Hongjoong presses his lips against it. “Don’t distract me Joong.”

He grins into his skin, lightly pecking the skin before drawing back. “Don’t worry. After they feed, I can ask one of the others to see what’s wrong. Perhaps Wooyoung, he does enjoy mingling around humans. It might let something slip and we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

Seonghwa frowns, “He’s the last one that should go. San always has to chase after him when he does something unsightly.”

“First of all,” Wooyoung peers into the room through the crack in the door that he created several years ago (long story short: chasing after Jongho with a potion), “I am very well-behaved around humans. I haven’t done anything remotely unapproved in centuries, a millennia, even! One night out to woo the human isn’t going to cause a national tragedy.”

“Ah, do you recall Pompeii?” A voice from the hallway, Mingi probably, fading into the distance. Wooyoung glares, stepping into the room.

“That was one volcano.”

"You are a risk," Seonghwa says simply, turning back to Hongjoong. "It's fine. I’ll go. I’ll monitor and see if there is anything of concern, and I'll report back. It will be simpler that way," he glances at the pouting Wooyoung. "And much safer."

"Whatever," Hongjoong shrugs. "Not this time Wooyoung. We can't risk it. The human might already know more than we think. We have to play it safe for now."

Wooyoung frowns, "Mistake. He'll gut the human before we'll ever get the chance to meet her."

"Hey–"

"He won't," Hongjoong adds. "At least not yet. We have to convince her to come here so we can do testing. He can do it. Now let's go enjoy the feast with the others. The mood is too low around here." Seonghwa tries to catch his eyes but Hongjoong avoids them purposefully, fingers entwined with his as he drags him from the room, Wooyoung close.

Their home is rather large to house the leaders of the Unseelie. Meetings are often conducted from their parlor or garden. Maintained by the majik flowing through the air, they glide along the marble floors, vines curling around their furniture and sculptures. They can hear the music as they move closer to the others, need filling their minds. Feeding is scarce these days – humans are more wary of faeries now than ever. Balls and masquerades are rare, if ever. They've settled for one human every few weeks shared amongst them. Hongjoong encourages his friend to step forward, a sigh escaping his lips as the doors open.

The two enter the room, a disgruntled look on Seonghwa’s face, Hongjoong trailing after. The others sit in a circle as the human dances with San, twirling around in circles over and over again. Seonghwa slides in his designated seat next to Wooyoung, ignoring the grin he sends him.

“You’re tainting my good mood, Wooyoung.”

“Are you ever in a good mood? Weren’t you upset earlier that the special edition of that kit you wanted didn’t arrive yet? Before you left for that human again.”

Seonghwa widens his eyes, “It’s been over a year. They said it would ship out last week, but I never got a notification!”

“Oh woe is you,” Wooyoung teases, leaping from his seat when he sees Seonghwa’s arm rise. “Hey! You said no more flora!”

“It’s fungi this time,” Seonghwa frowns, but drops his hand. Wooyoung lets out a sigh of relief, glancing at the two dancing. The human’s feet are bloodied now, stumbling over the jagged rocks on the ground. It cries, San’s laugh in juxtaposition at the sound. The smell of blood fills the air, Wooyoung's eyes darkening at the scent. The others begin to match his expression, surrounding the human. It does not understand what's happening because of the majik. They die as happy as they live. Seelie have more morally sound ways of killing humans but it is all the same in the end. The Unseelie just like to have more fun. San pulls the human’s face close to his, breathing in its essence. The human grows paler, slowly surrounded by the eight.

The echo of a body falling to the floor surrounds them.

"Sales have gone sour," Soobin reads over the end of day report, his frown creating lines decorating his forehead "Barely hit even today. It's like everyone's forgotten we exist."

"It will get better," you say softly, nudging him with your knee. He would usually give you a reassuring smile, but he doesn't react at all, narrowing his eyes. "Bin…"

"We can't continue like this," he murmurs. "Sales just keep going lower and lower. I've been here forever and it's never been this bad. I mean… Hell, my opening day I made more sales than today. And at that time no one knew I even opened the shop. I just don't get why they're not coming around anymore."

