#every fucking story sounds just like this

[endiness]

@sugarrushsock Wow I’m so happy someone actually has all the receipts cuz every other post just seems like vague call out post with no substance. Also wildly the Henry cavill just seems to say whatever makes him look best at that moment. You’d think he’d have a better pr team

@cilianda1 His interviews are scripted all the time

@sugarrushsock They’re terrible at their job if that’s the case. The lack of consistency is alarming to say the least. Like stick to a story cuz they made this guy look stupid

Okay, just to address this, but Henry Cavill's PR was actually a lot more insidious than this post might make things seem. Because he really only fucked up and showed his hand a few times.

Like, out of +50 interviews for S2, it's only in (iirc) 3 interviews that he ever acknowledges anything about how he was the one cutting Geralt's lines — and even then, all of those interviews either happened at con panels, in interviews over ~10 mins long, and/or in foreign/non-english press — all of which are significantly less likely to be seen and reported on by the fandom and larger news outlets. But in all the rest of those +50 interviews? He was talking about how much he pushed for a more verbose Geralt whilst never acknowledging how HE'S the one responsible for that mess in the first place.

Same thing with him going on about how much he cares about adhering to the source material as if Lauren's vision of the show is somehow in opposition to that. He went on and on and on about that all throughout the press for S2, but it's only in a few interviews where he fucks up and actually gives the context for what he meant by "Lauren's vision" ie Yennefer and Ciri being just as important as Geralt is and the show heavily centering around women.

Or, like, in S1 interviews, he was perfectly fine with bringing up how he had no idea about the books until Lauren told him about them and he had no problem talking about how much he was inspired by the video games for his performance as Geralt. Then come S2 (after he'd gotten dunked on by reddit for his book inaccurate performance in S1) and he suddenly changed his tune, hardly mentioned the games as inspiring his performance again (or, really, at all), and started going on and on about the books.

Or even with him admitting to, basically, having only played the third game despite saying he's played all the games and everything — he only ever admitted that in maybe, like, 2 interviews all of which were in foreign/non-english press. Same thing with him admitting he only ever read through the series once — he only ever said that in one interview and it was at a +40 minute long con panel.

Or even this quote from S1 press where he admits to how he didn't actually prepare for the role or do any research:

"I asked my agent to put me on the spot and wanted to meet Lauren as soon as possible. I didn’t even need to prepare specially for the role. Because I breathe, I experience this universe every day. I’ve already had many opportunities to think about this character when I was playing the game. My preparation was already done before the casting even began!"

Like, where is that quote from? It's from an interview he did with a french magazine. So obviously not a lot of people saw it. Plus, the quote might sound… fine without context. But what is the context? He hadn't read any of the books and he had only ever really played the third game.

Like, adding it all up, it does look bad. Because it is lol. But the thing is, the vast, vast, vast majority of the fanbase never did this. It read or watched maybe one or two interviews he did here and there and only ever saw Henry Cavill talking about how much of a fan he is, how much he knows, how hard he pushed for a more book accurate Geralt, how important adhering to the source material is to him. But when you actually look into everything he's said, that's when his whole story really falls apart because none of it adds up or makes any sense.

Debunking misinformation about Netflix's The Witcher (Part 1)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7]

"Henry Cavill is a massive fan of the books and the games and he quit the show because the writers wouldn't stick to the books and he just cares about the source material so much."

Henry Cavill not only did not know that the books existed when he started pursuing the role of Geralt, but he actually thought that the books were based off of the video games (and he still didn't bother to read them) and he didn't learn that the games were actually based off the books until Lauren told him (even though the first thing in the game credits is that they're based off the books); as of 2021, he as only read the full series once — right before he was cast in 2018; while he has played TW3, he has only played a little of TW2 (and I've never found any evidence that he's played the first game); and he also has not played the DLC for TW3.

Henry Cavill also started heavily pushing the narrative that he's just such a massive fan of the books and how important adhering to the source material is to him during the press for S2 to deflect from how it was due to his acting choices of cutting Geralt's lines and either saying nothing or just grunting instead that Geralt's characterization — who is much more verbose in the books — was book inaccurate in S1:

He also lied about the situation and tried to act like Geralt was never originally written as being verbose and blamed the lack of dialogue on Yennefer and Ciri's prominence, which cannot be true as confirmed by Lauren:

And tried to act like the lines he was cutting weren't that important anyway so it wasn't really a big deal, which also cannot be true as confirmed by Joey:

He also started pushing the narrative that adhering to the source material is so important to him and it's 'tricky' to do that with Lauren's vision, but his definition of "Lauren's vision" is the show being an ensemble piece with Yennefer and Ciri at the forefront (like the books) and the show in general heavily centering around women (like the books):

So the idea of him caring so much about "book accuracy" is, in fact, not accurate to the books at all as his problems were the prominence of women in the show when Ciri is the main character of the main book series, which the show started adapting from S2 onwards (which is when Henry Cavill started to complain about wanting "book accuracy" in the first place), and when women are very prominent, central, key figures in the books and they often drive the plot forwards.

Lastly, S3 was the closest adaption of the books out of all the seasons so far, so the idea that he quit after S3 because the writers just weren't respecting the source material and the show wasn't following the books doesn't make any sense anyway.

"Henry Cavill is the only reason why the show was even close to the source material at all."

I've not only never seen any evidence of this, but if anything, I've seen the exact opposite: Henry Cavill was either directly responsible for or at least contributed in some way to a lot of things that went against the books or didn't happen in them.

As I already pointed out, he cut Geralt's lines in S1 and either said nothing or just grunted instead which is inaccurate to Geralt's characterization in the books. Here's another quote from Joey affirming that:

(Just to note: During the press for S1, he frequently talked about how the games inspired his performance as Geralt — sometimes talking about them even more than the books despite how the show is based off of the books, not the games — and it wasn't until S2 press that he suddenly changed his tune and started talking about how important adhering to the source material ie the books is to him. He also only started advocating for a more book accurate Geralt because he got dunked on by reddit for his book inaccurate performance in S1.)

He didn't want to play Geralt and Jaskier's friendship as directly as in the books and buddy-buddy with each other:

He didn't want to have any kind of conflict in Geralt and Ciri's relationship in S2 — at least on Geralt's side of things:

Nor play Geralt struggling with fatherhood at all — all of which led to the domino effect of Yennefer's betrayal:

Eskel's death (which in itself also led to things like Vesemir trying to create new witchers and Lambert's attitude toward Ciri):

And Voleth Meir being the big bad of the season:

He didn't want Geralt and Triss to even just platonically find comfort in each other in S2 — which is what happens in the books:

He nixed a sex scene between Geralt and Yennefer in S2 because he didn't think it'd be in character of them to have sex after reuniting which, uh, is absolutely in character of them:

While this is an incredibly inconsequential change, given the prevalence of this idea that Henry Cavill is such an ardent defender of the source material ie the books and how much he wanted the show to adhere to them, I do think it's important to note that he pushed for — and got — more signs into the show even though by his own admission that is more of a game thing than a book thing and he got it into the show for the explicit purpose of catering to game stans:

This is also another incredibly inconsequential change, but again, given how prevalent the idea of Henry Cavill pushing for perfect source accuracy is, I do just want to point out that he would wear his armor 24/7 to make it look worn down:

Even though it is canon in the books that Geralt will buy himself brand new clothes, so the idea that Geralt's clothing has to look worn down and can't be brand new is not actually book accurate.

"Lauren wanted to make Roach's death a joke."

Just to address this point specifically, Lauren wanted to make a meta reference about how all of Geralt's horses are named Roach. That in no way, shape, or form means that she wanted to make Roach's death into a joke or even that the scene had to be played comedically. This is what Lauren had to say about the subject and the 'joke' in question (which, js, actually fits the tone of the books more):

And as far as the "Henry Cavill is the only one who cared about the source material and he's the only reason why the show even stuck to the books at all" front goes... Henry Cavill did change the dialogue in this scene to a book quote/reference; however, the quote in question ("Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend.") is not something that Geralt himself says and the line/scene from the books foreshadows Geralt's ending in them.

So, at least imo — especially taking into account the incredibly high standard the fandom has set for Henry Cavill as the #1 defender of the books — I don't think this change was actually book accurate especially given the narrative significance of that exchange in the books.

[ylangelegy]

it’s kind of a funny story 🫧 seungcheol x reader.

just when you think your walk of shame couldn’t get any more shameful… 

★ word count: 1.1k ★ genre/warnings: 18+ content. no explicit smut, but implied sexual content told through flashbacks so! mdni! + romance, humor, fluff -ish. alternate universe: non-idol, mentions of alcohol. ★ footnotes: this is for the loml, @heartepub! (prompt was also from her) nooo viv don't die from thesis you're so sexy aha... 💙

There are three things you register when you wake up.

First: It’s cold. There’s sunlight streaking through the windows and you’re under a blanket— which is decisively not yours, by the way— yet you’re freezing, chilled to the bone. The answer to that question brings you to realization number two. 

You’re stripped down to your underclothes. Every inch of your body is rebelling at you for your mistreatment. The copious amount of alcohol you’d consumed the night before, the consequences of that raging bender. All of which leads to the last but not the least of the facts— 

There’s an arm around your waist, a solid weight pressed against your back. It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to put a name to the body curved around you like a parentheses. 

Cheol, he had told you on the dance floor, his eyes glinting under the low lights. Seungcheol, if you want this to be more than a one-time thing. 

It’s ridiculous, how that sad excuse for a pick-up line had drawn you in. Your memories of last night are a blur. Flashes of hands, of lips, of Seungcheol’s low voice coaxing you apart like a prayer.

Carefully, you peel yourself from the bed. Your body aches in seven different places. Inasmuch as you want to blame all the Long Island iced teas and Cuba libres you’d downed, you know it has less to do with that and everything to do with the man you’re about to walk away from. 

Seungcheol is still asleep, his face buried into his pillow. His chest rises and falls with a kind of steadiness that makes it hard to believe how utterly reckless he’d been with you just hours ago.

All of that blurs together, too. There’s bits and bobs of it in your mind’s eye: His hand in your hair, your knees on the carpet. You wince.

You try to not make any noise as you clean up. This was the name of the game, after all. This was going to be a story you tell your friends on your way home, a tale regaled via a long-winded voice note. An uptick in your body count. Another reason why you should never drink beer before liquor. 

Your dress is crumpled on the floor. You go to pick it up—

The zipper is shredded.

The seam, split clean down the back.

What the fuck. 

Your pulse hammers as you hold up the ruined garment, blinking like that’ll somehow fix it. It’s not like the dress holds any sentimental value. You’d bought it online specifically for your night out, had prepared to outgrow it in a year or two. You didn’t think you’d only get one wear out of it. 

The dress’ demise comes back to you slowly. Seungcheol’s impatient hands, the desperate way he had tugged the fabric when it wouldn’t come off fast enough. 

You remember the way his muscles had rippled underneath the low light. The faint sound of tearing. His muttered curse, his half-hearted apology said right before he dove in to relish in the newly-revealed skin. You’d been too far gone to care, then. 

Now, though? Oh, you care.

You’re still gaping at the dress when you hear the bed creak. “Good morning, beautiful,” the culprit grouses. 

You can tell that it’s his usual pleasantry, his typical cheeky greeting to all of his conquests. All that bravado fades, though, when you face him with the tatters of your dress still in your hand.

“Ah, shit.” Seungcheol’s voice is raspy from alcohol and sleep. He props himself up on his elbows, and— to give him some credit— he looks genuinely repentant. 

His hair is a mess; his face, already a deep red as he registers what you’re holding. 

“I— I can pay for that,” he stutters.

It’s almost comical, really. This is the same man who had you writhing underneath him, who had whispered pure filth into the crook of your neck. Now, he was blushing like a kid caught stealing from a cookie jar. 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, like you haven’t quite decided if you’re going to be angry or laugh. “I don’t even think a tailor could save this.” 

Seungcheol rubs his face with both hands. “I don’t know what came over me,” he groans.

One of your eyebrows cock upwards. “I think you do.” 

He peeks at you between his fingers. You watch the way his throat bobs as his gaze flickers over your bare legs, the marks he left blooming across your skin. Claims he shouldn’t be able to make, and yet he’d gone and taken all the same. 

“It’s not funny,” he says into the heel of his palm, but he’s already grinning despite his voice remaining low and rough. 

“It’s kind of funny,” you counter. 

You let the ruined dress drop to the floor. It looks even more pitiful as it pools around your feet, and Seungcheol’s jaw ticks at the blatancy of his misgivings. 

“That’s never happened before,” he notes. Despite the fact he looks worse for wear, you can decipher the sincerity behind his words. 

This was not part of the plan, not a plot point in the usual story. Both of you were far more accustomed to clean cuts. One-night stands with no promises; quiet come-and-go’s. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he says, fingers curling in the sheets. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you just know he’s contemplating his next course of action. Loaning you some of his spare clothes would be the way to go. He could also—

Seungcheol’s voice drops like a weight. “You could… stay a little longer.” 

Until what, exactly, you’d love to know. Is he planning a same-day delivery for a replacement dress? Does he intend to hold you hostage until he’s a little more willing to send you off in a shirt he can bear to lose? 

You should be pissed. You should scold him, should rummage through his cabinet yourself and be on your merry way. The name of the game. 

But the way he’s looking at you— wrecked and wanting, like he might split apart if you walk out his door— makes it impossible to do anything but crawl back into his bed. 

He’s still embarrassed. You can tell from the way he tenses when you kiss him, the way his fingers barely ghost over your hip. Seungcheol tastes like cola, like something distinctly him, and like The Biggest Mistake You’re Ever Going To Make. 

To hell with it. 

“Try not to wreck the only clothes I have left,” you say against his mouth, “Seungcheol.” 

You feel his smile instead of seeing it. The way his lips curl around yours, pleased at your choice.

He tugs at the waistband of your underwear, his touch a lot more gentle than last night. As he pulls it off, he mumbles, “No promises.” 

[kazumist]

SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him. 

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent. 

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question. 

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries. 

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays. 

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment. 

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks. 

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with. 

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.” 

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?” 

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

-

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

-

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it. 

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant. 

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies. 

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies. 

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?” 

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

-

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

-

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off. 

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.” 

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why. 

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne. 

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place? 

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

-

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.” 

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this? 

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him. 

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago. 

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said. 

-

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to). 

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you. 

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t. 

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that. 

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know. 

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late. 

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you. 

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now. 

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.”  zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

[abysful]

Tread carefully

Contains: Plot, Friends to Fuck buddies, Mentions of Masturbation, Smut (not-so-dry humping, blow job, p in v)

Summary: You love summer more than most, yet swimming has never been your strong suit beyond a survival doggy paddle. But one quiet summer night, your friend Chris teaches you a few tricks, in and out of the water.

Word count: 5k

There was nothing that riled you up more than when your three best friends claimed to “hate” summer. You reminded them time and time again how amazing it was to be surrounded by bright green grass and beautiful flowers, and how all it takes when you feel the heat bundle you up a bit too tight, is a carefree dip in a cooling chlorine filled pool. The complaints of how sticky and humid the air gets during summer seem to quiet down to silence when summer finally arrives and everyone’s skin is sun kissed and warm, when music and laughter accompanies a bonfire, and when all of your friends are happier and lighter.

“T’s sweaty and fucking gross” Nick starts, reminded of his hatred for the season when a headline of summers first day being a week away, pops up on his Instagram feed.

You look at Matt and Chris waiting for either of them to swoop in and defend your favourite time of year but you quickly realize you’re on your own.

“Let’s not get disrespectful” you play around, trying to stop yourself from getting in a unserious but low-key serious debate with Nick.

Nick looks at you unamused “I literally don’t fucking believe you when you say summers your favourite season… you aren’t even from LA. There’s mosquitoes and allergies and fucking sunburn.” he exclaims.

The friendly banter goes on through the night, regardless of the activity, only stopping when you’re all asleep on their couches after an evening filled with jokes, games, and stupid stories.

At some odd hour in the night, the dry cotton-mouth that left the walls of your mouth feeling like sandpaper, had rudely yanked you from your disorganized and frankly confusing dreams.

There was no possibility that you were going to ignore the now hydrophobic texture taking place within your jaws, the only option was to get up as silently as possible and find something to remedy your dehydration.

In hopes you wouldn’t disturb your peacefully sleeping friends, you sink into the couch as you lay straight, slowly rolling off of the cushion to the floor, using all of your arm strength to softly lower yourself without making a sound.

As you stand, you look over the dormant bodies of the people you care most about, wondering what they’re seeing in their dreams, some on the couch, others on air-mattresses that were in place of the coffee table.

Though the sweet admiration quickly turns into a headcount, you see Madi, Nick, Matt, Madison, but no Chris.

Your mind can barely process your consciousness, so Chris’ whereabouts slip out from your thoughts almost immediately when you regain awareness of the dryness coursing your throat and tongue.

Pivoting on your heels, you B-line for the kitchen, so eager to drink just one glass of water, the ability to stay quiet threatens to disappear. Once the glass is in your grasp, and the slippery condensation cools your clammy palms, you begin to guzzle the liquid in your cup, letting out loud breaths between each gulp.

Feet standing a foot and a half from the sink, you bend over to rest your elbows on the countertop, your body at a near 90 degree angle.

You don’t even hear the sound of a toilet flushing or a door opening, nor did you hear any footsteps approaching, the feeling of the water reviving every vein and artery was clouding your thinking.

Chris walked into the kitchen from the bathroom, heading for the sink to get a drink. His eyes had just been exposed to the bright florescent lights of the washroom just a moment ago so when he flicked the switch off, his eyes were able to see virtually nothing.

Touching and feeling around him, once he understood where the table and cabinets were located in relation to him, he no longer felt the need to extend his arms for guidance.

That was until he was a few steps from the sink. Chris’ walking is abruptly interrupted when his clothed groin slams against your ass as you’re leaning on your forearms, hovering over the basin.

“Shit” he whisper yelled, completely oblivious to who it was he rammed into.

Instinctively he reached out again to feel who was in front of him, it all happened so fast, his hands finding your hips in search of anything identifiable in the blinding darkness.

“Woah” you yelped, now turning as fast as your body physically allowed you to.

Your familiar voice telling Chris all he needed to know, he pulled his grip back as if he’d just touched a scalding hot stovetop.

“Sorry sorry sorry” he slewed out rapidly, his voice now quiet but above a whisper.

“Ts fine, my fault for not paying attention” you apologized soon after, out of curtesy more than honesty.

A thought paralyzing silence blanketed the both of you, embarrassment being the only feeling in the kitchen that now felt 2 feet wide.

“Thirsty?” Chris whispers, very obviously trying to move on and not have that be the last thing that you two remember before going back to sleep.

Your body flinches slightly when you remember you aren’t completely alone in your thoughts.

“A little” You turn your head to meet Chris’ gaze, being in the solid dark long enough for your eyes to adjust, you can probably see Chris better than he can see you.

His shorts are hanging slightly too low, the fault of him trying to ‘keep his tired’ and haphazardly throwing on his bottoms before rushing out of the bathroom just a few moments ago.

Chris had a charm about him that made you find him more attractive than most of the men in your life but you didn’t spend any time figuring out what that even meant to you, so of course you assumed the pulse in your head, heart, and heat that came about whenever he was around, was nothing.

Yet in the dark, having a chance to take a good look at a barely clothed Chris without him being able to tell where your gaze fell, you used the opportunity as any person would, you checked him the fuck out.

Your eyes started at his V-line but his happy trail caught your attention not long after. You could tell by the way it was growing that he had been shaving around it to keep it shaped nice, not overgrown, but still visible. ‘Sort of like a landing strip’ your inner monologue narrated in your head, making you break into a smile that only you knew about.

With every breath inwards he took, all of him moved with it. The room was still too dark to be able to identify much else so you decided to cut your semi pervy staring session short, the places that your mind was going needed to be knocked unconscious.

“I need to hurry up and lay down before I fully wake up” you smiled at Chris, though he definitely couldn’t see well enough to tell. He let out a hum of agreement as you let your tired legs guide you to the large comfy couch.

Ever so quietly, you ascend back into the small indent your body left on the pillowy cushion. Comfort washed over you as your body felt as if it was melting and becoming one with the cloud of a sofa that was underneath you, you didn’t even get to the number four when counting yourself to sleep.

That night was weeks ago, between then and now, things were predominately business as usual except for two things, one slightly more concerning than the other.

On the brighter side, summer was here, your skin was glowier than ever, the skies had never been clearer, and every feeling seemed more intense.

But the time between the mishap and now— it seemed that every single night that you were unable to sleep, like a movie, you replayed the view of Chris that night, over and over in your head.

One night in particular you were engaging in sexual self care, and as much as you fought it with every neuron and vessel in your brain— the only image that got you to cum was that of Chris’ slender figure looming over you in the dark kitchen in the earlier hours before dawn.

Between their meetings and your job, none of you had the chance to spend a full day enjoying the heat of your beloved season quite yet.

“Y/n idc what you gotta do but we’re going swimming tomorrow” Nick texted you out of nowhere, it was 7pm and you were winding down from yet another busy day of working, going to the gym, and just the general tasks of everyday life.

“I’m there” you typed back with one hand while the other stirred your vodka pasta simmering on the stove.

That night your mind struggled to sleep once more, it seemed that only when you needed to rest the most, your bed morphed into a lumpy boulder keeping you from the level of comfort you needed for tomorrow to come quickly.

Thoughts about spending the day with the triplets, spending the day with Chris, more so, getting to see shirtless Chris in broad daylight this time, were wading through your mind. Over an hour of tossing and turning later, you drifted off to dreamland.

Your plans started later than discussed which was nothing but normal for your group of friends, everyone woke up late, got dressed late, and found their way to Madison’s LA home 3 hours late, by the grace of god you all showed up around the same time.

What was once a 1pm hang out, began at 4pm. First going to get ice cream, Madi and Matt got regular flavours while Nick and Chris purchased odd but reasonable mixes. You and Madison on the other hand, decided to get the most nonsensical and unappetizing combinations of ice creams.

“Get that fuckass cup out of my face” Nick retorted to you after you offered him a bite of your Frankenstein fro yo, to which you all belly laughed.

Then thrifting, it seemed Matt had the sharpest eye for that sort of thing, while the rest of you dicked around, mocking the freaky antiques you found, eventually leaving empty handed.

Finally, you were all in Madison’s pool an hour before sun down. There wasn’t much time for staring, Chris went from clothed to wearing nothing but swim trunks and submerged in water within half of a second.

The missed opportunity to bask in his sex appeal didn’t bother you too much, their was a level of guilt that was paired with each dirty thought you had of Chris which you weren’t opposed to not having to experience on your first proper hang out of the summer.

Last summer when you first met everyone, your choice of swimwear was one pieces and basketball shorts— a result of unjustified self critical thoughts, but the year in between was spent building up your self esteem and getting comfortable with letting yourself feel sexy. Now your choice of swimwear was more scantly clad, a black twisted bandeau top that’s half a size too small and tie-side bottoms.

The first 30 minutes in the pool, everyone played chicken fight, taking turns on shoulders— around 20 minutes til sundown, Nick and Madi volunteered to leave the pool to order food and chill in the hammocks. After their departure, lighthearted conversation flowed seamlessly between the four of you, that was until Matt poked fun at you about your swimming.

