#go girl give them nothing they have done nothing to earn anything at all from you!!!!

[vaguely-concerned]

okay so 'meridian' gains the dubious distinction of being the first ds9 ep to get my personal 'absolute dogshit' rating fksdah. (honestly the fact that we're all the way to s3 before it happened is kind of impressive, though. even in the sketchier eps so far I have found something to genuinely love somewhere in there. I'd take twenty alamarains over this any day) interminable hetero bullshit of the worst kind with little to no redeeming quality or merit.* blatant jadzia character assassination (for a while I was completely convinced she was being mind controlled or something. imagine my shock when I realized that no a writer genuinely put this story to page at face value and then had it filmed. I'm so embarrassed on his behalf.). creepy holosuite nonsense handled with the grace and sensitivity of a rampaging rhino. every time I scrolled over the video bar and saw I had more bland blond guy walking across grass to suffer through a part of me died. ds9 baby what happened this isn't you we both know this isn't you come back to me babe

*actually not entirely true -- avery brooks always giving it his all, however little the episode deserves that from him... when no one's got me I know he's got me etc.

[knavesflames]

arlecchino tying you up and eating you out 🙈🙈

Heheh done!!

Contents: cunnilingus, bound wrists, praising, reader’s a little bratty but that’s ok😈

Word count: 1313

NSFW under the cut!

You sit with a smirk, straining against the lace bound around your wrists, looking down at Arlecchino, who stares at you with a steely gaze. It’s clear she wasn’t in the mood for your bratty antics tonight.

“This lace is pretty, but it doesn’t keep me from escaping.”

A sharp tug at the lace, the fabric giving a small stinging sensation, causes a grunt to leave your lips before the smirk reappears. Arlecchino has been so busy lately with the Fatui, with project Stuzha. You feel she’s been neglecting you a little too much, so of course you resorted to the one thing she can never resist. She just loves putting you in your place, so when you sit on her lap while she’s doing paperwork, grinding yourself on her, your hand slipping through her shirt and rolling her nipples between your thumb and forefinger, she gets.. irritated. Only at the fact you manage to distract her so well. Her voice comes out as an irritated growl as her hand grabs your wrist.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

And when you wore that skimpy dress and bent down to ‘pick up a pen’, she lost it, dragging you to the bedroom. And this is where you sit now, bound by that pretty pink lace she loves so much. It makes you look so innocent, so pretty. And she loves the contrast it gives when you’re screaming her name and arching your back as you beg for more.

“Is this what you wanted, hm?”

She almost growls, planting aggressive kisses on your neck, trailing to your collarbone and then lower, her tongue flicking out against your nipple to relish in the soft sounds you make.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t know what you mean.”

Your words earn her teeth grazing your nipple, a small yelp echoing the room. Her tongue soothes the bite, swirling softly around your nipple as she hums, the vibrations of her voice travelling to your breast. The breast not occupied with her tongue is fondled by her fingers before they switch. She blows air on your now damp nipples, cooing softly, though, the words have an intent that is less innocent than she makes it sound.

“So cute. You’re so sensitive when you can’t use your hands.”

You strain once against the lace, earning a sharp, almost warning look from Arlecchino, and you know better than to be bratty now. She can be cruel when she wants to be. When she deems that your breasts have been given enough attention, her mouth travels down, kissing your stomach, and then your hip bone. Her kisses are aggressive, the occasional nibble just to prove that you’re hers, and she’s in control, not you. Your hips tilt up as her lips ghost over your pussy, not even touching it and her hand pushes them back down.

“Patience.”

She seems to be taking great enjoyment out of hearing your frustrated breaths, your desire to break free from the lace and guide her lips to where you want them most. She hooks one leg over her shoulder, biting the inside of your thighs and soothing it once again with her tongue. She’s marking you, you have no doubt about that. But you can’t move, if not for your wrists being tied, then for the way one hand is keeping your hips down, the other gripping your ankle, keeping your leg on her shoulder.

“Arl-“

“Be quiet, or do you need a gag?”

A quick shake of your head and almost a whimper.

“Good girl. You’ve been teasing me all week, don’t complain now you’re getting what you want. We go at my pace, or not at all.”

You groan in annoyance, just to be even brattier, but you nod anyway, obeying her. Her kisses go further and further up your thigh until she takes a deep breath, almost burying her nose in your pussy.

“Soaked, are you? Isn’t that sweet? So wet over simple kisses and being tied up.”

Once more, you try to buck your hips up, getting her where you want, but she moves at the last second. She’s clearly enjoying this game, enjoying your growing neediness.

“What did I just say?”

You sigh, letting your head fall back in frustration, only for it to come right back up as you gasp, feeling her tongue lick the gentlest stripe up your slit. Already a soft moan sounds out, a low chuckle coming from Arlecchino. Her two fingers, with dangerously sharp nails you’re always cautious of, gather some of the slick you’ve produced from simple teasing, before forcing your mouth open, stuffing her fingers inside.

“Taste yourself. The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

When your heavy breathing prevents you from doing anything, her fingers shove just a little further in, her voice warning you once more.

“Suck.”

And you comply, moaning on her fingers as you taste every last drop of yourself while her tongue moves around the spot you want most. Not touching it, but around.

“Good girl.”

She whispers to you, look into your eyes as her tongue finally finds its correct place, watching your reaction with silent glee. She begins lapping at your pussy, alternating between soft, gentle licks to more aggressive sucking of your puffy clit, enjoying the noises that come out of your mouth. She enjoys the squeal even more when her tongue dips inside of you, thrusting as she makes sure her nose bumps against your clit. Again and again she alternated between fucking you with her tongue and lapping at your clit, so puffy and swollen.

“You have such a pretty pussy.”

She murmurs as you strain against the lace. You’re becoming painfully aware that you *can’t move*, wanting nothing but to card your hands through her hair and keep her where she is. The urge to do what you’ve done once before, turn the tables, use her, use her tongue to grind on. Though, you’re also aware you only did that because she gave you permission. You keep straining, your mewls and grunts getting louder and louder, vibrating on her fingers. And when you gag ever so slightly on her fingers, she speaks again, removing her fingers from your mouth, taking to circling your nipple again.

“Careful, doll. Wouldn’t want you to choke before I’m done with you.”

Her words are sensual, commanding, but you know the hint of love and concern in there. It’s there, barely, she’s hiding it well. But when her tongue resumes her work, you forget all about that, your body trembling with the amount of sensation going on. Your toes curl and your pussy begins fluttering around her tongue, and she knows you’re close. And she does the one thing you both love and hate. Sliding her tongue out, and then back in, and then out again and repeat, her nose bumping your clit, giving you what you need to keep you on that edge.

“Cum for me.”

“Wanna cum all over your mouth.”

“You will. Now, be a good girl, and cum for me.”

You take the opportunity, and the fact she’s being nice for once, your eyes rolling, your back arching, and a loud, strained almost cry of pleasure leaves your lips as you cum messily all over her mouth. And god, does she love it. Her tongue laps up every drop, swirling around your clit slowly as you come down from your high as she whispers.

“Good girl. Pretty girl. Such a good fucking girl, cumming all over my mouth.”

She comes back up to your level, her tongue sliding over yours before she breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both. You smile breathlessly. You got what you wanted, and there wasn’t a punishment. That’s what you thought, anyway, until—

“You think we’re finished? Silly girl. We’ve just started.”

[luveline]

Ok Derek angst what about a non-bau gf getting jealous of his flirting with Garcia? Bc ngl if my bf did that with a girl who I hadn’t met I would be super upset and then May be his gf meets Garcia and realizes she’s a girls girl and super sweet? Idk u can take it any direction

ty for your request ♡ fem!reader

You don't want anything to do with Penelope Garcia. Honestly, you wouldn't ever meet her if you had your way, but you're level-headed enough to know that she's important to Derek. Integral to his life. It's a miracle you put off meeting her as long as you had. 

At first, you genuinely thought she was Derek's mom. He always ended calls with, "Love you, mama." It was only a few weeks ago when he shook things up to say, "I love you, babygirl," did you look up from the book on your thigh to ask who it was.

"Penelope," he'd said, like he was confused. "Who'd you think?" 

You shrugged noncommittal, earning yourself a hair pet and a kiss. You lay awake that night wondering if you got it wrong. You'd heard a hundred stories about her and felt reluctantly fond, but now? Your boyfriend calls other girls pet names, what do you do about that? What can you? 

You ignored it. And now you have to meet her. 

She doesn't seem as nefarious as you've imagined her, springing from her seat at the cafe table to hug you. "Hi! Oh my god hi! I can't believe I'm finally meeting you, I've never been this happy in my life! You're so pretty!" 

You wince at her arms thrown over your shoulders but reciprocate. You aren't a total bitch.

"Thank you," you say. She smells like coffee creamer and hairspray. She pulls away to beam at you, her lips painted a shiny, pretty red. "It's nice to meet you. Derek has nothing but good things to say about you."

It sounds awfully formal, like you're opening a bank account with a teller who has a shared acquaintance. Derek gives you a look. You give him a look back, mutual confusion. She may be his best friend, but you don't know her (and what you do know you're jealous of, so). 

Derek takes your hand despite your off behaviour to show you off with pride, his teeth peeking from behind his lips milky white. "My two favourite girls had to meet eventually."

"I thought I'd be more jealous about coming second," Penelope says, eyes twinkling, "but I've never seen Derek so happy." Her voice turns scratchy like stretched linen. "He deserves the best, you know? And it's clear you're it. He's smitten."

"Maybe don't give up all my secrets, sweetheart," he says. 

Seeing them together chills your raging envy. There's a lot of love there, clearly, but the sexual tension you pictured is fictional. "Girl code, my love,'' Penelope says with a shrug. She winks at you. 

Insecurity nags at your skin like condensation on a cold window, "You've known Derek for nearly six years? Have you guys always been this close?" 

"Well, mister muscles here didn't bother remembering my name for the first couple of weeks that we worked together, so he deferred to pet names. And, you know, he's him," —Penelope gestures to him as if to say, behold, drawing a startled laugh from you— "and I'm me, so. I didn't want him to stop." 

"Hey, now." 

Penelope shakes her head at you. "He always does this." 

"If 'this' is stopping you from talking bad on yourself, babygirl, then yeah. I'll always do it." 

You feel clarity break, the sweet taste of relief and the muggier lick of shame. Derek and Penelope have a special friendship. That you knew before meeting her. She's made a huge, irreplaceable impact on his life, and Derek has clearly done the same. They aren't playing work husband and wife —there are reasons for their affections that go well beyond the surface flirtation. 

"I get it. Nobody ever called me anything so nice as Derek calls me," you confide. Derek's eyebrows leap up. You've never told him this; you're telling Penelope as a sort of apology, though she can't know that. "I never got asked out growing up. When he asked me on a date I thought he was trying to win a bet." 

Penelope's expression flickers with relief. There and gone, quickly replaced by sympathy. "Are you kidding? You're so pretty, Derek's lucky he got to you before someone else did." 

Derek kisses your cheek. His lips linger against the apple of it, your joined hands pulled instinctively to his firm torso. You might be imagining it, but Derek seems to know everything, so he probably knows the hill you've just climbed in your head. "Damn straight I'm lucky. I'm surrounded by beautiful, genius women. This is paradise for the modern man." 

You flush at his touch and praise. Penelope makes a pleased squeak. "Ooh, you guys are cute! You need to let me take a photo. This'll make a great printout for your wedding."

"Penelope." 

[morverenmaybewrites]

Jason Todd x Reader | Perspective on Love

How has their understanding of love changed? asked by @/citrussaurus

Heartbreaking take: I don’t think it has (yet). 

Sometimes, people who have undergone severe trauma can be mentally frozen at that age–and Jason has a lot of trauma to go around. 

As a child, Jason had been abused–both emotionally and physically–by both of his parents: his mother was a drug addict, meanwhile his father was an abusive drunkard. 

There wasn’t a lot of warmth in that rundown shack in East End, and he quickly learned to fend for himself. 

I think, as a child, all Jason ever knew of love are fleeting glimpses of it, unformed and unfamiliar, like the roiling shadows underneath the waters of Gothams: a girl from East End will choose to give her jacket to her sister, even if it means risking frostbite herself, a homeless man, so thin that you can count the grooves of his ribs, gives up his meal so that his dog can eat for the night. 

And he’ll watch these and he’ll think, Why? Why give up your comfort for the sake of another person? 

Not because he’s a naturally hard person, but because even as a kid, he became what he needed to be to survive.

And nothing soft ever survives in Gotham City.

Maybe he’ll experiment, the way children often do: he gives up a night’s worth of food to leave it beside his mother, so that she’ll have something to eat when she wakes up, he’ll drape a moth-eaten blanket over her despite the fact that it will leave him cold for the rest of the time.

Most of the time, she’ll ignore these gestures, but sometimes she’ll reward him. 

(And that is what Jason thinks of it as: a reward). 

The weight of her hand on top of his head, ruffling his hair, a blank but well-meaning smile, the briefest touch of her lips against his forehead. 

And you know what? For a long time, he’ll think that is love. Because it felt warm, good, to be seen by someone, to have one’s presence be wanted, needed.

(And when one is starving, even the scraps of something is better than the absence of it. He is from East End, after all. He’s learned to make do with what he has.) 

When Bruce adopts Jason, he brings this mentality with him, for one does not so easily forget lessons that take a lifetime to learn.

The setting changes, but the idea remains the same: love is a reward, something to be earned, its scraps something to be fought over, like any other resource. 

And I think Bruce (who, make no mistake, does love his children) did little to dissuade him from this fact. 

Maybe it’s the simple, immutable fact that all parents cut their children in a hundred different ways, no matter how much they love them. Or maybe it’s Bruce’s own version of love: the obsessive, almost manic way he demands perfection from his family and himself. 

(After all, how can the world hurt you if everything is made perfect, every mistake corrected, every weakness categorized and accounted for?)

But I think this attitude only strengthens Jason’s love-is-something-to-be-earned mentality. He thinks that this newfound family’s love will only be earned if he himself is perfect: if every target is hit through the bull’s eye, every case solved within twenty-four hours, every training session performed to Batman’s exacting standards. 

His kidnap and subsequent torture by the Joker only made it worse. Deep down, I think Jason thinks that if he did everything right, if he didn’t disobey Batman that night, if he had turned on his trackers, if he was the perfect little golden boy his family expected him to be, then maybe they would have loved him enough to keep searching for him, to find him. 

(To not abandon him to his fate.)

I think deep down, Jason feels as if he’s done something that made him unworthy of being loved, and (either consciously or unconsciously) constantly does things he believes will help him earn it. 

Deep down, he’s still that little boy from East End, the one who’d do anything just to feel a bit of affection, because the scraps of something is better than the absence of it.

Now, how does this affect his relationship with you?

I think Jason tries to be the perfect partner.

(Emphasis on tries, he knows little about people, and less about relationships, but dear God, he tries.)

Jason’s quiet in a way that suggests that he’s almost scared to disturb the space around you. He cleans up after himself (and you) with an almost military precision. Some of it is simply habit, things he picked up over the years. Growing up among the dust and dirt and refuse in East End, he hates seeing anything dirty.

But most of it?

It’s Jason trying not to make a nuisance of himself.

After all, you’re a lot less likely to ask him to leave if he’s, at the very least, a good roommate.

And while he’s always been observant, he pays attention to you to an almost unnerving degree. The things that you like, the things  that make you laugh, and most importantly, the things you dislike. 

As a child in East End, doing or saying the wrong thing might mean hard words and harder fists and a night on the cold concrete, curled up around his bruises like a soft-shelled thing. 

As a teenager, it might mean Bruce’s disappointment: so thick and heavy that it was almost suffocating. Jason thinks that he will never forget the way it filled all of the space in the room and made it hard to breathe.

(And how, everytime he failed, he expected to be told to pack his bags the next day). 

But with you?

It somehow feels worse, it feels as if he has a lot more to lose. This formless, nameless thing between the two of you, so fragile it feels like glass in his hands. 

So he tries to be the perfect partner. Exhausting as it is, unsustainable as it is, for no one canbe perfect all the time.

Still, Jason tries.

Because he’s from East End, because he’s from Wayne Manor, and finally because he’s Jason Todd and all his life he’s been content on living on scraps and here you are handing him your whole heart as if it’s nothing at all and he has no idea what he has done to earn it.

(So he does a little bit of everything. Hoping it will be enough. it has to be enough.)

 Every time he makes your coffee just the way you like it (despite you never telling him how) and carefully leaves it by your side, as if the act of handing it to you would make him a nuisance.

Every time he quietly picks up after you without complaint, despite you calling that it’s all fine and that the two of you should just crash on the couch and watch a movie. 

Every little thing he does to try and be perfect, is him asking you to please, please, find him worthy, to look at him and find something worth loving. 

It is him asking you to please let him stay.   

[bluewxrld07]

Missin' you (Luke Hughes)

Warning(s): some angst, depression, hermit mode, flufffff :)

Luke Hughes x female!reader

Summary: Y/N had been so stressed with finals which made her not only forget her boyfriend's last game for UMich was the night before her big boards exam, but that it was his last night in UMich before he left for jersey

Y/n was ready to pull our every last piece of hair on her head.