You. It's all you. They're afraid of you.

Soobin seems to read your flattened expression, shaking his head. "It's not you."

"It's been going downhill ever since I've been around. I’m the cause of it, Soobin. We can't just ignore that."

"It's a correlation, not causation. And people came in anyway. There's no valid reason why this would be all your fault, y/n. I promise you that."

“What else could it be then, Soobin? They’ve all told you that they don’t like me. You know that they avoid me every chance they get. People see me in the shop and turn the other way. I’m the one that’s continuing to burden you, and you know it,” you rub your face. “I thought in the beginning, coming here would somehow help you, bring this shop to where we want it to be. But it seems to be the opposite. It seems like… like my presence is everything wrong about this place–”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” he protests. He takes a step to you but you take one back, shaking your head. He drops his outstretched hands, a sigh escaping his lips. “Then what do you suggest? If you think it’s true?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Leave? Not you, just me. To see if the sales pick up. To see what’s really going on around here.”

He slowly shakes his head, “No.”

“Soo–”

“It’s like…” he furrowed his eyebrows. “It’s like you’re ignoring everything I tell you. I’ve told you so many times that we can leave if you’re uncomfortable. That we can leave together, but you insisted on staying here. Dealing with the people. And I know you’re doing it for me y/n, I know that. But I don’t want you to be miserable, and I don’t want you to live like this. I know we’re not at the stage of being life partners yet. I know we aren’t married. But sometimes it feels like you put your feelings below mine, and I just don’t think that’s okay you know? All it does is make me feel worse, and make you feel worse. I want us to talk about things. I don’t want you to leave the neighborhood by yourself. If you’re leaving, I’m leaving. That’s how it’s going to be. We stick together.”

“Soobin…” You close your eyes. “You love it here.”

“And I can find somewhere else I love. It’s not that hard.”

You want to listen to his words. It all makes sense. But he’s dreamt of having this bookstore here forever. In all honesty, even if you had to commute to see him every other day, you would if it made him happy. You’re just not too sure if he would be able to find somewhere else he loves as much as this small town. You’ve never seen him happier, except for right now.

“It is hard, Bin.”

The breath he lets out now feels more irritated. “You’re not even trying to compromise.”

“You love it here, Soobin! I don’t want to be the person to ruin your dream because people around here hate me and are isolating you from the neighborhood–”

“Fuck, y/n,” he slams his hand on the counter. “All we’re doing is speaking in circles. You want to leave me here alone, then what? What will happen when I thrive? Will you just never come here again? What? What’s the solution, hm?”

You open your mouth, then close it. He stares at you waiting for a response, but you have nothing. What would you do if it’s successful? Would you just leave him alone, never coming back? Are you holding him back? There’s so many questions without answers but you know one thing: everyone in this neighborhood hates you. And it’s ruining his bookstore.

“Would you break up with me?” He asks softer this time.

Without question you shake your head, “No. Of course not.”

“You mean more to me than this bookstore, y/n,” he says softly, picking his words carefully. “Plans are often disrupted when we least expect it. I can love somewhere else. We can be somewhere else, anywhere. I’d move across the ocean for you without question. That’s what love is. We compromise, we make choices for us, not just one of us. I’ll be happy with you, wherever we are,” his eyes soften as they look into yours. “Do you hear me?”

You nod slowly, letting him move closer and pull you into his embrace. His touch is comforting, despite the lump in your throat.

“We kill him.”

“He’s well-liked around town. It will be noticeable,” San points out.

“Is he really that significant?”

“Enough so that people would suspect the woman.”

Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose. “Maybe it’s a good thing they suspect she’s the reason. She’s upset and we use it to our advantage. Humans need comfort when something unexpected happens in their lives, much more so than us. Her mind will be more open to change. It’ll be wise to have Wooyoung enter her life then. Convince her to come with him after a few weeks of getting to know each other.”