“Can you do literally anything other than a doggy paddle?” He teased, your face started to feel hot, remembering talks of the triplets laughing about their mom being an adult and not knowing how to swim.

“Matt shut up, she can swim” Chris chimes in, seemingly not to defend you but instead, actually in denial that you lacked the ability keep yourself afloat.

“No seriously, have you seen her leave the shallow end” he points out, his words phrased in a way to make you feel like he’s joking with you not at you, which made you a lot less embarrassed about the whole thing.

“She can swim a bit Matt” Madison inserts, her words prompt you to slowly glide through the water to the deep end.

The issue was never with getting somewhere in the water, it was staying above surface level. Once you reached the other side of her pool, you turned right back around and started swimming to your self assigned place in the shallow end.

“See? I swam” you snapped back playfully, jetting your gaze to Matt. A smile creeps onto your face before you mumble incoherently under your breath for comedic effect.

“What?” Chris prods with a smirk.

“I just can’t keep my head over the water if I’m not moving” you sheepishly confess.

“Y’mean tread water kid?” He asks, sounding unconvinced.

“Mhm” you nod, ironically standing in the kiddie end feeling like a 12 year old.

“D’you need me to teach you?” his words now laced with hints of genuine concern that you’ve gone this long without acquiring such an important skill.

You shrug “You couldn’t teach a dog to bark but I’ll let you try.” the idea of touching Chris’ slippery skin under the privacy of warped water is enough to twist your stomach.

Your mind was only just beginning to wander to unwarranted directions when Nick called out from his hammock.

“FOODS HERE”.

You expected Chris to do the ‘Chris thing’ by jumping out of the pool and running for the patio, but that wasn’t what happened. His eyes stayed planted on you, yours finding his quickly after noticing he didn’t seem to care much about his surroundings.

“Lemme teach you right now” he asserted, his voice was calm, all the while being more serious than it had been all day. The swift shift in mood threw you off to a panic.

“N-No it’s fine we can eat first”, if you had a gun to shoot yourself in the foot right now, you would. You knew yourself better than anyone, and one thing that was certain, was that you didn’t have much self control.

Everyone gathered around the dining room table, and by the time the food was finished, the sun had disappeared, lowering behind the sky high Hollywood hills.

The evening became night, and Chris was off in the washroom doing god knows what. Having read the oven clock, Madi stated she’d be calling it a night and walked over to the guest room with a blanket in one hand and her phone in the other, Matt suggested playing a movie up in Madison’s room, to which you declined from your spot on the couch, and watched as your three friends skipped up the stairs.

Less than ten minutes later, Chris finally joined you in the living room.

“Where’s everybody?” He asked.

“Madi went to bed and the rest are doing a movie night upstairs” you answered not looking up from your phone, mainly from the shame you felt.

The entire dinner, Chris’ eyes remained tethered to yours, it confused you at first but rather than wondering what he was thinking, you allowed your mind to go to places of its own.

Behind your eyes were made up images of Chris, you carried out scenarios of what it would be like to let him have you in any way he wanted, you imaged all while holding eye contact with him. Now you had spent time alone with thoughts and the feelings of satisfaction morphed into disgust with yourself.

“You gonna let me teach you now?” He inquires, you can see in your peripheral vision that his focus never faltered you once.

“What, like now now?” You question.

“Ion know what other now there is” he says.

You shrug, trying to give off the impression that none of this matters much to you, but internally, nearly every organ of yours is turning and tossing. Following his lead, you both find your way out of the sliding glass doors to the back of the house where your swimming attire is hanging to dry.

Chris pulls the corner to dress in a concealed area, on the other side of a picketed fence gate. You shamelessly but speedily put on your bikini and jumped into the pool with a loud splash, non verbally informing Chris you were finished dressing.

He appeared out from around the bend, swim shorts riding lower than they did when there was an extra 4 bodies in the pool with you earlier. Stepping back so he could have a longer running start, Chris cannonballed right over your head, landing in the deep end. A few seconds later he emerged from underwater.

“See how my arms ain’t movin” he nods down to his arms floating in one spot.

“Yeah” you engage.

“Go underwater an open your eyes” he instructs you in a suggesting tone.

Abiding by his wishes and taking a deep breath in, stretching the inner lining of your cheeks as you collect as much air as your mouth will allow, you had dived to watch the correct way to tread water, but you stayed to gawk at his abdomen flex and move with every kick each leg made.

You remained submerged, enjoying the show, until there was no air left in your lungs. Once you come back up for air, he questions you.

“Y’think you can do it?”.

You shrug to which he starts up again “cmere” he orders, less jokey as before. His assertiveness only fuels the fire of desire within you.

You swim slowly to him, once you get close enough, he grabs your hands and places them straight out to the side like a ‘T’.

“M’not gonna let you go, just pedal” he softly guides you as his hands stay clinging to yours.

Both sets of your arms are spread out leaving very little room between your bodies and faces. Every word of encouragement muttered in gentle whispers, the distance between you, or lack there of, ensured that you never needed to exceed quiet breathy volumes.

“That’s good”

“Like this?”

“Yeah you’re doin so good keep goin”.

To an outsider, the exchange sounded erotic, and though neither of you would admit it in that moment, as insiders, it felt erotic.

He eased his fingers out of yours until you were staying up on your own. You felt like you were levitating.

“No shit, I’m actually doing it” you cheered, but the ten minutes of trial and error left your legs exhausted.

Your legs cramped and froze as your hands reach back for Chris, landing firmly on his shoulders.

“Tired?” He rhetorically asked, eyes searching for yours as you stayed looking at the water.

“Y’know you can do it with your arms too” he tried to motivate you.

“Yeah maybe you can but I think I’m good with just the legs” most of your pessimism coming from insecurity.

“No seriously, it’s lowkey easier too” he said in attempt to brighten your outlook.

“Let me just-” his words snuffed out, as his fingers snaked down to your sides.

“Can I hold you here?” his voice drops an octave. You look up at him, nodding, as you feel his touch glide down to the small of your back underneath the water. The nervousness weighing you down, as you lower your hold on his shoulders, trying to move your arms in a circular motion.

The sexual frustration within you intertwines with your actual frustration of not being able to get the hang of things, a look of agitation growing on your face. Your eyebrows furrowed and the near permanent smile that painted your lips, turned sour, now straight.

“You’re doin fine, just relax a bit” he begins, “I gotchu” his grip around the lower half of your torso tightens.

As your mind begins to realign its focus on the physical task you both came for, you feel something graze your lower stomach faintly, just underneath your belly button. Diverging your hyper-fixation to look down, you feel Chris’ arms slowly let you go, initiating a knee jerk response for your arms to fling up to link behind the nape of his neck to support you.

The change in grounding point, brought you closer to his body than before. The thing touched you again, this time much less subtly, and the lack of space between you and Chris, gave you a near certain answer to what that thing was.

Every night you spent unrested you imagined a moment like this, and every orgasm you brought yourself to with the faint thought of Chris in that kitchen, you imagined a moment like this, you knew exactly what you wanted to happen, it was just about how.

“Sorry” Chris lamely excused, he didn’t attempt to string together what other reasons there could possibly have been for his dick to be in the state that it was. But you didn’t comfort his embarrassment, nor did you back away from where you were, instead you chose to seize the moment.

Your legs started off straight, but close to his, then, you began to bend your knees while parting a gap between your thighs. One of your arms stayed around his neck while the other travelled up the back of his head to interlock with his deep brown strands, now black from being soaked in water.

Only seconds later did your lower half complete its journey to be fully draped around his waist. Your faces, once inches apart, now only centimetres away from one another. His eyes broke free from their shackled gaze with yours, as your body language gave him the go-ahead to finally look at your frame the way you had peered at his once before.

The long string of weeks where you could only think of how he would feel on you and in you, was enough foreplay in itself, so you made no haste to bridge your hips up against his pulsing cock under the still water. The warmth that was rushing to every part of your bodies, made the water feel that much colder.

When he had finished eating you with his eyes, his hand jerked up from your back, to clasp your cheek. As he guided your mouth to his, his tongue waited from no invitation. The kiss was wet and messy from the beginning, only picking up heat as you explode each other’s bodies with no hesitation. His hand slipped down from your back to cup your ass before squeezing it and rubbing it repeatedly, the other hand slithering down from your jaw to find hold on your neck.

With the gap between your bodies non existent, his solid cock tented in his shorts was now pressed up against your aching core. Using the strength of your knees around his waist, you began to wine your hips in a circular motion, utilizing the part of his shaft that was against your cunt as friction.

The both of you moaned at the action, him bucking his hips in response. The coolness of the pool sent waves of shock as the cold ripples acted against your throbbing heat, the kisses became sloppy as you and Chris lost the capacity to think, thinness of your swimwear allowing every point of contact between you to feel as if neither of you had clothes on.

After barely 5 minutes of breathlessly making out and grinding over his hungry dick, you pull away from Chris.

“The pool house” was all you could slew out as you tried to catch your breath, you look deep into his eyes, the blue irises now near impossible to see beyond his black dilated pupils. He gulped in excitement, mind numb, all he could do was nod.

Both of you wasted not a second climbing out of the water, and creaking the door open. The pool house didn’t have much inside, but catching a fairly large couch in the corner, you both stumbled over towards it.

Chris immediately sat down, presuming you would assume the same position of straddling him as you did in the pool, but instead you lowered onto your knees. The sight of you so eager to make him feel good prompted Chris to whip his head back and let out a sigh of built up sexual frustration.

As your fingers hooked underneath the hem of his shorts and tugged, his length sprung out, slapping into his stomach. You knew your time in the pool was torture from his irritated tip, the colour of his teased dick making you want to do nothing more than relieve the pressure.

Once his gaze fell back onto you, your hands spread out on his thighs, sliding up to his cock, once you grab hold of it, you look into his eyes before collecting your saliva and slowly letting it run down his pulsing dick. Once his length was wet enough, you used one of your hangs to circle his tip with your palm while the other assisted your mouth in taking all of him from the side, running your lips along his dick. “Fuuuuckkkk don’t stop” he groaned as his fingers trailed through your hair.

Eventually you remove your hand from his now much redder tip, and slide his cock down your throat until your nose hits his skin. You keep him in your throat for a second or two as you look up at him, his eyes getting teary just as yours were. You continued to ram his dick in and out of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you did so, his moans never stopping once, kept you going.

When you knew he was close, you used both of your hands to stroke him while your tongue lapped around the head of his throbbing cock. It took less than a second for him to cum, you popped his dick out of your mouth and steered his dick to shoot his thick white ropes of cum onto your chest. When he caught his breath he looked into your eyes.

“Didn’t wanna swallow?” He joked.

“You drink Pepsi like its water and eat like a 7 year old with a bank account and free will, I would rather drink bleach than your cum Chris” you shot back.

“Fair” he responded before pausing, then finishing his thought, “I bet your pussy’d soak up my cum with no complaints”.

Rather than a verbal response to the annoying but honest truth, you gave him a physical one. You stood up and pulled the strings of your bikini bottoms in one motion before crawling onto his lap. He looked at you as a cocky smile crept onto his face. You were on your knees hovering over his eager dick, your pussy pumping since the pool.

Waiting for him to enter your needy hole, you look down at his hand finding his length as he guided it to your entrance but rather than placing his dick where you wanted it, he tried teasing you, sliding his tip over your over-aroused clit. You moan, furrowing your eyebrows, eyes still planted on what he was doing.

“Chris… don’t… fuck around” you stammered between your heavy breaths and groans. He sneered and let out a huffy breath of amusement before finally letting his dick find your sopping wet hole, bottoming out immediately, not allowing you to adjust to his impressive size.

“Fuck” you screamed, leaning forward to embrace him, resting your chin over his shoulders and wrapping your arms around him.

“Easyyy easyyy” he hushed. His hands found your ass, softly grabbing hold of it as he lifted you up and down.

“Too much?” he asks, turning his head so his mouth pressed up against your ear as he whispers.

“Mm, keep going” you respond, almost forgetting how to communicate out of pure bliss, your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head and your eyelashes flutter. Chris plants kisses on your shoulder, as your moans get louder you can feel him smile into the kisses.

His slender fingers find your clit, using your slippery wetness to make his digits slide faster in circles. Every one of your limbs begin to numb, your mind soon following. As a blur grows around your vision, your moans turn to screams, the distance from the house your friends were in was large enough for you to let all that you were feeling be heard.

“Chris” you start to which he interrupts.

“I got you, cum for me baby” his thrusts rapid like bullet fire, sending your body into ecstasy. One second the knot is building in your gut, the next, it snaps.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you scream out.

“Mhm I got you” he assures you, as you ride out the feeling of his dick slamming against your g-spot and his fingers caressing your overstimulated clit.

As you come down from your high, you lean back, the sweet sweat that collected between your chests made it all feel so intimate. Chris slips out of you and runs his finger between your folds one last time, raising his hand to show you the white liquid dripping out of you.

He smiled and egotistically smiles “told you”, you grab his fingers and lick the cum off, more for the purpose of shutting him up.

After dressing into your indoor clothes and limping back to the house, you walk upstairs to Madison’s room with Chris by your side. “D’you get the hang of it?” Matt asked, not looking away from the rom-com playing on the TV in front of him. “Yeah, fast as fuck too, had time to teach her other shit too” Chris answered for you.

Authors note: I suck at smut but I feel like this one’s a bit better than the last one, TBHHHH this was basically a self insert cause I can’t swim for shit but I hope y’all liked it, happy Wednesday!!!

I forgot who wanted to be tagged ngl

Taglist: @hjvi @theyluvivi @sturniolosrtewsexy

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Finding Yourself - C.SC [Part 2]

🐢Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🐢What: 18+. Dark themes. Mafia au. Angst. Fluff. Suggestive. Slow burn. Mafia Boss Seungcheol. Single parent Seungcheol. Strangers to friends to lovers. Chan is reader’s little brother. Hansol is Seungcheol’s son. 🐢Word count: 21k 🐢Warnings: Characters with autism/ADHD. Selective mutism. Mentions and depictions of being overwhelmed/sensory overload and meltdowns. Degrading language, including mental disability slur. Gang typical content: threats, violence, torture, weapons, injury, blood, morally fucked up characters, mentions of past forced sex work. Mentions of being branded. Suggestive content & sexual conversations. Brief misunderstanding. 🐢Summary: “In an attempt to protect your little brother, you run away from home and the gang your father forced you into as a teenager.

You truly thought you were done with that life. But months later, when members of the Centaurs gang find you and your brother squatting in their property mid gang-fight, they take you back to their headquarters and force you right back into it.

Suddenly, you find yourself living in the home of the leader of the oldest, most famous gang in the entire country, and you very quickly realise that he isn’t the ruthless monster everyone thinks he is.”

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

Masterlist Finding Yourself Part 1 – Finding Yourself Part 3

Disclaimer: Okay, so I feel like I need to point out that I do have both autism and ADHD, and I have done a lot of research around both during my own discovery/diagnosis periods; even now I’m constantly learning that more aspects of myself are very common in people with autism/ADHD so there is truth behind how the characters are portrayed in this fic. Yet, with that being said, both autism and ADHD are very vast in that you can have a room full of people with both disabilities and yet every single one of those people are incredibly different, which means that the characters in this story who have autism or ADHD are not accurate portrayals of every single person with either. There are 4 clearly stated autistic people in this fic throughout and they are each different personalities and how their disability affects them. So please don’t leave comments or send rude asks accusing me of misrepresentation or anything like that just because a character you’ve watched in a movie isn’t written the same as these characters, thanks.

Although most of your time over the following weeks is spent with Seungkwan as the two of you watch over the boys while they learn and play together, you feel like your time with Seungcheol feels like more somehow.

Maybe it’s because it’s always just the two of you in his office, side by side on the loveseat together, to discuss everything you know about the Vultures and how Seungcheol can take them apart so severely that they’ll never put themselves back together again. Maybe it’s because you both quickly lose track of time as you talk bent over his notebook together for hours. Maybe it’s because even when he closes the notebook and declares his brain is too fried to talk work any longer, you remain side by side on the couch to talk about everything and anything that comes to mind. Maybe it’s because the first time that you don’t stop yourself from flexing your hands when you start to get overloaded, Seungcheol notices and doesn’t stop you, just silently closes the notebook before shutting the study door and opening the window to let the cool night air in with the subtle sounds of nature to help you relax.

Ever since the first time Seungcheol saw your stimming, he’s paid closer attention to the signs and often reaches out to stop you from sitting on your hands or pressing your legs down so that you don’t bounce them. He silently encourages you and even keeps fidget toys on the coffee table now for you to play with as the two of you work and doesn’t tell you to sit down when you get up to walk around or pace sometimes. He just carries on talking and always manages to land his eyes on you when he looks up as if he’s keeping track of you in his periphery.

It’s the first time anyone has ever taken the time to see you; to understand and let you just exist as you’re supposed to. You don’t think you’ve even given yourself such care before. But thanks to Seungcheol’s gentle encouragement and silent support, you think you’re starting to find yourself little by little.

“Hey- oh,” Seungcheol greets as he walks into his study one evening and finds that you’ve rearranged the furniture. “Uh, what happened in here?”

“It was wrong,” you declare, as you frown at the study while looking around it in dissatisfaction. “It still is.” You huff and go back to moving the heavy desk for the third time.

“Alright, there’s clearly something here,” Seungcheol walks over and tugs you away from the desk to hold your hands, even as you tug slightly in a weak attempt to free yourself. You’re not sure what you want right now: if you’re okay with the touch or would rather he be across the room. “What’s going on, is something wrong, sweetheart?”

“I told you; it’s wrong. Everything is wrong, Seungcheol.”

“The room? We can move the furniture as much as you want if that’s what you need right now, but I don’t think it is.” You pull your hands from his hold with a huff and return to the desk.

For a few minutes, Seungcheol silently stands and watches you adjust the desk in such tiny increments that he really wouldn’t even know you’ve moved it if he hasn’t got his attention glued to you. When he sees you lift and lower one end a few times without changing the desk to a different position, he suddenly thinks he understands and hums.

“Come on,” he says, walking over to take your hand into his. You look at him with a frown. “I think I know what will help, come on.” Although you’re confused, you trust the man, so you obediently follow him with your hand in his.

It’s now that you suddenly realise the truth of that; that even though you’ve only known him less than two months, you trust Choi Seungcheol; the big, bad boss of the most feared gang in the country.

Of course, you know that he’s no saint by any means, he’s come home with bloodied knuckles and other people’s blood speckled on his neck where he hasn’t noticed it when clearing up before coming into the manor. You know he can be ruthless and vicious, but he’s also the most understanding and accepting person you’ve ever met, and he’s raising the sweetest little boy. Seungcheol really can’t be a truly bad person to have such a caring son as Hansol.

The realisation that you would blindly follow this man without question makes you stop in your tracks in pure shock, despite being on the stairs.

Seungcheol immediately comes to a still a few steps in front of you and turns to look up at you worriedly. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I trust you,” you mutter.

Seungcheol blinks a few times, dumbstruck by the sudden admittance before he walks up the steps until he’s on the one below you and looking at you with something strange on his features and in his shining eyes that you really don’t understand. “Yeah?” You nod in confirmation without an ounce of hesitation. Seungcheol smiles and lifts his hand off the banister to gently brush your overgrown hair out of your eyes. “That makes me really happy to hear, sweetheart. I trust you too.”

“I didn’t realise I trust you until now. I don’t think I’ve ever trusted someone like this before. It’s weird.”

“Like what?”

“So quickly and completely.”

“You trust me completely?” You nod. “With everything? With Squirt?”

“His name is Chan,” you inform simply; information that none of them know despite the pair of you having lived in the manor for almost two months now.

Seungcheol’s eyes grow wide in genuine astonishment. “I didn’t think we’d ever know.”

“They don’t. You do.”

“Just me?” You nod. “Oh, sweetheart.” He lets out a breath and cups your cheek for a moment before he lowers his hand again. “Come on.” Seungcheol turns and leads you down the stairs to grab your shoes and coats to put on at the back door before going outside.

When you’re standing side by side at the playground barely lit by the moon overhead, he lets go of your hand and walks over to the huge metal framework to start climbing.

You remain in place and watch him bewilderedly until he looks at you from a couple of metres off the ground with a grin. “Come on, climb with me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” It’s not normally a convincing argument, but when Seungcheol says it, it seems like enough, and you find yourself walking over to start climbing.

Your movements are timid at first, you don’t think you even climbed much as a child, and you’re still recovering from months of little food and lack of real exercise, so it’s harder than it should be for you to pull and push yourself along the bars and ropes.

But after a while, you look up to find Seungcheol and when you notice his soft smile on you, you realise that you’re smiling too. “Come on, you can almost see over the wall from the top!” He enthuses and turns to keep climbing to the sheltered platform at the very top, leaving him mostly in the shadows once inside.

When you clamber into the shelter a few minutes later, he’s laid on a blanket with a pillow under his head and another at his side. He pats the blanket on his right, so you crawl over and lay down curled up on your side facing him. From his left, he grabs another blanket and lays it out over the both of you before settling on his side to face you.  

“Feel better?” He asks softly when you’re both comfortable.

“I needed to climb?” You ask.

“I think you just needed to put your body to use. That’s why you were moving stuff and kept lifting the desk up and down; to use your muscles. I don’t suppose you do much of that other than carrying Chan. Maybe that’s part of the reason you like carrying him so much, actually.”

“Oh, maybe,” you agree. “That would make sense. I used to train and stuff before leaving so I’m not used to doing so little.”

“We have a home gym, state of the art and everything, you can use it whenever you want, Pearl.” You stare at him for a moment before stating your name, earning a confused look. “Who’s that?”

“Me.”

“You?” You nod. “Oh…oh, that’s your real name.” You hum in confirmation. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.” He shuffles a little closer and takes your hand from where it lays on the blanket between you. “It means a lot to me that you do, more than I can put into words. I’m really fucking happy you trust me so much.”

“I think I’m happy too,” you admit. “It’s like I have a friend.”

“What? Sweetheart,” he frowns and let’s go of your hand to slide his hand up your arm and then to your back to pull you closer, right to his chest.

You’ve never done this before, cuddled, not with anyone other than Chan. You quickly decide that you like it and shuffle closer to tuck your face into his neck while putting your right arm around his waist.

Seungcheol curls his arm around you and turns his head down to kiss the top of your head. “I am your friend, we all are. There’s no like a friend at all, we are.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I’ve always wanted friends.”

“And you have us, for as long as you want us.”

“A long time would be nice.”

“It really fucking would.”

The very next night after had Seungcheol taken you out to the climbing frame, when you enter his office expecting to be empty as he usually arrives after you, he’s already there.

For the first time in two months, you see him wearing sweatpants and a matching, unzipped hoodie, showing the black compression shirt clinging to his firm torso underneath. You’re too thrown off to do anything but stare from the doorway at the sight of the man in such casual clothing when he’s usually always ready to leave the house for work purposes or just back from work; sometimes in suits, sometimes in neat jeans and dark t-shirts, and sometimes in his expensive motorbike leathers.

“What?” He asks where he’s leaning back against his desk in wait with his palms on the edge either side of his hips.

“Never seen you casual,” you answer, coming back to reality, and start to edge towards the seating. Though he chooses now to push off the desk and pick up the material that had been hiding behind him to toss to you, so you’re forced to stop in your path to catch it. “What’s this?”