She was stressed, sleep deprived, food deprived, shower deprived, and anything else she could be deprived of. She's been studying nonstop for her boards exam which was supposed to be tomorrow afternoon.

She was currently in her boyfriend, Luke's, room on his bed with her laptop in her lap, supporting one of his hockey sweatshirts and a pair of her athletic shorts and glasses on the bridge of her nose.

His bathroom door opened to reveal him in nothing but his dress pants on his hips, the girl not even bothering to look up like she normally would've. Luke's face dropped into a grimace at her movements being very minimal.

"Baby you've gotta let your head rest for a bit. It's not good to be overstimulating yourself with all of your schoolwork." he says to her as he begins getting dressed.

She gives him a hum, her eyes not even twitching away from her screen. Luke lets out a sigh, finishing up with buttoning his shirt and walks over to his bed. He crawls up to her, softly pushing the screen down and pushing it to the side. She begins to stutter out squeaks from the actions, only to be silenced as he hovers over her frame and places his lips over hers.

She sighs in content, her hand finding his cheek to rub it softly. He smiles against her lips, pulling away and placing a couple more chaste kisses on her lips.

"Go shower please. I'd love for you to not miss the most important and saddest games in my career."

"One of the most important games of your career." she points out to him, earning an eyeroll. "Give me like ten more minutes of studying. Then I will not pay anymore attention to it the rest of the night." she bribes, watching his head drop at the sound of her asking.

It was quiet for a few moments, before he lets out a dramatic sigh. "Alright fine. But I'm leaving in two minutes, so can I trust that you'll be done in ten minutes?"

"Sir yes sir." she salutes him playfully. He chuckles at her and pushes himself up off the bed to finish getting ready.

"I will see you tonight yeah? Still okay with driving with me to the airport?" he asks, earning a sad smile from her.

He watches her eyes falter, looking down at her lap. "I just can't believe you're leaving already. How long till I get to see you?" she asks, Luke making his way towards her and sitting on the edge by her.

"Six weeks-"

"Six weeks Lu? How am I supposed to get by without holding or touching you for six weeks?" She runs her hands through her hair, tears beginning to form.

He puts his hands on her face, shushing her softly and kissing her forehead as she takes a deep breath. She looks back into his eyes.

"It'll go by faster than you know it. Especially after your boards exam tomorrow. You'll be spending so much time with the guys after that, you'll barely even notice the time flying by." he assures her, making her nod and sniffle.

"Six weeks yeah?"

"Six weeks."

"I will see you before you know it pretty girl," he pecks her lips. "Now, I have to go. Ten minutes and ten minutes only. Okay?"

"Got it. Ten more minutes."

"Good girl. I'll see you in a couple hours yeah?" he says with a smile, she nods with a small smile that barely meets her tired eyes.

He presses one more long kiss on her lips before he stands up and grabs his stuff. "I love you, I'll see you in a bit."

"Love you Lu."

Once his door was shut, she grabbed her laptop and opened it to get back to studying. Telling herself ten minutes every so often so she wouldn't lose track of time or slack off.

As she ran over her quizlet flashcards once more, she felt her eyes getting heavier and heavier. The need for closing them becoming stronger than keeping them open. "Just a few minutes." she tells herself, shutting her eyes that were relieved to fall closed.

"Just a few minutes."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The sounds of hoots and hollers were heard, slowly getting closer and louder as y/n opened and adjusted her eyes. She looked around, seeing her laptop had slightly fallen from her lap, she was sprawled out on Luke's bed.

Luke's bed.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Y/n shot up immediately, not caring if her laptop fell to the floor and broke. She ran over to Luke's desk to grab her phone, seeing all the messages and phone calls from Luke that had gone unanswered.

Moose <3

Hey baby where are you?

Moose <3

You said you'd come tonight. Why aren't you here?

Moose <3

I thought I was important to you. I'll keep that in mind.

Moose <3

We need to talk tomorrow. My flight leaves in five.

The time being almost midnight.

He was gone. He was long gone.

She didn't get to say a final goodbye. She didn't get to watch his final game at UMich. She didn't get to wear his UMich jersey one last time for him.

Y/n let her tears fall, sobs falling from her mouth as she kept hitting the call button on Luke's contact. She knew he wouldn't answer due to being on a plane, or probably because he was so upset with her not keeping her side of the bargain.

Y/n fell to the floor as she sobbed, knowing that she should've just gotten into the shower while Luke was still there, knowing it would've prevented this exact moment from happening.

It was one of those moments you only ever dream about happening, thankful that it didn't actually happen.

Her sobs must've been heard outside the bedroom, Luca and Ethan popping it open a few minutes later. Their ecstatic smiles from the win falling at the sight of the girl they'd known like a sister crumbling on the floor.

"Y/n?" Luca's voice spoke up, shutting the door behind them.

She shook her head and cried harder. "I should've just listened. I should've stopped and took a break. It's my fault. I didn't listen. It's my fault I didn't listen to him. And now he's gone." she cried out.

Luca looked over at Ethan with sad eyes. "Go call Luke."

"I already did, he wasn't answering. He hates me. He's gonna break up with me. He's so mad at me. I should've listened, fucking dammit!" she snapped back at them, the guys seeing her face for the first time since coming in.

Ethan pulled out his phone to dial Luke's number and nodding at Luca while stepping out.

Luca made his way over to the overtired and overworked girl on the floor, wrapping his arms around her figure to bring her into his lap as she cried.

"He doesn't hate you. He could never hate you." Luca says quietly as he held her. Y/n put her face into his neck and shook her head.

"I asked him for ten more minutes of studying, even though he didn't want me to and said I should go shower. He trusted me to give myself ten more minutes. It was supposed to be a big night for him. I was supposed to be right there as he had his last night here. I was supposed to be right by his side. I fucked up so bad Luca. I was just so tired, I could barely keep my eyes open." she rants, hiccuping every so often when she spoke.

Luca shushed her quietly, rubbing up and down her arms.

"I'm gonna miss him Luca. How the fuck am I supposed to get through this rough ass patch without him?" she hiccups.

"That is even if he wants to be with me still." she musters out, letting another choke sob leave her lips. Luca lays his head on top of hers.

"He will still want you. He will always want you. He will always need you Y/n. That boy is so smitten by you, y/n, he would have to be physically pulled away from you to let you breathe most days. He's not leaving anytime soon." Luca assures her, the girl only sniffling and shaking her head. They sat there silently for a while, Luca letting her choked sobs come out in waves for a bit.

"Let's get you into the bathroom to freshen up, hey? Then we can figure it all out. I promise." he suggests, letting her let his words sink in.

"I'll go get the shower going while you sit here," he suggests, letting her nod as he slips out from under her to head to Luke's bathroom.

She sat there motionless, her eyes swollen rom crying for so long. She was so tired, stressed, and missing her boy so much more than she should be. Y/n wasn't sure where to start with her feelings.

A part of her didn't even want to take her boards tomorrow. It wasn't even worth it no matter how hard she studied. She only wanted Luke. He always made things better. Yet she managed to screw that up.

Luca came back into the room a few minutes later, helping her stand and walking her to the bathroom.

"Ethan and I will be outside when you're done. I set your clothes on the counter when you finish up." he says before closing the door.

She wrapped her arms around herself for a minute, before finally deciding to strip and step into the hot shower. She let the water cascade down her body, feeling her face heat as tears began to fall.

As she sobbed, she hugged herself tighter. Her cries echoing off the shower walls. "I'm so sorry Lu." she cries.

Time passes, the girl finally pulling herself together enough to wash off all the continuous hours of studying and lack of sleep. She sees that the pajamas Luca set out was one of Luke's sweatshirts and a pair of his sweatpants she always loved wearing when she was over, making her tears gloss once again.

She finished getting freshened up, opening the door and sniffling as she walked over to his desk to grab her phone where she guesses Luca must've set it after she dropped it.

Her heart hoping that when she turned it on, she would've had something, anything from Luke.

Silence.

Y/n let out a sigh, rubbing her eyes as the tiredness wave began to hit her harder than it did earlier. Y/n grabbed her phone to bring with her to bed in case he did call her, but also knowing he probably wouldn't.

As she turned around to go lay in his bed, she halted and dropped her phone.

"Hi baby." he sighs, his eyes looking just as tired and red.

She can't even force words out, still frozen in her spot. He stood up from his spot on his bed, the boy wearing sweats and a Devils sweatshirt.

He says nothing as he walks to her, wrapping his arms around her figure. She sighs in his arms, immediately feeling herself relax in his hold. She wraps her arms around his torso, sniffling quietly. "I'm sorry," she whimpers out. Her tone making his heart break.

"I was just so tired, I guess my body finally took over ad had enough of me overdoing it. I would never miss something like this on purpose. Especially when I don't know how long it is till I see you again." she stutters.

He puts his lips on her head. "Six weeks remember?" he says, making her look up at him. His heart dropped at the sight of her bloodshot eyes that were almost swollen shut.

"Are you breaking up with me?" she asks, looking down. "I get it if you are. I wouldn't want to be with someone like me either at this point."

He lifts her chin up to look at her. “You couldn't get rid of me even if I was attached to your hip. Which I basically am." he tries to joke, earning a soft snort from her.

"I love you y/n. Just because you're having a hard time right before one of the biggest exams in your career doesn't mean I'm going to end things because your body gave out."

"But what about your texts? You thought you weren't important to me, and that we needed to talk tomorrow." she asks, watching him grimace and purse his lips.

"I was texting you that in the heat of the moment. The last text I sent you was me meaning we needed to talk about getting you on a proper schedule where you're not burning yourself out like you did tonight," he admits, his eyebrows turning to a frown. "Did you think it meant I was breaking up with you?" he asks.

She hides her face in his chest and nods.

Luke sighs, cupping her cheeks in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, letting them brush against one another after they pull away. "Like I said, you are stuck with me love. I just worry about you. I don't want you hurting yourself more than you already have." he assures her, making her smile softly at him.

"I love you Lu," she whispers against his lips, the boy pressing his lips to her own once again with a smile. "Love you more baby."

"Now let's get you to sleep. I need you to have at least one good nights sleep before I leave for a bit."

"What about your signing?" she asks as he picks her up to bring her to bed.

"I pushed it to tomorrow night. They can wait to take pictures of me signing a paper," he chuckles as he cuddles them both up in his bed.

"I had to make sure my girl was okay," he hums into her neck as they lay together. "You matter more to me than a piece of paper."

"Not if it's for your career."

"Y/n I swear if you don't take the compliment."

"Right right sorry baby. I love you."

"Love you more pretty girl."

[rems-writing]

When the mountain meets a shy girl

》 Pairing: stripper!San x afab!reader

》 Trope: strangers to lovers

》 Wordcount: 4,062 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

“Oh come on, Y/N! It’s literally one night!”

“Guys, I don’t know -”

“Omg just ignore her and drag her along! We’re going to be late!”

This is how you found yourself on a Friday night. You got off work but instead of going straight home, your lovely coworkers pressured you into going out with them. They claimed that you needed to ‘live a little’ since you can’t ‘be a miserable hobbit’ your entire life. They say that like it’s a bad thing! If you want to stay home, you will stay home. If you want to go out, you will go out on your own free will. Alas, your coworkers didn’t understand. Or they did. They just didn’t care about your boundaries nor your personal preferences, especially the leader of the extroverts. 

Her name was Chelsea. 

You honestly didn’t know how she was able to get hired. She doesn’t know anything about the company you both work at, she slacks off most of the time, and almost always engages in the freshest office gossip. She speaks like she’s texting someone, has an annoying giggle whenever a man hits on her, and never follows the dress code. 

At least she takes responsibility for her fuck-ups and picks up the slack. And never throws you under the bus for anything. 

Other than that, she was dumb as a rock. 

You steered clear of her radar every day. You only talk to her, along with others, about work related things. The only time you don’t is when you give her the usual formal greetings. Other than that, you were never her concern. 

Until today. 

You honestly wished people would leave you alone. Why were they talking about you? You never did anything to them, didn’t snitch on them when they weren’t doing what they were supposed to do, and you were polite when you needed to be. So what’s with the sudden interest in you? 

You were 24, lived alone (aside from the many figurines you owned. They were your children), and only went out if it was required. Other than that, you preferred to stay home. You weren’t interested in dating nor sex (you’ve been there, done that way back in high school) so you tended to stay away from men since they honestly scared you.

A lot. 

If you wanted pleasure, you either took care of it yourself or you just left it alone. You didn't need anyone else to take care of it for you. But now back to the topic at hand. 

You were trying to figure out ways to excuse yourself from this outing. The last place you wanted to go was a damn strip club. You didn’t need half naked to almost fully naked men thrusting and grinding in your face. And you certainly weren’t about to waste your precious hard earned dollar bills on someone else. It’s not that you were selfish or greedy. 

You were simply frugal. 

And according to Chelsea and your coworkers, that’s ‘super hella lame’ of you to do. 

What were they? Newly oriented high school freshmen? 

Alas, you couldn’t think of any excuse to get out of this ‘extraordinary adventure’ you were on. As you neared the entrance of the strip club, everyone had to go through an ID check. Some of them complained, but you didn’t mind. Rules are rules after all. When the bouncer landed on you, you felt intimidated by the sharpness of his wolf eyes. You shakily handed your ID to him and you were ready to be scrutinized by him. You were used to being mocked by bouncers whenever you went to clubs or high-end bars with your coworkers or your family members (i.e. cousins). Surprisingly, nothing came out of the bouncer’s mouth. Instead, he gave you back your ID and offered a warm and comforting smile that reached his eyes until they formed crescents. He then leaned in and whispered in your ear. 

“If you need to find a way out, have the bartender page me. I’m sorry you were dragged out here by those… uh… lovely ladies.”

His deep and husky voice sent a small shiver down your spine and you couldn’t help but be flattered with the offer he gave you. You nodded rapidly and thanked him quietly before following the rest of the girls inside. At least someone understood how you felt, even if they were a complete stranger. When you got inside, the host led you to your table. You wanted to sit at the far end of the booth so you could make your escape (you were not about to turn down the hot bouncer’s offer), but your request fell on deaf ears. Instead, you were smack in the middle of your group with Chelsea seated to your left and someone else on your right. As soon as you were settled in, a waiter approached you. He seemed young and you couldn’t help but find his round cheeks so adorable. 

“Hello. Welcome to Cyberpunk. My name is Jongho. I’ll be taking your orders tonight. What can I get started for you?” 

“IS IT STILL GOLDEN HOUR RIGHT NOW?!”

An overly excited coworker screeched right into Jongho’s ear and you felt yourself cringe for him. Apparently, Golden Hour is what they call happy hour here. Good to know. Jongho laughed awkwardly and nodded before presenting the menu for Golden Hour. That same coworker practically clawed it out of his hands and thanked him shamelessly by running her manicured hand down his chest. You couldn’t stand it and reached over to grab her wrist. 

“Leave the poor guy alone!”

Your angry hiss made your coworker shrink into herself but still had the audacity to roll her eyes at your sense of duty. As payback, she ordered drinks for everyone else but made sure to save the strongest drink for you. And she said this out loud. You sighed and sat back with your arms crossed while Jongho nodded and wrote the order down. Before he left, he looked at you with a grateful expression and mouthed something to you. You were confused at first, but then you looked in the direction of where the young waiter was nodding at and you saw the hot bouncer waving at you with his heavily ringed hand. 

Oh. 

Jongho was giving you the name of the hot bouncer that offered you an escape earlier. 

His name is Mingi. Got it. 

You made a mental note to remember that, along with the name of the bartender you needed to page Mingi for. 

His name is Wooyoung. Got it. 

After Jongho walked away to fulfill your order, you observed your surroundings while your coworkers were talking amongst themselves. It’s a shame that they didn’t talk to you, but you didn’t care. It was better this way. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drink after drink. Shot after shot. And the cycle repeats. Your coworkers were astonished with the way you could handle your liquor. Even that nasty cocktail that you received made you feel nothing. If anything, you were only about five percent tipsy. As the night progressed, a lot of strippers made their way towards your booth and did what they needed to do. You weren’t interested in any of them. At all. You just wanted this night to be over. While the girls were fawning over the tallest stripper giving them lap dances (his name is Yunho), you saw Chelsea approach you with an evil look in her eyes and a mischievious grin on her overly painted lips. Before you could even question her intentions, she dragged you out of the booth and into a private dance room. The last words from your coworkers left you mortified. 

“YAS, QUEEN! GET THAT DICK, SIS!”

This was not happening. You refused to believe it. Not only did they pay for you to experience a private dance with one of those greasy oiled up men, but they truly believed that you needed this. As Chelsea sat you down on the plush lavender couch, she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at you. Although, you couldn’t tell since her fake lashes were too thick to comprehend anything. 

“We all chipped in for this dance. It could’ve been one of us, but we decided that you needed it the most. So like… don’t be yourself and weird him out, ok sweetie? Great! Have fun! Oh and provide us with juicy details once you’re done!”

She patted your head before exiting the room. You wanted to cry. You never asked for this. For any of this! You just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch, and watch reruns of your favorite k-dramas. But nope! You were here in a dimly lit room, anticipating who would come out. As the strange techno music played, you saw a figure approach the pole. Your eyes widened as you saw who it was. 

The Mountain. 