“Wooyoung,” San raises his brow. “Out of the eight of us, you believe that the trickster would be of comfort to a human woman mourning a relationship? What happened to Seonghwa going?”

“He’s a bit preoccupied with affairs from the Seelie. And what’s wrong with Woo? He’s silly, no?” Hongjoong says. “Humans enjoy humor.”

“I doubt she would enjoy it. His silliness is not in line with a human’s. We are Unseelie for a reason.”

“He’s your mate and yet you doubt him.”

“He’s our mate so you should doubt him in this case as well.”

Hongjoong pauses for a moment, thinking. Though he does not know of you as well as the others – they’ve researched your every move since you’ve stepped foot into existence – San has a bit of knowledge when it comes to humans. Hongjoong doesn’t often meander around the outside world. And his duties prevent him from doing so anyway. “Would Seonghwa suffice? We’ll just wait until he comes back?”

San deadpans, only causing Hongjoong to sigh.

“Well I know you hate being around humans, so who else do you suggest?”

There’s a knock on the door, before it hits the wall completely. The two of them turn. Yunho holds Wooyoung by his collar, the younger glaring at him before looking at the two in the room. His grin widens when he meets San’s eyes, a sigh escaping the latter.

“What have you done?” Is all that San utters.

Yunho speaks for him. “Perhaps Wooyoung was the best choice, since he broke orders and went to see her first.” Yunho lets go of him, stepping to the side. “Mingi caught him in the act before anything else could happen. We’ll have to produce another plan.”

“What did he do?” Hongjoong frowns.

“Perhaps,” Wooyoung slowly walks around the room. “I made the decision for us. He will no longer be a problem.” Yunho glares at the shorter man as he meanders around the tables, touching things he absolutely should not be handling. It takes a moment for Hongjoong to realize exactly what he means by his shallow words, a laugh escaping his throat.

“You killed him?”

He shrugs, “It was an issue that needed to be solved quickly. We can decide how to move forward now that the human is dead.”

“Does she know he is dead?”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, “Of course not!”

“Joong, you should be more angry about this,” Yunho interrupts the conversation. “He blatantly went against our orders and did something that we were forbidden to do without knowledge. He should be punished.”

Despite Hongjoong’s leader position, he’s had a soft spot for Wooyoung since they’ve known each other. Since this Spark began. He was the last to be bound with the others, only making the leader more protective of him. Thus, spoiling him much more so in comparison to the others. It hasn’t truly been a problem. But in instances like this, when they’re so close to human affairs, they need to be more careful. So, despite his softened heart when he gazes at Wooyoung, Yunho is right. Hongjoong had to make an example.

“No stepping foot onto human land until I say.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, beginning to protest until he saw how serious Hongjoong looked. He meekly nodded, shooting Yunho a quick glare before exiting the room. Just as the door closes, Hongjoong rubs his forehead, thinking.

San stands in the same spot, glancing between the two. “Was it bloody?”

“Better to not describe it,” Yunho murmurs. “Mingi is there now. He’ll fix it.”

“Great,” Hongjoong sighs. “Well, now we have to conjure up something else.”

–

Days prior

The door creaks as you slowly open it, the smell of wet plywood and a distinct musk of cotton balls fills the home. Your eyes roam over the broken furniture, smashed television and endless amounts of shattered glass across the floor. You hold your breath, stepping into the empty spaces as you make your way around. Soobin is one of the kindest men you know; it’s almost comical to see everything destroyed. He valued everything that was broken. You just can’t wrap your head around the fact that he ruined it all. Because of a silly disagreement? You’ve had plenty of those. Why is this time different from the rest?

It seemed like it was solved that day. But the pressure between you two escalated. Each time the topic was brought up, he’d get angrier. Hated your explanations for wanting to go, and didn’t like the option of you wanting to stay. Nothing the two of you came up with satisfied the other, so it just climaxed into curt greetings in the morning, silent conversations in the evening. But you didn’t think it was this bad. This terrible, for him to leave your shared apartment like this.