“Figure you don’t have any workout clothes, so I got some today. Kinda guessed your size, so if it’s wrong, it’s your own fault for wearing baggy trousers and crewnecks all the time.”

“They’re comfy,” you mumble in defence while adjusting the cool material in your hands to take in the matching leggings and sports bra in black, other than the coloured stripes around the top of the thighs. You blink at it dumbly for a moment, then look at him incredulously.

“What?”

“Are you a pervert, Seungcheol?”

In an instant, his eyes turn even wider than normal, and his face visibly warms. “What?! No!”

“I assume you expect me to wear this and work out with you, based on your own outfit.”

“Why does that make me a pervert?! I asked the woman what typical woman’s workout gear is and she told me that’s the most popular set! Blame her!” He gestures pointlessly, flicking his arms out as if to motion to a woman who isn’t even present.

“And you didn’t once look at this and consider that I will essentially be topless and wearing a second set of skin on my legs? I don’t even know if I can wear underwear under this kind of material.”

Seungcheol chokes on his sudden inhale, earning a questioning look from you. “I-I’m fine.”

“You’re red again.”

“Shut up!” He stalks past you out of the room suddenly, only to backtrack and offer his hand while keeping his pink face directed away from you. He looks so childlike and cute that it makes you giggle before accepting his hand and holding the clothes to your chest while he leads you out of his office and down the stairs.

Although you’ve been all over the manor at this point, just to learn where all the hallways lead in case of emergency, you’ve never been down into the basement after learning that it’s just storage and the gym with no sensible exits, only tiny windows along the tops of the outer rooms, meaning you’ve had no reason to go down there until now.

Despite being curious about the layout and what the rooms and halls you pass contain, you focus on Seungcheol and his quick steps as he leads you through the barely lit basement. You can’t tell if the path is so engrained into him that he doesn’t need more lighting to find his way, or if his eyesight is just much more reliable than yours in the dull light.

You’re mostly relying on your hearing to tell you when you enter different spaces, with your eyes glued to Seungcheol’s hand in your own and your feet in your peripheral so that you don’t trip. When the echoes of your steps give away that this room you’ve just entered is much larger and far more open than the halls and smaller rooms you’ve walked through to get here, you correctly guess that you’ve entered the gym.

Though Seungcheol doesn’t pause or turn on a light, he continues forward, slippers slapping across the linoleum, until he stops to open a door and urge you inside.

Finally, he turns on a light and you have to blink and squint for a few seconds to grow accustomed to the sudden white light. Only then are you able to peer around and understand that you’re now standing just inside of a changing room, with lockers along one wall and exposed showers at the back behind you.

“Okay, get changed and come back out. It’s just us here and I promise I’m not going to come in unless you call me, okay?”

“Why would I call you?” You give him a bewildered look before turning to walk to the benches in the centre of the room and put the clothes down.

“If you get hurt or something.”

“I think I’m perfectly capable of getting changed without hurting myself.”

“Right, right, okay, whatever, just get changed and come out,” he decides while waving one hand dismissively before backing up, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Not wanting to make Seungcheol wait around, you quickly change into the leggings and sports bra while wondering how Seungcheol managed to accurately guess your clothes size. At least, based on the tag he correctly guessed your size, because even though the sports bra fits fine, the leggings are practically trying to absorb themselves into your skin and you have to remove your underwear to gain the extra little space to fit them more comfortably over your ass.

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter while looking at your reflection and taking in how tight the material is on you. You’ve never been a fan of such tight clothing simply because you don’t like feeling so constricted, but at least the material is soft enough that you think you’ll be able to handle this long enough to work out and then never force yourself into again.

Part of you wants to change back into your own clothes and tell Seungcheol that there’s no way you can wear this, but the other part of you doesn’t want to disappoint him by not wearing the clothes he went out of his way to buy for you. You figure after all the man has done for you over the past two months, the least you can do is wear the outfit.

You’ve never been self-conscious about your body; it’s not something you’ve ever much cared about, others perception of your physical body, yet today you hesitate before opening the door as a strange little concern of what Seungcheol will think of your body flashes through your mind. Thankfully, it truly is only a rapid worry and goes as soon as it arrives, so you don’t hover any longer than a second before leaving the changing room.

“People really wear this stuff regularly?” You wonder, drawing Seungcheol’s attention from where he’s arranging equipment on the open matted area, the only area he’s turned the lights on for.

“Yeah, that’s-” he cuts off abruptly when his eyes land on you while you approach him.

You see his lips move and can’t tell if he’s saying something to himself too quietly for you to hear or just imitating a fish. Either way, he looks ridiculous with once again wide eyes and his arms slowly dropping downwards as his hands grow lax.

It seems as if he’s somehow forgotten that he’s got a 1kg dumbbell in each hand and only remembers when one of them lands on his sock clad foot. “Fuck!” He exclaims, doubling over until he’s lowered to the mats with his hands clutching the impact site on the top of his right foot.

“Least it was only light,” you comment as you stop beside him, your slippers left next to his own at the side of the mats.

“The fucking corner landed on bone,” he grunts. You eye the bright green, hexagonal weight, and reason that yeah, that would hurt, even if it is made of neoprene as opposed to metal.

After a few moments of just standing in wait while watching him, Seungcheol straightens up with his hands on the tops of his thighs to look at you. Though he quickly looks away and removes his hoodie to toss at you.

“Please put that on for my sanity,” he pleads awkwardly.

“You’re red again,” you comment while you do as he asked and pull on his hoodie to zip up. It stops at your mid-thigh and past your hands. “This is a safety hazard, surely.”

Seungcheol looks at you as you flap the sleeves. His pinched expression smooths out and a gentle smile turns up the corners of his mouth. “A cute one at least.”

“I don’t think the cuteness of a hazard makes it any better, Seungcheol,” you point out, looking at him flatly.

He laughs softly and gets up to step closer to you and picks up one of your arms. “No, but it’s what we’re dealing with,” he reasons as he folds up the sleeve to the middle of your forearm to free your hand, then swaps to repeat on your other arm. You quietly watch him work, unaware that his gaze isn’t even on the material he’s handling but instead glued to your curious expression while his own is nothing but fond.

After an hour of Seungcheol refusing to let you do anything too arduous, he declares the work out over and guides you through a cool down that doesn’t do much to deter the rabbiting of your heart when the attractive man is still insisting on physically guiding you.

For the past hour, Seungcheol has been right by your side; manually adjusting you with his hands on your body and intense eyes tracking your form to make sure that you’re not about to hurt yourself by positioning yourself wrong. You’ve tried to tell him that you know how to do it all properly, you did more taxing exercises than this daily back when you were a Vulture, yet the stubborn ass doesn’t accept your words and reminds you that you’re months out of practice, before moving you into the next exercise.

To your relief, he deems you sufficiently cooled down, despite your pink cheeks, and lets you get up and grab a bottle of water from the drinks fridge to start swallowing the contents down.

“Aren’t you going to work out?” You ask a few seconds later as you watch him tidy up from a safe distance out of his reach.

You’re not an idiot, you know that Seungcheol is a beautiful man; you’ve known that from before you even met and simply had the knowledge confirmed the first time you laid eyes him in person. But you’ve met plenty of attractive men in your life and you’ve never felt your heart race just because their hands gently correct your posture, or their eyes remain focused on you intensely with nothing inappropriate in the dark shine.

That probably makes it even worse; that Seungcheol wasn’t even checking you out or trying to cop a feel. He was genuinely just trying to help and get you healthy again, like he always does.

Maybe his touch might’ve lingered a few times, but you refuse to assume that it was him wanting to touch you and not just that your perceptions of what a reasonable time frame is, differs from his own. You don’t want to think anything inappropriate of the man who has been nothing but kind and understanding to you, you don’t want to cross any boundaries even in your mind.

So even though this is the first time you’ve genuinely felt yourself gain even a little attraction to anyone, you push it down and do your best to ignore the way it’s impossible to miss his bulging arms in the short sleeves of his compression shirt and the way it makes heat tingle in your lower stomach.

“Hm?” Seungcheol replies, looking over at you briefly, then back to stacking the colourful dumbbells on a little rack that doesn’t match the rest of the black and silver equipment.

Suddenly, you wonder if he had bought more than just the clothes for you today while you thought he was out working. It doesn’t help your newfound attraction in the man to think about it; that he really did go out of his way purely for you, so you push that thought aside too.

“Aren’t you going to work out?” You repeat your question.

“I work out in the mornings.”

“Then you wore that just to show off,” you deduce and bite back a laugh as Seungcheol almost trips on the resistance band he’s picking up. “You’re very clumsy for a legendary Choi Centaur.”

“I’m not!” He argues, turning away in a manner you can only describe as sulky, to stalk over to the unit and shove the bands in the containers.

“You dropped a dumbbell on your foot and just almost tripped on a resistance band.”

“Not my fault,” he mumbles poutily and picks up the last item to put away. “Grab your stuff so we can go get a snack. Then you can change, and we can go back to my office and work on the plan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Seungcheol trips over his own slippers.

For the past few weeks, Seungcheol has allowed you to leave the manor grounds to go out into the middle wall where the Centaurs mostly work from and keep supplies, protected by the two walls around the ring of warehouses and buildings.

At first, he had shown you around with the intention of letting you know how he runs things and what he has at his fingertips so that you can accurately make suggestions of how he can take apart your father’s gang. 

But then once you entered the garage where the head mechanic was swearing at his team for messing up a basic task again, and the short man had rhetorically asked a question about which tool to use for a task, you had answered. More to yourself, but Seungcheol heard and called the head mechanic over.

When Seungcheol queried the mechanic about what the correct tool was, Jihoon had responded with a quip about his team not even knowing basic mechanical skills despite knowing much more complex stuff, and then the tool name. Seungcheol had pretty much handed you over to the mechanic then and there, wished you luck with Jihoon’s temper, then left the pair of you to figure out where to go from there.

Judging by the way Seungcheol grumbles when you turn up late to your workouts and meetings after being introduced to Jihoon, you don’t think Seungcheol intended for you and Jihoon to become friends.

After that first meeting, Jihoon often calls you out to the garage to assist him; he says he prefers your straightforward approach and focus than his team’s puttering, and you enjoy the time with the mechanic too much to care about Seungcheol’s grumping.

Your father never really allowed you to do stereotypically masculine things such as getting your hands dirty or even learning theoretical knowledge on how cars work; though you still did your own research and hungrily consumed every drop of information you could. So being able to finally scratch that curious itch about mechanics makes something within you brighten and lighten, which means as far as you’re aware, Seungcheol can sulk all he wants; you’re never going to turn down Jihoon when he asks for your assistance or offers to let you watch and learn.

“What the fuck are you doing with that?!” Jihoon yells when he notices one of his mechanics touching Seungcheol’s favourite motorbike from across the garage to where the two of you are sitting on the ground. There’s an engine sitting on a mat in front of you so that he can more accurately explain how it all works while pointing out the different parts, for today’s lesson.

The two men abruptly back away from the motorbike but Jihoon is already getting up to stalk over and grab a rag to whip it at them harshly. Only when they apologise and repeatedly bow rapidly does he tell them to get lost and then turn to buff out their greasy fingerprints from the sleek, cherry red paint job, grumbling under his breath as he goes.

Now that Jihoon is across the garage and you’re not listening to him talking, you can hear a couple of the mechanics talking between themselves a little behind you at the car they’re working on. You don’t really pay any attention though until you hear “the kid” and tilt your head ever so slightly to focus on their low voices and spy on them from your peripheral.

“Seriously, should just get rid of him, I ain’t gonna bow to a retard when the boss dies,” one grunts. Your jaw immediately clenches, and anger starts to simmer in your veins.

“Shut up, man, you can’t say shit like that,” the other warns and to your relief, he actually sounds like he’s truly scolding the man and not just trying to prevent him getting in trouble.

“Why not?” The first man asks with a scoff. “Who’s gonna stop me? Boss ain’t here, Woozi’s across the garage and I doubt that dumb bitch is even listening.”

“Fuck off, she’s smarter than you. She caught your mistake yesterday; that’s the only reason you’re calling her names. Well, that and she’s not interested in you, got your back up, huh?”

“Reckon she’s fucking the boss; that’s the only reason she’s here.” He grunts as he adjusts something under the bonnet.

“None of our business.”

“Whatever, just as long as she don’t pop out another retard like that annoying fucking kid.”

That’s as much as you can handle.

You get up and turn to approach. Both men are entirely unaware of your presence until you grab the back of the second man’s overalls to yank him out of the way. He stumbles back with a yelp and the first man looks over curiously, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes fly wide in panicked shock when you knock down the prop holding the bonnet up and then pull it down harshly onto him with a resounding thud while he screams in pain.

“What the fuck?!” Jihoon exclaims and runs over to pull you back and lift the bonnet up to free the man, who immediately slinks to the floor while writhing in pain with his hands on his back. “Why the fuck did you do that, Pearl?!” Jihoon yells, turning burning eyes on you.

“He was shit talking Solie,” you answer, glaring at the man.

Immediately, Jihoon’s anger at you is directed to the man. “What?” He hisses.

“She-she’s lying!” The man wails. “C-crazy bitch!”

Jihoon steps closer and shoves the man over onto his front with his foot before pressing it down on the impact spot from the edge of the bonnet, where the man is gripping, making him scream in pain. “Don’t you fucking dare call her that,” Jihoon warns lowly and takes his phone from his pocket. “Coups will want to deal with this personally.”

“No, no, p-please, Woozi,” the man pleads through sobs while trying to remove Jihoon’s foot from his back. Jihoon just pushes down harder until there’s an audible crack, making the man wail louder, as he lifts his ringing phone to his ear.

It only takes a few rings for the call to be picked up, then Jihoon speaks. “Hey, Coups, you’re gonna wanna come here, got something for you to handle.” That’s all he says before waiting a second for a response then he hangs up and tucks his phone back into his overalls pocket. “Clear the garage,” Jihoon orders, looking over at the second man, who simply nods before rushing off to tell all of the other mechanics to make themselves scarce.

“Won’t he try to run?” You comment when Jihoon moves away from the man to inspect the slightly dented bonnet.

“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Jihoon replies with a shrug then looks at you with a little smirk. “But also judging by the fact this is bent; I think you slammed it on him hard enough that moving that much is going to be too fucking painful. Didn’t know you had it in you, Pearl.”

“Say what you want about me, I don’t care, but talk about an innocent kid like that, especially Solie, I’m not going to let that go.”

“Good, proves you’re one of us, unlike that piece of shit.” Jihoon glares at the sobbing man on the floor. He’s still laid crying on his stomach as if he’s either given up trying to move or simply can’t. 

It’s almost ten minutes before Seungcheol arrives from around the other side of the middle wall where he had been meeting new recruits with Mingyu, Soonyoung and Wonwoo.

Wonwoo is the man in charge of organising all of Seungcheol’s men while Soonyoung is in charge of training them; something that still surprises you based on how innocent and upbeat Soonyoung always seems in the manor. You’ve never seen him outside of the inner wall, but you can only imagine he’s a completely different man.

In fact, you think the only man who is pretty much the same in the manor and out here is Jihoon. Sure, he plays with Hansol and Chan, and he laughs with everyone in the house a lot more than out here, but he is still to the point and no nonsense in both places. You like that about him; his consistency and that there’s no pointless guessing with him. You always know what he wants and expects because he’s straightforward about it.

Seungcheol enters the garage alone with a dark, intimidating scowl already on his face knowing that something has to have gone wrong for Jihoon of all people to call him away from work. “What happened?”

“This fuckwit decided to shit talk your son,” Jihoon informs bluntly, arms crossed over his chest casually where he’s leaning against the car beside the bonnet, which no longer closes properly.

“I-I didn’t,” the man on the floor sobs. “P-please.”

“Woozi doesn’t fuck around when it comes to family,” Seungcheol growls while turning the man over onto his back before yanking him up from the ground by the front of his overalls, making him scream in pain. “What the fuck have you done to him already to make him like this?” Seungcheol wonders, looking over at Jihoon, then shaking the man pointedly to make him cry out again without moving his lower body at all, only his arms that scramble to grip Seungcheol and try to fruitlessly pry his strong grip away.

“Pearl slammed the bonnet on him,” Jihoon smirks, motioning to the dent at his side.

Seungcheol looks over at you. “You paralysed him?”

“That was likely a joint effort, Woozi stood on his back,” you reply rationally. “He was moving before then.”

“Good point,” Jihoon agrees. “We both had a part in it.”

“Only been out here for two weeks and you’re already teaming up to fuck up people’s lives,” Seungcheol mutters, giving the pair of you a look as if he’s not sure he quite approves of this new teamwork, yet he doesn’t say anything more and instead looks back at the man in his hold. “Alright, they started it but I’m going to finish it.”

“Please don’t kill me,” the man begs, practically choking out the words.

“Oh, that would be too kind, I want you to live and suffer,” Seungcheol replies sweetly and drops the man to the floor abruptly, earning echoed screams of pain. “Sweetheart, you should go wait outside.”

“Why?” You question as you watch Seungcheol drag the man over to the drain before lowering to his knees and pulling a butterfly knife from his pocket while the man whimpers and continuously begs for mercy.

“Because this isn’t going to be pretty.”

“As if I’m innocent,” you remind with a scoff while folding your arms over your chest.

Seungcheol lets out a sigh then motions to the man as Jihoon stops behind him with a blow torch, a small piece of flat metal and a pair of heat safe gloves. Jihoon nods and kneels down to make sure the man stays in place while Seungcheol gets up and walks over to you.

Silently, he takes your hand and leads you further away from the pair to the midpoint between them and the exit. There, he turns you to face him while all but whispering your name. “Please, go outside; I don’t want you to see me like this,” he requests softly, giving you such an earnest, pleading look that you nod in agreement before you fully register your own decision. He lets out a relieved breath and cups your cheek with a grateful little smile before letting you go and stalking back over to Jihoon and the sobbing man, stern expression returning.

Confusedly, you exit the garage and close the door firmly before moving to sit on the bonnet of Seungcheol’s car in wait.

Although there is plenty of noise around you from the nearby buildings and people milling around, you can still hear the agonised screams coming from within the garage a minute later.

It doesn’t last long before you hear nothing more from within the garage.

You’re only outside for a few minutes before Seungcheol exits while wiping his bloodied hands on a rag. Thanks to the fact he had removed his jacket once you left the garage to not get it dirty, his arms are exposed in his short-sleeved t-shirt, and you can see more blood splashed up his forearms.

“That was quick,” you comment as he approaches you and shrugs his jacket from where it’s slung over his shoulder, onto the bonnet at your side while still wiping at his hands.

“He passed out part way,” he explains simply.  

“What did you do to him?”

“I already told you that I don’t want you to see me like that.”

“I’m not seeing, you’re telling.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs and looks up at you instead of his hands. You can see specks of blood on his jaw and throat that you know he’ll miss with the rag; he might not even know more than his hands and arms are dirty.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Jihoon.”

“Why are you so fucking interested?”

“I just want to know what you did; he deserves to suffer after what he said.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment before responding. “What did he say exactly, sweetheart?”

“Tell me what you were doing, and I’ll tell you what he said.”

He makes a frustrated sound yet relents. “I was cutting out his fucking tongue, happy?”

“Did you finish?”

“What?”

“You said he passed out; did you stop then or finish the job?”

“Of course, I fucking finished the job,” he grunts and looks down to start scrubbing at his arm harshly. “Now tell me what the fuck that piece of shit said about my son.”

“He called him a retard. Twice,” you inform, taking the rag from Seungcheol’s hand as he freezes, so that you can wipe at his skin with the too dry material much more gently than he had been.

“I should kill him,” he growls.

“No,” you argue levelly and gently tilt his head up so that he’s looking at you instead of burning holes into his own arm with his dangerous glare.

“He fucking-”

“Death would be too easy, right?” You remind and cup his cheek to tug him closer, until he’s standing between your knees, and you can gently start wiping away the speckles on his jaw. “I don’t know if he will recover from the back injury, but if so, it will take a long time. And I know from experience that a person with their tongue missing, even only a small part of it, will suffer, often with phantom pains. Death would be too easy.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a few minutes as your tender touch soothes him, even if your only intention is to clean him and not calm his anger, but it does. When he tilts into your palm, you look up into his eyes and find him looking at you in a way that makes your heart flutter.

“Death would be too easy,” he agrees quietly. “Thank you.”

“You can’t see yourself, you always miss your neck,” you point out, focusing back on wiping down his skin as best as you can with the stained rag.

“I didn’t mean that, though yes, thank you for always cleaning up where I miss.”

“Mm, don’t want the boys seeing that.”

“No, we don’t,” he agrees and straightens up when you remove your hand so that you can clean that side of his face too. “I meant for standing up for Hansol, thank you; for having my family’s back.”

“Of course, you took me and my brother in, your family has accepted mine and that…well it’s more than I’ve ever had. I’m endlessly grateful to you, Seungcheol, and to Hansol for taking Chan under his wing and being so wonderful to him. I’d do anything for you both, as long as it doesn’t negatively impact Chan, of course.”

“I’d never want you to do anything that does,” he promises. “I won’t ever put you in a dangerous position willingly and I’d tear the city apart to hurt anyone that tries to hurt you.”

You look at him with brows furrowed questioningly. “Why? I’m not your family or inner circle.”

“You really think that?” He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Sweetheart, you’re not just in the house because I want to keep your brother safe and with Hansol. You’ve proven yourself over and over again the past almost three months. You’ve given me all the information you have on the Vulture and his fucked-up cronies and helped me plan every move we’ve made so far. I’ve been trying to chip away at that gang for years but never had the chance because no-one we’ve caught fucking talks. I’ll give ‘em that, they know how to keep their mouths shut fucking tight.”

“That’s the torture resistance training,” you state matter-of-factly.

“What?” Seungcheol mutters. “Torture resistance training? Like they’ve been tortured so they know how to keep quiet?” You nod in confirmation. “Did…did you go through that too?”

“Yeah, we all do before getting our brands.”

“Fuck, I can’t believe he forced his daughter to go through torture like that.”

“You don’t know the half of what that man is capable of, Seungcheol,” you reason, before looking down at his arms and frowning. “I think you need water to clean up properly; this rag is too covered in blood now.”

“There’s wipes in the glovebox,” he motions to the car, so you nudge him back to give you space to slide off the bonnet and walk around, open the car, and reach inside with your hand not smeared in blood to grab the packet of wet wipes. They’re the same brand as the ones placed all over the manor for when Hansol, and now Chan, need to be cleaned without sending them to the bathroom to wash their hands and face.

Something about cleaning the blood from the man’s neck with the wipes from the packet with cartoon dinosaurs on it, makes you start to giggle.

Seungcheol watches you amusedly, and very bewildered, for a few seconds before questioning you. “What’s funny?”

“Just cleaning up the big bad Choi Centaur boss with wipes embossed with cute dinosaurs.”

“Oh,” he mutters, then chuckles. “I’ve never thought about it before, but I guess that is pretty funny. Hansol really likes these ones; they’re not too wet without drying like right away, and they don’t smell of anything.”

“Mm, they’re good ones, Chan likes them too. He never usually likes wet wipes but he’s fine with these; he says they’re soft.”