His seductive smile and the way he curled his fingers around the pole did nothing to quell your anxiety. You sat up straight and darted your eyes around towards every movement he pulled. Sure, you found him extremely fucking attractive, but you had to be honest with yourself. With the way you are and with the way you wanted nothing more than to escape, you wanted to shrink into the couch you were sitting on and just fade into non-existence. He noticed it at first but thought nothing of it. He believed that your shyness was just an act. Soon, you’ll pounce on him and beg for him to take you. That’s how it always was with women like you. However, he was in for a shocking awakening when he slid down the pole and tore away his shirt, leaving his muscular upper body bare. As he crawled towards you, he was getting closer to your legs, which you shut tightly. It didn’t last long before his strong hands grabbed your knees and forced them open. You shut your eyes when his nose touched the side of your right knee, almost nuzzling it in a way. He soon dragged it upwards before stopping just at the hem of your pencil skirt. He then stood up fully and looked down at you. 

This is where the hesitation began. 

He looked down at your rigid form and the way you screwed your eyes shut. His gut told him to stop, but he pushed through. He bent down and whispered huskily in your ear. The action had you open your eyes wide and look straight at him, which was a mistake since he was so close to your face.

“Don’t be shy, kitten. Come on. Touch me.”

Not waiting for your response, he gingerly grabbed your wrist and made sure your palm was flat against his broad chest. He kept eye contact with you as he slowly slid your hand down to his abs. The pace was snail-like and you found yourself shaking. Your anxiety was at an all time high. When you felt your wrist stop at the hem of his jeans, your eyes widened even more. You retracted your hand and cradled it like he had broken it. You muttered so many apologies as you curled into yourself even more. 

Oh… he felt his heart break at the sight. 

A sigh left his lips as he turned around and walked away. You were panicking internally, thinking the worst. What if he had Mingi kick you out? What if he told the owner of this strip club to blacklist you? What if he snitched on you to your friends and sneered at the way you trembled before him? And not in a good way. The anxiety died down a bit when the lights came on and you saw him walk back to you. He knelt before you and had an unreadable expression on his face. He then stuck out his hand and spoke in an authoritative voice. 

“Let me see your ID.”

You immediately thought to yourself that he was simply following protocol. However, it didn’t help that his seemingly angry look unnerved you. You dug into your pocket and fished out your ID before slapping it into his waiting palm. He held it up to his face and narrowed his eyes as he scanned over the details of it. 

‘It doesn’t look fake right?’

‘It’s as real as it can get.’

‘You probably should’ve brought your passport just in case.’

‘Oh shit he’s looking back at you! Fuck!’

As he gave you back your ID, he helped you stand up. The look on his face melted into one of concern and compassion. He gingerly grabbed your hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. 

“Can I hug you? I understand if you don’t want to be touched, but I can tell you need it.”

That’s all it took for you to break down in his arms. He shushed you gently and made sure his hold on you was tight enough to provide a sense of comfort for you. He walked the both of you towards the couch and held onto you until you decided to pull away. You looked up at him and sniffled. As much as he found that action to be utterly cute, he knew it wasn’t the time to address that. He gently wiped away your tears and put some distance in between you two. However, he still had his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t mind it of course. You were just glad someone empathized with you. 

“I’m guessing this is just your personality. Your ID checks out and from what you’re wearing, you definitely are of age.”

“Y-Yeah. I’m sorry if this is how you’re spending your night. I’m s-sure you weren’t expecting someone like me.”

“It’s ok. I think this is a good change of pace. If it helps, we can simply talk. I know you don’t want to be here and I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s ok. And yeah… I would love to talk.”

“Great. Let me start by introducing myself. I’m San.”

“Y/N.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Your light-hearted giggle made his heart soar and soon, he found himself in a deep conversation with you. You two talked about everything. From the basics down to you willingly explaining how your current personality came to be. And San listened tentatively. After talking some more, you checked the time. 

“Oh shit! My two hours are up! I’m sorry for holding you here longer than I should have.”

“Don’t worry about it. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Really?”

San nodded and gave you an award winning smile. One that showcased his dimples and was similar to Mingi’s but brighter. After the both of you stood up, he gathered his things and stared at you affectionately. His gaze made you blush and you looked away. He gently grabbed your chin so he could look at you. 

“If you want, there’s a ramen place next door that’s open 24/7. Once this place closes up, we can chat some more. Or… I can take you home, either by calling an uber for you or driving you home myself. After what you told me, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you with your coworkers.”

You swore you fell in love with him.

“Actually, I would love that. I sort of need something to absorb all the alcohol that’s in my body.”

“Great! In the meantime, go speak with Hongjoong. He’s the owner of this place. Explain your situation with him and he’ll let you stay in his office for the time being. I still have work to do.”

After accepting his offer, he walked you towards his boss’s office. A short man came out and he was immediately about to interrogate you when you held your hands up in defense. The last thing he needed was to file a case for harassment. As you explained yourself, his form grew less rigid and he looked towards San, who gave a nod of confirmation, indicating that you were speaking the truth. 

“Oh, darling… here. You can stay in my office. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll have Mingi fetch you once this is over.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Kim.”

“Please. Call me Hongjoong.”

You nodded shyly and Hongjoong patted your head before walking out of his office so you could get comfortable. San looked at you one last time before leaving to continue his job. He didn’t want to leave you there alone, but he knew you needed space to breathe and gather your bearings. After all, you went through a lot. 

TIME SKIP

It had been some time since that horrible outing with your coworkers. Sure, you met some angels and your savior along the way, but the events leading up to that moment left you drained. After that night, you didn’t speak with Chelsea or any of your coworkers. Instead, you worked faster and more diligently than before so you could clock out early and go home immediately. You did not want to interact with any of them whatsoever. As soon as you reached home, you flopped on the couch. 

“Aww. You didn’t want to greet me? That makes me sad.”

“Shut up, San!”

San giggled at your sassy voice as he walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He lifted your head so you could lay on his lap. As he ran his fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp, you talked about how your day went. 

Did I mention that you two were roommates now?

Ever since you met San, he’s been a comforting presence in your life. You asked him to move in with you since you felt at ease with him. One thing led to another and the two of you were now a couple. It was awkward at first since you haven’t dated anyone in the longest, but San was patient with you. He took things at your own pace and made it less awkward. He still works at the strip club unfortunately, but he reassures you that he will always come back to you since you have his heart. 

“As I motherfucking should!”

That was always your response to him and he could never get tired of it. As the relationship progresses, you slowly find yourself coming out of your shell. You no longer feel overly shy whenever he walks around shirtless or whispers sensual words in your ear as he flirts with you. Instead, you play along and even tease him sometimes. That’s an effect only San can bring unto you. In addition, he taught you how to be more confident and stand up for yourself. 

His hard work paid off when you told him about how you told your boss about how you felt with your coworkers.

You came back into the office feeling nervous yet invigorated. You needed to put a stop to your coworkers peer pressuring you into going out. You also needed to stop caring about what they might say. As San has stated to you despite being only in tight jeans with dollar bills peeking out from the top, if you liked staying in, then stay in. You knocked on the CEO’s front door and heard her honeyed voice telling you to come in. When you entered, your eyes landed on your CEO boss, who was also your long time best friend. “Hey. What’s up, Y/N?” She smiled that beautiful smile and you felt relieved momentarily. “Um… we need to talk, Ms. Hwasa.” 

“I thought I told you to call me by my real name. After all, we have been friends for seven years.”

“Sorry, Hyejin.”

“It’s ok. Anyways, what did you need to talk about?”

It was now or never. 

Slowly but surely, you vented about everything. From your coworkers to Chelsea all the way to the main topic: disrespecting boundaries. You also explained how you were afraid of what she might say despite vowing to always have your back. Of course you didn’t doubt her words. You were simply afraid of her brushing you off like you were nothing more than another employee. When you finished speaking, Hwasa had her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. Finally, she spoke. 

“Thank you for telling me this. I honestly didn’t think they would be dumb enough to forget common sense. Set a meeting right now. I think I need to remind these women of how everything works around here.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hwasa laughed slightly as you saluted before turning around and marching back to your cubicle. A couple of hours later, a lot of employees were in a meeting room, standing nervously as they watched their CEO pace back and forth whilst looking at them with an unreadable expression. You were in the middle of the crowd, pretending to be nervous, but in reality, you were playing it cool. 

“It seems to me that you guys keep forgetting about the one thing I wanted all of you to have.”

Oop - 

“Common courtesy.”

A lot of your coworkers were sweating nervously, including Chelsea. You felt bad for them a little bit since you know Hwasa to be strict. 

“Just because someone doesn’t like the things that you do after work doesn’t mean you have the right to change their dynamics. We are all different here. And yet, we still work well together. So please. The next time you want to take someone away from their comfort bubble, think twice before doing so. Either do nothing about it or do something about it the right way. Ask first! That’s always a requirement. If they say yes, then there you go. If they say no, then no means no! Do we have an understanding?”

Everyone nodded.

“In addition, I am putting a stop to the unnecessary gossip swimming around here. The people you gossip about? They have done nothing to you and they don’t do that to you. So why do it to them in the first place?”

It was a rhetorical question that no one dared to answer. 

“This meeting is adjourned. Get back to work.”

“Yes, Ms, Hwasa!”

Everyone scattered and scurried back to their places. Hwasa looked at you and smiled while you profusely thanked her. 

“You can go home now if you want. I know your boy toy misses you.”

“Girl, shut up!”

“And that’s what happened!”

“I’m so proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

San sat you up and hugged you tightly. You returned the hug happily and remained in his arms for a while before he pulled away. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he stood up from the couch. 

“This calls for a celebration. Time to give you that private dance you originally signed up for.”

Oh…

OH!

Before you could protest, San turned on the stereo system and played the track before standing in the middle of the living room to begin his routine.

‘SHIT! WHY THIS SONG?!’

‘THIS SONG IS A BOP THOUGH!’

‘YEAH BUT NOW LOOK AT THE SITUATION YOU’RE IN!’

‘JUST RELAX, BITCH! DAMN!’

You watched as San performed his routine perfectly. It catered to the song and you found yourself drooling as you leaned in to observe him more. San smirked at this as he jumped and did a diving move before crawling towards you. Your legs were open for him and he came in between them, nuzzling his nose into both of your inner thighs before slowly standing up. He gingerly grabbed your hand and took off his shirt before placing your palm on his broad chest. 

DID HE GET BIGGER?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

You watched your hand slowly trail down to his abs until your wrist stopped at the top of his sweats. It was then you noticed how low they hung on his hips. You looked back up to see him lean in closer, his eyes dark with lust and desire. His other hand cupped your cheek and he used his thumb to drag your bottom lip down slowly. 

“Can I have you for tonight, kitten?”

You were not about to pass up on the opportunity to ride that dick into the sunset. With a small ‘yes’ leaving your mouth, he kissed you passionately before grabbing your waist and carrying you to your shared bedroom.

[moonstruckme]

Ayyy I'm back with another request

No hurry on this, though, because you wrote me an amazing one not long ago and I want you to have some well-earned rest.

Anyway, can I please request a poly!marauders where the r has glasses and they see her without her glasses for the first time. I wear glasses and am mildly insecure about wearing them and taking them off. It's a vicious cycle😭 I'd adore having some lovey-dovey boys fawning over me regardless of my eyewear

Thanks a million

-🔮

Here you go my love! Thanks for requesting <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 925 words

You touch your middle finger to the bridge of your nose, pushing up frames that aren’t there. You feel immediately silly. How long will it take to kick that habit?

You have to admit, it’s nice to not have to worry about your lenses fogging as you stir the boiling water, or your glasses slipping off when you peer into the pot to check on the pasta. Still, this new freedom feels oddly like it’s come at a cost. It seems a bit ridiculous to miss your glasses, but it’s been years since you’ve been without them, and you feel sort of naked. Your face looks different in the reflection of the microwave, nothing obscuring the area around your eyes. It’s odd to see yourself so clearly without anything in the way. 

The door opens, Sirius’ voice booming. “You’ll never believe what happened on the way home.”

“What?” you call, and you can hear him kick off his shoes in just any direction, the thump thump thump of them bouncing on the floor. Later, Remus will straighten them with a patient sigh. Sirius’ footsteps head for the kitchen.

“This guy stopped me to ask for the time, and I told him, and he said—whoa. Hey baby, what’s new?”

You smile down at the pasta. “He called you baby?”

“I…what? No, you’re baby.” Sirius shakes his head before you look up and he realizes you’re messing with him. Never one to lose the upper hand, he fixes you with one of his suaver looks, eyes narrowing until they’re mostly gray and a smirk twisting his lips. “Don’t play coy with me, pretty thing. You think you can distract me from all this?” Triumph sparks in his eyes as you feel your face warm, and he presses on. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

You roll your eyes, opening a cabinet door between you to grab the olive oil. “It’s my Clark Kent plan. You’re not supposed to recognize me, so I guess it’s not working.” 

“Takes more than glasses to fool me, sweetheart.” His voice is silky smooth, but when you close the cabinet, he’s studying you. “It’s a good look. I like you both ways, obviously, but variety is the spice of life or whatever. Maybe we should get James to switch it up every now and then.” 

Remus emerges from down the hall, drawn out by your voices.

“Moons, have you seen this?” Sirius asks. “Someone’s replaced our girl with one who has working eyes.” 

“Not working eyes,” you correct him, self-conscious as Remus comes over, his eyebrows lifting slightly, “an old glasses prescription. I’m switching to contacts until I can get a new pair.” 

“You look nice,” Remus says, that mild, effortless kindness in his tone. “Does it feel different?”

“Weird,” you agree, taking the pot off the stove. Remus anticipates you, bringing the colander to the sink, and you give him a smile of thanks. “I feel like Velma from Scooby Doo, you know? Like my eyes look like tiny little dots without them.” 

Sirius scoffs, and Remus' voice is lightly chiding when he says, “They’re not. You look just as lovely now as you did with them on.” 

You barely have time to blush before Sirius is upon you, stepping into your space. “And,” he says, “let’s try this.” He kisses you, and you can’t claim you weren’t expecting it but you’re far from ready, grateful for the support of his hand at your waist as you feel your knees go a bit wobbly. Sirius presses his mouth into yours heavily, nose pushing at the skin of your cheek. When he pulls back, you feel like you’re reeling. “See? Much easier without those wide frames in the way.”

“You’re the worst,” you say, and Remus chuckles as James steps into the kitchen. You hadn’t even heard the door open. 

“What, without me?” he asks, taking in you and Sirius’ proximity and the wetness of your lips. Then hardly a beat later, “You’re not wearing your glasses.” 

“She needs a new prescription,” Sirius says, stepping away from you to pour the strained pasta back into the pot like nothing’s happened. “She’s wearing contacts for now.” 

“Whoa.” James moves closer, looking at your face like he hasn’t had the chance to really inspect it until now. “So when you get your new glasses, can we help you pick?”

Sirius whips around in his excitement, and Remus moves him aside before the pasta can start to stick, adding olive oil and the herbs you’d cut up to the pot. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” Sirius gawps at you. “We have to, it’ll be so fun.” 

You try to imagine it, your boyfriends focussing intently on your face as they assess which frames suit you best. It’d be the peak of flattery and awkwardness. “Okay,” you say, busying yourself with getting water for everyone. “I could use the extra input.” 

“I’m sure whatever you pick will look great,” James promises, taking a couple of cups from you with a kiss to your cheek. “If you want, you should pick up some more contacts while we’re there, too.”

“Maybe,” you muse. “But which do you like better—with, or without glasses?”

“Either way, dove,” Remus hums, dishing out his helping of pasta. “The differences are tiny, and it’s still you.” 

“Yeah, I can’t pick,” Sirius agrees, getting in line behind Remus. “You can do your Clark Kent bit all you want, but you’re gonna look like our gorgeous girl both ways.” 

[fanofseabassanddorito]

Dear Chris Evans,

I’ve waited and watched. I’ve gone back and forth with Real vs PR. I’m just a fan, of your work, but I also because of what you seemed to stand for and acted like a real person. I think I’m done now.

There has been questionable ‘sightings’ even though you claim to want to be private. Your friends and hers have posted the two of you. You have posted her twice yourself. But then you seem to hide her. That isn’t a good look. If you are in love with someone, you don’t hide them because you want to be private yet leak photos and hints to keep your fans spiraling when you know how some can be.

We all know celebrities use social media for what they WANT fans to see. Why? Because they want privacy, as they should, to separate their work world from real life. I completely agree with doing so, BUT I don’t agree with going back and forth. You owe fans nothing except maybe the respect that goes both ways. After all, your fans have been the reason you have your paychecks. I think we deserve a little bit of respect not to be played by what you say in interviews vs. what you show yourself to be through your actions.

There are so many examples of couples being private but NOT hiding significant others like they are embarrassed to be seen. A real private couple does things together but do not post montages on their socials, like scare videos and couples pictures. People do not call paparazzi unless they want to be seen. A real private couple does still go to things together, they don’t hide but they don’t bring attention to themselves. Real private couples do not let things drop during a special date for something else. One example, the NYC pap walk on the day that Warrior Nun season 2 dropped right after SMA.

Tabloids run on things they are given. There have been more articles about you and this girl than Harry and Meghan, Jennifer and Ben, etc., etc., etc. your reps have never confirmed anything. IMDb does not list her as your wife. Your mother liked a tweet about the girl being racist.