Between the destruction, you spot a letter crumbled up on the floor. It takes everything within you to pick it up and see what it says. His words are scrawled, almost unrecognizable. As if he wrote it in a hurry. But it’s as clear as day.

I’m done.

Your eyes begin to shake, fingers gripping the paper so tightly it begins to rip. Without another word you take out your phone, dialing his number over and over again. It sends you to voicemail immediately – until at some point it says the line has been disconnected. He blocked you? He destroyed your shared home, your things, left a crumpled-up letter on the floor and then blocked you?

“Fuck,” you drop to your knees, staring at the disaster around you. You reach for your phone, immediately dialing the non-emergency line to report it. As the operator explains the steps for you to take, your own thoughts making her voice fade. So many questions rattled in your head, one stamped in the front of your mind.

What will you do now?

Now

Mingi rests on the branch, wings tucked to his sides as he observes your home another day in a row. From where he sits, he can see how anxiety ridden you are; cabinets opening and closing, drawers overflowing with clothing, tears staining your cheeks as you try to clean the mess. The others told him that humans felt emotions differently than fae. That they mourn for months on end, possibly years. It's not something he can quite understand, but he empathizes. At least he thinks he does. His head tilts as he watches you. He surely hopes you will forget the human sooner rather than later. Hongjoong promised he wouldn't attempt to coax your mind to fall for their charms. Insisted that you'd do it on your own. But this destruction, it makes him worry.

Not for himself, of course. He feels nothing for you. What he worries about is his spark. About how much they care about you. So even if Hongjoong promised he'd never bind you to them with a spell… well.

Mingi never gave such a promise.

It’s true; he didn't like you. He didn't like that you were in his family's life without even knowing it yet. He didn't like that you were making his spark so happy. How could a human who barely interacted with them have such a pull? It makes no sense entirely. But what else would he be able to do? Coax you into leaving? The others would be angry with him, furious even. The thought of binding you to them immediately vanishes the more he thinks about it. Humans being involved with faeries only lead to bad outcomes. He wouldn’t dare make that certain with a spell.

He knew that humans felt emotions differently than fae. He knew that you were still grieving the loss of you and your partner’s relationship despite it being weeks ago. But he didn't care. He watched as you paced back and forth, your hands shaking as you swept the floor. He watched as you cried, your tears staining your cheeks. He watched as you tried to clean your destroyed home, and he still felt nothing. Well, annoyance, maybe. Having to watch you to make sure nothing strange happens.

He can remember how he came to Wooyoung, noticing the smell of blood over him mixed with majik. Mingi didn’t say a word about it at first, until he noticed the strange look on Wooyoung’s face. The way his eyes dilated, the scattered look in his gaze. Faeries, you see, Unseelie like them, feeding off a human gives them this sort of increase in energy. Makes their abilities much stronger than before. But there are times when an Unseelie feeds too much, too often. When the feeling consumes them, it makes them much more dangerous than before. Mingi hasn’t seen it in a while so it was easy to recognize it consuming his mate. The distant look. Immediately flying to your home, seeing the blood everywhere. It took him so long to fix it up enough so that you wouldn’t notice a thing. Wouldn’t notice the strong smell of death in the apartment. And just as a precaution, he decided to stay and watch you. To make sure he didn’t miss a thing.

You fall to the floor, sobs echoing around the small space. His eyes narrow for a moment, a strange thought almost escaping his parted lips.

He wonders if you will be alright.

“Did she take it well?” Hongjoong asks Mingi, lips quirked when he sees the frown on his cheeks. “It is only a minor setback. It should be over soon.”

It’s several days later when Hongjoong calls Mingi into his room. Mingi doesn’t really like entering, the mess is a bit overwhelming sometimes. But he sees that he fixed it up enough for him to tolerate it. A small gesture of kindness in a strange situation.

“She will be devastated for months on end.”

“She will get over it.”