“They are, but you’re also just really gentle. Hard to imagine the woman who just slammed a man in a car and broke his back is this…tender.”

“Only to those who deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve it.”

You land a stern look on him. “Don’t bullshit me, Choi Seungcheol, you deserve to be cared for and treated tenderly. You’re not a truly bad man. You have done a lot of fucked up shit and will continue to, so your soul isn’t ever going to be pure, but your heart is.”

You watch as a barrage of emotions flicker over Seungcheol’s face, eyes darting between your own as he searches for any hint of uncertainty, yet when he finds none, he presses his lips together and inhales slowly and deeply.

When he lets the breath out, it’s a little shaky. “I think- I think if anyone else tried to say that to me, I wouldn’t believe them,” he admits quietly, voice tinged with emotion and a little weak in places as if your honesty has sucked the strength from his very core. “But I trust you, with everything in me and that- that’s kind of fucking terrifying, if I’m honest with you.”

“I can imagine you don’t trust easily, being who you are.”

“No, I really fucking don’t,” he lets out a broken little laugh before stepping closer to remove the packet from your left hand and wipe from your right hand to toss them onto the car behind you so that he can pull you into his arms in an embrace so warm despite the man only wearing a t-shirt on his torso in the early spring weather. “You are one of the most important people to me, sweetheart, so please don’t ever do anything to break my trust. I don’t think I could come back from a betrayal by you of all people.”

“Ditto,” is your simple response against his shoulder, making him laugh slightly.

He holds you a moment longer then lets you go. “Come on, I’m done with work for the day.”

“It’s not even lunch time.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he replies, grabbing everything from the bonnet to toss onto the backseat of the car carelessly. “Come on, I want to spend the rest of the day with you and the boys.”

“Oh!” You light up and rush to get into the passenger seat, excited to spend time with your favourite three people in the world.

Even though you’ve barely entered the house, you can hear Chan’s distressed wailing easily. A huge part of you wants to sprint straight to him so that you can soothe him and fix whatever the issue is, but you know the difference between his cries, and this isn’t a pained one.

Knowing that your brother isn’t hurt, you manage to keep your cool long enough to remove your boots at Seungcheol’s side and step out of your dirty overalls to toss into the laundry room. It leaves you in the exercise leggings Seungcheol had brought you, which you have actually gained quite fond of even if you only wear them under your overalls, and an oversized t-shirt you think might be Mingyu’s. Then you rush towards the playroom upstairs with Seungcheol right on your heels.

You don’t realise that his eyes are glued to your ass dumbly as he follows a few steps behind you up the stairs, until he tries to stand on a step that doesn’t exist at the top having not been paying attention, and he falls forward right into you, taking you both down to the floor with a loud thump.

“What the fuck, Seungcheol?” You grunt, shoving him off of you to turn over and look at him incredulously. 

“Sorry, sorry.” He’s blushing embarrassedly and not looking at you as he scrambles to his feet and helps you up.

“What was that?” Junhui calls from the bottom of the stairs.

“Just fell, it’s fine!” Seungcheol returns.

“You fell? You never fall.” The cook mumbles away as he wanders back to his domain to work on lunch.

“How have you hidden how clumsy you are from them all?” You wonder.

“I’m not clumsy,” Seungcheol defends, doing his best not to pout as he turns you around and walks you to the playroom with his hands on your shoulders.

As soon as you step into the large room, you understand the issue.

Over in the crafts corner, Seungkwan is trying to soothe your brother where he’s laid on the floor kicking and screaming with paint on his raised hand, while Hansol watches with a concerned frown.

Silently, you grab the wipes from the shelf and walk over to begin cleaning at Chan’s skin. He calms as he feels the paint being washed from his hands.

“Oh, it’s the paint,” Seungkwan realises with a soft exhale.

“Mm, he doesn’t like slimy textures,” you inform.

“I know he doesn’t like actual slime, but we’ve never tried paints, so I didn’t realise it counts.”

“He likes painting but it’s better with those paint sticks so there’s less chance of getting on his skin.”

“Ah, I’ll order some,” Seungkwan says and finally notices Seungcheol standing a little behind you. “Oh, Coups, you’re back early for lunch today.”

“Mm, decided to give myself the rest of the day off, which means you get it off too and we’ll take over, once we’ve both showered, that is.” He motions between himself and you.

“Both showered?” Seungkwan smirks at his boss, who scowls in return, making the younger snigger. “Alright, alright, you two can take over after you’ve showered.”

“Separately,” Seungcheol adds, making you look at him curiously and notice how he’s almost glaring at Seungkwan, who you find grinning when you look at him. You don’t quite understand what’s going on between the pair right now, though quickly decide to ignore it and instead turn back to finish cleaning up your brother.

“Yeah? Then why are you still standing there as if you’re waiting to go together? Your rooms are on opposite ends of the floor.”

“Shut up. I’ll be back quickly.”

“You’re going to come paint with me, daddy?” Hansol asks, then begins to bounce excitedly when his father nods in confirmation; it makes Seungcheol’s ire melt away and a smile lifts his features seeing how happy his son is to spend time together.

“I’ll be right back, ‘kay, bud?”

“Kay!” Hansol agrees and turns to hop back to his easel and splat his hand into the paint tray to smear colours over his paper, turning it an even murkier brown than his efforts already have.

Seungcheol pulls a slight face at the mess his son is making, knowing he’s going to have to try and get him to paint a legible picture, or get equally as messy himself, before turning and leaving while mentally reminding himself to not wear clothes he wants to keep paint free.

Once you’ve got Chan cleaned up and back on his feet, he glares distrustfully at Seungkwan when the man tries to encourage him back to his own easel.

“We can be extra careful now that I know you don’t like how paint feels, Squirt,” Seungkwan promises, yet Chan steps closer to you as if you’re going to protect him from the mean man and his slimy paints.

“Why don’t you sit and watch Solie paint for now and when I’m back, we’ll try it together, hm?” You say to Chan softly while patting his hips gently in encouragement. He looks at you. “We can paint the sea, how about that? With some nice blues and greens and when it’s dry, we can display it in our room, yeah?” Chan looks much more enthusiastic now that you’ve mentioned the sea and nods. “Okay, good, you sit down and watch, I’ll be back soon, okay?” Another nod before he toddles over to sit on the floor near his own easel yet watches Hansol.

“One day I’ll remember the sea is his weakness,” Seungkwan muses. You laugh softly and get up. “Enjoy your shower, Pearl!” He sing-songs as you leave the room, earning a puzzled look from you that he just giggles at before turning and jolting forward to stop Hansol squirting red paint directly from the bottle onto his picture.

By the time you’re back in the playroom, Seungcheol is already present and to your surprise, he’s not kneeling with his son, who is on brown mess number four, but behind Chan. Your brother is standing with his back to Seungcheol’s chest and his tiny hand in the man’s while Seungcheol carefully helps Chan brush blue over his paper, only a little paint on his brush at a time to minimise the risk of paint splattering onto Chan’s skin.

Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and you think it’s the first time you’ve seen Seungcheol alone with both boys, but you really don’t mind that the nanny left. Although Seungcheol hasn’t spent anywhere near as much time with Chan, you trust him entirely with your brother.

Seungcheol looks at you when you near them. “Hope you don’t mind I started Squirt off without you, Kwan said you plan to paint the sea with him.”

“Not at all, you’re doing a great job together,” you enthuse and brush back Chan’s hair from his eyes. He looks at you with a proud grin that makes you smile back. “How about you keep painting, and I’ll see if Solie wants to expand his palette past brown?”

“Is that okay, Squirt?” Seungcheol asks Chan softly. “That I stay with you?” Chan thinks about it for a second while glancing at the man behind him yet nods as soon as he looks at their progress in front of them. It makes Seungcheol beam at the quiet boy accepting his assistance despite you being right by his side and available to help. “Great, I’m really enjoying painting with you, Squirt, it’s really nice.” Seungcheol continues to talk softly to Chan while you walk over and kneel down beside where Hansol stands.

“So, what are we doing here, Sol?” You wonder.

“I want to make a rainbow, but it keeps going brown,” Hansol admits with a disappointed sigh. “Uncle Kwan doesn’t understand and keeps drawing a rainbow for me to paint over but it’s not what I want.”

“You want it all swirled together?”

“Yeah!” Hansol nods. “But it goes brown every time.” The sigh he lets out is world weary verging on frustrated. “I don’t understand, Aunt Pearl.”

It’s the first time Hansol has called you aunt, and it throws you off for a moment. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder to see if Seungcheol heard, but he’s focused on what he’s doing, and you don’t want to distract him from Chan, so you turn back to Hansol. “If you over blend, it’ll go brown; it’s what happens when you mix all the colours together, basically.”

“Oh. So, I can’t make a swirly rainbow?” Hansol pouts at you sadly. “I wanted to make it for Uncle Gyu for his gift.”

“Gift?”

“Mm, it’s his birthday today.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that” you admit.

“He doesn’t like presents other than things I make.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And Squirt. I asked Uncle Gyu in secret, and he said he would love a picture from Squirt too if he wants to make him one, so we been trying. But” he sighs heavily and looks back at his brown, almost dripping paper. “It’s all crap.”

“Hansol!” Seungcheol scolds, proving that he has been listening, even if not consciously, so he must’ve heard his son call you aunt and just not cared. It makes you feel like they really have accepted you into the family the group has here, and your heart warms in your chest.

“What?!” Hansol replies, looking at his dad with big, genuinely innocent eyes. “At least I didn’t say shit!” You can’t help it, you start to laugh, making Hansol giggle proudly while Seungcheol sighs exasperatedly behind you.

“Please don’t laugh, Pearl, now he’s going to think it’s funny to swear and I don’t want him picking up that bad habit. Especially so young,” Seungcheol reasons.

“You’re right, you’re right,” you concede, trying to stop your laughter, though a few giggles still slip through while Hansol continues to grin at you with sparkling eyes. “Swearing is bad, Solie, you’re far too young to have the habit. At least wait until you’re ten.”

“Pearl!” Seungcheol exclaims, making you and Hansol burst into giggles while the man dramatically lets out a breath then turns his attention solely to Chan. “You’re the only one I can rely on to be good mannered, Squirt. Don’t take after your sister and Hansol.” Chan blinks at Seungcheol a few times then turns back to his painting with a little urging sound while moving their connected hands back to the paper. “Okay,” Seungcheol chuckles softly. “We’ll focus on our masterpiece and those delinquents can do their own thing.”

“Alright,” you start when you’ve stopped laughing and moved closer to Hansol. “Let’s clean all this up so we can start fresh and make Uncle Gyu the best swirly rainbow he’s ever seen.”

“Hell yeah!” Hansol cheers. Seungcheol sighs.

“Hey,” Jisoo greets softly as he sits at your side on the bench at the side of the playground, where you’re watching Seungcheol and the two boys play after lunch.

They’re probably burning off all the calories they consumed not even twenty minutes ago, but you don’t mind. The three look so happy that you know Junhui won’t even mind having to make them snacks so soon after lunch.

“Hi,” you respond, smiling at the man a little before looking forward again.

He doesn’t say anything more, just watches the three with something a little longing in his eyes. You don’t know Jisoo that well; he’s probably around the manor the least as one of the leading paediatric doctors at the busiest public hospital in the area, while also being at Seungcheol’s beck and call as Centaur’s secret private doctor. Jisoo is always busy, but when you get the chance to see him, you often find him quietly watching Hansol with this same look in his eyes.

Although it’s not really your place, you can’t help but let your curiosity win out. “Do you want your own?” You wonder, glancing between the man on your left and the three darting around the apparatus with their feet slapping over the rubber tarmac rapidly and laughter in the air.

“Hm?” Jisoo hums questioning while looking at you, so you motion over to the three.

“Kids, I’ve noticed you look at Hansol that way a lot.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise I’m that obvious.” He chuckles and lets his gaze find the seven-year-old again, so you copy. “I don’t necessarily want my own, no.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know about Hansol’s mother?”

That makes you look back at him intrigued. “No, nobody has ever mentioned her.”

“She was my best friend. We came here together from LA almost ten years ago. She wanted to study Korean cuisine; she loved to cook and wanted to open her own restaurant and I…I was so in love with her that I didn’t want to be without her, so I applied to study medicine here and as soon as I got accepted, we came over.”

“Oh…I assume you didn’t get together.”

“No,” he smiles at you a little then turns back to watch the three play and you turn too, figuring you’ve probably been staring at him for too long, especially for such a personal topic. “I wasn’t brave enough to ever tell her how I felt and at the time, I always assumed she didn’t know. But I learned with time that she always knew, just never cared.”

“That doesn’t sound like you were her best friend, even if she was yours.”

Jisoo lets out a short, soft laugh. “You’re right; I was just so infatuated that I didn’t realise that it was always me making the effort and caring more.”

“What a bitch.”

“Mm, she was, but you know what they say about hindsight.”

“No?” You look at him confusedly and seeing you turn to him in his periphery, he looks at you.

“Hindsight is 20/20.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that everything is clearer after the fact. Like 20/20 vision.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” you murmur and turn back around. He does the same. “How did she become, well, Hansol’s mother?”

“She worked at a restaurant Coups frequented, and they hit it off. I tried to keep her away from him; I knew he was bad news just from the like, aura or whatever but she was into it. Which shouldn’t have surprised me; she had terrible taste in guys in high school; always went for assholes.”

“Seungcheol isn’t an asshole.”

“No, he’s not, but I didn’t know that. I never gave him the chance and treated him harshly and dismissively. He just mirrored it back to me and often teased me by silently rubbing it in my face that he had her; putting his hands all over her, kissing her way too inappropriately for public settings.” He chuckles. “And again, I completely missed that she clearly knew what he was doing and why and always went along with a pleased giggle. I just thought she was giggling because she liked it, not that she liked flaunting that she was fucking someone that wasn’t me.”

“She just wanted your attention,” you understand, and he hums in confirmation. “And then I assume she got pregnant along there.”

“Yeah. Coups put her up in a safe house to protect her and keep the baby secret and she played along; fooled us both that she wanted it and wanted to marry him when he asked. But then two months after Hansol was born, she left. Confessed she never wanted to have the baby but doesn’t believe in abortion, so she played along; let Coups think she loved him while planning to leave the entire time.”

“She played you both?” You gawp at him, and he just nods in confirmation. “I think I hate her.”

Jisoo laughs and looks at you. “I know you say that for Coup’s benefit, but I’m taking it as you’re on my side too.”

“I am,” you assure without hesitation, making his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “I don’t really know you, but you seem like a nice guy, sweet; you don’t deserve to be treated so poorly. I hope that’s where you realised what a bitch she is and kicked her aside.”

“I wish I had been that smart,” he gives you a sad little smile. “I asked her to stay with me because I loved her and couldn’t live without her. I was in the middle of my studying and couldn’t leave. My family put all they had into my education, and I couldn’t disappoint them by wasting their money to follow her back to LA. I even said I’d return with her the second I could get a transfer, but she refused no matter how much I cried and begged. She didn’t even look upset to see me so broken and it still took me weeks of barely functioning in a country with no-one by my side before I accepted the truth.”

“That she’s a giant bitch.”

Jisoo nods. “That she’s a giant bitch,” he confirms, making you smile, which he returns before you both look back at the three. “I didn’t see Hansol for a few years until he was rushed into the ER while I was on rotation, and he was suffering his first allergic reaction. That was when I finally realised that Coups is not a bad guy; when I saw him stay beside Hansol’s bedside all through the night without rest and refused to take his son away until he had been triple checked over. I’ve stuck around since, but sometimes when I look at Hansol, I see her and it hurts, even now.”

“That fucking sucks.”

Jisoo chokes out a laugh at your response, though makes a noise of agreement. “Yeah, it does fucking suck. But I love that boy and I’m so grateful that Coups lets me be his godfather and uncle and live under the same roof despite it all.”

“He’s a good man.”

“He really is. You’re good for him, you know?”

“What?” You give him a bewildered look. “How?”

“He’s always been a great dad; I truly couldn’t deny it even if I wanted to. I’ve never seen a parent love their child so fiercely, but up until the past few months, he hasn’t been in the house as much. He gets home a lot earlier now, puts Hansol to bed pretty much every night and it’s done them both the world of good. Hansol’s a generally happy kid, but he used to have a lot of days where he was quiet and withdrawn because he missed his dad; cried for hours, but now he doesn’t get the chance to miss him.”

“Oh, that’s good then, I’m glad I can apparently do that.”

“Me too. He’s happier too, Coups, I mean. I don’t know what you’ve been doing but keep it up. A happy boss means we’re all happier,” he jokes and pats your hand on your thigh before he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I’ve got a late surgery tonight.”

“Oh, I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you, Pearl, I hope it does too.” He smiles at you gratefully before walking off inside.

A few minutes later, Chan rushes over to you with his hands clasped in front of his crotch. “Wee,” he declares, so you get up and take him to the closest bathroom so that he can use the toilet. “Per,” he calls as he sits on the toilet, swinging his legs while you wait just outside of the cracked open door to give him privacy to do his business.

“Yeah, baby?” You ask, peering over at him.

“I like Sunny,” he informs simply, making you smile knowing exactly who he means for the fact he calls one person Sunny due to struggling to say his name.

“You like Seungcheol?” He nods in confirmation. “Me too, Squirt.”

“Sunny like us too?”

“Yeah, he likes us too.”

“And Solie?”

“Solie likes us, yeah.”

“I like Solie lots.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

He wiggles off of the toilet when he’s done, so you turn back around and wait for him to finish the routine, smiling as he sings to himself while washing his hands to make sure he washes them for a sufficient amount of time.

When you hear him nearing, you push off of the doorframe to give him space to exit the bathroom without opening the door wider. Silently, he takes your hand and the two of you walk to the backdoor to put your boots back on.

“Per?” Chan asks when you’re tying your own boots while he waits with his own already zipped up securely. You hum questioningly. “I sleepover Solie?”

You look at your brother in surprise. “You want to have a sleepover with Solie?”

“Solie said we sleep in his bed and watch Nemo.”

“Oh,” you smile in understanding, knowing that mentioning Chan’s favourite movie is a very persuasive way to get the six-year-old to agree to almost anything. “I think it would be nice for you to have your first sleepover with someone other than me.”

“Oh, no Per?”

“No, baby, just you and Solie.” He frowns uncertainly. “I can see if there is a room I can stay in near to Solie’s bedroom, so I’ll be close by.”

“Per stay close to Squirt.”

“You’ll be safe even if I’m not there, we’re safe here, aren’t we?”

“Safe with Sunny.”

“Yeah, baby, we’re safe with Sunny.”

“I like Sunny.” You can’t help but laugh softly before taking his hand and going outside.

Seungcheol is sprawled over the bench catching his breath while his son bounces away on the trampoline, higher than he ever does with Chan knowing that the younger doesn’t like anything but essentially bobbing on the trampoline.

“Tired out?” You tease as you lean on the back of the bench and peer down at Seungcheol while Chan happily rushes over to stand in wait at the side of the trampoline for Hansol, before they both run to the slides; Chan’s favourite playground activity and one Hansol is always more than willing to indulge his best friend with, no matter how many times they go up and down.

“I think I’m officially getting old, sweetheart,” Seungcheol declares, making you laugh before you circle around the bench. “Just sit on me, I’m too tired to move.”

With a shrug, you sit on his thighs sideways with your feet just touching the ground, and he gawps at you. “You told me to,” you reason.

“I didn’t expect you actually would.”

“Oh, is this one of those things where people say things they don’t actually mean for some bizarre fucking reason?” You mutter and start to get up, but Seungcheol abruptly sits up and winds his arm around your waist to keep you on his lap.

“My lap is always available for you,” he declares.

“It’s a sturdy lap,” you comment and pat the side of his thigh between the gap in your own, making him chuckle. He swings his legs around to plant his feet on the floor while turning you until your back is against his chest and his chin is on your shoulder.

You’ve not been held like this in a long time, and even then, it hadn’t made your stomach flutter with butterflies, just twist with disgust at the touch of the men you had to lure. There wasn’t a choice but to let those men touch you back then, but you know that Seungcheol would let you go without complaint if you said you didn’t want him to touch you.

That security is probably why you lean back against his chest and let your arms lay over his, other than your rapidly growing feelings for the man, of course. Those definitely influence your decision to get comfortable in his hold and hope that he can’t feel the way your heart skips a beat or two when he tightens his grasp on you to hold you even closer.

For a little while, you sit in a peaceful quiet, contently watching the two boys make laps with the slides and smiling hearing them giggling away together happily.

Then, you remember what Chan had said and figure this is a good time to bring it up. “Chan said Solie asked him to have a sleepover,” you inform.

“Oh, yeah, he’s been bugging me to let it happen as if I would ever say no. I just kept saying it’s not my decision but Squirt’s and somehow Sol took that as I haven’t said yes and kept asking until I agreed this morning.”

“You hadn’t. If you just said that he needs to ask Chan, then you hadn’t actually given him explicit permission so asking Chan wouldn’t make logical sense until he knows for certain that you’re okay with it.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of it like that. Alright, I see the point and will try to remember to be more explicit in the future.”

“And here I thought you don’t want him swearing,” you joke, then start to giggle when he thunks his head against yours in playful scolding.

“Does Chan want to have a sleepover?”

“He wants to try, I think, especially as Solie said they can watch Nemo.”

“Ah, the way to the little turtle’s heart,” Seungcheol replies with an understanding hum.

“Yep, but he didn’t realise I wouldn’t be there. I said I can see if there’s an empty room near Solie’s I can stay in, so I’ll be close.”

“Ah, I’m afraid there isn’t. We’re at the end of the hall opposite each other and Kwan is on one side to him and it’s a storage room next to mine, then the other guys follow those rooms.”

“Oh.”

“Well, you could stay in my room though.” You look at him as if he’s crazy. “I didn’t mean with me!” He defends while straightening up. “I can sleep in another room for the night, and you can have mine.”

“I’m not taking over your room, Seungcheol.”

“It’s just for a night and if it makes Chan more comfortable so they can have their first sleepover, I really don’t mind.”

“No, that would mean you’re away from Hansol too, I refuse to do that.”

“Ah, right. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’d be okay, I’ve spent nights away before so it’s not like he’s never had a night without me. I don’t know how I’d sleep though; I never sleep well in beds that aren’t mine, or at least if I’m alone in them.”

“Well then, you definitely have to keep your own bed.”

“Mm…what if…and I’m not being a pervert before you say as much, but my bed is fucking huge, seriously, it’s ridiculously big I hate changing the fucking sheets so it’s the only reason I let the staff in to my room-”

“Does that mean you clean your own room and don’t have a woman do it, Seungcheol?” Your teasing jibe earns an unimpressed look from the man, which you giggle at.

“One day you’ll let that go.”

“Never.” You grin as he sighs. “So, what were you saying, anyway?”

“We could have our own sleepover,” he suggests timidly and bites on his bottom lip before continuing to talk while you stare at him blankly. “J-just like, because then we’re both right opposite the boys’ room and so they know where we are and we know where they are and they can enjoy their first sleepover with another kid, and my bed is big enough that we will have plenty of space without even touching, like another two grown adults could fit between us and we’d still not fall off the edges.”

“That sounds like an unnecessarily big bed, Seungcheol.”