I had no issues at first, thinking you wanted privacy, which I thought was a great idea, given your fandom. I gave you the benefit of the doubt for a good while. But then it seemed like her friends and yours, her mom, along with the likes on IG, proved this isn’t private. Certain social media sites have been the only ones to randomly get these pictures that are nowhere to be found. It’s only a few, and they usually come at specific times when there is doubt. Friends posted from Lisbon, Avengers in MA, and the wedding rumors began. I’m sorry, but when there is an NDA, then the wedding news should not have leaked because the NDA would cover that. And if you have to ask people to turn in their phones to attend, that’s rude and you’ve invited people you don’t trust.

Showing up to a convention, with a ring on but you can’t say her name. Just ‘Go Portugal!’ And then go on about Dodger.

Let’s not even get into photoshopped or not photoshopped because I don’t even know anymore.

I could go on and on but it saddens me. I cannot be a fan of someone just because of their projects, and that’s just me. I have kept quiet, because it’s none of my business what you do with your life. What is my business though, is who I give my hard earned money to. Barely getting by on what I make, medications and food for my kids continue to rise in cost, but they also enjoy Captain America because he seemed like a good guy in real life too. Now they come to me with things they’ve seen online like Captain America’s new wife nude in the shower. They have seen people posting about her friends and their previous tweets, and things they’ve said. Why? Because you have played games with your fandom and they got pissed and exposed things. Let’s be honest, kids get online and see things even if they aren’t supposed to. Luckily they didn’t see your ‘slip’ up, because your fans cleaned that for you quickly, but the shower pictures continue to be passed around. They also said in some of the pictures they saw you post that they thought you had a daughter but found out it was your girlfriend.

I would make sure you don’t have any more slip ups because I feel like your fans are limited at this point. The ones that see your work the day it comes out. That’s one reason why Ghosted flopped. Before this, your fans would have said you did wonderful even if you didn’t.

After the new picture of the two of you at the Globes after party, I CHOOSE to not be a fan and hand you my money. I know it isn’t much, but I will choose to spend it on a different movie or person at a convention. Maybe I just won’t have a favorite anymore because it seems like a lot just tell fans what they want to hear.

I don’t know if it’s Real or PR and don’t care but it’s the game you seem to be playing that I don’t like. I don’t care what people think of my opinion and have not posted anything about a side. I just know you look like such a hypocrite and lose fans by the hour now. So many blogs and pages that are team PR or Team Real and they argue over who is right and wrong, because you and everyone around you are playing with them. You are using them for free publicity and that is sickening. I didn’t believe it was happening and you were just trying to protect your love life. But, eventually, it was just so obvious with the tiniest bit of things creeping in on the same sites and coincidences on dates. Mostly, I just don’t want to watch all the drama that has become part of being your fan. I like to escape the real world by looking at my favorite celebrities and what they are up to or their movies etc. I don’t want to see the gross mess you have become. She looks like your daughter, so I choose to leave. You don’t know me or care because I’m just one fan, but I do know who you want people to see you as now and I don’t like this version. Be private or just don’t hide. Look happy, not miserable. Treat her like your love and wife, because I would never allow my boyfriend/husband treat me the way it appears you are treating her. To the public, she looks like a mail order bride that jumps as soon as you tell her too. It’s gross.

So, it’s been a long, fun ride being your fan until now. Enjoy traveling back and forth and wear sunscreen to the beach, because boy are you white. Research the word ‘privacy’ and maybe get those NDA’s to the people leaking things if you want privacy or take their phones from them when they are in your proximity. Invest in energy drinks next, she’s a lot younger and likes to travel and have sex (maybe check out her soft porn). Let Buddah know she did a film with a demon having sex with her. Maybe purchase a plane and get a pilots license, because older dogs don’t travel as well as they age and that’s a long ride to Portugal. Remind your wife to keep her clothes on and keep your 🍆 in your pants because I think Team Real is even over this mess and don’t want to see it. Thanks for the laughs and smiles over the years. I wish you luck and hope you’re happier than you actually look.

Sincerely,

An Ex-Fan of Christopher Robert Evans

[peachhcs]

anywhere with you

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

somewhere in between samy's sophomore year of college and after will's rookie season, the two talk about what's next for them.

1.1k words

i'm back?? maybe?? hiii i've been on a small hiatus mainly because i didn't know what to write and didn't like everything i did write, but this little blurb may have gotten me out of the slump!! i wrote them sometime in the future..timeline a bit off, but it's okay we'll create our own timeline :)) also someone requested this awhile back and i finally got around to writing it

au masterlist

will made himself comfortable between samy's legs as they laid out on the couch together. the sun was warm—weirdly warm for an april afternoon in michigan, but neither of them were complaining getting to spend some time outside after being cooped up all winter. somewhere inside was luke and jack playing on the xbox and the couple could hear their voices from all the way outside on the back deck. the day felt perfect.

"ow, will," samy shoved her boyfriend's head when he was crushing a little too much of her leg.

"sorry, we don't really fit on this couch together," the blonde laughed a little.

"well, yeah. it's not made for me and a 6 foot hockey player. why are you sitting so close anyway?" she reached down to play with some of his messy curls.

"because. i haven't seen you since february and i leave in three days again," will said in a "duh" tone earning a small eye roll from the girl above him.

since playoffs were right around the corner, will didn't get much time off. he had exactly four days to do whatever he wanted and guess what he chose? spending all of it in michigan with samy while she was on spring break.

"right. guess you're telling me to be grateful you're here," she teased.

"i wasn't, but now i am," his lips turned up into a smirk. will disregarded his computer for a moment, flipping himself over so now his chin rested just below her belly button. samy couldn't help but smile seeing her boyfriend's big, goofy grin.

"nervous for the playoffs?" she wondered, hand wandering back down to toy with his curls again.

"a little. maybe i'm nervous i won't live up to everyone's expectations," will frowned.

"what do you mean? i feel like you met the expectations this season. everyone loved you," samy saw all the comments about the shark's new number 2. the fans went crazy for him and his talent was real.

"i know, i know. i'm just worried i'll blow it and they won't love me anymore," the blonde admitted. all the pressure was hard sometimes. will definitely thrived off of it to fuel him for his rookie season, but that didn't mean it didn't get to him.

samy's hand fell to his arm, giving it a tight squeeze out of love and comfort, "well, whatever happens, i'll be proud of you and i'll still love you."

will's face flushed, face heating up at his girlfriend's words. even if he's heard it a million times before, it still got him blushing like crazy whenever she said it. "i think your opinion's biased, but thank you. as long as i know you're watching i'm sure i'll be fine," now it was samy's turn to blush.

a comfortable silence fell around them as will's finger wandered and traced little shapes into the exposed skin on samy's stomach. he always got lost in his own world whenever they were together and he could never seem to think about anything other than her. (he also simply just never stopped thinking about her either, even on the ice.)

"i think because i'm almost done with sophomore year mom's started to pester me about what's next after graduation," samy changed the subject, breaking the silence.

"yeah?"

"yeah. nothing too annoying, but i know she wants me to think about it more than i have been. stuff like if i wanna go to grad school; what's my job gonna be; am i staying in michigan blah, blah, blah," the brunette mimicked ellen's voice pretty well making both her and will laugh.

"do you know what you wanna do?" will wondered, finger still tracing his little shapes which was as soothing for samy as it was for him.

"i mean..no. not really. maybe law school but i'm not 100% sure about that yet. i'm still gonna take the lsat, but i don't really know if that's my career path anymore," the younger hughes rambled a little.

"that's okay. you don't have to know. there's a lot you can do with a political science major. at least i know you can do a lot with it because you're so smart," will's words made the girl blush again.

"will"

"i'm being serious and i'm not just saying that. you're really smart, samy. you're gonna figure it out," he offered a half smile.

"i wish i was like you and jack and luke and quinn who just have their whole life already planned out because of hockey. like, they just knew from when we were kids that this was gonna be their life. i was always so..confused," samy frowned which will hated seeing.

"i think we just got lucky. you're gonna figure it out, i promise. if law school isn't for you, that's okay. you can do marketing, pr, analysis, literally anything. plus, there's always a home for you in san jose if you'd wanna like..i don't know..take a year to figure it out after you graduate," him and samy always talked about how she'd live with him wherever he ended up in the nhl once college was over, obviously joking —sometimes or sometimes it wasn't a joke—but right now will was being serious. samy could tell by the way he looked at her, his blue eyes so set and serious, yet so loving.

another blush rose to her cheeks, "i appreciate it. i'll definitely remember it."

"while we are on the topic though, whenever we decide to settle down..i wouldn't mind landing back here," the future, future wasn't a topic samy and will spoke a lot about together, but for some reason it seemed so close at the moment with how samy was going to graduate college in about two years.

"whenever we settle down? oh boy," but of course, she had to tease him about it first. will flushed, burying his head into samy's stomach. she giggled at his reaction, threading her fingers back through his hair—and will always wondered why his hair looked so messy after hanging out with her.

"but yeah, i wouldn't mind coming back here. i'd go anywhere really. i've been kind of everywhere growing up. you don't wanna go back to boston?" it seemed hard to believe will didn't want to go back to where his roots lived.

"i mean, yeah but i'll go anywhere you go. i don't care where i end up," the blonde smiled and so did samy.

"wow, you're so corny, but i'd go anywhere you go too. california, boston, michigan, wherever," will pushed himself up more so him and samy were almost face to face and he was basically on top of her.

"i guess we'll just be corny together then," they connected their lips in a sweet kiss.

"i love you, will," samy hummed when they pulled apart.

"i love you too," he made himself comfortable again, but this time right on top of her. it was clear they weren't getting any work done anymore, the warm air slowly putting them to sleep and everything else fading out.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

What is your opinion on each of the known students in Ms. Mendeleiev's class (Marc Anciel, Aurore Beauréal, Mireille Caquet, Jean Duparc, Zoé Lee)? I realize that Zoé’s section of your answer will most likely be the longest, but I figured I’d go ahead and put them all in one ask anyways since there’s only five out of sixteen total and having one ask for each of the other four seemed unnecessary.

Zoé is going to get the most analysis out of me, so we'll save her for last and start with the character that I have the least to say about:

Jean Duparc

I didn't even know who this was, so I had to check the fan wiki page about him. He's apparently a minor character who gets akumatized and defeated off screen. His design is so generic that the trivia section reads, "Jean's design is a regular background model used in groups and crowds in the series."

So, yeah, nothing to say about this one. I can't have opinions on a character who barely even counts as a character.

Mireille Caquet

Mireille is a minor step up from Jean in that I actually know who she is - she's the girl who wins the weather reporter job at the start of Stormy Weather - but as far as her personality goes, I have nothing to comment on because Mireille does really have a personality. She only exists so that Aurore has someone to lose to at the start of Stormy Weather. That's why Aurore has a really cool and memorable design while Mireille looks like she's wearing pajamas. I don't think Mireille even has lines at any point in the series. If she does, they're not memorable, making her another character who barely counts as a character, leaving me nothing to talk about.

Aurore Beauréal

I really like Aurore's design, but there's not much else for me to say about her because we don't really get to know her character. She made for a fun akuma and that's all that she was meant to be. Her non-akumatized lines are just generic ranting about her loss

Aurore:(in the elevator) I should have won, I have the talent, the star looks, everything! But she took everything away from me. They took everything away from me! They--

and a generic statement of confusion after she's freed from her akuma. I wouldn't have been upset if she'd become a reoccurring character because - once again - she's got a really cool design, but I can't tell you anything else about her, so there's nothing for me to analyze.

Marc Anciel

Marc is the first character with some actual substance, but the substance is hardly abundant. He's just a kind of generic shy writer. I'm not sure why he's been added to the cast as a reoccurring character because they really didn't need more characters and they already have a writer in Alya. So I don't dislike him, I think he's fine, I'm just not sure why he's here. I was especially confused when he was given a miraculous because what has he done to earn one? He's not even part of the miracuclass where everyone gets a miraculous no matter how unworthy they are. It feels like he was just picked because they needed 18 holders, but they only had 17 and Marc is Nathaniel's comic-writing buddy, so I guess he's good enough?

Speaking of Nathaniel, I know that people ship him with Marc and that they're kind of implied to be together in the show, so I guess I should comment on that? I have to admit that I'm not a fan. Nathaniel's actions in Reverser were incredibly off-putting making this yet another couple with a really unhealthy foundation to their relationship. Why does Miraculous keep doing that???

In case people don't remember, Marinette gives Nathaniel Marc's story to read and Nathaniel assumes that it's Ladybug's private diary because the story is called "Diary of Ladybug". Why Nathaniel thinks that Ladybug would have Marinette deliver her private diary to him is beyond me. This is especially true since it doesn't read like any diary I've ever seen and the episode starts with these exchanges:

Marinette:(sees Marc) Marc you made it! (Marinette runs up to Marc and grabs his arm) Come meet everyone! (dragging him inside) This is Marc, the boy I told you about! The one who's always writing. Marc:(hides his book in his jacket) Uh... I'm sorry I didn't want to disturb you.

Jean-Pierre: Alix is our expert at street art. (Alix flips spray can in the air and catches it) And Nathaniel- Alix: He likes to draw people in skinny suits. (Nathaniel throws a piece of paper at Alix and she laughs) Nathaniel: Welcome Marc. As you'll find out, the good thing about this place is you can say whatever you want and no one will judge you, or only in good fun. (Marc notices Nathaniel's drawing and walks over to him) Marc: I... I saw your drawings on the school website, but they're nothing compared to the real thing. The movement, the expressions, the attitudes. They're all so-- Nathaniel: Thanks... That's nice.

Jean-Pierre: By the way Marc, you've shown up at the perfect time. Marinette told us that you're always writing and Nathaniel is looking for a script writer. (Nathaniel smiles at Marc)

Based on all this, it's not weird for Marinette to assume that Nathaniel would be able to guess that she was giving him Marc's writing. After all, the first few scenes of this episode all happen during the same day, meaning that Nathaniel was given this book right after being told that Marc liked his art, being told that Marc was a potential script writer, and being told that Marinette was Marc's friend, but whatever. What really matters is that, when Nathaniel goes to meet "Ladybug" and finds Marc instead, he gets extremely mad and rips Marc's book in half:

Nathaniel: What?! You're not Ladybug! Marc: Of course I'm not, it's me, Marc. Didn't Marinette tell you? Nathaniel: Marinette? (He looks over to Marinette's balcony, where he sees her filming him) Marinette: Uhh, operation "Comic Book" has hit a snag! (Tikki hides) Nathaniel: You were trying to make a fool of me, weren't you? (Points accusingly towards Marinette) Do you think it's funny to toy with my feelings? Marc: No, not at all! I-I just want.. to make.. a comic book, if you want to, that is. Nathaniel: A comic book? Us!? Together?! Never! (He tears Marc's book in half)

Oh yeah, I'm totally shipping these two. Couple of the century here. Really living up to that whole, "say whatever you want and no one will judge you, or only in good fun" thing, Nathaniel. Why did you even jump to the idea the they were making fun of you? Nothing in the episode set that up as a reasonable conclusion. No one was bullying you and you seem pretty freaking secure about yourself. If any character was set up to assume they were being made fun of, it was Marc!

This is another case where the show is trying to make things Marinette's fault, but she's actually not doing anything wrong. This is almost entirely on Nathaniel. They had a relatively minor miscommunication and, when he discovers that, his reaction is to destroy another artist's passion project in a fit of rage.

Anyone who thinks that it's okay to destroy another person's property because they're hurt needs anger management classes before they're ready to date anyone. Any time I see Marc and Nathaniel together, I remember this moment and wish that Marc would get out of there because I just don't view Nathaniel as a safe person. This was just such a massive overreaction and it gives me major ick vibes. Especially since this is yet another case where the wronged party never really gets an apology. The most we get is this:

Ladybug:(turns to Marc and Nathaniel) Marc and Nathaniel? By now you realize there was a big misunderstanding, but if you give each other a chance, I'm sure you'll find out how well you can work together. (Nathaniel holds out his hand, Marc looks, smiles and shakes Nathaniel's hand)

Why are we implying that there was blame on both sides here? Marc was the wronged party in every conceivable way. Once again, major ick vibes.

Zoé Lee

Zoé is written like someone's Mary Sue self-insert which is not a dig on Mary Sues! Mary Sues are just the most popular female equivalent to escapist male power fantasies and escapist fantasies should belong to all genders! However, if you're going to write a character like this, then they're supposed to be the main character. It's really freaking weird to have a side character written like this.

What do I mean by a Mary Sue self-insert?

Zoé shows up out of nowhere and immediately becomes best friends with all of the core cast members

Zoé has a tragic backstory that everyone finds oh so sad and comforts her over even though it really should make them wary of her ("I used to lie about everything and it lost me all my friends!" Yeah, I'll bet it did!)

Zoé is good at basically everything she tries and has no real flaws

Zoé gets brought into the magical girl squad in her second appearance, making her the character with the least development prior to being given a miraculous

Zoé is somehow the voice of reason, seeing the truth of things while everyone else is deceived in episodes like Kwami's Choice or Adoration, giving her things like the anti-Lila powers previously only held by Marinette and Adrien

Zoé is chosen as Adrien's replacement while Alya replaces Marinette, implying that these two are on equal standing somehow

In other words, Zoé is generic and kind of boring, but is treated as the best thing ever, which makes her a pretty annoying and crappy side character. The reason characters like this are successful main characters is because the whole point is escapist fantasy. You're supposed to be able to project yourself onto this generic cool person and pretend it's you being fawned over by your favorite characters. It's not my cup of tea, but I see the appeal and get why it's not hard to find stories like this especially in the romance, isekai, and fanfic genres, all of which are big on escapism.