Mingi’s brow furrows. “Though I don’t know humans well enough to make a judgment, I think it’s safe to say that her getting over it won’t happen for a while. You’re overestimating her emotional state, Hongjoong. She was crying over a photo of them together. She cried over human utensils.”

Hongjoong snickers, shrugging, “What can I do? Her human partner is already deceased somewhere along the valley. It’s not like I can bring him back to life again. Playing with Death isn’t wise, you know. Even for an Unseelie. Plus,” he wiggles his fingers. “I promised that I wouldn’t manipulate her mind to care for us. Nothing else I can do. Maybe Yunho or Jongho could cheer her up, they seem to care for her the most.”

“They don’t know her. None of us do.”

“They seem to know enough.”

Mingi could read between the lines. Hongjoong’s dance around the truth is almost humorous now. The word seem. He lines his sentences with it often, using it to twist a lie enough to be partially true. Though Seonghwa was the one who was most interested in the beginning – mostly to dissect her – Hongjoong’s interest is slowly rising. Especially since the others are focused on her more now.

What is this human doing to his spark? None of them even know you in the slightest except for some background details. What is this quite random obsession with a human? Especially one as mundane and ordinary as you?

“You look irritated,” Hongjoong notes, flipping through his papers. “Letting those emotions dwell isn’t good for you.”

“You all care for this stranger too much, it’s infuriating.”

Hongjoong grins, “Or do you just care for her too little?”

Mingi closes his eyes for a moment, a harsh gust of air escaping his nose. He pinches it slightly, eyes flicking back to his friend. “We aren’t supposed to care for humans at all.”

“And yet here we are, doing that exact thing.”

“Stop saying we,” Mingi frowns, Hongjoong’s eyes lighting up.

“So is it not true, then? Do you not care for her?”

“I care that she is affecting everyone."

"Not unlike a faerie, twisting your words," Hongjoong giggles.

"Hongjoong," Mingi sighs. "We can't continue like this. There has to be something done. I can't continue to pretend like everything is fine when it's the opposite."

This time, the giggle slowly disappearing from Hongjoong’s expression. He nods solemnly. "And it will be dealt with. It will take time, Mingi. We can't mess up. Not now when tensions are so high between us and the Seelie. If there is something different about her, majik or otherwise, we have to figure it out. It may ease the tension if only momentarily. She seems like a decent human no? I can bet that she will be willing to sacrifice her well being for an important cause."

"You think a human would care about faeries that feed on humans?"

Hongjoong shrugs, "Either that, or we take her unwillingly. It's her choice in the end."

"Not much of one."

Hongjoong grins, "Well she doesn't need to know that."

Seonghwa picks up his book, flicking through the pages. Nothing stands out. There isn’t any record of a human being that has resisted the charm of a faerie from what he can see. Not any ordinary humans, at least. But he found you unextraordinary. Nothing makes you stand out from the crowd, nothing that catches his eye. You just happened to be at the right place, right time. Interesting how circumstances led him to gloss over these pages, desperate to find a reason why you are the way you are. Is it a natural defense? Has human evolution created subspecies that are resistant to the charm of a Unseelie?

If that is so, they’re existence on this Earth will begin to fade.

His fingers grip the research papers, jaw tightening. The words running through his head annoy him, but there’s nothing else he can do. He must dissect you. But how will he get you here? How will your disappearance go unnoticed in such a small town? How will he separate your mind from that tall human you call your partner?

“Your thoughts are plastered on your face, Hwa,” Yeosang steps into the room, tailed by San. Seonghwa has noticed that they are often together, the eldest of the two ignoring San’s presence most of the time. But all of them can see through it. Despite how aloof Yeosang is, he adores the attention given to him. Swims in it, even. So, as it always is, Yeosang barely gives the man a glance, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “I heard about this human you found.”

“It’s resistant, Yeosang. I can’t have it roaming around without us knowing why we can’t charm it. There must be a reason.”