He lets out a breath you hadn’t noticed he was holding. “Yeah, it kinda is. Comfortable as fuck though so I’m keeping it until it’s ruined.”

“That should take some time, in theory, unless you piss the bed.”

Seungcheol sputters. “I don’t…Hansol has a few times though, but it’s been thoroughly cleaned since then and I’ve invested in really good mattress protectors, it should last.”

“Good to know,” you murmur and turn back around to watch the boys, still going up and down the slides.

Honestly, just watching the repetitive play bores you so you have no idea how Hansol happily goes along with it when he’s usually so easily bored. Even you would’ve asked Chan to play something else by now, but Hansol just cheers when Chan jumps off the bottom of the slide then races him around to the steps.

“Jisoo told me about Hansol’s mother,” you announce gently, aware that it’s likely a touchy subject.

“Oh, I wondered what you two were talking about,” he admits with a sigh while his arms tighten ever so slightly around you. “It’s kinda a sore subject, that betrayal, and I wish Hansol had grown up knowing a loving mother but I’m glad she left before he could form memories of her.”

“Does he know she won’t come back?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I didn’t want him asking over someone who isn’t worthy of the title of mother, so I told him as soon as he was old enough to understand that she isn’t a nice person and we’re far better off without her.”

“And he accepts that?”

“Mm, yeah, why? Has he said something about her to you?”

“No,” you assure and pat his hand on your waist gently. “Today was the first time anyone has ever mentioned her. I was just wondering about what you said of him asking to have a little brother.” You motion to the pair loosely. “I wondered if he was hoping she’d be back so you can give him a sibling.”

“Oh, nah, he really doesn’t care about her at all. I asked where he expects me to get him a little brother and he said the same place I got him.”

“His mother?”

“I said that, and he pulled a face and said find another mother.” Seungcheol chuckles. “As if it’s that simple.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

He scoffs harshly. “No fucking way, that bitch can rot for all I care.”

“But you haven’t found someone else since?”

“Never been interested. I already have my son; I don’t need another child and he’s my whole life. Outside of him, I work, and that’s it. I really don’t want to have a relationship with any of the women I meet through work, well…those women aren’t of interest to me. Most of them try to get my attention thinking it’ll give them status.”

“And the other women? Who don’t want to use you?”

“Gay.” The way he says it makes you laugh. “Lesbians seem to love me, just not in that way,” he jokes with what essentially sounds like a giggle. It’s very cute.

“That does limit your options then,” you muse, giggling along with him.

“Mm, how about you?”

“Oh, I have no idea what lesbians think of me.”

Seungcheol laughs and lowers his head to put his face against your shoulder, even if the material must be cold against his skin. “I imagine lesbians are very interested in you as much as straight men are.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a lesbian, so I can’t comment on that.”

“I’d say I’d introduce you to one, but I don’t want to.”

“That’s a bit possessive of you,” you mutter, giving him a look when his head jerks up to look at you with wide, innocent eyes. “Keeping all the lesbians to yourself like that.”

He relaxes and snorts a laugh while rolling his eyes. “What do you care whether I do or don’t, huh?” Though suddenly, his eyes are wide again and looking at you a little alarmed. “Wait, are…are you a lesbian?”

“Would it matter if I were?”

“Uh…I’m not homophobic or anything.”

“That didn’t answer my question. Would it bother you if I am a lesbian, Seungcheol?”

“Uh…”

“It would?” Your eyebrows lift in surprise. “How can you claim to not be homophobic yet be bothered by that?”

“Are you?” He whispers, expression starting to pinch a little.

“No.”

He lets out a breath and nods before turning you back around properly to face the boys where they’re still playing on the slides. “I think Chan could do this all day,” he comments before you can say anything more about the previous subject. Although you don’t really understand what just happened in that conversation, he’s being so evasive that you don’t push it. The last thing you want is to piss the man off by pushing him when he clearly doesn’t want to talk.

So instead, you just hum vaguely and remain quiet, stewing in your own thoughts and mild frustration at not understanding, while watching over the boys.

Although there is technically plenty of time after dinner for the boys to play more, they’re both beyond excited about their sleepover, so while Seungcheol takes Hansol to give him his bath and get ready for bed, you take Chan to your room to do the same.

“Per sleepover Sunny?” Chan checks, repeating the question for the nth time as he prods the toy floating in the water in front of him.

“Yes, Channie, I’m going to have a sleepover with Seungcheol while you have yours with Hansol. We will be across the hall all night,” you remind him patiently, knowing that he needs a lot of reassurance for such a big change in routine.

“We watch Nemo. What Per and Sunny watch?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you respond honestly to the new question; it’s a good sign that your reassurances are settling in Chan’s mind and becoming less of a need. “I don’t know if Seungcheol has a TV in his room.”

“Watch Nemo with us.”

“It’s okay, you and Solie can watch Nemo and Seungcheol and I will talk or something.”

“And bedtime cuddles?” He wonders, looking at you. “I have cuddles?”

“I’m sure Solie will give you cuddles, should I ask him for you?”

“But want cuddle you.” He frowns. “Want Per cuddles.”

“Well, how about I watch some of the movie with you and we can have cuddles, but I’ll go after the sharks?”

“Mm, then Solie cuddles?”

“Sure, baby, I’ll ask Solie to give you cuddles when I leave.”

“Okay,” he agrees and turns back to his toys.

Once Chan is out of the bath and contently playing on the bed wrapped up in his towel to let him dry off naturally and not irritate his sensitive skin, you tie your hair up out of the way and quickly hop in the shower to scrub paint flecks from your forearms and wash over the rest of your body before getting dressed.

To your surprise, Chan isn’t on the bed anymore when you exit the bathroom but standing on the floor pulling his pyjama bottoms up his legs, the shirt already on his body and partially buttoned from how you left it when you took it off him last time.

It’s the first time Chan has tried to dress himself so calmly. Usually, he’s already frustrated by now after getting his limbs in the wrong holes, but he looks determined as his tiny hands work on snapping the elastic of his trousers against his hips just like you do to make him giggle. You smile to yourself seeing him copying your little quirks, even if he doesn’t find his own actions giggle-worthy.

When Chan’s hands move to the front of his shirt, you honestly almost cry. Buttons, zips, and any fastenings other than Velcro have always been so difficult for him, too fiddly for him to navigate and the reason you never bought him anything that used any while you were homeless, so that he still had some independence despite having had to be glued to your side all of the time.

But Seungkwan has gained the habit of buying the boys matching clothes and the pair always look so happy and cute when they’re wearing identical clothing that you never try to argue and are always happy to help Chan get himself dressed and undressed for the sake of his and Hansol’s joy.

Yet today, today your precious little brother devotes his entire focus on painstakingly threading the little plastic circles through the slits. It takes some time, a handful of minutes per button, but he gets three out of four buttons through the openings before realising there isn’t another one for the topmost button. He’s confused for a second and doesn’t realise he’s threaded them in the wrong holes but then he lights up and bounces on his toes while his hands flap at his side.

“Did it! I did it!” He exclaims to himself then looks up intending to run to the bathroom to show you yet finds you already in the bedroom, so he stays in his place and his movements grow bigger, seeing you smiling and looking so fucking proud of him. “Look, Per! I did it!”

“You did,” you reply almost breathlessly then walk over to kneel in front of him and gently cup his beaming features. “I’m so proud of you, Chan.”

“I proud too!”

“Good, you should be,” you approve and lean forward to kiss his forehead. “I love you so much, my clever little brother.”

“I love you, my clever big sister.” He darts forward to hug you, squeezing you tighter than necessary due to all the joy running through his limbs, but you don’t mind and just squeeze him back with another kiss on his slightly damp hair.

“We need to get haircuts soon,” you comment as he backs up to bounce over to the bed and grab his turtle to squeeze and wriggle happily.

“No,” he complains, pouting at you and falling still. “No touch my hair!”

“I know you don’t like it, baby, neither do I, but both of us need a haircut before we get annoyed with our hair.”

“Per cut it?”

“I mean, I can, but it’ll not be very pretty.”

“Don’t care. Per only touch my hair.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll ask someone to get some hairdressing scissors for me and we’ll do it soon.”

“And Per hair too?”

“Uh, yeah sure, why not?” You shrug. “I’ll cut my own hair too; there must be video tutorials for cutting your own hair.” Chan just nods in approval and returns to smiling happily as he gallops over to you and tugs on your hand to signal you to get up.

As soon as you’re on your feet, he’s dragging you out of the bedroom and you let him, even if you know he’s left his damp towel on the bed so it’s going to ruin the bedding, but that’s a problem for the morning. Right now, it’s all about Chan.

Neither you nor Chan have actually been near Hansol’s and Seungcheol’s rooms before, you haven’t had a reason to until now, so you’re both a little hesitant as you near the end of the hall and can hear Hansol and Seungcheol talking in the left-hand room.

“Hurry, daddy! I want it to be a surprise ready!” Hansol encourages.

“Bud, I’m going as fast as I can,” Seungcheol reasons. You stop and lower to a crouch to keep Chan still and signal him to be quiet while he pouts confusedly at you.

“Well go faster!”

“Hansol,” Seungcheol warns. “I know you’re excited for your first sleepover, but you still need to be respectful, okay?”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Good boy. How about you set the movie up while I finish this, yeah?”

“Okay!”

You wait patiently, even with Chan still sulking at you in your arms for making him wait, until you hear Seungcheol declare it’s finished and Hansol claps and cheers excitedly.

“It’s perfect, daddy! Thank you!” There’s a little ‘oof’ from Seungcheol as you assume Hansol has thrown himself at his father in an enthusiastic hug, before the man chuckles softly.

“You’re welcome, baby. Do you want me to stay for a bit or leave you alone?”

“Can you stay? I’m a little nervous, what if Squirt doesn’t like my room?”

“I’m sure he will, you’ve even got your sea light out for him.”

Chan wiggles in your hold at the mention of a sea light and you know you can’t make him wait anymore so you get up while releasing him, giggling as he scrambles forward and pops into the room.

“Squirt!” Hansol shrieks and runs over to hug Chan just as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. You smile seeing the two boys embracing with matching grins, and pyjamas, and look over at Seungcheol to see that he’s looking at them just as fondly from where he’s sprawled over his son’s large bed comfortably. Now, you notice what Seungcheol must’ve been doing.

Dangling from the ceiling to half cover the bed are a few sheets, attached to the ceiling with grey duct tape, making you wince a little at the thought of the strong tape pulling the paint from the ceiling when it’s removed, but Seungcheol clearly doesn’t care and can easily afford to have the ceilings redone for the sake of his son’s happiness.

In amongst the sheets, you can just about make out the sight of some fish stickers stuck onto the fabric and your heart only grows bigger and warmer with love for Hansol and his clear adoration for your brother.

It’s not technically true, but you think Hansol is the best big brother Chan could ever have.

“Look, Squirt!” Hansol encourages, taking Chan’s tiny hand in his slightly bigger one to lead him to the bed and help him up onto it before climbing up too.

Chan looks at Seungcheol before crawling over to lay at his side, making Seungcheol’s whole expression melt as he stares at the quiet little boy, who is already looking at the stickers he’s spotted. He makes an excited noise and points up to them.

“Yeah! Fishies!” Hansol cheers and starts to tug on the hanging sheets, but his dad makes a noise, stopping the boy and gets up himself to pull the sheets around the bed most of the way so that Hansol doesn’t accidentally pull them down.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Seungcheol encourages, motioning to the space on Hansol’s right, so you wander over and climb up onto the bed and finish pulling the sheet around the bed carefully.

The sheets are too thin to entirely block out the light from the copious lamps Hansol has in his room instead of using the main overhead lights, but it does dull it a little and makes the space oddly cosy.

“Look, there’s turtles and jellies and sharks and starfish and…” Hansol goes on pointing out all the different types of fish stickers over the sheets looking down on you all while Chan follows along with wide eyes glued to wherever the older boy points and his mouth parted in wonder.

A tap on your head makes you look up at Seungcheol where he’s propped up on his elbow on the pillow and his arm across it above the boys’ heads so that his hand is above your own head. “Is he okay with the dark?” He whispers to not disturb the boys. You nod. “Are you?” Another nod so Seungcheol smiles and grabs his phone and another little device from the bed behind him. He taps around on his phone and the lamps outside of the sheets all go off.

Chan gasps and starts to panic not having expected it, wriggling around ready to crawl over to you, but Hansol puts his hand on Chan’s chest to pat his fingers against the younger’s torso while making soothing sounds. “It’s okay, Squirt, it’s okay, daddy turned them off from his phone. It’s okay, he’s going to turn on something really cool, just lay with Solie, okay?” Hansol shuffles closer to Chan to put his arm around him and hold him, much like you imagine his father has done to him many times to soothe him. It works and Chan settles back down, tiny hands gripping onto Hansol’s sleeve and feet rubbing together restlessly but otherwise he’s perfectly still in wait.

A few seconds of Seungcheol fumbling with the device later, gentle blue light comes out of one end, and when you look at the sheets, you see a sea effect projected onto the material. The light moves in time with the gentle rolling sound of the waves coming from the device, simulating being underwater. Although you know it’s entirely for Chan’s benefit, you find yourself instantly soothed and curl up a little as your eyes track the shadows of the waves above you.

“Do you like it, Squirt?” Hansol whispers after a few seconds. You don’t need to look at your brother to know he’s nodding in awed agreement. “Good. Daddy bought me the light when I used to cry a lot, to help me calm down, but I don’t cry all the time anymore so you can have it if you want. I know you like the sea and fishes. We can get a tent and cover it in fishie stickers and put comfy pillows and blankies and the light and it will be nice, right, to lay in and watch and be like swimming with the fishies, right?”

Then, the one thing you were positive wouldn’t happen, at least not for a long time does, your little brother speaks. “Fishies,” he says softly. Hansol gasps, but he doesn’t say anything more and just holds Chan tighter with a bright smile on his face.

You can only handle it for a few seconds longer before you kiss each boy on the head, earning another beam from Hansol as you’ve never kissed him before, and he clearly loves the affection, before you quietly slip out from the sheets and leave the room.

In the hallway, you slide your back down the wall until you’re crouching with your face in your hands as you cry silently.

You’re only alone for a few seconds before familiar hands touch your arms gently, then you’re pulled in against Seungcheol’s firm chest as he holds you tight on his crossed legs in the middle of the corridor to let you grip onto his t-shirt and cry against his shoulder.

To your relief, Seungcheol doesn’t say a word at all, he just holds you and makes the occasional soft, soothing sound as his hands gently pat and stroke your arm and back. It’s easy to see where Hansol has picked up his calming habits, and it makes you choke out a small giggle, spotting the clear connection between father and son.

“Are you laughing?” The man questions in a puzzled mumble. You nod against his shoulder while giggling harder at his confusion. “So just to clarify, this isn’t sad crying?”

“N-no.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he relaxes. “I mean, you can cry if you’re sad; you’re allowed to be sad and feel your emotions and all that, but seriously, I don’t think I would know what to do if you’re sad.”

“This is nice,” you answer with a few sniffles as you motion to how he’s holding you protectively in his strong arms in the circle of his thighs, making you feel nothing but safe.

“So, if you get sad, I can just hold you and let you cry and that’s enough?” You nod in confirmation. “Okay, I can do that,” he declares with determination in his voice, making you giggle again. “As much as I think your giggles are fucking adorable, I’m really confused right now, sweetheart. Why the tears?”

“I just got overwhelmed, but in a good way. I think it’s the first time I’ve been overwhelmed and it’s not a negative thing.”

“Oh, because of the boys?”

You hum and nod, watching your hand as you smooth out the creases you made in his t-shirt at the centre of his chest. “I never thought he’d trust anyone enough to talk to them, but Hansol has given him a safe space and…” you take a shaky breath in as tears prickle at your eyes again. “It just makes me so happy that Chan has him, he loves him so much.”

“It’s mutual, Sol adores his little Squirt,” Seungcheol adds, tilting his head to rest against the top of yours. “I’m really happy you came to us, sweetheart, both of you. You…you make us both so fucking happy, I don’t think we’ve been this happy before.”

“Us either.”

“You’ll stay, won’t you? Even after the Vultures are dealt with and it’s safe for you to be out there, have your name out there without being hunted down, you’ll stay?”

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He lets out a relieved breath before turning his head to press a kiss atop your head. “Me either.”

“Your ass probably wishes we were somewhere different right now though,” you muse, making him snort out a laugh as he straightens up.

“You just ruined a really heartfelt moment,” he points out, though he doesn’t sound at all upset about it and unwinds his arms from you, allowing you both to get to your feet. “Come on, they’re alright without us for a bit, let’s freshen you up a little,” he suggests, though the way he takes your hand into his and leads you into his room as he talks gives away that he isn’t really giving you an option.

You peer around the huge bedroom as you cross through, but you don’t really get to take it in, not that it looks like there’s that much to take in anyway, as he guides you into his ensuite and flicks the light on.

A surprised squeak leaves your lips when he abruptly turns and picks you up to plop onto the counter beside the sink. He smirks at you amusedly for a second then walks over to the unit to grab a face cloth.

“You don’t need to manhandle me, you could’ve just asked,” you scold as you shuffle to get comfortable and lean back against the mirror behind you while your feet swing from side to side contently.

“You would’ve questioned why I’m asking you to sit on the counter.”

You don’t respond for a second as you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge that he’s right. As he approaches you with the little cloth in hands, he’s got that smug smirk back on his lips, making you sigh. “Okay, yeah, I would’ve but that’s because there’s no logical reason for me to need to be sitting on the counter right now.”

“Then why didn’t you get down?”

“You put me here, you want me here for a reason, even if you haven’t said what that reason is.”

“To look after you.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you watch him wet the cloth under the running cold water. “I’m capable of looking after myself; I’ve been doing it for twenty years at least.”

“I know you’re capable, I’m not refuting that, sweetheart, but everyone deserves to be looked after too.”

“Then who looks after you?”

“The guys all do in different ways; by helping me stay sane at work, making sure I don’t overwork myself, looking after my son so that I know he’s safe and I’m not constantly worrying about him.”

“And who holds you when you cry?”

Seungcheol pauses as he squeezes out most of the water from the washcloth. Then he shrugs and moves over in front of you to tuck one curled finger under your chin and tilt your head back a little to allow him to begin delicately dabbing the cool cloth over your tear sticky cheeks. “I don’t remember the last time I cried.”

“Oh, I cry a lot,” you confess shamelessly.

“You do?” He raises his eyebrow in surprise. “This is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry.”

“I can usually hold it off until Chan’s asleep and I can shut myself in the bathroom, so he doesn’t see. I know it’s natural and everything, I’m not ashamed of how I cry when I’m overwhelmed by things or emotions, but I still don’t want him to see and get worried.”

“I understand, I wouldn’t want Hansol to see me cry either.”

“Chan has seen me cry before, multiple times, I haven’t always had the chance to hide it, but he gets so worried and overwhelmed and tends to have a meltdown so then we’re both a mess.”

“Well, now you have me, and the other guys too, they’d all help. You can tell Chan that if you ever need help, he should come get one of us.”

“I don’t know if he would leave me without explicitly being told to get someone, and I often can’t talk when I’m overloaded.”

“You go nonverbal?”

“If it’s really bad, yeah. But I just meant the whole crying thing makes it hard to talk.”

“Ah.” He makes a noise of understanding and tosses the cloth into the sink to replace it with the hand towel on the rack to pat your skin dry. “Do you know sign language?”

“A little, and I’ve taught Chan what I know, but our dad always lost his shit when he saw us doing it, or me learning, so it just…seemed like it wasn’t worth the beatings when I knew only I would use it with him in private and he verbally talks to me anyway.”

“Your dad beat you for learning sign language when Chan doesn’t even talk?”

“At first, he was okay with it, when Chan was really little, and everyone assumed he was just delayed a little so at least a few signs would help understand what he wants until he talks. But then he blamed it on why Chan didn’t try to talk and banned anyone from giving him any of his aids or signing so that he’d be forced to talk.”

“What a piece of shit.”

“Mm, only got worse when he got diagnosed with autism and dad just…stopped loving him.” 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with a pathetic excuse of a father like that, both of you. And I’m really glad you left and you’re here now where you can both be cared for like you deserve.”

“Thanks, Seungcheol, me too.”

“You know, you don’t have to call me Seungcheol all the time.”

“Well, I’m not calling you that stupid alias,” you retort, features scrunching in distaste while he puts the towel neatly back.

He laughs, which only grows when he sees your disgusted expression. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Then what? That’s all anyone calls you, some variation of that or Mr Choi. Is that what you want me to call you?”

“Fuck no.” Now it’s Seungcheol’s features that twist in revulsion, making you giggle amusedly. “Never call me Mr Choi, I don’t even like it when people say it, but I have to leave it be with them, the whole head of the Centaurs status shit. But you, don’t you dare call me Mr Choi.”

“Well, that’s all I’ve ever heard you be addressed with. Or daddy, but if you try to get me to call you that you’ll just confirm that you’re a giant fucking pervert.”

Seungcheol lets out your name in a gasped exclamation with eyes wide and cheeks pink. “Don’t say shit like that!” You start to cackle at his extremely flustered expression. “I-I wasn’t even thinking that!”

“Now you are.”

“Please shut up.”

“Sure, daddy.” He scrambles to put his palm over your mouth as his cheeks darken. You only laugh and let him, eyes sparkling with mirth above his palm.

“Stop. I don’t…I’m not into that.” You give him the best disbelieving look you can over his hand. “I’m not!”

You move his hand away from your mouth so that you can speak. “You’re red.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” he groans and slumps down until he’s squatting in front of you and hiding in your knees. “I regret suggesting sharing my bed with you.”

“I’ll ask Kwan if he wants a sleepover then,” you decide with a shrug.

The words are barely out of your mouth before Seungcheol is up on his feet at his full height and staring at you darkly. “No.”

“You said you regret-”

“I didn’t mean that,” he puts his palms on the counter either side of your thighs, making him lean down closer to you to reach, as his intense gaze burns into your innocently blinking eyes. “You are never to have a sleepover with anyone but me, understand?”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“Because I don’t want you in their beds.”

“But you want me in yours?” You reason, raising your eyebrow a little in question.

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches a little as he mulls over his answer before he responds so simply that you think it’s ridiculous both how long he takes to reply and how your stomach flips from the single, lowly spoken syllable. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

He raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to say something more, but his son calling him stops the man in his tracks. Seungcheol lets out a soft breath before he drags his gaze over your face, eyes lingering on your parted lips, then he pushes away from the counter and leaves you sitting there with a racing heart and warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You’re not stupid, no matter what your father said about you, you are perfectly capable of understanding social cues when your mind isn’t so messy and stressed. You’ve been sent off to seduce too many men to not know what someone looking at your lips like Seungcheol just had means.

The information that Seungcheol wanted to kiss you, even if only for a moment, sends a strange feeling through your body that you’ve never felt before. It’s like anxiety and excitement rolled into one fizzling sensation throughout your veins and settling heavy in your sternum. You think that this might be what it feels like to have reasonable hope that someone likes you back.

By the time the boys fall asleep after Seungcheol has read them three books, and they’ve watched both Finding Nemo and Finding Dory tucked up in between you and the man on Hansol’s bed, that sensation in your chest has long fizzled out.