While I will defend this type of character as fine in general, they have no place in a show like Miraculous. Miraculous is not an escapist fantasy. It's supposedly Marinette and Adrien's love story, so what is a self-insert fantasy doing here? The show really showcases how awkward this is in Adoration where Marinette spends the whole episode freaking out about Zoé liking Adrien - because of course the self-insert gets a love triangle with the leads - only for Zoé to confess her feelings for Marinette like a good little self-insert would, but of course Marinette can't accept those feelings so it's just kind of fizzles instead of leading to the standard self-insert romance with their favorite character. Writers, what are you even trying to do here? Why is Zoé getting all this attention? It's weird...

Zoé's awkwardness is only exacerbated by the fact that she's also a blatant Chloe replacement and I don't just mean the fact that she gets the bee. I mean that she's often used to disseminate information that Chloe would have or to fill the role that a redeemed Chloe would fill. For example, take this scene from the episode Gabriel Agreste:

Zoé: (rudely) Jean Quinton, did my mother tell you that the dinner party is no longer at Gabriel Agreste's tonight? Armand: Oh no! Madam didn't mention anything to me. Zoé: A helicopter will be coming to the roof, to take you over to the Eiffel Tower. Armand: Is mademoiselle sure about this? Zoé: Excuse me? Are you suggesting that I might be wrong? (walks away) Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! (to herself) Sorry, but it's for a good cause.

The writers needed Chloe for a minute, so Zoé adopts Chloe's personality to allow them to have a good Chloe without doing the work to actually make Chloe good. Btw, this scene shows exactly what I mean when I say that I want a wild card on the team. Someone who isn't afraid to be mean to get the job done. The writers clearly understand that a character like that has their uses, but then you'd have a character who is on the side of good, but who isn't a total goody two shoes and I guess we can't have that?

As you've probably picked up, I'm not much of a Zoé fan. I find her pretty obnoxious because she's so wildly out of place. Outside of her role as substitute Chloe, her character adds nothing to the story. There's no missing role that she uniquely fills because the cast was already bloated as heck when she showed up. To be fair, there are ways this could have been fixed.

Zoé shows up right after Chloe's betrayal and she almost immediately reveals herself to be a status chasing liar who is trying to be a better person. This should make everyone super wary of her and could have been used to demonstrate the difference between a person who doesn't want to change (Chloe) and a person who does want to change (Zoé). This would require the show to allow for multi-episode arcs, though, because Zoé's acceptance would need to be a slow process and not speed run in a single episode.

You could have also had Zoé show up at the same time as Audrey and used her as part of Chloe's story either to drive Chloe to be worse or to give Chloe someone who helps her get better because no one understands your messed up home life better than your siblings.

But those are some pretty major changes to canon. As is, Zoé is totally unnecessary and I wish that the writers would stop trying to make us love her by giving her cool roles in the story, shafting characters that we've all wanted more of in favor of this rando that they forced on us at the last minute. I will forever be salty that Zoé got the black cat instead of Nino. Alya had already had her identity outed twice, give someone else the Ladybug and let Nino get a chance to shine! Or just give the ladybug to Alya and black cat to Nino and imply that this is going to be a new love square situation. After all, Kwami's Choice has Tikki claim:

Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength.

Implying that the ladybug and the black cat should be in love so why are you picking Zoé and Alya? Not exactly opposed to that ship, but I don't think it's actually the plan, so what was that about? Plagg and Tikki didn't even seem to consider the comparability of their new chosen which is super weird given the whole "made for each other" line we get from Fu when he picks Adrien and Marinette in Origins. You can tell that no care was put into choosing the replacement heroes. They just once again wanted to show how cool Zoé is.

[lumi-nescentt]

And I Hope I Never Lose You, I Hope It Never Ends

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader

Warnings: mention of Lance's crash during quali in Singapore

Words: 3.2k

Summary: Dating a racing driver has its perks but seeing your boyfriend crash might be a little too much when no one seems to notice you.

A/N: I've started writing this right after Singapore but I had no idea how to continue it until tonight but I finally managed to write something I like so here you go :)

Lance knew what most people thought of him, how he was here because of his dad, a pure result of nepotism. While he knew that his dad had played a big part in his first F1 seat, Lance liked to think that he had earned his right to stay in the cut-throat sport through hard work and dedication. He had to believe that or else the critics would get to him and he couldn’t afford it. 

After all, he was glad he had someone in his corner who’d do anything to help him. Lawrence was always pushing him in the best way possible and Lance was very grateful for the opportunity he had been given and the love he bathed in. From what he knew of the other drivers, not everyone had the chance of having a father who only had kind words and constructive criticism to give. 

With a family like his own, Lance had never felt alone or unlovable. In fact, his family had been his everything from the moment he was old enough to understand what the word meant and for a long time, his family’s love had been enough.

As he grew up, Lance watched his sister go through love and heartbreak, allowing people to get close to her and embracing them in all the love she had to give. Chloe was a solar being, she gave and she gave, expecting almost nothing in return but as the heir of such a fortune, she got taken advantage of quite a lot in her teenage years. 

Lance was there to witness it all and he swore he’d never get himself involved in something too serious that could break him into pieces. Plus, with racing, he didn’t really have the time to get a girlfriend and keep one so the matter was settled. 

For years, he satisfied himself with meaningless flings and one-night stands when he felt like it. The prestige of being an F1 driver helped and he was starting to be noticed as just Lance, not Lance, son-of-Lawrence, which he appreciated. 

One night after his home Grand Prix as he was partying in a familiar club in Montreal, Lance’s eyes met hers. The moment she winked at him with a smile, Lance knew he was done for. The girl had this magnetic pull that just made him want to know more. 

After a night together with the mysterious girl, Lance broke his own rules and gave her his number. He wanted to see her again. He felt like he needed to get to know her and luckily for him, she was just as curious about him. 

They started texting a lot and everyone who knew Lance could tell he was definitely not keeping this lowkey. The more he texted her, the more he found to like. She was funny and kept him on his toes, always having something to say when he teased her. What had started as physical attraction was definitely turning into more on both ends.

With his work, Lance couldn’t really see her often but whenever he was on the same continent, he convinced her to fly over. She tried to pay for her own flights but Lance categorically refused to let her spend a dollar when she was the one who had to arrange her schedule around his.  

The night Lance introduced his sister to Scotty, she was also there and Lance happily paraded with his arm tightly wrapped around her waist. Chloe immediately loved the girl and the feeling was more than mutual. From this exact moment, Lance knew that he wanted to be more than whatever they were right now and he asked her out on the balcony in summer air, New York’s skyline in the background. 

After this particular moment, the couple became inseparable and they tried even harder to see each other despite the distance separating them most of the time. They travelled together when they could and called for hours when they couldn’t. The distance was hard at night when everything suddenly turned silent and they both longed for someone to hold in the dead of night from two different ends of the globe but they made it work. 

It was also hard during the day when everything they saw seemed to remember them of the other, whether it was an ice rink where they had their first real date as a couple or a particular book she had given him with handwritten notes all over the margins. Even in the distance, there was always a trace of the other where they were and it was both painful and comforting, it was being haunted in the most beautiful way possible. 

Luckily for them, she finally got her degree and travelling became easier with her job. She could work remotely most of the time so following Lance was part of her routine now and she loved it. No matter how many races she had been to, it somehow never got old. Seeing Lance in his element was captivating. She was fascinated by his determination and his resilience. No matter how hard the world was on him or how hard he was on himself, Lance always bounced back and faced it all with a stoic face and a steel-strong determination. 

It was one of the reasons why she wasn’t as scared as she originally thought she would be when Lance got in the car. She was aware of how dangerous the sport could be but there was something about the confidence that oozed from her boyfriend that seemed to calm her. If he kept getting back into the car despite knowing the risks, he was either completely stupid or serene enough to decide that it was all worth it. 

Lance had been pretty consistent for the three practice sessions in Singapore so far and Fernando seemed quick so there were reasons to be optimistic about qualifying. Chloe and Scotty hadn’t been able to come this time and Lawrence was busy talking business in an office in the motorhome so she was left alone in Lance’s corner, blowing him a kiss as he got into the car, catching it and acting like he was putting it in his pocket, making her laugh at his antics. 

Qualifying was all about pushing the car to the maximum and toying with the limit and it seemed like Lance wanted to do just that. The green car was zooming past slower cars, turning between the tight corners between the walls of Singapore, brushing it at times when Lance came in a little too fast but he always made it out without much more than a scratch. 

Her eyes were glued to the screen as Lance was supposed to come round the last corner, set to cross the line in just a few seconds, her fingers crossing, hoping for a time that would put him to the top of the board and save him from another Q1 exit. When she saw the flash of green appear on the screen, her heart started racing even harder until she felt it almost stop suddenly. Right in front of her eyes, her boyfriend’s car went off the track and straight into the wall, barely avoiding collisions with other drivers that were also rounding the corner. 

As if the crash itself hadn’t been spectacular enough, another camera caught the scene and showed the car from another angle, showing how one of the wheels had snapped and was now bending at a strange angle. With her headphones on, she heard Lance’s race engineer Ben ask if he was okay only to be met by a deafening silence. Ben asked a second time and with a groan Lance muttered that he was okay before getting out of the car as medics came rushing around him. 

Despite knowing that her boyfriend was okay enough to talk and walk, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she watched the broadcast replaying the crash over and over again like some sick joke she would never be able to escape. No one seemed to be paying attention to the crying girl in the middle of the garage until a camera panned over to her and she saw her own face on the broadcast. Giving a slight nod to Ted Kravitz who was offering her a reassuring smile and mouthing sorry to her, she turned around, ready to ask anyone if they had any news.

She wanted nothing more than to find Lance and see for herself if he was really okay but she knew how strict the FIA was and how hungry the media were so she knew going out to the medical centre now wouldn’t do any good. She suddenly felt terribly alone without anyone to talk with or anyone to reassure her. The Singapore heat no longer felt warm, it was suffocating and she didn’t realise she was hyperventilating until Fernando came back into the garage without his helmet and ran over to her, grasping her hands and asking her to breathe with him for a little bit.

-“ Better now ?”

-“ Yes, I don’t know what happened but thank you Fernando.” she offered him a tight smile, squeezing his hand before letting it go

-“ I think you were panicking but that’s completely normal. You must be pretty shaken up, did they let you see him yet ?”

-“ Not yet, I don’t even know if he’s still there and I don’t want to bother Lawrence or Ben. They must be pretty stressed already without me texting them for the hundredth time.” 

-“ I think both of them would understand but I’ll ask around and see if I can find someone who can either bring you to him or tell you how he’s doing.” 

-“ Thanks nando, really.”

-“ Don’t worry about it. Your boyfriend’s tough, I’m sure he’ll be released soon.” the Spaniard smiled before leaving her to see if he could find something on his own

In his whole career, Lance had had his fair share of crashes. No matter how intense his crashes were, he usually walked away without any real physical injuries, at least not in car accidents. 

He had been taught that the most important thing after a crash was getting back in the car, not letting the incident get to you, always getting back up. That’s how he had always proceeded since he started racing, if he fell, he got back up straight away and worked until he got it right. 

This crash hadn’t been any different from the others, only maybe a little harsher but that was all. Yet, Lance couldn’t stop his heart from skipping beats, he couldn’t breathe fully and he didn’t know if it was because he was physically hurt or if he was still in shock. Nothing made sense to him and he just followed along the medical team and answered their questions, trying not to ask too many times how much longer he had to stay there. He knew they were only doing their job and he was thankful to be checked quickly after the impact but the white light was irritating, the whole room seemed hostile and all he wanted was to see a familiar face. 

No matter where he looked, all he saw was strangers’ faces and Lance had never wished to see someone he knew as bad as he did in that moment. Once all the tests were done, Lance was told to wait for the results in the room so he did. When the door opened a few minutes later to reveal his dad and Ben, he felt like breathing was a little easier, even though his dad’s hug was a bit too tight. 

-“ How are you feeling ? Does it hurt anywhere ?” Lawrence asked

-“ I’m good, dad. I already told the doctors everything so don’t stress about it.” Lance smiled as Ben rolled his eyes at how relaxed Lance was being

-“ I’m glad you’re okay, that seemed like a tough one. You had us all scared back in the garage.” Lawrence admitted, resting one of his hand on his son’s shoulder

-“ I’m sure it looked worse than it felt for me but yeah I can imagine. How is she ?” Lance asked as his dad excused himself, having to answer to a phone call

-“ How is who ?” Ben answered 

-“ y/n. Is she waiting outside ?” 

-“ Oh shit.”

-“ What ?” 

-“ She’s not here, Lance.” 

-“ What do you mean ? Didn’t she want to come see me ?” the canadian asked, not hiding his disappointment 

-“ I mean she probably did but we were so taken by surprise by the crash that I didn’t even think of taking her with us.” 

-“ Are you seri– Alright, it’s not your fault, you were stressed but can you please have someone bring her in ? She must be worried sick all on her own in the garage.” 

Ben just nodded before joining Lawrence outside to arrange for a car to bring the girl over to the medical centre. Barely a few minutes later, the door burst open and without having to look towards it, Lance knew exactly who it was. There was no way to mistake her for anyone else as she rushed inside, only to stop in the middle of the room, almost afraid to take another step. 

-“ You can come closer, you know ? I’m not going to break if you breathe too hard.” Lance laughed softly 

-“ Can you not joke about it please ?” she whispered as she came to stand next to him without touching him, still afraid to hurt him without meaning to

-“ I’m sorry. I’m okay, I promise.” Lance affirmed, nudging her shoulder with his “ Can you give me a hug, pretty girl ?”

-“ Just tell me if I squeeze too hard. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

-“ Of course, now come here.” he said, opening his arms as she wrapped her own around him and hid her face in the crook of his neck

They stayed like this for a few minutes, just holding each other close until Lance felt a tingling sensation on his shoulder and his neck.

-“ Hey there, are you crying ?” he asked, softly rubbing her back

-“ ‘am not.” she said sniffling rather loudly

-“ Aw baby, I’m really okay. I know it must have been scary for you but it’s over now. Don’t worry your pretty head about it, I’m still in one piece.” 

-“ I know. I  really don’t know why I’m crying. It was really scary and I’m just glad I’m with you right now.” 

-“ Me too, pretty girl. Look at me now, please.” 

She took a small step back, looking at him with puffy eyes and a tight smile as Lance cupped her face between his hands and planted a kiss on her lips, placing a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

-“ As soon as I get discharged and I’m done with everything, we’re going back to the hotel and we’re going to take a long warm bath and relax together. Does that sound good ?” 

-“ Yes. Can we cuddle after that ?” 

-“ Of course, we can cuddle all you want and I’m not moving from bed until I really really have to.”

-“ Lance ?” 

-“ Yes, pretty girl ?” 

-“ I love you.” 

It wasn’t the first time she said it to him but somehow the circumstances made it even more emotional and Lance smiled before kissing her again, more intensely this time.

-“ I love you too, y/n. The doctors will be here soon but I don’t want you to be here in case there’s something, which I’m sure there won’t be” Lance quickly corrected himself when he felt her draw a sharp breath before continuing “ but just in case I’d rather you get back to the garage and pick up our things. Like that we can leave as soon as I’m done here and I’ll meet you in my driver’s room.” 

-“ No, I want to stay with you. I don’t care how stressful or scary it could be, it’ll be even more if I don’t know what’s happening.” 

-“ Pl–”

-“ Don’t you dare try and convince me otherwise. I’m staying whether you want it or not.” she stood her ground, feeling her voice quivering

-“ Alright, I’m not going to stop you. You’re way too cute for me to say no to anyway.” Lance chuckled, wiping a lone tear that had escaped from her eyes before kissing her forehead

-“ Thank you.” 

Before Lance could answer anything, the doctors came back in with the results and they listened to the results, a breath of relief leaving them both as they got told that Lance was all good to go. The worst thing that was going to happen to Lance now were a few bruises where the seat belt had done its job and a sore neck. If Lance felt relieved, what she felt was way more intense than him and she took a deep breath, finally feeling like this nightmare was coming to end before wrapping her hand around his as he stood up to leave. 

Once they were done, the couple got out of the room, ready to go back to the hotel and put this scary day behind them but Lawrence stopped them before they could make an escape. The older Stroll started by apologising to his son’s girlfriend for not bringing her with them but she quickly brushed it off, understanding how the situation must have been scary for the both of them so she didn’t hold him accountable for it. 

After clearing that up, Lawrence asked if he could speak to Lance alone so the girl went to sit a few metres away, finally taking the time to answer the texts from her worried friends and family, assuring them that Lance was in fact okay and that she was too. Lance came back a few minutes later with a relaxed smile on his face, holding out his hand for her to take before bringing her in for a hug. 

-“ What was that for ?” she laughed against his chest, surprised from the sudden display of attention in the middle of the far from empty corridor

-“ Nothing, I’m just happy. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

-“ What do you mean ?” 