“Like in the movies,” San widens his eyes, nudging Yeosang. “The one person who has the cure!”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “This isn’t a zombie flick.”

“You don’t know that. We could be in one right now.”

Yeosang snorts, San puffing up his chest. Despite how irritated Seonghwa is, his lips crack into a small smile, only boosting San’s ego. He closes his notebook, rubbing his face. “I have to know why.”

“Have to, or want to?” Yeosang asks, brow raised. “We could just leave it as is. If another human found out about it, it could lead down a rabbit hole.”

“Let her go?” Seonghwa frowns. “Wooyoung already interfered. Letting it all go won’t end well.”

“You will take her then? Run tests to see why she’s resistant? It would be difficult to pull her from her life, but humans already suspect that she’s a bad luck charm in her village. It’s not like they’d be unhappy she’s gone,” Yeosang sniffs a jar, face contorting at the smell. “Rancid.”

“It’s frog intestines boiled in a rat’s tail and mermaid essence,” Seonghwa murmurs, Yeosang covering his face to keep from gagging. “But how do you know about that? Were you researching?”

San speaks up this time, “Jongho visited her at the bookstore her partner owns. Well, owned. It wasn’t long until he heard whispers of the villagers talking about getting rid of her because of the disappearances that have been happening ever since she arrived in town. And now it's her partner.”

“It’s not even her fault,” Yeosang adds.

“Humans are disloyal,” Seonghwa tsks. “But it is best for us I suppose. They will probably bask and rejoice in her disappearance.”

"That's a bit pitiful. It doesn't come as a surprise that she wanted to leave so badly. I wouldn't want to be around people that hate me either."

"But now she won't leave because she doesn't know what happened to that Soobin. The mystery of his disappearance may cause her to stay for a long time. A lot of humans aren't able to move on from partners that are gone," Seonghwa rubs his face. "It's difficult to know what to do without seeing her."

"Go," Jongho enters the room, Mingi just behind him. Both drenched in sweat from their training session, Seonghwa's nose wrinkles in disgust when he sees fluids drip onto his floor. "Visit her. I'll join if you'd like."

"Not necessary. Mingi," Seonghwa's focus moves to the taller of the two. Mingi raises his brow. "Was she distraught?"

He nods slowly. "Very much so. That was a few weeks ago though. She may have calmed down. But there is no guarantee; we all know how emotional humans are."

“You’re sensitive to emotions Seonghwa, are you sure you’re willing to go there? Humans irritate you to no end,” Wooyoung murmurs. “I can go –”

“You messed up the last time, Wooyoung. And back then we didn’t even tell you much about her. There’s no telling what you’ll do now. It’s better if you’re not interested at all,” San wraps his arm around his neck, tugging him out the room. The door closes slightly behind them. Yeosang, Mingi, and Jongho remain in the room with Seonghwa.

Idle conversation swirls around the room as they speak softly, Seonghwa gathering up his belongings. His curiosity greatly surpasses his lack of care for humankind. If there is someone like you out there, how many more are the same? He can remember the conversation you had with your partner - how you were afraid of something being off. It was Seonghwa of course, but rarely has a human ever felt the chills of faeries around them. So many things don’t come to proper conclusions in his head and he needs to know. For the safety of himself and every person in this home. Perhaps for the fate of the Unseelie entirely.

He leaves the library, book tucked underneath his arm. He enters his room, barely giving Hongjoong - who rests in his bed - a glance. He listens as he stands up from the sheets, an arm wrapping around his waist, tugging him closer.

Hongjoong presses his lips against his back, humming. “There’s no need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders. The human probably doesn’t even know of its resistance to your lure. It may just be one in a billion.”

“I have to make sure. It’s for all of us, not just me,” Seonghwa says, pulling away from his hold. It’s something they often do - Hongjoong tries to pull him closer only for Seonghwa to pull away. It’s happened ever since the beginning. “You know that. You should be more worried than me.”

“Why worry about a silly little human?” Hongjoong snorts. “She will die in a few decades anyway.”