Though when you’re laid in Seungcheol’s ridiculously big bed, rubbing your feet together nervously as he showers and gets into his pyjamas in the ensuite, the bubbling in your chest returns with a vengeance.

You can’t stop thinking about what happened in the bathroom; the possessive way he had demanded you only climb into his bed, the way his intense gaze had lingered on your lips. Once you start thinking about that, it makes you consider other things he’s said and done over the past few months; how tenderly he treats you, how his cheeks frequently turn a shy pink in front of your eyes, how his touch always hovers longer than explicitly necessary when it’s on you.

For so long you’ve convinced yourself that it’s just how the man is; that he’s attentive and affectionate to all of his friends. Which isn’t even a lie because you’ve seen him lean into Jisoo when the doctor tends to his wounds, and you’ve seen him sling his arm around most of them, even plant a noisy kisses to cheeks when he’s feeling playful. But he never lingers. Not with them.

The more you think about it, the difference between how he treats you to any others, you realise the little things; how he seems to edge closer to you whenever you’re within arm’s reach until he can brush his hand against you, how he pays such close attention to you that he can sense what you need before you do sometimes, how even if he’s in the middle of yelling at his men for their mistakes, the second he sees you, the anger in his eyes melts away and the light returns to them, even just for a second before he focuses back on his job.

You don’t want to let yourself get carried away with the possibility that Seungcheol has liked you for even longer than you’ve liked him, but you’re already halfway up in the clouds by the time he returns and slips into the bed at your side despite the fact there really is no need to be so close when the mattress is so wide.

“You’re red,” he comments in a soft, teasing voice as he settles on his right side facing you, his right hand up underneath the pillow below his head and his left reaching for you under the covers to rest on your stomach.

When you turn onto your left side to face him, his hand slides over your waist to settle on your back, holding you close. You stare at him for a moment, nervously chewing your bottom lip while he watches you in wonder of what you’re thinking yet remains patiently quiet for when you’re ready to talk.

He’s always so patient, so good to you. He does so much, goes out of his way and you think that perhaps it’s time you try to return the effort.

Your hands tremble ever so slightly as you lift them between you to touch his jaw feather light. He breathes out your name in a whispered question, but he doesn’t do anything else when you crane your neck up to softly press your lips to his. You hear him inhale deeply through his nose at the delicate kiss, but before he can react otherwise, you pull away and remove your touch from his skin.

“That-that’s what you wanted earlier, r-right? In the bathroom?”

He stares at you for a moment with such a serious expression before he sighs. To your utter confusion and slight horror, his features turn down and he pulls away from you, severing all contact as he rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. “Don’t do that again,” he warns quietly.

Your heart starts to crack as the rejection seeps inside and drags it down out of place towards your stomach. You really thought he wanted to kiss you, wanted you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer and although you want to get up and leave before you start to cry, you’re frozen in place, body running hot and cold as the realisation that you misunderstood and fucked up runs rampant through your mind, spinning and whirling every thought up into one colossal fucking mess you can’t even try to figure out how to fix.

“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat in a whisper that makes him sigh towards the ceiling. “I-I thought you want-”

“No, Pearl, don’t say that. You should never do shit because you think I want you to, that’s not what I want at all. I don’t want you to kiss me because it’s what you think I want. You should only kiss someone because you want to.”

“Oh.” That growing fear in your chest suddenly stops before it can spill up your throat. It doesn’t retreat, only halts in its path as you try to work your way through his words with your mind still flashing with the previous thoughts. “Can you clarify that?” You request.

“Clarify it?” He looks at you. “What do you mean?”

“It kind of sounds like you’re not against me kissing you, just that you want it to be because I want it, not that I think you do.”

“Uh.” He pauses and turns his head to face the ceiling again as he swallows thickly before he nods. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. Don’t kiss me for my sake.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Good,” the word is barely out of his mouth in a barely audible whisper before you’re leaning up over him on your left elbow to cup his cheek, tilt his head to you and press your lips to his. A soft, alarmed noise vibrates in his throat, and he reels back to stare at you with wide eyes. “Pearl, I just said-”

“Yeah, and I said I won’t,” you remind him. “Do you really think that now I’m free of all that shit, I’d kiss someone if I don’t want to?”

“You want to kiss me?” You nod. “Oh.” Then he’s reaching up to curve his left hand around your jaw and neck as he surges in to kiss you, not a drop of hesitation left in him.

It’s not even a few seconds of kissing before he’s wrapping his arm around you to pull your body up onto his until you’re straddling him and letting his tongue into your mouth when you gasp at the sudden manhandling.

You find you don’t mind it at all when it’s Seungcheol.

“You,” Seungcheol breathes out when he drops his head back into the pillows instead of keeping it lifted to meet you easier, even if you could’ve easily lowered down to him, but it seems he forgot that to be an option.

“Me,” you reply, even more breathless than the man as you let your weight settle more firmly on his hips and lower your torso until your chests are touching.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy for months,” he declares and smooths his hands down from your waist to grip handfuls of your ass with a low groan. “Especially in those fucking leggings.”

“You bought them.”

“Best and worst purchase I’ve ever made. Fuck, your ass looks so good in them, baby, but all I can remember when I see how fucking tight they are, is you wondering if you can even wear underwear under them.”

“I can’t,” you inform bluntly and watch amusedly as his head tips back a little with a soft groan while his fingers curve firmer into the flesh of your ass cheeks over your clothing. “I tried, but even that tiny amount of material makes it impossible to pull the leggings up to my hips so they just bunch and make my ass bulge over the band and-” Seungcheol cuts off your explanation with a heated kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head to pull you in and the other still groping at your ass as if he’s trying to imbed his hands into your flesh so that he never has to let go.

“Well,” the sudden voice from the doorway makes you both sit up and look over in alarm not having heard anyone approach, but Mingyu is standing in the doorway looking partially amused and partially shocked. “Just came to say that we’re all going out now for drinks, so it’s just the four of you in the house.”

“Uh, right, yeah, right. Have uh-” Seungcheol starts, then has to clear his throat, so that his voice isn’t so thick and rough with arousal, so obvious that Mingyu is smirking now. “Have a good time. Happy birthday, Gyu.”

“Happy birthday,” you repeat softly.

Mingyu’s expression softens as he looks directly at you instead of his boss and smiles at you. “Thank you, Pearl.”

“Hey!” Seungcheol complains. “Don’t I get thanks?”

“You refused to let us use the card,” Mingyu defends poutily.

“Of course I’m not letting you use the fucking business card to get drunk!”

“It’s his birthday,” you reason, turning your head to look at Seungcheol. “It’d be your gift to him.”

“He doesn’t like gifts.”

“Your gift to your men for working so hard,” you correct yourself without missing a beat and hear Mingyu snort out a badly concealed laugh as Seungcheol sighs heavily.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking manipulating me like this,” Seungcheol grunts and motions vaguely to the dresser, so Mingyu scuttles over to grab Seungcheol’s wallet to grab and bring over, with an excited grin on his face as he does so.

“You’re the best,” Mingyu breathes out gratefully as Seungcheol finds out the correct card to hand over to the tall man.

“I should think so,” Seungcheol grumbles.

“I was talking to Pearl,” Mingyu points out, then giggles and jumps away as Seungcheol darts his arm out, but with you still on his lap and quickly reaching up to put your hand on his arm and stop him, the man doesn’t have the chance to hit the birthday boy. “Thanks, daddy!”

“Fuck off!” Seungcheol exclaims as Mingyu leaves the bedroom while dramatically kissing the card in his hands. “If they bankrupt me, it’s on your shoulders, sweetheart.”

“Is there not a limit on that card?”

“No, I don’t think I can set it up either, it’s one of two cards, company cards let’s say, but Seungkwan has the other explicitly to use for Hansol’s benefit and he knows he’ll be punished if I see anything suspicious on the statements.”

“Get the app up, let’s look; I know how to do all that,” you reason as you climb off his lap and sit expectantly against the pillows that you prop up at the headboard. When you’re settled and can see Seungcheol again, you find that he’s just sitting there and pouting at you. “What?”

“We were in the middle of something,” he reminds and places one hand on your thigh to squeeze a little, suggestively.

“Yes, and now I’m very aware that the door is open, and the boys can walk in any at second, so I’d rather they don’t see me naked and bouncing on your cock.”

Seungcheol gawps at you in stunned disbelief for a moment then dazedly nods and turns away to grab his phone from the side table. His movements are slow and a little stilted all the way until he’s at your side with his right arm around you and his phone in his left hand as he unlocks it.

“What?” You ask and he hums questioningly. “You went really weird there.”

“Just really fucking threw me off hearing you saying that. Didn’t expect it at all and now I’m just wondering what kinda dirty shit you’re capable of saying.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, daddy.” He makes an unimpressed noise and lightly taps your arm with his right hand in scold while you giggle amusedly.

“You’re a brat, aren’t you?”

“I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“No,” he refutes with a sigh. “You’re not doing that, sweetheart, if we’re going to do this then I want you, not some version of you that you think I want. Don’t play into any of the shit you were taught to bait men, I just want you and what you like, okay?”

“I’m not sure I know what I like, I’ve never had the chance to really explore that. Sometimes I had some leeway with the targets but generally I was given a character to play and stuck to that to get the job done,” you admit and take his phone once he’s got the banking app unlocked and the correct card open.

“Have you ever had sex because you want to?”

“No, never had someone I wanted before.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, letting you think the topic is over. “Okay, I can add a limit, what should I put?” You ask, then type in the number he mumbles, before you press confirm. “You should probably text them to let them know there’s a limit.”

“If they hit that limit tonight, I think money is the last of my problems, they’ll all have alcohol poisoning, sweetheart.”

“Ah, right, suppose. I don’t know how much all that costs.” You shrug and lean your head on his shoulder as he locks his phone and tosses it aside on the bed carelessly so that he can hold you with both arms.

“Sweetheart?” He starts after a few moments of calm silence while his fingers draw mindless, innocent patterns against your thigh. You hum to show you’re listening. “I need to ask what it is you want from me.”

“I thought we already discussed this months ago,” you murmur puzzled.

“I don’t mean that, I mean this, us.”

“Oh. I want you.”

“How?”

“You’ve got a kid, Seungcheol, you know how that works.”

“No,” he chuckles softly. “I’m not asking how sex works. I’m asking if that’s all you want from me, sex.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Baby,” he lets out a soft breath and adjusts you both so that you’re sitting up and looking at each other. “I mean what relationship do you want from me? Is it just sex, or do you want more?”

“Oh,” you understand, nodding slowly as your eyes widen ever so slightly for a few seconds. “You’re asking if I expect you to be loyal to me and stuff. You’re a gang boss; I know loyalty to a woman isn’t part of that and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up. Being a gang boss doesn’t mean that at all! My dad was always loyal to my mother, and he raised me to be the same. I don’t sleep around, sweetheart. If we do this, I’m only going to fuck you until you tell me you don’t want me anymore.”

“Does that mean you’d keep fucking me even if you don’t want me?” You frown. “I don’t like that, Seungcheol.”

“No, not at all. Of course, I’m not going to fuck someone I don’t want but I’m…I’m pretty fucking sure I wouldn’t be the one to end this.”

“What makes you say that? Neither of us know what will happen, you could meet someone else or get bored of me or something else.”

“Because this isn’t just sex for me. I get if you just want it to be about sex and I can do that, I’ll keep my feelings to myself and not try to blur lines, but I want to be with you.”

“W-with me?” You whisper and shuffle a little. “And feelings like…romantic?”

“Yeah, baby, feelings like romantic, as in I want to be in a committed relationship with you; I want to be yours and call you mine, but I’m not going to bitch and whine about it if you don’t want that. I’m a grown man, I can accept rejection so just…what do you want from me, baby? Do you want me like that or just sex?”

“I’ve never liked someone before,” you rush out and watch as his expression falls, making you realise that your words sound like a rejection. “No! Wait! Don’t-don’t look sad, I didn’t mean as if I still don’t. I like you, Seungcheol and I’ve never liked someone before, never done relationship type stuff so I don’t know how to do it right, is what I mean.”

“Oh,” he lifts his left arm so that he can cup your jaw and brush his thumb over your cheek tenderly. “You like me? Like really and not just attracted to me?”

“Yeah, I like you and I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend or even a mediocre one, but I’d really like the chance to try with you.”

“I haven’t been with someone in a long time either, not since Sol’s mother. I’m out of practice, so we can learn how to do it together, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as a smile lifts your cheeks and his own features naturally mirror your joy as it grows. “Let’s learn together, Cheolie.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out and surges in to kiss you in a way he hasn’t yet. Before, the kisses were all heavy and intense and although there is plenty of passion in this one too, it doesn’t feel as if lust plays a part in it at all, only pure adoration. “That sounds so fucking cute, baby, always call me Cheolie.”

“Okay, Cheolie,” you agree simply and can’t help but giggle at the dopey smile he gives you from so close that his nose almost brushes yours. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

“As in not tell anyone?”

“I just don’t want to get ahead of ourselves in case it doesn’t work out.”

“Oh, right, well that makes sense, it’d be awkward to announce we’re together today then realise in a couple weeks we’re better as friends and have to say we’re over.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, that’s fine, we can wait. I’d really like to be entirely certain before the boys know too.” You nod emphatically in agreement. “Though there’s a slight problem.”

“What?”

“Mingyu has definitely already told the guys he walked in on us.”

“Oh. How do you know that?”

“He’s one of my best friends, I know him. Know all of those nosey assholes and they definitely all know that we’re at least…physical.” You snort a laugh at his choice of phrasing. “Hey, don’t laugh at me, I didn’t want to say fucking when we haven’t done that.”

“Yet.”

He makes a strange hum of agreement in response. “Y-yep. Yet. Haven’t fucked yet.”

“Soon.”

“You want me to die, don’t you?”

“No. Whose cock am I going to bounce on then?”

“Alright, enough,” he grunts and abruptly tackles you to the bed, making you yelp and then giggle madly when he manhandles you to lay down facing away with his arms around you. “Stop talking like that or you’re going to wake up with something pressing against your ass.”

“I don’t think I’m into that,” you comment thoughtfully. “We can try it though, if you want.”

He groans and buries his face in your neck. “Please shut up and go to sleep, for the sake of my sanity.”

“But I’m not tired,” you complain.

“Want to watch TV?”

“You have a TV in here?” You crane your neck up to look around as best as you can, but you can’t see a TV on any of the bare walls. “There’s no TV.”

“It’s in the bed.”

“What?” You roll onto your back as Seungcheol lets you go to reach above you to the top of the headboard where there’s a little shelf behind it and he retrieves the remote. You watch as he presses a button at the top of the device and then the footrest of the bed opens up and a TV slowly rises from the end. “Whoa.”

“Cool huh?”

“That seems like a bad idea,” you comment and sit up to crawl over and poke at the TV once it’s still, so that you can test the stability. It’s surprisingly solid.

“It’s safe, these TVs are made extra sturdy to account for being in a bed.”

“Are they sex proof?”

“What?” He sputters and looks at you as if you’re crazy, but you’re still focused on testing the stability of the huge screen on the rack, which has been cleverly designed to match the bed and not be an eyesore. “You’re not supposed to fuck against it, babe!”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean movement of the bed itself, is the frame stable enough to protect the TV from those movements?”

“I would assume so; I’ve never had the chance to test it.”

“We’ll have to do that,” you decide and turn to crawl back over to where he’s partially propped up so that he can look at the TV without having his neck at an awkward angle.

“Oh, will we?” He muses as you fit yourself against his side with your arm across his waist and head on his shoulder.

“Mm, you’re going to have to fuck me really hard to really test the durability. And many times, so-” His right hand lifts from your waist as his arm is around you, and covers your mouth, making you peer up at him and find his dark gaze on you.

“Stop it before I lose my cool and risk mentally scarring the boys by testing that right now.” For a second, you almost goad him on, but you really don’t want the boys to see that, or hear it, so you nod in agreement. “Good girl.” He removes his hand from your mouth and cranes forward to peck your slightly pouty lips. “What shall we watch?”

“Does it have to be an adult movie?” You ask as you turn to settle back down and watch the screen where the streaming app are showing as he waits for your answer.

“No.”

“Good, because I really want to watch Cars.”

“Cars?” He laughs, already going into Disney+. “That’s not what I expected.”

“I wasn’t allowed to play with cars or learn anything about them, but I could watch this,” you explain.

“You really like cars, huh?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug, eyes glued to the screen to watch Seungcheol navigate the app to search for the movie. “I was just never allowed to find out, so it’s stuck with me.”

“Well, Jihoon says you’ll be a good mechanic and he’s more than happy to keep training you.”

“Even though I dented that car today?”

“I think he likes you even more now.” He chuckles and kisses your head. “Do you want to keep working with him?”

“Yeah, I like it there with him, we just…click, I think. It’s nice.”

“I’m glad you’ve gotten closer with him; he used to spend most of his time complaining about his team but now he talks about you and your lessons, how quickly you’re learning. I think it’s kind of cathartic for him, almost, having someone there who he doesn’t want to choke with a wrench.”

“That would be impractical.”

“Oh, but he’s a determined, demonic entity when he’s pissed off, he’d make it work.” He chuckles. “Anyway, let’s watch this and then if you’re still awake after, we’ll get a snack before starting the next one, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me, Cheolie.” Seungcheol presses a kiss to your head then plays the movie and gets comfortable with his right arm securely around you and his left hand holding yours on his chest where you can feel the content beating of his heart against your fingers.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess, @codeinebelle

Finding Yourself taglist: @syluslittlecrows, @gaslysainz, @whoisbaek15, @cherry-zip, @minhui896, @choco-scoups, @coupsvi, @reiofsuns2001

[ambiguous-avery]

"You Know I Love You, Right?

bf!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 1107

Summary: Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” Or: Sometimes your boyfriend comes home from a long hunt pent up and missing you.

Tags/Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, no use of Y/N, established relationship, she/her pronouns, femme nicknames (sweetheart, baby), reader is AFAB, unprotected P in V sex (make safe decisions, friends), PWP (Plot? What plot?), no beta we die like men

A/N: Another one based on a line I heard somewhere before, and it has stuck with me. Seriously, these one-liners are absolute gold for inspiration!

Two weeks.

That’s how long the last hunt had kept Dean away from you. And though the two of you had talked on the phone every night, a phone call couldn’t keep you warm at night as you laid in the shared bed all by your lonesome. You could hear the anxiousness in his voice with each passing day until you were sure he was itching to get back to you just as much as you were ready for him to be back by your side. And when he yanked you into a desperate, needy kiss as soon as he returned to the bunker, he gave you minimal warning for the storm that had been brewing.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked breathlessly against your lips. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

He pinned you to the mattress, crushing you into it beneath his weight and caging you in with his frame. He dragged his fingers through your hair, sliding up the back of your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair. You wrapped your arms around him, arching into him, searching for all the contact you could get. Dean was an inferno, and all you could do was let his blaze consume all that you were. And you’d let him. Over and over and over. But you’d take him with you.

You bit at his lip when he kissed you, and a half-groan, half-growl rumbled low in his throat. It send shivers through you, and he yanked on the handful of hair he had, pulling your head to the side and trailing kisses along your jaw. He nipped at the side of your neck before sucking a bruise there, leaving a dark, angry mark high enough for everyone to see. You whimpered, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it up and over his head. He slipped out of it, barely skipping a beat as his other hand reached down and skimmed over your hip before sliding your own shirt – one of his you had stolen from him – off and tossing it aside. 

You moaned as his hands roamed over your skin, exploring every curve and valley you were sure he already had memorized as though it were the first time. His lips trailed from your neck down to your collarbone, and you felt his breath hot against your skin. He trailed lower, kissing the swells of your breasts through your bra before unfastening it and adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes. He dragged his fingers across your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You dug your nails into his shoulders, and his low, guttural sound that sent liquid fire through your veins was your reward.

“Missed you, Dean,” you mumbled.

“Missed you too, sweetheart. Need you too badly to take this slow,” he whispered against your skin, his voice hoarse with need and desire. You whimpered in response, your body begging for him to take what he wanted. 

The rest of your clothes and his found their place somewhere along the floor before he was on you again, kissing you breathless and biting and sucking any skin he could get his mouth on. He wasted no time in lining himself up with your entrance where you were already wet and waiting for him. Dean wasn’t the only one who was pent up and looking forward to his return. You each let out simultaneous sighs of relief as he slid home with a single roll of his hips. 

“Fuck, Dean,” you gasped, your nails writing stories of your desire into his skin when he finally began to move.

His response was a low growl, his hips rocking into yours. His eyes met yours, and you could see the desperation and hunger that swirled in a distinctly Dean way. You hooked a leg around him, urging him deeper, and he obliged, shifting a bit so he could seat himself fully with each thrust. It was rough. It was primal. Like you were just a body for Dean to use and abuse. And fuck he knew how to use you. 

“Come on, baby, let me feel how much you missed me,” he whispered against your ear, the rough stubble of his face scratching against your skin. You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with a fervor of your own that could rival his. He reached between you, finding your clit with practiced ease, and teased it between his fingers. You lost yourself to him, legs tightening and nails digging into his forearm.

“Dean!” His name tumbled past your lips, unbidden as he fucked you through your release, his fingers on your clit quickly becoming too much. He must’ve seen it on your face, because he moved his hand to your hip, thumb digging into the jut of your pelvis. You trembled around him, but he didn’t relent.

“Look at me, pretty girl. Need to see those pretty eyes of yours.”

You obliged him, meeting his intense gaze as his thrusts grew more urgent. At one point, you had been so embarrassed letting him see your expressions when you came undone beneath him. Anymore, you didn’t care. Because you got to see him equally as unraveled. You clung to him, reveling in every sensation and savoring the moment like it would be your last.

“I need - I need you to come inside me. It’s been too long.”

“Fuck, you look so good. So wrecked. So fucking gorgeous.” His hips stuttered, pressed flush against yours as he came hard and deep. You could feel each pulse of him as he leaned down and kissed you. The two of you shared a moment, heartbeats racing and breaths mingling. 

Two weeks was far too long, you both silently agreed. He slipped out of you, grabbing the towel you had strategically hung over the desk chair when you got the text that he was heading back from his hunt. He wet it with warm water and settled back beside you before gently wiping you down, murmuring praise against your skin all the while. You cupped his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours. He offered you a lopsided grin. You returned it, high on the endorphins flooding your system as you looked at your boyfriend.

“Holy hell… you sure that’s how you fuck someone you don’t love?”

Dean rolled over top of you again, his flagging erection pressed against your thigh. You felt him twitch as he pulled you into another kiss, this one much softer than all the others. 

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll show you the difference, sweetheart.”

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Dean taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @jollyhunter @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

Want to join the taglist? Comment or Ask Away!

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART TWELVE

a/n: this is a long one because i realised i accidentally skipped a few chapters of the story, so ive put all of them together 💋

summary: thanos was supposed to ruin you—not fall for you. what started as revenge turned into obsession, jealousy twisting in his gut every time you went back to myung-gi. he doesn’t want to share you. he wants you to be his. but when you finally ask him what he really wants, for the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: cheating, swearing, oral (thanos receiving), p in v, car sex

bad investment masterlist

Thanos had seen you that night—pressed up against the car, letting Myung-Gi take you right there, out in the open, where anyone could see. And worse? You enjoyed it.