-“ My dad and I talked and we agreed that even though nothing’s broken, maybe getting back in the car tomorrow isn’t the best idea and maybe resting would be more reasonable.” 

-“ Are you saying what I think you are right now ?” 

-“ You have me all to yourself until we leave for Japan, pretty girl.” 

-“ Finally something good about today.” she smiled a little brighter, holding Lance tighter 

-“ Let’s make it even better then, let’s go have that bath and cuddle in front of a movie.” 

-“ That sounds like a wonderful plan.” 

-“ Good because I’m not planning on letting go of you until we leave for the airport on Monday.” 

-“ You’re going to have to if you want to drive us back to the hotel.” she laughed at his sudden clinginess 

-“ Don’t give me ideas, pretty girl.” Lance retorted, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, smiling against her lips

Lawrence, who was still standing in the corridor, was glad to hear the two of them laugh freely after the crash. If it had been scary for him as a dad, he didn’t want to think about how it must have been for the girl. At least they were together now and hopefully by the time Lance would inevitably have to get back in the car, the incident would be long forgotten and she would be able to watch with the exact same smile she was showing Lance now as he made her spin around in his arms, the perfect picture of a happy couple.

[metalomagnetic]

Hello Metalo

I love the Disgraced Witches's Den, they are just chilling and having fun.

Has Walden and Mr McNair gotten back in contact with Evy since under Sirius support she is back in society ? Also, is Sirius giving Bella access to black gold or is her father? I remember how Bella helped Sirius out when he ran away...

Walden has always kept in touch with Evy, though before Sirius, it was very hush-hush. Now that she's been accepted back by most of the younger crowd, Walden publicly acknowledges her (also, it's helpful that she supports him with money, even paid for his wedding and a home for him). Her parents do not acknowledge her at all. If you ask them, she is dead as far as they're concerned.

Bella is not allowed to step foot inside Gringotts, or any public institution (unless it's St Mungo and she personally needs treatment there- otherwise she's not allowed into the Hospital as a visitor. Special requests were granted for her to attend her father's funeral, since it was so public and on a semi-public magical place). So she hardly needs gold, since she has nowhere to spend it anyway, in theory. However, she did take some trips to some shops in Knockturn, where she trusts no one would call the Aurors.

She also goes to Muggle London, since no one knows her there; Sirius and Andromeda sometimes convince her to join them there to eat at a restaurant or just get her to see something other than a rotation of manors.

She has access to gold or pounds. (Sometimes she orders via mail from magical stores all around the world, mostly gifts for her loved ones or dresses for herself, and her favourite perfumes haha). When she lived with her dad, she was too drugged up to want anything, but then she moved in with Narcissa and you can imagine, Narcissa paid for everything Bella wanted, or handed her gold/pounds if Bella asked.

Now she lives with Evy, but both Cygnus and Sirius go and leave a bag of money for Bella every month in case she needs it for whatever, without being asked. And since Andromeda moved there, too, Cygnus and Sirius also gave gold to her. Now, it's just Sirius.

Cygnus left the majority of his assets to Bella, Andromeda and Narcissa, but he set a little something apart for Dora and Draco, in the interest of being fair to his grandchildren, too, even if Draco hardly needs more gold. (Same for Pollux, he left A LOT, like outrageous amounts of gold for Draco, Marvolo and Orion even if neither kids could possibly ever need it, but he wanted to be fair to all his great-grandsons. However he was an old-fashioned bigot, so he left nothing for Elara, since she's a girl, and nothing for Dora, since he and Irma never accepted her because of her blood.)

So Andromeda has her own gold now, though it's not a fortune or anything; I think Cygnus was wealthy enough, but nothing ridiculously so (like say Sirius or Lucius or other first born sons; Cygnus was more like Alphard. Rich, but not filthy rich), so after his wealth got divided in five, it's not a huge amount for Andromeda, but enough that she would be able to sustain herself independently if need arouse. (Both Bella and Cissa offered for Andromeda to have their share of the inheritance, since they hardly need it, but Andromeda firmly refused.)

However, Bella cannot have access to her gold, either inherited from Cygnus or the enormous wealth in Lestrange vault. So, for now, it's Sirius that takes care of Bella's needs, and also for Andromeda (even if she tries to refuse, but he won't hear of it), and he insists he's the one to pay for whatever Dora needs, and advised Dora to leave whatever she got for Cygnus untouched for now, even if she is seventeen. But Dora already has plans to get a job as soon as she's done with Hogwarts and earn her own gold, because she's very driven and independent, and Bella encourages her thoroughly and also trains Dora whenever Dora is on holiday, in both duelling skills and Potion Making.

Druella has her own gold, as inheritance combo from her own father, grandparents and an assortment of odd uncle and aunts, but since both Bella and Andromeda are living with Evy, Druella moved in with Narcissa after Cygnus died, because Narcissa (even if not close to her mum, is dutiful, and in her view it's necessary and a social obligation to take care of a mother and not abandon her to live alone. Lucius is *delighted*, I tell you. Poor man. But at least he has many opportunities to suck up to Druella, trying to make sure Druella will leave her gold to Draco, because hey, Lucius is of the opinion that more is always better, even if not remotely needed).

To Walburga's horror, after Cygnus died, now she has to take care of her own mother, since she's the only child of Irma's left, so now Irma is living in Grimmauld, and it is a very big house, but it somehow feels tiny for Walburga lol (she's using Sirius' old hiding spots to hide from her mother when she needs space). Thankfully, Irma adores her grandsons and great grandchildren, so she's mostly preoccupied with them, and when she doesn't do that, she likes to find ways to be a bitch to Astrid and Isadora, so she doesn't have much time to pester Walburga. Irma was always a terror, a veritable force of nature, and now she is the OLDEST living Black, the matriarch of the entire horrible family. Plus, she has a way with Sirius, whom she always spoiled since he could crawl, and Sirius isn't inclined to go against her. Irma is living her best life, even if she misses her husband dearly. To be fair, Irma aways lived her best life, but now her social status is basically God like lol 😂

That was probably more information than you asked for lol, but I like to think about this fic all too often and ramble about it, so sorry!

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

The Most Impossible Battle

Pairing: Young Robert Baratheon x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: soft dubcon, NSFW, gradual consent, rough sex

Words: 3020

Summary: Robert hated all Targaryens. Wise words from those close to him though make Robert Baratheon give in to the idea of taking (y/n) Targaryen as his bride.

By the Gods Robert, have mercy on the girl.” Ned pleaded but was immediately shut up by Robert’s roaring voice.

“Mercy?! MERCY?! Did that Targaryen whore’s brother show your sister mercy when he raped her?!! The Targaryen don’t deserve mercy Ned!” Young and callous, Robert Baratheon’s beautiful blue eyes were now tainted with his fury and anger. He stood a few inches higher above the his Stark brother. Even with that fact, Ned refused to stand down on the matter.

With a stone face, he goes on “Her brother is to blame. She has done nothing wrong.”

That made Robert scoff. “Except let the others escape. She’s fully aware of her family’s guilt. Have you so quickly forgotten what her father had done to your brother and father? The whole family is taint and should be eradicated.”

Yes, young (y/n) Targaryen had made sure her younger siblings were well out of harms way. At the moment she had been captured she had sent her younger brother Viserys and newborn sister Daenerys away on a cargo ship. To where, she refused to say. Brave, Ned admired that much about the girl. In that moment he was reminded so much of Lyanna. Brave, beautiful and stubborn.

Ned couldn’t let Robert execute her. He didn’t want anymore blood shed thanks to this stupid war.

He gives Jon Arryn a sideways glance, asking for his help. Jon Arryn, Lord of the Vale, purses his lips together for a moment. “Think rationally Robert.” The older man did always have a way in reining him in. Both men viewed him as a surrogate father and in that aspect resonated a great deal of respect. “Even though there were a great deal of people who hated Aerys, there an even greater many who loved Rhaegar and (y/n). Those supporters are already upset at the death of Rhaegar, as deserving as it was. But (y/n)? She’s but a sweet maid who has done nothing. Those families might do something hasty if you were to execute her.”

“Then I’ll kill them. I’m king now and if a see someone that isn’t obedient I can surely have them executed. The whole lot of those Targaryen loving scum.” Spitting he stomps over to a large window to look over his new dominion of King’s Landing. Hands splayed on the windowsill he glares out over the city.

“Be reasonable Robert.” Jon tries again. “That will just earn you more resentment from the people you now govern. Otherwise you’d be just like Aerys.”

That made Robert’s broad shoulders go rigid. The last thing he wanted was to be compared to the Targaryen king. No, he didn’t want to be anything like Aerys. “Then what do you suggest I do with the girl?”

The room was quiet for a moment, as if Jon was afraid to even say the solution. One encouraging look from Ned gave him the strength he needed. “Marry her.”

Ned gaped at the Arryn lord, he hadn’t been expecting that as a solution.

Robert spun on his heel, dark mane of hair flying as he did so. “Marry her? Have you lost your mind?!”

“Not as much as you have.” Jon speaks truthfully, staring down the young man who used to be his ward. “Think about it Robert. If you marry her, then those who still support the Targaryens will have no choice but to support you. She’s well loved among the people. That would give you good reception, having her as your bride.”

Gritting his teeth, his blue eyes narrow. “No. Never. I will never marry her. It would be a disgrace upon the memory of Lyanna. Lyanna was who I was supposed to marry. And now because of that Targaryen bastard, she’s dead.”

“What’s done is done Robert. You cannot turn back time. But you can attempt to move on.” He tries to sound a little sympathetic. Robert had been deeply in love with Lyanna, but even Jon Arryn knew that his love only ran so deep. It hadn’t stopped Robert from sleeping with dozens of other women.

Sighing, Ned places a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “He’s right. You’re king now. You must do things that you don’t necessarily want to do. Keeping the peace by marrying her… It needs to be done Robert. There is still unrest all throughout Westeros. Her father and brother may have been bastards, but she was beloved by all the realms. It would do you good.”

“Damn you Ned. Damn you and your sensible words.”

*

Were they okay? You hoped Viserys didn’t lose his temper with the newborn Daenerys.

Your fingers made circles in the dirt that you called your bed.

They should be safely out in the open water. People would have a hard time finding that ship.

Fear and worry and the echo of Viserys pleading with you to go with them. But there wasn’t any time. Not for you at least. You had to delay Robert’s soldiers. That was the only way that the ship would be able to leave the port in time. Daenerys’ shrill cries still haunted you as you stared at the walls of your cell. You never thought in a million years that you would wind up there, in the dungeons of your ancestors.

You didn’t know what would be worse, you rotting away in the dungeon or Robert Baratheon having you executed. You understood why all this had happened, you weren’t that much of a naive girl. True you had been sheltered most of your life, you knew how the world worked. Your brother had been a fool. It was his fault for stealing the Stark girl although you didn’t believe one bit that he had raped her. That was not in Rhaegar’s nature. Neither was war. Now you were paying for the price of it. You knew that if the soldiers had caught Viserys he would have been as good as dead. He posed a threat to the usurper as now being the next in line for the Iron Throne. The last male heir of Aerys. What would your fate be?

You hadn’t anticipated marriage being an option.

Guards had dragged you out of your cell, filthy and stumbling as your eyes tried to adjust to the bright light that suddenly blinded you. You were lead to the reception hall that was once filled with the skulls of your family’s dragons. There in the back, commanding authority was the Iron Throne. On it now sat an imposing Robert Baratheon. It was an odd sight for you, seeing a man that wasn’t your insane father on the throne. One that lacked the Targaryen violet eyes and snow white hair. Robert’s thick hair clashed against your own; violently dark opposed to your gentle silver tresses. He looked every part of king, much more than your father did. During the last few years, Aerys’ body had begun to deteriorate greatly as his body thinned and became frail. Not Robert. His body was taught with muscle, ready to strike. His thick beard betrayed his young age, making him look so much more older than you knew he was. The new King of Westeros.

You had thought you were there to hear your death sentence. What came out of the stag king’s mouth nearly made you lose balance.

“I will take you as my queen. You have no say in the matter and will act accordingly unless you want to meet the same fate as your brother and father.” Stating with no compassion in his heart, rich blue eyes glare at you. “It seems fitting since he took my bride away.”

Opening your mouth you realize you didn’t know what to say. Surely you could oppose but what would that do to help you? From his voice it was clear that the last thing he wanted to do was marry you. The feeling was very much mutual. Even though your brother had been an idiot and had been in the wrong, you still hated Robert for killing him. You realized you might want death rather than this. To have to bed the man that killed Rhaegar… It made you sick. Rhaegar was an idiot, but he was your idiot. Dozens of memories resurfaced that nearly had you weeping.

“I… I am to be your bride?” The words were laced with venom. “A usurper’s queen?”

If he hadn’t been perched on the throne you knew he would’ve slapped you. Instead you noticed the subtle whitening of his knuckles as he gripped at the throne. “Watch your tongue, whore. You should be grateful that I don’t crush your skull in with my hammer.”

Dragon fire flushed your face. “I would rather you do that than subject me than your disease ridden cock.”

There was a collective gasp in the hall. A beloved princess you were, but that didn’t mean you let people step over you. You were blood of the dragon after all.

“Your grace,” broke in a voice next to you. A solemn looking man took to your side. The sigil of a direwolf displayed proudly on his vest. “Please, I know this must be difficult for you but it is the best course of action for you to take. You’ll still have your life and your people.”

“And what of my respect? My dignity? I lose all that to the Baratheon usurper.”

In a more hushed tone, the young Stark lord bends a bit to whisper in your ear. “I promise to you, if you go through with this I’ll make sure your siblings remain safe. To the old Gods and the new, I swear that they won’t be harmed.”

You soften. The Starks kept good to their word, everyone knew that. How could you say no when it ensured the safety of your siblings?

“Okay… Okay.”

*

By the Gods she was beautiful. Disgustingly beautiful with her Targaryen traits. Robert hated it. Hated her and her entire family. But he couldn’t deny her beauty. Especially when she stood there in front of him, her Targaryen cloak around her shoulders about to be replaced by the Baratheon yellow and black. She looked every bit a queen should. Full pouting lips, dark eyelashes that kissed at her cheeks when she fluttered her eyelids. The trail of her neck that led down to a prominent collar bone (probably from having been denied food for days).

It should have been Lyanna there in her place. Jon Arryn was right in one thing though, he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t dream of mending the past. Nothing would bring Lyanna back to him. Robert would take Rhaegar’s sister as retribution; watch the fallen prince turn in his grave as he married her.

Robert couldn’t deny his immense attraction to her though. More so now that she stood in front of them in their wedding chambers. The Bedding Ceremony was about to commence. Violet eyes hold onto blue as she stands her ground.

“Turn around.” He growls out. “I don’t want to look at your face.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” She hisses back and turns around. Her silver hair had been done so meticulously in luscious braids and curls that even Robert couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her hair. Catching himself, he gives it a good yank making her suck in breath at the pain. His other hand goes to the laces on the back of her dress, easily ripping them to reveal her flawless, bare, back. Such beautiful skin. Robert’s fingers glide along her back before tearing off the rest of her dress so that it pooled around her feet. (y/n) continues to stand tall with her back straight. Grabbing the back of her neck, Robert bends her over the bed so that her face was pressed into the mattress; her small hands curled tightly into the silken bedsheets. Preparing for whatever Robert had planned for her. Surely she must know what he would do. Treat her as harshly as Rhaegar must have treated Lyanna. His thick thigh pushes her legs apart and Robert nearly sighs at the sight. The sight of her exposed and bent over was enough for him to salivate over. What a beautiful cunt she had. Possibly the most beautiful he had seen. He wanted to run his tongue along her slit and taste her.

(y/n) struggled slightly to move her face into a better position for her to breathe. As she did so she unconsciously wiggled her ass, an ass that begged for a smack.

That’s just what he did. Reeling his hand back and smacking her ass. “Stay still.” A vivid red handprint starts to bloom on her rear. His large hand grabs her pussy and with his fingers spreads her lower lips apart in preparation for his cock. He was a little bit too excited to fuck her. He shouldn’t have felt the thrill of it rush through him. In the end he was just as weak as any other man. As much as he wanted to be rough, he also wanted to enjoy it. Ever so slowly he pushes his cock inside of her inch by inch. Each slow movement of him entering her made (y/n) tremble and dare he say, even moan a little bit. Finally he was completely sheathed inside of her. Robert let his head roll back, eyes closing at the sublime feeling of her wonderful cunt. It was unlike anything else he had felt before. And he had fucked many maidens. Many virgins as well. None had felt quite so good though. His pace was slow at first, enjoying each contraction her cunt made as he slid his cock in and out. Using his hands, he tilted her hips up even more and hitting the right place, (y/n) lets out a shaky moan. It made him pick up the pace and pound into her. The sound of his pelvis smacking against her ass as he went balls deep into her was maddening.

“Fuck.” His deep voice groans out. He wanted to see her face. Wanted to see her tits as he fucked her senselessly. With such ease he flips her onto her back. (y/n)’s face was incredibly red now that she faced him. She was trying to glare at him but once Robert slid back into her, her eyes rolled back into her head. Crying out as he rammed into her over and over again, so much so that it made her tits bounce. Robert wraps his fingers around her slender neck putting the slightest pressure; tightening his grip little by little.