“It seems like I’m the only one who cares about her existence,” Seonghwa lifts his clothes and tosses them, replacing them with a more human-like outfit. He barely gives himself a look in the mirror, a scowl etched on his features. How humans have not moved past such hideous outfits is beyond him. “I would kill her if it weren’t for the unknown.”

“Everyone and this little human,” Hongjoong sighs. “Fine. Do whatever you’d like. Just be back for the council meeting. The other Unseelies don’t quite approve of the recent killings we’ve done.”

Seonghwa furrows his brows, “Since when did they care about our dealings?”

“Since they’ve begun to notice the pattern of disappearances. Humans are not exactly happy with us, even though they don’t have a method of killing us.”

“Then me interacting with her now is important,” Seonghwa quickly grabs his bag. “I’ll be back with my findings. And I won’t kill her. At least not right now.” he glances at his leader. “Don’t wait for me if I’m not back for the meeting.”

“Hwa-”

He disappears just as Hongjoong begins to speak. Hongjoong stares blankly at the place he once was, brows furrowed. Just what is it about this human that has everyone losing their minds? He purses his lips, lifting himself off the bed. Soon enough he’ll find out for himself.

Seonghwa slowly enters the bookstore. The bell rings against the glass pane of the door, his steps hesitant. There isn't anyone around the bookstore, soft music playing. He tucks his hands into his coat pocket, unaccustomed to the cold environment. His eyes roam around, books neatly stacked, signs arranged in alphabetical order. It warms his heart a bit to see organization – his own library doesn't see it as much as he'd like. The quick steps of a human running pulls his thoughts away, eyes flicking over to you.

You hold a couple of books in your hand, hair unkempt and eyes filled with exhaustion. A pen tucked behind your ear, you give him a sincere smile, placing the books in a neat stack on the counter.

"Welcome to our bookstore!" You say happily, meeting the eyes of the stranger. Just as you do, your thoughts move back to over a month or so ago. The festival. The stranger in the woods. Your smile wavers for a moment as you look at him. He looks as ordinary as a man with unreal beauty can look. Perhaps you were a bit out of it at the time. Still, you remain wary, inching closer to the counter behind you.

"Hello, I’m Seonghwa," he says softly. His voice is deep, eyes dark as he stares at you. His hair is darker than any black you've seen, even the shade of brown in his eyes more black than anything else. His clothing choice is odd as well - a thin graphic tee and slacks covering sports shoes. Completely and utterly different from the well-dressed man in a cloak you witnessed in the forest. He looks uncomfortable in it as well, tugging slightly on the fabric. You swallow slowly, forcing another grin on your lips.

"Hi, I’m y/n. How can I help you?"

"I'm quite new to venturing out into town," he steps around, fingertips stroking the top of a stack of new hardcovers. "The others told me of a bookstore and a café together in one. If you don't mind, I'd like to look around and perhaps have a drink. Whenever you are ready to prepare?"

You push the eerie feeling away, agreeing. "Of course. What would you like, then?"

Seonghwa sits himself at your favorite spot - a small loveseat situated near the front windows. The same place Soobin and you would rest after a long day, counting tills. The light shines on him as he ponders, eyes flicking over the assortment of sweets and drink displays behind you. You take a step to the side and he sends you a small thank you in the form of a smile. He leans, gazing at your open cabinets. "Anything with saffron. Or sweet, I do quite enjoy that."

You ponder for a moment, before opening your cabinet and retrieving your tea leaves. You take out the honey as well, not noticing how his eyes widen at the jar. You take out the milk as well, glancing at Seonghwa. "Milk tea with honey? I should have some cookies around…" You mumble, digging through the drawer. "Soobin usually eats it all."

"Soobin?" His brows furrow.

You pause.