The way your body arched into him, the way you moaned for him like you meant it—like you actually fucking wanted him.

It pissed Thanos off in ways he didn’t know were possible.

Why the fuck did he care so much? He knew what this was. Knew he was technically sharing you with your boyfriend.

But fuck that.

He didn’t want to share you. Not anymore.

Not with him. Not with anyone.

You weren’t supposed to be letting that loser touch you—not after the way Thanos had touched you. Not after the way you had melted for him, moaned for him, let him ruin you.

That shit was his.

But what did this mean? Thanos had never cared this much about a fucking girl before.

It was annoying. Frustrating. A problem he didn’t know how to solve.

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” Nam-Gyu snorted when Thanos brought up his tangled mess of feelings.

Thanos scoffed. “Jealous of MG Coin?” He let out a sharp laugh. “Why the fuck would I be jealous of him when I fuck his girlfriend?”

Nam-Gyu exhaled a slow stream of vapor, unimpressed. “Because she’s his girlfriend,” he said, like it was obvious. “You’re pissed that you have to share her.”

“I’m not jealous. I don’t get jealous.”

Nam-Gyu raised an eyebrow, taking another drag from his vape. “Then what the fuck are you?” He leaned forward slightly, studying Thanos. “Because last I checked, you were supposed to record a video of you slutting out his girl, but instead, you’ve been dragging it out—fucking her over and over like you don’t actually want to let her go.” He tilted his head. “So if it’s not jealousy, then what is it?”

Thanos clenched his jaw.

Fuck.

Maybe it was jealousy.

“What the fuck do I do then?” Thanos muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Nam-Gyu exhaled slowly, leaning back. “I don’t know, bro,” he shrugged. “What do you even want from her?”

Thanos let out a frustrated groan. “I don’t fucking know.”

Nam-Gyu studied him for a moment before asking, “Are you mad that she’s fucking Myung-Gi? Or would you be pissed if she fucked literally anyone else?”

Thanos paused, rolling the thought around in his head. He knew the answer immediately, but saying it out loud felt like admitting something he wasn’t ready to.

Still, he gritted his teeth and said it anyway.

“Nah. I don’t want her fucking anyone but me.”

Nam-Gyu smirked, tapping his vape against the table. “So… you wanna keep her?”

Thanos scoffed. “She’s not a fucking pet.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Nam-Gyu muttered. “You’re acting like some territorial motherfucker who just found out his toy can be taken away.”

Thanos didn’t argue. He didn’t have a defense.

Because he did want to keep you. Maybe not in the traditional sense—not in a boyfriend-girlfriend, let’s-hold-hands-in-public kind of way. But the thought of anyone else having you made his blood fucking boil.

“She wouldn’t leave him for me,” Thanos muttered, almost to himself. “She’s with him for a reason.”

Nam-Gyu raised a brow. “And what if that reason disappeared?”

Thanos looked up. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Nam-Gyu exhaled a slow stream of vapor, watching Thanos with amusement. “I’m just saying… We could kill him.”

Thanos shot him a dry look. “Yeah, genius plan. And then what? Rot in jail?”

Nam-Gyu chuckled. “Relax, man. I’m joking—kind of.” He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “But for someone who doesn’t do relationships, you’re taking this shit real serious.”

Thanos clenched his jaw. “I never said I wanted a fucking relationship. I just don’t want her with Myung-Gi. Or anyone, for that matter.”

Nam-Gyu let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re gonna steal a girl from her boyfriend, refuse to date her, and still expect her to stay loyal?” He shook his head, smirking. “Yeah, let me know how that works out for you.”

Thanos stayed quiet, jaw tight, Nam-Gyu’s words rattling in his head long after they left his friend’s mouth.

Was he being stupid? Maybe.

But the thought of you with anyone else made his skin crawl. It wasn’t even just Myung-Gi—though that pissed him off the most. The idea of some random asshole having you, touching you, hearing the sounds you made when you came—fuck, it made him sick.

And that was a problem.

Because he wasn’t supposed to care this much. You were just a means to an end. A way to get under Myung-Gi’s skin, to remind him that he wasn’t untouchable. But now? It wasn’t about Myung-Gi anymore. It was about you. About the way you let Thanos take you apart like you were made for him. About the way you looked at him, like you knew exactly what he was doing but still wanted more.

It was fucked up. It was possessive. And it was only getting worse.

If he was smart, he’d record the damn video, drop it in Myung-Gi’s lap, and be done with it.

But Thanos wasn’t feeling very smart these days.

———————

Thanos’ text came through at the worst possible moment. You had been trying to keep it together with Myung-Gi, pretending everything was fine while your mind raced with thoughts of him. The last thing you wanted right now was to face what you were about to do, but there was no avoiding it.

The message was simple: “I’m outside, quickie in the car?”

Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement and dread flooding your chest. It wasn’t like you hadn’t done this before, but this time it felt different. You’d been spending more time with Myung-Gi lately, trying to make the relationship work because, well, you didn’t have much of a choice. Not after he didn’t let you break up with him a few nights ago.

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull towards Thanos. There was something about him—something dangerous, raw, and irresistible.

“Hey,” Myung-Gi’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “What are you doing? You seem kinda off.”

You looked up at him, forcing a smile. “Nothing, just tired. I’m fine.”

But the lie didn’t come as easily as it once did. He didn’t seem to buy it either, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you.

“I don’t know…” He hesitated, but then continued. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Is it because of what happened the other night? Are you thinking of dumping me again?” His voice was low, almost playful, but you knew him too well. His paranoia was surfacing.

“No, Myung-Gi,” you said quickly, a little too quickly, even to your own ears. “It’s just work stressing me out.”

He didn’t seem convinced, but he shrugged it off. “Alright, but if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, and his attention returned to his phone as he laid back on the couch. Your eyes flickered back to your phone screen, and there it was again—the message from Thanos, blinking in your notifications.

“I’m outside, quickie in the car?”

You wanted to say no. You should say no. But you could feel the temptation gnawing at you. You had told yourself before this—Thanos—was just a phase. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You were craving something more, you had been long before you met Thanos. Craving something Thanos could give you, and Myung-Gi never would.

You glanced over at Myung-Gi, still distracted by his phone. He hadn’t looked at you the same way in a while. Maybe he knew you were pulling away, maybe he didn’t. Either way, you had a chance—just a little one.

You stood up, pulling your phone out of your pocket, debating what to do. You didn’t have an excuse prepared. He’d never let you leave this apartment without a reason.

Think fast.

But then, in the back of your mind, you knew what to say. The lie was simple, easy enough to sell.

“I’m just going to grab something from my car,” you said, your voice casual, as if you did this every day. “Be back in a minute.”

Myung-Gi barely looked up. “Alright, just don’t take too long.”

You nodded, relief flooding you. You grabbed your keys and slipped out the door before he could say anything else, the weight of the moment settling in as you made your way down the stairs.

By the time you reached the car, your heart was racing, but there was no turning back now.

You opened the door to Thanos’ car without hesitation. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed you. No words were needed. You didn’t even need to say anything—he already knew.

The second you slid into the passenger seat, Thanos could already see it in your eyes—you needed it.

“Lock the door,” he muttered, barely getting the words out before you were climbing over the console, straddling his lap like you had no time to waste.

“Missed you,” you whispered, lips grazing his neck as you rolled your hips against him, and fuck, he could feel how warm you were even through your clothes.

But all he could think about was what he’d seen the other night. You against Myung-Gi’s car, letting him fuck you right there in public like you didn’t have a damn ounce of shame.

It made his blood boil.

“Yeah? You missed me?” He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you back so you were looking him in the eye. “That why you let him fuck you against his car like some cheap slut?”

Your eyes widened, lips parting like you wanted to deny it, but you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Instead, you just whimpered, your thighs squeezing around him.

Thanos scoffed. His other hand slid between your legs, pressing against your cunt through your shorts. “Bet you didn’t suck him off first, though. Bet you don’t get on your knees for him.”

His fingers curled, dragging the fabric tighter against you, making you gasp.

He smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

He let go of your hair, pushing his seat right back, shoving you down onto your knees between his legs. The car was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, but he could still see the desperation in your eyes as you fumbled with his belt, like you were starving for it.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, leaning back as you freed his cock, your breath warm against his skin. He grabbed the back of your head, guiding you down. “Come on, señorita. Show me how much you missed me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

The second your lips wrapped around him, he groaned, his grip tightening in your hair.

“That’s right,” he murmured, watching as you took more of him, your tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. “Bet you didn’t look this pretty for him, huh? Bet you didn’t let him fuck your throat like this.”

You moaned around him, sending a shiver up his spine. His jaw clenched.

He hated the thought of you with Myung-Gi. Hated the way he saw you against that car, taking him like you liked it. Like you actually enjoyed letting that loser use you.

But this? Right here? This was his.

He tugged you off him, your lips glossy, your breath heavy. “Look at you,” he sneered, thumb swiping at the spit on your chin. “So fucking eager. Do I make you feel that good, baby? Or do you just like being treated like a slut?”

You licked your lips, eyes hooded. “Both.”

His cock twitched. “Fuck,” he exhaled, tilting your chin up.

He fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a condom. “Come here.”

He pulled you back onto his lap, yanking your shorts to the side, not even bothering to take them off. He was too impatient for that.

He lined himself up, teasing your entrance, making you whimper.

“Go on,” he rasped. “Show me who you really belong to.”

Thanos barely gave you a second to adjust before snapping his hips up, burying himself deep inside you. You choked out a moan, hands flying to his shoulders as you tried to keep yourself steady.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hands gripping your waist, forcing you to take every inch. “You take anything I give you with a smile on your fucking face, don’t you?”

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with pleasure as he fucked up into you, the car rocking slightly with each thrust. Your fingers dug into his arms, nails raking over his skin.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he watched your face, loving how wrecked you looked already. “Tell me, baby—am I better fuck?”

You whimpered, nodding your head.

“That’s what I thought,” he sneered, smacking your ass, making you jolt. “Poor guy probably thinks he’s got you all to himself, huh? Thinks you’re his loyal little girlfriend while you’re down here letting me fuck you in my car.”

His words sent a thrill through you, the sheer filth of it making your walls tighten around him.

Thanos smirked. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He pressed his forehead against yours, hips snapping harder, making you cry out. “Fucking whore, getting off on cheating on him.”

You barely had time to react when he suddenly stilled. His grip on your waist tightened, and his eyes flicked past you, narrowing.

Then, before you could even ask what was wrong, your phone lit up on the dashboard.

Where the fuck are you?

Your stomach dropped.

Thanos exhaled a sharp laugh, nodding toward the window. “Look who’s looking for you, señorita.”

You twisted your head, heart pounding as you saw Myung-Gi wandering around the parking lot, his phone in his hand, his head on a swivel.

“Shit,” you whispered, ducking down, pressing your forehead against Thanos’ shoulder.

He hummed, smug. “You gonna sneak back upstairs, or risk getting caught with my dick inside you, hmm?”

You cursed under your breath, snatching your phone off the dashboard, fingers flying as you typed out the first excuse you could think of.

‘Went to grab a coffee, be back soon.’

You hit send, praying he wouldn’t question it.

Thanos chuckled darkly, his hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you back up to look at him.

“You really think he’s gonna buy that?”

You swallowed, feeling your phone buzz again. Myung-Gi’s reply popped up.

‘Hurry up.’

You sighed in relief.

Thanos smirked. “Guess you got away with it this time.”

Then, before you could even breathe, he gripped your hips and thrust.

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders as he started fucking up into you again, harder this time, his grip bruising.

“But next time, baby?” His lips brushed your ear, his voice low and full of promise.

“I might just want you to get caught.”

———————

The bass thumped deep in your chest, neon lights flashing overhead as you weaved through the packed bodies of Club Pentagon. You could already feel the heat of the night clinging to your skin, your blood buzzing from the drinks you’d downed, the energy in the club electric.

But none of that had you on edge.

No, it was him.

Thanos had been watching you since the second you stepped inside. His gaze had burned through the crowd, dragging over your body like a physical touch, making you hyperaware of every inch of skin your dress left exposed.

And the best part?

This time, you told him you’d be here.

It wasn’t like the other nights where he just showed up out of nowhere, finding you when you swore you’d been careful. No, you sent him the text. You told him Myung-Gi wouldn’t be here.

And Thanos had made damn sure to take you up on the invitation.

Now, he leaned against the bar, watching you from across the room with that lazy, half-lidded look that made your stomach twist. He wasn’t drinking, wasn’t flirting with anyone else—he was just standing there, waiting.

Waiting for you.

Your fingers tightened around your glass, your pulse hammering in your throat as you turned back to your friend, pretending like you weren’t about to do something reckless.

But you could feel him.

Feel his gaze tracing the hem of your dress. Feel the way his jaw tensed when you laughed at something your friend said. Feel the heat of his stare as you threw back the rest of your drink, a silent challenge sparking in your chest.

You ran a hand through your hair, tilting your head just enough to catch his eye across the dance floor. Your lips curved into a small, knowing smirk before you turned away, pushing deeper into the crowd.

It didn’t take long.

Within seconds, you felt him behind you.

His chest brushed your back, his hands sliding low over your waist, fingers pressing into your hips as he leaned in close.

“Real cute,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm. “Trying to make me come find you.”

Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you rolled your hips back against him, feeling the sharp inhale he took behind you.

“Didn’t have to look very hard, did you?”

His fingers tightened, and you barely had a second to catch your breath before he spun you around, pressing your back against the wall beside the DJ booth.

His hands flattened against the wall on either side of your head, his body crowding into yours, and suddenly, the music felt muffled.

All you could hear was him.

“You did this on purpose,” he said, his voice low.

Your lips parted, heat curling in your stomach at the intensity in his eyes. “Did what?”

His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip as he glanced down at your dress. “This. Wearing that. Telling me you’d be here.”

You exhaled a slow breath, tilting your chin up. “Maybe.”

His fingers twitched at his sides. “You know I can’t keep my hands to myself when you pull shit like this.”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Maybe I don’t want you to.”

Thanos cursed under his breath, his restraint snapping as he grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him.

Your breath hitched, your hands sliding up his chest as he dipped his head, his lips ghosting over yours. “I should make you pay for that little stunt you pulled at the bar,” he murmured. “Acting like I wasn’t gonna come claim you the second I saw you.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt, heart racing. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His smirk was downright lethal.

Then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle.

His lips crashed into yours, all tongue and teeth and need, and you gasped, your back arching against the wall as his hands gripped your ass, lifting you just enough to feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh.

It was reckless. It was stupid.

And you didn’t give a single fuck.

Your fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him closer, drinking in the way he groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just how he liked.

The music pounded around you, the crowd oblivious, but you could feel eyes on you.

And you liked it.

Thanos broke the kiss just long enough to nip at your jaw, his teeth grazing your pulse. “Tell me to stop,” he muttered against your skin.

You didn’t.

Instead, you rolled your hips against him, chasing the friction. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His breath hitched, his grip tightening. “Fuck,” he growled. “You’re gonna get me in trouble, angel.”

A shiver ran through you at the pet name, but before you could respond—

A movement caught your eye.

Across the room, a familiar face turned in your direction, his brow furrowing.

Your stomach plummeted.

One of Myung-Gi’s friends.

Fuck.

Thanos followed your gaze, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Who’s that?” he murmured, his tone suddenly sharp, all the teasing from earlier gone.

You swallowed hard, trying not to panic. “One of Myung-Gi’s friends,” you whispered, your nails digging into the front of Thanos’ shirt. “I’m so fucked.”

Thanos’ jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he tracked the guy’s movements.

The friend wasn’t looking directly at you anymore, but he had definitely seen something. He wasn’t heading for you—not yet—but he was still in the club, still close.

“Is it bad that part of me wants him to find out?” you said, voice barely cutting through the pounding bass.

Thanos’ brows pulled together, his grip on your waist tightening. “The fuck are you talking about?”

You exhaled, glancing away. “I tried to break up with him.”

His expression shifted, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Figured if I’m cheating on him, I shouldn’t be with him, right?” You let out a humorless laugh. “But he wouldn’t let me.”

Thanos’ face hardened. “What do you mean, wouldn’t let you?”

You swallowed, shrugging like it was nothing, even though you could feel the way Thanos’ body tensed. “I don’t know… he just talked me out of it. Made me feel bad.”

Thanos scoffed, shaking his head. “He talked you out of it?” His voice was laced with irritation. “So what—you tell him you’re done, and he gives you some sob story, and now you can’t leave?”

You stayed quiet.

That was exactly what had happened.

Thanos let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s fucking cute.”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a goddamn idiot.” His hand slid lower on your waist, fingers digging in possessively. “You think he gets to decide whether or not you leave him? That’s not how this works, baby.”

You exhaled sharply, glancing around, suddenly hyperaware of how close you were to him, how easily his body caged you in. “It’s not that simple—”

“It is that simple,” he interrupted. “You don’t want him? Fucking leave him.” He tilted his head, eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. “You wanna keep sneaking around with me, or you wanna be mine for real?”

Your stomach flipped, pulse hammering in your ears. You knew he wasn’t asking because he was some lovesick fool.

You didn’t answer, and Thanos exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Then at least act like you belong to me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

“So what?” you challenged, crossing your arms. “I dump him, and then what? You gonna play boyfriend? We gonna play house?”

Thanos tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You wanna play house, baby?” he hummed.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “I want to know what the fuck you really want from me.” Your voice was sharp, demanding, but beneath it, there was something else—something unsure. “Because I know you don’t actually care about me, so what is it, Thanos? What do you really want?”

Thanos looked at you—really looked at you.

This was supposed to be for revenge. That was the whole fucking point. Get close to you, fuck with Myung-Gi’s head, then ruin him. Simple.

But staring at you now, with that fire in your eyes, the way you challenged him like no one else did, he didn’t know what the fuck this was anymore.

This was messy. He was messy.

Because if this was just about revenge, why did it feel like his stomach was in knots every time you spoke? Why did he hate the idea of you leaving Myung-Gi only to be with someone else? Why did he keep pushing, pulling, keeping you close instead of just taking what he needed and leaving?

Why did it feel like no matter how much he touched you, it was never enough?

Thanos exhaled, his jaw tight. He wanted to say something cocky, something smooth, but the words didn’t come. Because for once in his fucking life, he didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 2

A request that turned into a short story. *mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

Previous chapter Next chapter

From then on, every Sunday night Bucky could expect a knock on his door at about 7:00 p.m.  It was always Y/N, bringing him a new plate of treats to try.  Her bubbly vivaciousness was palpable as she would talk to him and explain what it was she made, then wouldn’t leave until he took a bite in front of her.  First it was classic chocolate chip cookies, then sugar cookies, oatmeal raisin, white chocolate and macadamia nut, and almost every type of cookie imaginable until she moved on to brownies, cake, and now ice cream.

Bucky at first tried to turn it down, but she was persistent, and he would eventually cave and just take the damn treat to make her leave him alone.  He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked her coming by, but would indulge showing her his one bite of trying it in front of her before she left.  After she had come by with mint chocolate chip ice cream, which he really wasn’t that fond of but knew Sam would love so he took it, he closed the door and turned around to find his girlfriend glaring at him.

“Who the fuck was that?” Mandy asked, her arms crossed on her chest.

“My neighbor,” Bucky said, bringing the ice cream into the kitchen and placing it in the freezer.

“No shit, Sherlock.  What’s her name?” she asked.

“Y/N,” Bucky said simply before facing her and crossing his arms.  He hadn’t really told Mandy about Y/N.  It didn’t seem like he needed to.  “She’s a baker and likes to bring treats by.”

“So you know her name and that she’s a baker,” Mandy said, her eye twitching in annoyance.  “What else do you know?  Huh?  Has she been here before?  Are you flirting with her?”

“What?  No, Mandy, god,” Bucky groaned, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand.  “I helped her move some boxes when she moved in and she insisted on paying me with treats, because that’s what she does.  Nothing inappropriate has happened.  Why can’t you trust me to just, I don’t know, know people outside of you?”

“How well do you know her?” Mandy asked, her voice raising.

“Not well,” he shrugged.

“Where does she work?” she asked, her teeth nearly grinding.

“I think she said that bakery on 5th, but I could be wrong,” he said simply, shrugging again.  “I don’t know her.  She’s just a neighbor who likes to bring me treats.”

“Then why did she call you sweet pea?” Mandy growled.

“She just does, that’s her thing,” Bucky sighed.  “She doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Are you really that stupid, Bucky?  Some bitch is bringing you food and calling you nicknames and you’re just ‘neighbors’ and nothing more?” Mandy yelled.

“Okay, that’s enough!” Bucky yelled back.  “I told you this jealousy thing has to stop.  Not every woman I walk by or associate with in my life is trying to steal me away from you.  And you calling her names just because she’s being nice isn’t going to make me feel any better about this,” he gestured between them.  “I’m telling you, Mandy, I’ve had it.  I’m done doing this with you–”

“I’m sorry!” Mandy said, suddenly looking sad and pouty.  “I’m sorry.  I was just insecure, alright?  She’s…nice,” she said it like it hurt her to admit.  “Please don’t break up with me over something like this.”

Bucky sighed heavily.  “Okay, okay.  Just please, no more of this weird jealousy thing.”  He walked over and hugged her.  “She’s just a nice person who lives across the hall from me.  That’s all.”

“Okay,” Mandy said, still not sounding sure but accepting it.

***

The little bell rang over the door and Y/N came out from the back to greet the new customer.  “Hello!” she said cheerfully, watching the woman scowl at the bakery.  “What can I help you with today?” she continued, trying not to let the woman’s dislike dampen her mood.

“What the hell kind of name is ‘She’s Tasty’?” the woman asked, giving Y/N a dirty glance.

Y/N’s eyebrows raised.  “It’s based on the fact that all my bakes are named after a typically female name,” she explained, pointing at the menu above her head that had lists of names, categories and what the dessert was made of under each one.  “It’s just a play on words.  Like, ‘Ooh she’s tasty!’  You know?”

The woman grimaced.  “Right.  Well, I’m not here for a dessert.  I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” Y/N said, leaning against the counter and frowning.

“Stay away from my boyfriend,” she snarled.

Y/N smirked.  “Okay.  Who’s your boyfriend?”

She looked even angrier.  “Bucky!” she cried indignantly.

“Bucky?  My neighbor Bucky?” Y/N asked incredulously.  “I didn’t know he was even social enough to have a girlfriend.”

“Well, he is, and I’m the girlfriend telling you to back off,” she spat.

“Back off from what, exactly?” Y/N asked, crossing her arms and tilting her head in question.  “I haven’t flirted with him.”

“Yes you are!  You keep bringing him treats!” she said, slapping the counter.

“Okay, hun, just chill out,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes.  “I won’t bring treats anymore, k?  I’m sure I’ve paid him back for helping me move in plenty at this point.”  The girlfriend kept glaring at her.  “I was just being friendly and neighborly,” Y/N continued.  “No need to be jealous of some little treats.”

“Just stay away from him,” the girlfriend snapped, then turned on her heel and stomped out of the bakery.

Y/N rolled her eyes again and walked back to the kitchen.  She hadn’t said or done anything to warrant this type of response, but whatever.  She wouldn’t make Bucky’s treats anymore.  The less drama she had to deal with the better.