*

Fuck

Fuck

FUCK

It was becoming hard to breathe but that was the least of your worries. The sight of Robert, his barrel chest and taught abs fucking you was too much to bear. Hard lines of his muscles twitching as he tightened his fingers around your neck.

Why did it feel so good? He was basically fucking you like a whore. You were a pureblood Targaryen and deserved better. But you found yourself enjoying his harsh treatment. You wanted him to get rougher. You wanted him to pound harder into you so that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Head becoming light and warm, something else was happening. You felt a tightening below. The more he fucked you, the tighter the coil seemed to get until…

No. You didn’t want to be the first one to come undone. You didn’t want him to know that you were actually enjoying it. At the rate he was going though it was only a matter of time.

To take back control you launched yourself at him, catching him by surprise and his hand releasing from your neck. With your surprise attack you wrestle him so that he was now the one under you on the bed. His cheeks are red, eyes hard as he regards you with question. His about to protest until you sit yourself down on his cock. Protest devolving into a groan he lets his head fall onto the mattress as you roll your hips. You place your hands on his hard chest. Bobbing up and down his cock you try to ignore your cunt begging for release. Curling your fingers, you dig your nails into his chest and drag them harshly down. His face scrunches up, baring his teeth and hissing. Hands reaching around you to grab at your ass, he pulls you quickly up and down. You wouldn’t allow him to be in control for too long though. Again you dig your nails and drag them. Robert releases your ass and glares up at you. Beautiful blue eyes. Your own little hands reach to his thick neck and tighten like claws of a hawk. Using that as support you lift yourself off of his engorged member and start to tease the head of his cock. Slowly, torturously slow, you barely sit down enough for the head to be sheathed before coming back up. Your husband growls impatiently, wanting you to go back to riding his cock. You’re just buying yourself more time and shortening his. That’s when you sit all the way down on his cock. His mouth gapes open as you ride him. His breathing become hard, his hips desperately thrusting to match you.

You feel his body lock up underneath you as he lets out a loud groan.

The two of you were frozen in that position, trying to regain your breath. You had won. At least this battle. A bit unsteadily you lift yourself off of him; something warm and wet dribbling out. Smuggly you lay down beside him and stare at the ceiling, the space between your legs upset with you that you denied yourself your own orgasm.

“Well fuck.” Robert pants. Lazily he turns his head. “You didn’t come.”

“I wouldn’t dare grant you that satisfaction.” You roll away from him and onto your side.

Determined to prove you wrong, Robert’s hand lands on your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. “Fuck that noise. I’m gonna make you cum so hard that you’ll see stars.”

[maluuustrawberry]

"My biggest treasure"

(Tulio X Fem!Reader X Miguel)

(The road to El Dorado fanfiction)

{Part. 2}

{Part. 1}

A/N: I'm really happy with the support you're giving me and that you're enjoying my fanfiction. I promise that I will soon post what you asked me to write, I didn't forget, don't worry, lol.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

~ Moments before...~

I drew my sword and pointed it at them, the first man was a blond with medium hair and wearing a red shirt, the second man... my eyes went wide, I immediately recognized him, he was the man who robbed me!...

~

~ {Pov} Y/n:

“You?!...” I said angrily and pointed my sword at him, who looked at me in confusion.

“Me?” he asked.

“Sir, is your voice too girlish or is it just me?” The blond asked confusedly as he put his hands up.

Damn it, I spoke in my real voice... I regained my "manly" posture and got back to the point:

“You two!” I forced my voice to maintain my disguise and carried on as if nothing had happened. “Thieves... The captain will be thrilled to know there are stowaways on that ship!”

“Hey mister, calm down, it was a misunderstanding.” The blond tried to explain himself, still holding his hands up.

“I told you this plan wouldn't work!” The thief muttered to the other.

“And it definitely didn't.” I said, still pointing my sword at them. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't hand you over to the general.”

“Listen, me and my friend here were on the run and ended up hiding in these barrels, only we didn't know that these barrels were going to...” The blond began to explain until he looked around thoughtfully. “What ship are we on?”

“General Cortés' ship, heading for El Dorado....” I replied and they looked surprised and scared at the same time.

“Oh... Right...” The blond cleared his throat. “Anyway, we were on the run and ended up hiding in these loads. Please, we swear it was an accident.”

“Running away? Running away from the guards, right?” They kept quiet as if they had nothing to argue about. “You, blondie, I can forgive. But you...” I pointed my sword at the brunette. “You'll see me before you go to the general, you bastard!”

“Hey, wait a minute, do I know you? What have I done to you?” He asked confused.

“You know very well.” I ended up letting my real voice take over, I couldn't control myself any longer, I was angry after all. “Give back the diary and the money you stole from me!” I pointed my sword at his face.

“Wait, wait i shaved this morning...” He mocked, but looked scared at the sword.

“Oh yeah? There's a bit missing... Come on! Give back what you stole from me.”

“Wait a minute, little woman! I didn't steal anything from you!”

“What did you call me, Thief?!”

“Calm down, Tulio...” The blond meddled, if he hadn't meddled I'd have put that sword through that bastard's neck. “Control yourself.”

“That idiot has to control himself! He's even pitching his voice like an angry little girl!” The thief, whose name was Tulio, mocked me.

I quickly took off my hat, let my hair down and took off my fake moustache, revealing who I really was:

“And I really am an angry little girl, you scoundrel...”

They were surprised by this, especially Tulio:

“You?!” Tulio asked, surprised and looking down at me.

“Wait, for God's sake what's going on? I'm very confused right now.” The blond said as he tried to get out of the barrel. “Let's take it easy.”

“And you, stay there! Stay where you are, both of you!” I pointed the sword at them and the blond immediately went back into the barrel without question.

“What is it, Princess? It's not enough that you know how to read and you've had that dead fish bath, and you're humiliating yourself by pretending to be a man?” Tulio spoke mockingly and looking at me up and down.

“Humiliating myself? No dear, I'm trying to survive, earning honest money unlike you!”

“You should be looking after the house instead of doing this!”

“Shut up or I'll cut out your tongue, you bastard!” I said, pointing the sword at him.

“Do you know each other?” The blond man asked.

“He stole my money and my diary when I was at the market and made me fall into a puddle on the ground full of dead fish!”

“It's not my fault you're so clumsy!” Tulio said.

“That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't robbed me!”

“You shouldn't have followed me!”

“You should know what woman you're messing with!” I said, approaching him and pointing the sword right at his face.

“Calm down! Calm down.” The blond interjected again, looking like he was trying not to laugh. “If this was all about the diary and the money, we can return it and pretend nothing happened.”

“How are we going to give it back if we bet...” I heard Tulio whisper to blondie, but he interrupted him by elbowing the brunette.

“You'll definitely give me back what you stole. Now the part about pretending nothing happened I won't do...”

“Wait! Trust me!” The blond insisted.

“How? You're his friend.” I couldn't take my eyes off Tulio. “And it's like the Bible says: 'Tell me who you're with and I'll tell you who you are'.”

“You're looking for El Dorado, aren't you?” As soon as he touched on this subject, my attention went to him... how did he know?

“How you...”

“I read your diary.” He interrupted, picking up the notebook in his pocket and handing it to me. I immediately took my father's diary from his hands. “We can make a deal.”

“I don't make deals with thieves.”

“Please listen to me.” The blond man spoke calmly and looked into my eyes, somehow I was moved by this, he really seemed to want to say something important, I sighed and looked at him, waiting for him to say it. He's very persistent. “We want to find this city just as much as you do, we can form a partnership, get off this ship together and go after the city.”

“Miguel!” Tulio scolded him.

“Me? Making a deal with thieves? no way!” I couldn't trust them straight away, especially this brunette, but I was curious, they're really confident of finding this city. “After all, do you have any more clues or was it just my diary? I'll warn you in advance that we don't know for sure if these notes are real.”

“Look at this...”

“No! You're not going to show...” Tulio held Miguel's hand, preventing him from showing me anything. This made me even more curious.

“Show me, now...” I said firmly, pointing the sword at Tulio, who slowly let go of Miguel's hand. It was easy to intimidate them both...

Miguel took out a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to me, I unfolded the paper and it was a map, the map that led to El Dorado, I looked for any signs of forgery, but there weren't any, it was real, it even had some of the things my father had mentioned in his diary:

“How did you get this?...” I asked.

“We'll explain later.” Miguel continued. “You seem to be a very intelligent and strong woman to have disguised yourself as a man for all this time, and you know a lot about the city. Look, with the map and your research, we'll find this city easily and you'll get all the gold you want. Help us get off this ship and come with us.”

I was silent for a few seconds, I don't know if I should go with them, my dream and my father's has always been to find this city, it's a good opportunity, they have the map. But they're thieves, they could ambush me or betray me...

“Miguel, do you know that little voice in your head that tells you to stop?” Tulio asked. “You don't have one?!”

“All right, I'll go.” I said and put my sword away. Miguel looked at me with excitement and a gleam of joy in his eyes, while Tulio was disbelieving and shocked.

“Oh, that's great!” Miguel said and I immediately interrupted.

“But... if you plan or even think about cheating on me, you'll see me.”

“Relax, I promise I won't.” Miguel said sincerely. “You can trust me.”

“I'll give you a chance... Beware that I take promises seriously.”

“And if you ever think of telling on us, telling anyone that there are two intruders on this ship...” Tulio said as he climbed out of the barrel with Miguel and came closer to me. “... I don't think they're going to like knowing that they're bringing a woman undercover for this trip on the ship all this time...” He gave a mischievous smile. “After all, women on a ship are a bad omen.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked a little angrily.

“An eye for an eye, my dear. You've blown our cover and we've blown yours, so we're even.” Actually, I showed it myself in my anger. “If you do anything stupid, You know what will happen. You have no choice but to help us get off this ship without being discovered.”

“You really are a bastard...”

“And you're quite the liar, you managed to fool even the general with your disguises, princess.” Tulio grabbed my chin and lifted my face to look at him, I hated that bastard.

“Call me princess one more time and I'll drive this sword right through your a-...”

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Miguel stepped in and stood between the two of us, putting his arms around our shoulders and pulling Tulio and I closer together. “There's no reason for us to fight anymore, guys. Look, the three of us, the first to find El Dorado and the men...” He interrupted himself and looked at me. “And you... We will be the richest in Spain.”

Miguel was really excited, it would certainly be a good adventure, even with the annoying Tulio around, the blond finally let us go and spoke:

“I don't think we've introduced ourselves before. My name is Miguel, this is Túlio.” He pointed to his friend next to him. “And you? I don't know your name yet, señorita.”

“Y/n. My name is Y/n.”

“Good, Y/n. Now... do you have a plan for us to get out of here?”

Miguel asked and I thought for a few seconds, then the idea popped into my head, but Tulio spoke before me:

“First we get as much food as possible...”

“I thought the question was for me.” I interrupted him, before he could go on about the plan.

“My dear, I'm the idea man here, I make the plans. What's a woman going to plan? That we dress up as women for the men on the ship and seduce them?”

“Not a bad idea.” I gave him a mischievous smile, teasing him. “After all, you wearing a dress would scare the men off the ship and it would be much easier.” Tulio frowned, getting annoyed.

“Guys, the plan...” Miguel reminded us and tried to ignore this argument between me and Tulio, letting out a sigh.

“Well, we grab as much food as possible, get a rowboat and head back to Spain with everything we can give...”

“Spain? I thought we were going to El Dorado.” I interrupted Tulio, who was looking at me disapprovingly. “Are you really going to row to Spain? Do you have any idea where we are?”

“And by the way, how did we get off the deck without being discovered?” Miguel asked Túlio, with a little smile on his face. The brunette kept quiet for a few seconds and then continued.

“Okay. First, we disguise ourselves as these men who work here on this ship and...”

“The general and all the men will recognize you on the spot.” I interrupted once more.

“All right, what's your idea, smart girl?!” Tulio snapped.

“Well, you're lucky I'm the 'Man'.” I made quotation marks with my fingers. “In charge of the ship's cargo. I'll keep up my disguise until nightfall and in the meantime you two stay here, hiding in the barrels and I'll get our rowboat ready with the food so we can leave at night when everyone's asleep.”

“Yeah, that's a good plan.” Miguel said, winking at Tulio, who rolled his eyes. “Okay, good luck, Y/n.”

“Are you really going to trust her?” Tulio asked Miguel in disbelief.

“We made a promise.” I said as I tied up my hair and put on the hat that had been lying on the floor, starting to return to my disguise. “And you can bet I take promises seriously.”

“I don't trust you.” Tulio said in an attempt to offend me.

“Let alone me you, do you think I'm going to easily trust someone who stole from me?” I put on my fake mustache. “I'm not asking you to trust me, after all you have no choice, I know this ship and I know the way to escape better than you two.”

I put up the ladder to leave the ship's deck, before I left, I looked back and they were hiding, Good. I left the deck and closed the door carefully, I hope it works...

~{Pov} Miguel:

I watched the woman leave the deck, Tulio and I immediately went into the barrels where we were, while we hid, I decided to talk to him, I wanted to know his opinion of Y/n:

“Are you really going to trust her? What about our scheme?” Túlio asked, as if he had already guessed that I was going to talk about it. “It was just 'Miguel and Túlio' and no one else!”

“It's good to have new people in the group from time to time.” I said as I picked up the barrel lid. “Think about it, the three of us have the same goals!” I said with a smile on my face.

“No, we don't. It's just you and that crazy woman who want to find a city that doesn't even exist.”

“El Dorado does exist, Tulio. If you took a look at that girl's diary... there was plenty of proof that El Dorado was real, and what's more, we have a map!”

“I'm still not going to take her with us.”

“Come on. Give her a chance, I liked the girl.”

“Give her a chance? That crazy woman wants to kill me at the first opportunity!”

I started making that face of mine when I ask Tulio for something, it always works. He got angry:

“Aaah! Okay... let's go to El Dorado.”

“Yeah!”

To be continued...

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; Cassie makes a claybaby.

But also–what, was she not going to get Mae toys and clothes? Was she not going to get her anything but the absolute basics and nothing else? Is she just–is she–

Cassie doesn’t know what she’s going to do here. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing right now. She doesn’t have enough space in her place for kid stuff or a kid and she doesn’t have money or time for a kid and she doesn’t– 

“Good start,” Cissie says, brisk and efficient; squeezing Cassie’s hand again. Bart is already offering Mae a squishy-looking stuffed lawn gnome, because Bart is the kind of person who has a reason that giving the newborn toddler a stuffed lawn gnome makes sense, though hell if anyone else is going to understand said reason. Mae squeals delightedly and immediately hugs the lawn gnome like she thinks it’s the best thing since . . . well, since she was born, about five minutes ago. 

Cassie might laugh, if she weren’t about to have a panic attack. 

Gods, what has she done? What has she done, and how is she supposed to . . . she can’t “fix” this, there isn’t a fix here, what is she supposed to do here?! 

“God, how are you so cute,” Kon says, grinning at Mae. She squishes her new lawn gnome into his face. 

“Cute!” she declares proudly. “M’cute!” 

“The cutest,” Kon coos back, reaching into the folds of his jacket to tickle her stomach, and she giggles and kicks her legs. 

“Dada cute!” she says, and Kon laughs and tickles her again, curling in around her like she’s the most important thing in the world. Cassie doesn’t know how to do that. 

Gods, she’s gonna be the worst mom. 

“Nooo, Mae’s cute,” Kon teases Mae as she keeps giggling. “The cutest! Yes you are! The cutest little claybaby!” 

Mae laughs in absolute delight and–right, Cassie remembers vaguely in the midst of her borderline panic attack. Kon actually, like, has experience with little kids. Or at least a couple of them, anyway. 

That isn’t actually going to be as helpful as it could, she thinks, because she’s the one who’s gonna have to actually take care of Mae and it’s not like she can ask Kon to do split custody just because she accidentally gave the gods the wrong idea while he was in her immediate vicinity, so like . . . okay, well, maybe he’ll be willing to babysit sometime, at least? Like–just when he can, obviously. 

God, she’s gonna have to drop out and get a job and can she even keep being Wonder Girl with a baby, is that even a thing she can do? Anita isn’t Empress anymore, after all, and admittedly she was younger and also had two surprise magic toddlers dumped on her when that happened, but– 

“Why a lawn gnome, Bart?” Anita asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow as she watches Mae bap Kon in the face with it again. 

“Because those are clay people too,” Bart says, squinting doubtfully at her. “So she gets a little friend like her. Like–duh?” 

“. . . that’s actually surprisingly logical, coming from you,” Anita says grudgingly. “But also still godsdamn ridiculous, mon.” 

“Mae likes it,” Bart says, making a face at her. “You’re just mad I’m gonna be the favorite uncle over you.” 

“Excuse you, what do you mean ‘uncle’?” Anita snorts. 

“Well, obviously Cissie’s gonna be the favorite aunt,” Greta says reasonably, apparently back to functioning on Suzie-logic herself. 

“Obviously!” Bart huffs, folding his arms. “How’s that even a question?” 

“Isn’t Wonder Woman in the running here, technically?” Tim asks with a wry little quirk of his lips. “And also all of Themyscira?” 