"Yes, my partner. Former partner. The person who owns this place," you raise your brow. There's an unreadable look on his face, but it doesn't linger long enough for you to consider what it was. Setting the water to a boil, you slide back into your seat, humming. "There's a small farmhouse just next to the Rowan trees that I'm looking to buy. Just a few more days until I find out if I get it or not." It’s outside of the town enough that you’d still be able to live comfortably. Moving into the city right now is on the bottom of your list. And even if you do decide to leave, at least you’ll have a place to fall back on. It isn’t too expensive since it’s been abandoned for years now.

"You're married?" He asks, thanking you as you pass him his tea and the honey jar.

"No, it’s complicated right now. I’m not too sure where he is if I'm being honest.”

You see the puzzled look on his face, and quickly clear it up.

“We had a falling out not too long ago. That’s why the shop looks this way. But yeah, I planned on moving soon. At least when I found something more stable," you think. Though the two of you were friends before partners, Soobin always gave little answer or thought to marriage. In fact, he said he started to consider it only when you brought it up. That was three years ago. Now, you don’t even know where he is, or if he’s coming back.

"Are you sure about that?" He raises his brow.

“About what?”

“Finding somewhere else. I remember you mentioning that this place looks a bit…” he trails off. “But it looks fine to me. Perhaps a bit too orderly for a small town bookstore.”

You blink quickly. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” he shrugs, taking a sip of his tea.

You move away from him then, grabbing your stack of books off the table and going back to work. The fear of him being around you has subsided. Though there is still a mysterious cloud around him, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before in your travels through the city. You curse yourself for even mentioning Soobin, placing the books on the shelves. You probably drove away another customer in your whines to the stranger.

You glance back at him and see that he's reading one of the magazines you've left on the table, sipping his tea. How someone could look elegant while sitting in a t-shirt is beyond your understanding.

"Do you enjoy the town?" You ask, finishing your task. He looks up from the magazine.

"It's quite alright. Just like any other small town. Intrusive townspeople, curious eyes following you wherever you go. Clovers to drive away mysterious creatures of the night," his lips lift. "Ah, speaking of that…"

The bell rings, your focus on the door. A few patrons enter, distracting you. Just as you finish helping and guiding their questions away from your missing boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, whatever he is – you look over to the loveseat and see it empty. Seonghwa must have slipped away while you were distracted. Resting beneath the teacup is way too much money. With a small note wrapped around it.

Thank you for the tea.

Next to the sentence lies a small drawing of a four-leaf clover.

—

You stare at the computer, frustration growing. The webpage doesn't help you in the slightest. Lines and lines of retellings of the same old tales. Faeries are dangerous, stay away from the fae. Don't listen to the fae, don't accept gifts from them. The same things over and over. Words that have been embedded into your very being. Nothing of which is news to you. Your eyes flick to the small list you've created, summarizing everything you've read thus far and narrowing it to a few points.

How to survive an encounter with an Unseelie fae [fǣġe]:

Do not eat what they offer. Do not drink what they offer.

Majik always has a price, do not risk a deal. Do not ask for them to save a loved one. Do not ask for them to take your firstborn. Do not accept any offer they may give you.

Do not invite them into your home.

Faeries cannot lie. Because of this, they are eloquent with their words. Do not be fooled.

Do not summon an Unseelie.

If you see something strange, leave immediately. Four leaf clovers are a sign of a faerie near.

Do not celebrate with faeries. Under any circumstances.

Do not enter the forest at night.

If you are followed by a crow or raven, enter the nearest home and do not leave until it is gone. The Unseelie are following you.

Do not fall in love with a faerie, they will not love you the same.

"This is so insane," You put your head in your hands. Maybe that's why Soobin left. He saw how you'd turn out before you even did. You snort at the thought, rubbing your face. Seonghwa's drawing of the four-leaf clover could be just a coincidence. It's not like it isn't an obvious symbol painted and carved into almost every building around town. And yet, the way he's acted, the stares you felt on you when your back was turned – something was off with him. Even if he isn't a faerie, he's something.

Or you're truly just being silly.

You stare at the list again, adding one more point.

Faeries are not affected by four-leaf clovers.

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