[abslvrs13]

camp counselor!reader x camp counselor!jj

cw: swearing, smut 18+, p in v, mdni, fluff, soft sex.

THE FIRE CRACKLED SOFTLY IN THE DARKNESS OF THE NIGHT casting a warm glow over the group of kids huddled around it. the scent of toasted marshmallows and melting chocolate fills the air as you carefully assemble s’mores for the little kids, their sticky hands eagerly reaching for their treats. JJ is sitting beside you on a worn log, leaning forward slightly as he tells a very fake ghost story, his voice dipping low and dramatic for effect. the kids are wide-eyed, hanging onto every word, though a few are clutching their blankets a little tighter, inching closer to one another. "and then," JJ says, pausing for emphasis, "they heard the sound of footsteps… getting closer… and closer…" he tapped his fingers lightly on the log, mimicking footsteps, and a couple of kids jump letting out startled gasps.

you glance at him, holding your laugh as you notice the mix of fear and fascination on their faces. “JJ cut it out,” you say gently, nudging him with your elbow. “you’re scaring them.”

he turns to you with a grin, mischief glinting in his blue eyes. “what? they love it" he says, gesturing to the group, though one of the younger campers is now burying their face in their hands.

“not the ones who are about to cry,” you reply, giving him a pointed look.

JJ holds his hands up in mock surrender, laughing softly. “okay, okay, no more ghost stories. we’ll stick to happy endings and burnt marshmallows from now on,” he says, leaning back and stealing one of the s’mores you just finished making.

“you’re impossible,” you say with a smile, shaking your head as he takes a big bite, crumbs dusting his chin.

as the kids relaxed again, chatting and giggling while they roast their marshmallows, JJ leans closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “guess I’ll just have to make it up to you later,” he says softly, his voice teasing.

...

Thats how you ended up pushed up against the wall of the inventory closet filled with camp supplies, legs wrapped firmly around jj's bare waist. his hand on the soft flesh of your sides. his cock buried deep inside you while he slowly thrust his hips to yours.

"shh..ah, y're so beautiful, gotta be quiet though" at this point, he felt like he was in some dream, he's wanted this for- what? ever since the camp began in june. you whined when he sucked on your pulse point, arching your back when he hit a good spot. "jayjay, hmph.."

"hm, here, here" he lifted his finger, placing the pad of it on your bottom lip, bringing it down before putting it into your mouth. the two of you could not get caught, it'd be a nightmare. you clenched around him, making him groan into the crook of your neck, "gotta stop- doin' that, i'm gonna lose it" his breathing got faster, lower but raspier. you opened your mouth and moaned onto his thumb when he pulled out and slammed back in with more force.

"fuck, fuck-" jj closed his eyes, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead from the tension and force. you shook your head, moving his thumb from your mouth. "m'gonna cum jay!" you nearly shouted but it wasn't loud enough to wake the whole damn camp. "s'okay, s'okay, come for me baby" he cooed, bringing his hand to the top of your head, gently moving his thumb across your sweat forehead.

"hm, c'mere" you spoke softly, reaching your hand to his cheek and connecting lips with his. it was soft, softer than before when it first started. he hummed into the kiss, stilling his cock inside you before he filled you with hot, warm loads of his come, leading you to come all over him while the two of you just kept kissin' and kissin'.

he gently, slowly pulled out before pulling his lips away but not his face. his eyes opening. "y'did so good.." he panted out, reaching down and grabbing the hem of your underwear that was discarded to the floor, lifting it and gently putting them back on. you giggled breathlessly, "thank you, thank you"

he smiled, his bare and sweat glistened chest still slightly heaving with pants. "uhh huh," he cupped your cheek, leaning in to eye level with a deep look in his eye, "i love you, m'kay?, that wasn't a little thing, i don't want it to be little, i really love you,"

you smiled softly, leaning into his touch. "i love you too, jay" he smiled softly, pecking your lips once more before moving away to put his clothes back on. jesus, jj was so so glad john b showed him that camp counselor application.

[the-most-humble-blog]

Female Hypergamy 101: Why Women Go for the “Misogynists” They Claim to Despise

It’s not misogyny if she’s into it.

Modern feminism has a huge problem—and it’s not misogynists.

It’s the women who secretly (or blatantly) want them.

For all the outrage, pearl-clutching, and Twitter thread dissertations about men like Andrew Tate being “dangerous,” women keep proving, time and time again, that they want exactly this type of man.

And not just want. Chase. Obsess over. Fight for.

Because here’s the truth they don’t want to admit:

👉 Hypergamy runs the show.

👉 Women date up, not down.

👉 And they don’t give a fuck if that "up" comes wrapped in a leather jacket of blatant, unapologetic misogyny.

📌 The Hypergamy Effect: Women Date Up, Not Down

First, let’s define hypergamy for the chronically uneducated.

💡 Hypergamy is the biological and social tendency of women to seek men who outrank them in status, power, and resources.

It’s not a choice. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s evolution.

📊 David Buss, a leading evolutionary psychologist, found in his 2019 study that across all cultures, women overwhelmingly prefer men with: ✔ More money ✔ More social dominance ✔ More ambition ✔ More physical presence

Not "equal." More.

Sound familiar?

Why do you think women flood Tate’s DMs despite his reputation?

Why do you think feminists cry about him online while secretly watching his videos in the dark like it’s porn?

It’s because hypergamy doesn’t give a fuck about ideology.

It only cares about status.

📌 The Data: Women Are Attracted to “High-Status” Men—Even If They Hate Them

If hypergamy wasn’t real, we wouldn’t have study after study proving it.

📊 A 2012 study by Fieder & Huber analyzed the dating preferences of thousands of women and found that:

✔ Women consistently rated men with high status, wealth, and dominance as more attractive—even if their personalities were “problematic.” ✔ They found high-status "assholes" more desirable than low-status "nice guys." ✔ Women repeatedly rejected men who had lower incomes or weaker social positions.

Translation? They can call it misogyny all they want. Their biology doesn’t care.

Even better? They are sexually aroused by it.

🧠 A 2008 study by Rupp & Wallen found that when exposed to dominant, "socially aggressive" men, women experienced higher physiological arousal than when exposed to "kind, nurturing" men.

You read that right.

They get turned on by the men they claim to despise.

📌 Tate’s DMs: The Leaked Receipts of Female Hypergamy

Still skeptical? Let’s talk about the actual receipts.

📂 Leaked screenshots from Tate’s personal messages—while he was actively being accused of misogyny and human trafficking—showed women flooding his inbox begging for attention.

Not just fans. Not just “lost, brainwashed” women.

We’re talking: ✔ Self-proclaimed feminists asking for his approval. ✔ "Anti-Tate" women secretly flirting with him. ✔ Women offering themselves up, unprompted, despite “hating” him.

So tell me again how “no woman wants a misogynist?”

Because Tate’s inbox tells a different story.

📌 Why Women Love What They “Hate”

💡 Women don’t actually want equality in dating.

They want status, power, and the thrill of dominance.

✔ They call Tate misogynistic, yet can’t stop talking about him. ✔ They say they want a “nice, emotionally available man” while chasing the very men they complain about. ✔ They "despise" male arrogance while drooling over men who treat them like an afterthought.

Hypergamy is undefeated.

And every outraged feminist tweet about Tate? Every think-piece about why he’s "problematic?"

It’s just free advertising for the exact type of man they can’t resist.

📌 Final Thought: The Lie of "Nice Guys Finish First"

Feminists say they want a world where men are gentle, kind, and respectful.

Yet they date the opposite.

They hate the men they want.

They date the men they claim to hate.

And when the receipts come out? They scramble for excuses.

Because no woman wants to admit that biology will always outrank ideology.

💀 REBLOG if the truth burns. 🔥 LIKE if you see hypergamy play out in real life. 💬 COMMENT if you’ve watched women contradict themselves like Olympic-level gymnasts. 🚀 FOLLOW for brutal, fact-driven breakdowns that hurt the weak.

[zourrystylinson]

28th february fic rec!

so very excited for the 28op drop!!!!

i miss you, i'm sorry (2K) by leivol6

Louis spends some time with zayn in his hotel room after his LA show. they smoke. they fuck.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

love of my life (80K) by likelarry | @likelarryfics

Harry is 36 and recently divorced after he's finally come to terms with his sexuality.

Louis is the 28 year old who helps him find his way and is everything Harry has ever dreamt of.

The one where Harry struggles to really accept who he is and Louis is there every step of the way.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

wildflower (112K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

“You look like a wildflower,” Louis comments, shielding his eyes from the sun, the crinkles near them even more prominent in this light.

“What?” Harry’s words stumble over a surprised laugh.

“With your hair all fluffy like that.”

Harry’s fingers automatically find their way into his hair as he silently curses the humidity out on the water.

“He kind of does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth adds.

Louis tilts his head to the side, smile softening and blurred around the edges. “Our very own long-stemmed wildflower.”

-

or: a 1950s hollywood story spanning half a decade where harry and louis are constantly growing towards, away from, & around each other and everything harry wants are things he can’t have.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tattoos and Temptations (67K) by refusethyname | @gonebylouist

“Love,” he drawled, the word dripping with sinful allure, “I’ve got tattoos that are older than you,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper, his breath warm against Harry’s lips.

Harry tilted his head, a teasing smirk of his own tugging at his mouth despite the rapid beat of his heart. “What can I say, I like experienced men.”

Louis chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent heat rushing through Harry’s veins. “Cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, his hand sliding up Harry’s back to tangle in his curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to tip Harry’s head back and expose more of his neck.

“You’re the one winding me up.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Can we please get back to Loving (5K) by umbroshirt

Harry's mad and Louis doesn't know why.

Or, the silent treatment fic I thought of the second Written All Over Your Face came out

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Remember Me Before You (293K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Desperate to find a new place to live after he comes home to find his boyfriend cheating, Harry moves into a loft with three strangers.

A New Girl AU.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Fragments of Forgotten Lives (160K) by freakingmeout | @freakingmeout28

Louis has been missing for over a year, but the first thing he remembers is waking up just a few weeks ago. Everything before that is a blur - no memory of where he’s been or who he was. Now, trying to rebuild his life in Manchester, he finds solace in therapy and a deepening connection with a fellow survivor.

When Harry, a stranger to Louis but someone from his forgotten past, recognises him on the street, everything shifts. Despite the amnesia, something about Harry feels familiar, like a lifeline. As fragments of his lost memories begin to resurface in vivid, unsettling nightmares, Louis clings to the comfort Harry brings. Together, they embark on a journey to uncover the truth of his missing year, unlocking hidden secrets, unspoken bonds, and a past that refuses to stay buried.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[series] such a beautiful dream (112K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

“I had a sex dream about Harry.” Louis slapped his free hand over his mouth after the words slipped out.

Zayn paused, his hand freezing as he was about to take a bite, his head snapping up to look at Louis. Louis could relate, it’s how he’d felt that morning after he’d woken up. He’d laid in bed for fifteen minutes trying to figure out what had happened, why it had turned him on so much, and then patiently waiting for his erection to go down.

“Like… my Niall’s Harry? Harry Styles?” Zayn clarified, his face bewildered as if trying to comprehend what had just happened. “Do you even like Harry?”

“His last name is Styles?”

or Louis woke up after having a sexy dream about his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend resolved to never think about it again. He hardly knew Harry, so what difference would it make? But when they are thrown together only a few days later, Louis had to admit, his subconscious might have been onto something.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

I Could Fall In Love With You (55K) by tippitytap

If Louis were asked to describe Harry's role in his life, the answer would have always been quite simple: best friend.

Since last year, the answer might have also been: housemate and co-parent to the cats.

What Louis didn't think would ever happen was that the answer would one day change to: the man he was falling deeply in love with.

or: Right at the beginning of a nationwide lockdown might be the worst time to fall in love with your childhood best friend and housemate. But if Louis knew one thing, it was that Harry and he would always find a way through life together.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

I Can Pull It Together (6K) by louislittletomlintum | @louislittletomlintum

Harry's eyes drifted to where Louis’ arms were slung over the back rim of the spa, exposing his underarms again. This time his fine hair was more apparent, wet from the spa and curling a little where some droplets of water hung.

Harry wanted to lick them.

He blushed almost instantly when the thought came through his brain, hoping it wasn’t obvious and that the general heat on his face would disguise his embarrassment. He’d never thought anything like that before.

or the one where Harry accidentally discovers a new part of Louis he really, really loves.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Le Sol De La Chambre (60K) by Fandom_Larry

Louis owns a boudoir business. Harry wants some pictures. What happens when an innocent omega ends up posing for an overly handsome alpha? They end up on the bedroom floor.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

💸 -> visual of my wallet after this 28op drop

stat time!

1,095,493 words read (-35% than last month)

19 fics read (-21% less than last month)

19 authors (-5% less than last month)

feel free to send me an ask if you have read a fic ive recommended! i'd love to talk about the fic with you <3

[youbitchuh]

Ridin Hamzah’s In Hawaii

fluff fluff and fluff :)

There is swear words tho!

(obviously theres gonna be smut in future stories i mean the title)

Hamzah x Reader (no mentions of y/n)

9:34am

The sound of Mandy constantly turning and sighing next to me was getting exaggerating, I know that this is just her way of asking me to get up without actually asking. I turn and face her and stay silent, she gives me a grin

“Hamzah was talking about you to Martin last night…i heard him” she says as her voice gets higher pitched with her last couple of words.

“Was he now…cool” I pretend to be cool by shrugging it off, “no big deal” I say as I sit up next to her. Pretending to not be absolutely in love with your best-friends boyfriend’s best-friend is so so hard and so draining..especially when you spend basically every minute together.

——————————————————————10:46am

I pop my lips and fix up my hair before exiting the bathroom. “how is my outfit?” I ask Mandy as she spins around on her heels to face me. I watch as her face lights up.

“Girl you look so cute” She exclaims as she walks closer to me, “and what about mwah” she says placing her hands on her chest to show off her outfit.

“You’re so gorgeous Mandy” I say with a pout.

*knock knock*

“Ill get it” Mandy says as she walks past me darting for our hotel door, “Oh hi Hamzah” She says almost upset that it wasn’t her boyfriend. My eyes dart up at the name “Are you two almost ready?” He says in a low tone, Mandy looks back at me sitting on the bed and nods. I grab the rest of my shit and start making my way to the door. I take in Hamzahs features, his curls, his smile, his nose. I smile at him awkwardly and stand with him. I clear my throat as I try to ignore the fact that I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face.

———————————————————————1:57pm

I take a sip of my cocktail as I look over the bars balcony view of the beach, Mandy and Martin fucked off to God knows where and who the hell knows where Hamzah is. My trance is suddenly disrupted as a figure sits next to me. Its Hamzah.

“Hey” he says in a cheery tone watching me immediately straighten my posture.

“Oh hi..” I say trying to act unbothered, in reality im really nervous i mean ive known this guy for over a year and we have barley exchanged words with eachother but i still feel like i know everything about him. I face him and give him a soft smile.

“Where were you?” I ask curious of his were-abouts.

“Why did you miss me?” Hamzah jokes with a slight teasing tone, “Nah im kidding i was just walking along the beach it is very beautiful” he says as he grabs his hat and places it on his head. Who does that? He looks so beautiful like that.

“Ohh nice nice, I mean I haven’t really left the bar because I’ve just been alone” I look at him as he lets out a stiff laugh at my comment.

“I might go down to the beach again though.. you should come with me” Hamzah suggests as he puts his pointer finger on my shoulder acting like he just changed the way the world moved.

————————————————————————

2:30pm

“Oh my God” I say loudly with a loud laugh as I trip on the sand for the fifth time. I fix myself up and continue to laugh as Hamzah cant seem to stop. I hit his shoulder “Its not that funny…stop” I say in between laughs. We take a deep breath and continue walking in silence just taking in the view, over time we got closer together his arm brushing against mine and our shoulders kept bumping into eachother. I feel him look down at me as he grabs my hand and puts it in his. A flush of red rises on my cheeks as I look up at him and give me a smile. “You know I was talking about you to Martin last night?” He says almost like a suggestion, he purses his lips as he waits for my response.

There was now a sudden thick tension in the air. I don’t know what it was but there was something there. I mean there always is for me anyway but now I feel like that barrier of not being able to be on him is gone.

“Yeah I do know actually” I laugh, hes pulling me away to go sit at some chairs that overlook the beach. “Mandy told me this morning” I say as we sit down. My heart is racing I mean this is the first time I have ever been alone with him.

“I told him how I think you are beautiful” I look at him and smile at his words. He gives me a smile as I watch him take in my features. “I also told him how I think you’re really cool… and funny… I was gonna say smart but that would’ve been a lie no offence” I look at him and place my hand on my chest and scoff.

“Wow im offended” I say as I roll my eyes but laugh at his comment. I look back up at him “I think you are beautiful too”.

————————————————————————

10:06pm

We are all sitting on the beach having a bonfire, Mandy and Martin keep telling some story on what happened while they went off for the day, I didn’t care I was so focused on how beautiful Hamzah looked with the fire glowing onto his face.. he looks so different in this light and im not complaining.

“Hes so beautiful” Mandy snaps her head towards me “Who is?? huh??” I look back at her “What do you mean?” She leans closer to me “you didnt say that in your head..” I widen my eyes and look at Hamzah whos running his hands through his curls, his face is flushed almost like he was happy I said it.

Me and Hamzah didn’t speak to eachother since we went for a walk together, it would’ve been awkward if we did. My feelings towards him are becoming so much more noticeable and I hate it.

————————————————————————

12:26am

Ive been sitting in the hotel room for over an hour now, I excused myself because me calling Hamzah beautiful out loud made me feel sick,but why? I said it to his face, was it the fact that I’ve now let myself feel vulnerable because I said it infront of my friends?

*knock knock knock*

Im suddenly disrupted out of my thoughts

“Hold on im coming” I say as I straighten my outfit and walk towards to door. Its Hamzah, I clear my throat as I look up at him.

“Uh hey..can we talk?” He motions towards me and lets himself inside. I shut the door behind him and follow him over to the bed.

“Look I don’t know why I said that out loud, I feel so stupid and I looked vulnerable I never meant to say it, I felt like I embarrassed you more than I did myself and I just wanted to say Im sor-”.

My word were cut off by Hamzahs soft lips attaching themselves onto mine.

“Dont”

“Worry”

“About”

“It”

He says inbetween kisses, his hand makes his way to my face, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear not breaking the kiss. This was so passionate every single second of it felt like heaven, my hands started wondering over his body landing on his chest, hot and flushed. The feeling of his chest rising and falling between every kiss was magical. My face becoming more flushed as our tongues danced together. I start pushing on his chest as a sign to stop. I look at him taking in deep breaths. No words exchanged. Just living in the moment.

————————————————————————

2:45am

Deep breaths and slight snores fill the room. My hand lays on Hamzahs chest as he sleeps away, my eyes suddenly dart over towards the door as Mandy makes her way through it…loudly and clearly drunk. She spots me and Hamzah cuddling on the only bed in the room.

“Awww so cute” she slurs as she points to the two of us. I put my finger up to my lips at an attempt to silence her as she walks closer to the side im lying on. “Im just gonna go sleep in Martins room..” She whispers in my ear. I nod her off and watch as she walks away, “Use protection Mandy!” I whisper shout as she gets closer to the door, she turns around “you too!” I chuckle to myself.

Well this is gonna be awkward when he wakes up..

————————————————————————

Tags:

[insert--coffeebean]

Imagine being dropped into a fantasy land, just out of nowhere. Everything seems normal, pretty usual, actually, until you notice one crucial thing.

People own monsters. And not like Pokemon-type shit. People own carnivorous, dangerous animals, everything from small dog-like to big, lion-like creatures. Some use them for hunting, some just carry them around like property, a lot of people own multiple ones.

You're a little freaked out, walking by someone with a gigantic lion with red eyes and the sharpest teeth you have ever seen. They're just walking around with them like it's normal! That thing could kill someone! But okay, you think, hey, I'm sure this is fine, I'm sure this is all regulated and cool.

You look into the media, wanting to learn how this weird world operates. You learn that it is not unusual for people to use their monsters as property control, sicking them on whoever steps a foot in their yard. You dig deeper. You find that a lot of people actually use their animals to attack and kill each other. There are thousands of reported cases of people murdering others with these animalistic weapons. Cases of random attacks, people killing their spouses and partners. You find murders, but you find accidents, too: a kid playing with the monster of his dad, losing control of it. It never should have been left alone with it. A stray monster picked up by some rando, who has neither the tools nor the mental stability to not use it to hurt anyone. You start to feel really uneasy. But you dig deeper.

People use their monsters freely. Some hunt other normal animals for sport with them. The license that one needs to get one is easy to acquire and very often left unchecked. Its super easy to get one. You think to yourself, shit, I need one, don't I? What if someone attacks me with theirs, what am I supposed to do then?

You find cases of people running rampant with their monsters. In malls, in banks, in cinemas, even in schools. Thousands of people die every year from people sicking their monsters on them.

And then you find something else. In a lot of other countries of this strange, twisted world, these animals are banned. Normal people, regular citizens, are prohibited from owning them. They cause too much violence, too much death, they're too easy to use to hurt. This is almost relieving, but you think to yourself, wait, why aren't they banned here?

The best thing you can find is that people believe it is their right to own whatever they want. They should be able to own their killing machines because otherwise their freedom is infringed. You just sit there, mouth agape. This doesn't feel like a good enough reason to let thousands of people die every year. To make violence so easy and accessible to everyone all over the country. To make children die in schools, teens in the mall, adults at their workplace, or in their own home, anyone and everyone constantly open to being attacked in the street, dead within seconds.

Why would they let people own killing machines? Talking about freedom, while people die day by day, and the system of banning them works so well in dozens of other countries. But no. They just won't. They pride themselves on their right to earn monsters. They think it makes them great. They harass anyone who dares question it.

Who wouldn't want to go home? Who wouldn't question this? Who wouldn't want to change this, open people's eyes?

Sigh, folks. This post is about firearms.

[fromtherift]

To say I’m heartbroken by what happened with BioWare and EA regarding dragon age would be an understatement- however, at the same time, I saw it coming a million miles away.

From the development hell DA was put through, to the final result not having DLCs, to the final result also being a shadow of the previous instalments in the series in terms of writing and gameplay- it was clear to me they wanted dragon age done and finished as fast as possible.

I’m sorry, but I really didn’t like Veilguard. I loved it at first play through, and my opinion sharply declined on my second. It felt like a shadow or a mockery of the games I love. It felt like the equivalent of giving your kid sibling an unattached game controller and letting them play just to shut them up.

The game spent so long trying to be cinematic that it forgot to be good- or rather, it never had a chance to be good. It just needed to be shiny and it needed to sell. That’s the shape of all things lately- and it makes me rage and it breaks my heart.

More importantly, the people fired are going to have an incredibly hard time getting employed again. I know Trick Weeks was talking about how difficult it was to afford raising a child in Canada, and now both they and their partner are unemployed.

What EA and BioWare did to dragon age was cruel on multiple levels. I hope one day we live in a world that allows these stories to be told by people who love to tell them, who get compensated well for telling them, and in a way that is authentic to the story itself and not to any speculative market.

[wandixx]

Halloween dress-up, let's go!!!

Assignment: "Dress up as ghosts".

Status: Yes. They're ghosts. Just really different types of ghosts