“Shit, you’re right, I gotta outdo Wonder Woman,” Cissie groans like she’s not still holding Cassie’s hand like the exact lifeline she needs right now and at least earning her vote for “favorite”. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ranged weapons and the element of surprise,” Bart says matter-of-factly. 

“Ice cream and ignoring bedtime,” Greta says just as matter-of-factly. 

“I can work with that,” Cissie mutters speculatively, narrowing her eyes in consideration. Cassie wants to laugh, again, but still can’t. 

She just doesn’t know what she’s gonna do.

[hwan-g]

DAYS OF CANDY. seo changbin

pair. bouncer! changbin x fem! reader (+ seungmin, chan, minho) | genre. slight gang activity, bad boy, infatuation at first sight, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, brief violence, depictions of toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of murder, mental struggle, age gap (unrelated to plot), unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, generally flawed characters | word count. 14.9k | in the same universe as route 66 and midnight diner but can be read as standalone.

synopsis. a lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls.

It was an ordinary night, when you made the wrong choice.

You’d heard of the reputation Route 66 had built for itself, knew how hard it was to get past the two infamous bouncers at the door, and of that one incident on the 16th of February, the one that made it on the news and forced the club to shut down for a whole month. The owner, Bang Chan, refused to give any statements, and the entire ordeal was soon forgotten, swept under the rug by people that refuse to acknowledge the existence of gang activity in their city.

You had a high school friend that worked there as a bartender, someone you’d been quite close to once, but drifted apart from when you first got together with your boyfriend. Minho still called you sometimes—he hated texts, hated how impersonal they were, and would rather hear your voice instead—just to see how you were doing, if you still worked at the same retail store you started at right after graduation, and that he hopes you’re doing okay, that he’s only a phone call away if you ever need him, and you know you can always just come visit me, right?

You knew that, wished you could say it was easy for you to do that, but that was merely denial talking. You worked a full time job that took up most of your time, and when you weren’t selling clothes, you were washing and folding them, you were consumed by a man that refused to let you take one step away from him, an apartment that felt more like a prison than a refuge. There had been a social life once, but that seemed lifetimes ago now, nothing but a distant dream. There had also been a time where your boyfriend was your whole world, and you’d love for nothing else but to be in his presence always, stuck to him like glue, but that had also withered away somewhere, and died. 

Freedom seemed like paradise now. Being alone, elsewhere—you prayed for it every night before going to bed, even in your sleep. It was detrimental that something gave, and soon. You wanted to call Minho again, wanted to ask how he was doing for once, and not the other way around. No more rushed interactions, or seething looks; hands as fists, skin on skin, anger as teeth—

There was a birthday party at Route, your boyfriend’s brother was turning twenty-eight, and had invited seemingly every person he ever came across. Of course, that wouldn’t run on 66; all who entered that door had to be handpicked especially by the two men guarding it, and that was no easy task. You’d been once, a quick drink with a coworker on a regular Thursday, which turned out to be a confessional session with Minho until two in the morning, at which point he declared you entirely too drunk to return home and left his shift early to take you to his house and let you sleep it off in his bed.

Lee Minho was a good friend. He cared for you like no other man had ever done in your life, and it was not an obvious thing for him. You had to earn his respect, his time; not everyone could do it, certainly not many were willing to, and even fewer actually succeeded. It was effortless with you because you actually tried, you took the extra mile, and you never demanded anything of him. You just were, orbiting around him, once a sun to his planet, now an old survival instinct. He had lost many family members over the years; you’d held his hand as his parents passed away, held him when he cried, stayed on the phone on graduation day as he told you he wouldn’t show up, and could you pick up his diploma for him?

Many times you wondered where it all went, how it came to this. He’d been your closest friend for so many years, but as you stare at your boyfriend already picking a fight with the brown-haired man you’d come to know as Kim Seungmin, you realize that you let him go—let it all go—for a stupid, stupid boy that had sucked the fucking life out of you, and could just not stop doing it to anyone he ever interacted with. You’d been so naive, so incredibly dumb. 

It made sense now, what you really had to do. But how you did it—that was your first mistake. You thought you were destined for a mundane life, an ordinary existence. No one could’ve prepared you for this.

“Say, should I call the cops on you, or fuck you up myself?” An extremely muscled man appeared through the underground bar’s entrance, black locks falling over his forehead, obscuring dark eyes. “I’ll be nice and make it your call.” 

He locked eyes with you for a single moment, before his hard face turned its attention back to your boyfriend currently gripping your arm so tight it felt like all blood circulation had stopped. His strong arms flexed, the skin veiny, rock solid in the white button up, and his chest looked ready to pop out of that black vest with the business tie, all formal, all currently stirring something incredibly dark within you.

If you had a voice, you’d beg him to make that call, plead with him for a chance at freedom. But you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly find it at that moment, as the other man flashed his gun discreetly, a deadly warning to your boyfriend’s ominous words. You had to give it to him, no matter how sick to your stomach it made you—he had ways to hurt people, ways to make them disappear. He liked hurting you the most, his precious girl. Sometimes in ways that couldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

“Time’s ticking, fuckface,” the seemingly older guy threatened, getting closer to his target’s face. You whimpered, looking down to hide your discomfort, but not before you noticed him studying the movement. “Let her go.”

“Fuck out of my face, before you regret it,” your boyfriend snarled back, and shook you forward, yet refusing to release you. “You go inside, find my brother and tell him these two assholes are giving me trouble.”

Brown-haired boy laughed as the other one smirked. “Are we giving him trouble, Seungmin?”

“I don’t believe so, Changbin.” But both guns were glinting in the night sky, their intentions clear.

Changbin stood with both arms crossed in front of him, menacing, terrifying. “We just wanna be your friend, pretty boy. Let the girl go, so we can chat and braid our hair, yeah?”

If he’d only loosen his grip, then you could tug and pull away. Your brain’s autopilot had been turned on since before you left the apartment, there were responses but no reactions, and you were pretty sure both men could tell you’d been through this many times before. You always made it very apparent, in hopes someone would finally help you, someone would dare. It wouldn’t always be like this, but you had to make it happen. The man’s attention on you whispered of many things, but freedom—freedom was the first one promised.

“You’re the funny one, aren’t you?”

The smirk widened, a hand resting on the metal against his rib. “Perhaps we should let the pretty thing next to you decide that one. Last warning.”

You saw the exact moment you vanished from your boyfriend’s mind, his touch leaving you at once, murder written across his face as he got close to the bouncer, a punch ready to land, the violence you were so accustomed to coming to a climax, finally, a firework taking flight, a missile bomb launching—

The sound of clicking, multiple gasps from behind you, and then you saw it. Smooth black underneath his jaw, Changbin’s finger on the trigger, head tilted, smile wicked, sinister, his friend mirroring him, standing a breath away, on the ready—they were going to shoot, they were going to do it, they’ve done it before, you can smell it off of them, the gunpowder, the crime, the sin. You almost reach out, but for what? You wouldn’t stop it, you didn’t care to. You’d let it happen and slip past his caving body to find Minho, to announce you were free, to drink yourself oblivious and swear you’d never again become prey for men to feast on.

The end, so close.

“Walk away before this gets ugly,” Changbin stated, contained anger and ice cold amusement both evident in his tone. “We turned away your entire entourage, there’s nothing for you here.”

“Johnny, maybe you should go—”

The malicious eyes were on you again, once beautiful, holding so much in them, and you remember yourself wishing you could drown in all of it, for as long as possible, until eternity ceased. You loved this man once, with all your heart, but he was nothing short of a stranger to you now, and if he had died just moments prior, the thought of being glad for it scared you to your fucking core.

What sort of person had you become next to him? No more.

“I should go?” he asked incredulously, and his lips curled. “Fuck it, stay here for all I fucking care. No one will ever come back for you, (Y/N),” he spat, pointing a single finger at you, already walking backwards, away from you, forever. “Remember that.”

Both bouncers moved in front of you, hiding you from your, now, ex boyfriend’s view once and for all. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking until Changbin reached a hand out to take your fingers in his, his touch warm, the rings he wore cool against your skin, a juxtaposition. The red neon signs above your head made you dizzy, the weight of what had just happened pushing on your shoulders, tearing you from the inside. Three years of your life, given to a man that had left you as quick as a bullet.

Perhaps you should’ve killed him yourself. Now the moment’s wasted, there will be other victims, more misery—and your stuff, all of your things were in that apartment. Who was going to retrieve them, where were you supposed to go?

Was this a bad idea? If you pushed past them, maybe you could yell out, try to reason…until you figured how crazy that sounded. Still, a sick part of you wasn’t ready to be abandoned by him, and could not stand the thought of being alone. Tears blurred your vision, and you squeezed Changbin’s hand one time, eager for direction.

“Is Minho working tonight?” you question quietly, the music from inside the bar slipping through the cracks of the steel door.

Seungmin had gone back to his post, profiling people and opening the door for them once he received their money. Changbin had pulled you to the side so gently you’d barely noticed you’d been moved. The metal was gone, and its owner was searching to meet your gaze, to ask if you were okay, but to no avail. Your eyes were glued on his boots, the leather of it, the shoelaces tying up to black pants that fit snugly around toned thighs. He was handsome, a faint thought that shouldn’t have crossed your mind at a time like this, but you couldn’t look past it, either. He smelled of amber and he’d just popped something in his mouth.

You look up just in time to make out the red of his lollipop. Raspberry. It clicked against his teeth as he sucked on it; you were so near to him the stick of it was grazing your lips. You faltered, and took a step back. He let you, but he never once let go of your hand.

“He’s not, sweet thing,” he replied softly, giving you a curve of a smile. Draped in red, he appeared dreamlike. “No one’s gonna hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.”

You nod, but you can barely hold his gaze. He chuckles, sensing your struggle. Your throat is dry, your heart in shambles; you could really use a drink or two, before you made another terrible mistake. You needed to call Minho, let him know of your situation. Perhaps he would understand, and let you stay at his place until you figured what to do with your belongings, and the lease on your name. You couldn’t risk going yourself, but Changbin, maybe, if you could find the guts to ask something like that of him—

It didn’t feel right to involve your other friends, the ones not related to weapons and abuse, the ones that will never know what has happened to you, what will always remain part of your story, no matter if you’ve escaped for the time being or forever. Johnny was the vengeful type, and he certainly would not let it go. Anger had made a monster out of him, and everyone would pay for your insubordination. He didn’t take well to change, certainly not when it involved you. It was simply a matter of time.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling deeply. The bouncer in front of you rested his hands on your arms, rubbing soothingly there, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what to do.

“I have to go, I need to—I’ll—thank you,” you stumble through your words, turning to leave, hysteria bubbling in your chest, anxiety for what would become of you. “How could I ever repay what you did for me…”

“You can start with your name.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his. His mouth was moving, tongue rolling the lollipop around, and his hands dropped from your skin, as if he sensed how overwhelmed you felt. You were grateful for that small action, though a part of you wanted it, no, needed it, back. It felt grounding, real, like if it wasn’t there you’d float away somehow, incorporeal, a ghost. 

Before you can even think about it, your fingers reach for his forearm, and his warmth wraps around your bones at once, the skin there, so human. Changbin seems alarmed, but remains patient with you, understanding. Your mouth is dry, but you try to swallow anyway, and his weight shifts, his gaze never drops, Seungmin is calling him—

“Yes, Kim?” he answers, but the connection is not tethered.

“The boss wants you in the back. Hey, beautiful, can I see an I.D—”

“He can wait,” he grunts, and that’s it. He’s back in your world, the one where your hand on him is the only thing keeping him alive, your eyes staring up at him the only way he’d prefer to die.

Fuck him, he’s the one in trouble, isn’t he?

“Sure, he can,” you distantly hear the brown-haired man mutter to himself sarcastically, after the two girls entered through the door. “He’s widely known for his patience.”

It brings you back to Earth. “You should go,” you encourage, smiling awkwardly, fingers unwrapping themselves hesitantly.

Changbin shakes his head, takes the stick out of his mouth. He faintly smells of red syrup. “I really fucking shouldn’t. Where are you gonna go? Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure it out, you honestly don’t have to worry about me, I can—” But you could do what? There was no way for you to finish that sentence.

He straightens his back, and it somehow makes him taller, more formidable. There’s something unreadable swimming in his expression, something between anger and compassion, and it knots your stomach, because the last thing you want is for someone to feel sorry for you. This is why no one knew, why you never said anything—you hated the pity, the charity that would come out of something like this.

A victim. You weren’t one.

“You’re with me. I’d be the last person that saw you tonight, and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able—” he stops, sighs. He looks back to where Seungmin is standing, and brings those thunder eyes back to haunt you. “Just. Please, answer the question. Do you have a place to stay?”

It’s not what you expected. This man cares, he’s like Minho. But unlike him, there’s an edge to Changbin that you’ve never seen on anyone else, like he’d tear himself apart to help you, do whatever was physically possible to make sure you’re safe. It was kindness, pure and unfiltered, and a sense of principle that no one has ever shown you before. It felt warm, like him. So, you accepted.

“(Y/N),” you blurted out, moved by his persistence. He blinks. “My name is (Y/N).”

His smile is a thousand watts. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“She’s Minho’s ‘special girl,’” Seungmin declares, eavesdropping. “All I know about you has been against my will, darling, know that.”

Changbin smirks, and lights up, digging his elbow in the bouncer’s rib. “He means he’s charmed,” he says apologetically, rubbing his neck.

A smile breaks out on your face, and you wonder how is it possible to feel at home with two people you’ve practically just met? Your heart was beating right out of your chest at the thought of spending more time with them. So much so that you nearly forgot all about the bad.

It still lurked though, waiting for the right moment. For both of you.

“Another one, is it?” Bang Chan commented teasingly, counting money against the counter. “Are we collecting them or what?”

You blushed, as Changbin sprung out to wrestle his boss in your defense. Route 66’s owner laughed a throaty sound, and surrendered, coughing and fixing his black button up. You noticed his square jaw, the sharp gaze—the girl staring at him from up on the stage. There were questions, but for some reason you had no voice to ask them.

“It’s nothing like that, Bang,” the bouncer next to you stated, rather embarrassed. “The party of twenty that we sent off? She came with one of them.”

To that, Chan perked up. There was another girl working the bar, smaller and much quieter looking than the first one, and she smiled at you when she caught your eye. You smiled back politely, and turned back to the man talking to you. The place was dark, drenched in neon, but you could still make out his face, it was so sculpted.

“You’re Minho’s friend, yeah?”

You stuttered, shy. “Y-Yes. I thought he’d be here today.”

Chan measured you. “Personal day,” he explained simply, but his fingers were still moving across the bills. “Why’d you bring her to me?” he addresses Changbin without bothering to properly look his way.

“She has nowhere to go. He was violent with her.”

You heard the hum all the way where you stood. It sounded disinterested, and for a moment you felt yourself questioning what you were exactly doing there, with a bunch of strangers that didn’t owe you anything, but then you remember the black-haired man’s words, and you remain in your place, uncomfortable.

“Take her to 103,” the owner declared. “I’ll contact Lee, see if he answers. The room has been paid for the weekend, so rest, okay? If you need anything, tell Lover Boy here. I’m sure he'll oblige.”

Changbin audibly groaned, slapping his palm over his face. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Just saying, baby.”

“I’m going through the back door,” he ignored the pet name, grabbing you by the wrist. “Let Min know.”

Chan was already tuning out, the girl you saw earlier now whispering to his ear. She moved like a cat to you. Or a snake. It felt mystical to watch her.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already aware,” was his last comment before you rounded the corner to the storage room.

There were two bikes parked in the back. Both a shiny black, though one was longer, vintage. The alley was dark, the bushes along the line of the club’s property well-kept. Your arms unconsciously folded over your upper body.

Changbin mounted the aged motorcycle, turning the ignition switch, the angry roar of the engine and bright lights making you flinch. The chain hanging from his pants dangled, the metallic sound drawing your attention, before your eyes traveled to his biceps, displayed in full force with the way he hunched over the handlebars. You desperately tried to hide it, but your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart jumping at the view.

He was ridiculously attractive, and this wasn’t like that. He’d made it clear, and you— you’d just got out of a messed up relationship. You didn’t need this. And yet—

“Come here, will you? I promise I won't bite.”

Of all things, this was bad in a completely different, yet just as torturous way. You still did it anyway; you passed your leg over the seat, you put your arms around his muscled body, leaning into him, and if your nose caught his burning scent or the berry flavor of his candy you told your silly heart to suck it up and turned your cheek. But ignoring it was futile—there was this intense sizzling between you, and it’d be a flat out lie to say he didn’t feel it, because at every red light, every all-way stop and traffic junction he squirmed and cleared his throat in a manner men only do when they’re rock hard and in need of relief.

“We’re not too far now,” he spoke after a while, taking a left turn and readjusting your hold with one of his hands. His long fingers were cold but sure in their touch. “You okay?” His head turned to show his profile, the soft, dark curls bouncing in the wind, and what was the question again?

“It’s a nice night,” you comment, not able to form any other coherent sentence.

He nods, and takes off again, this time speeding down the road, making passes on cars, taking yellow’s, and never once looking back after that. The sky was pitch black, not a star in the city, and most businesses’ had closed for the day, leaving gas stations and fast food places all on their own, though even those were sparse and far between wherever you were going. There had been a moment, though small, where you doubted his intentions, doubted these people and their words. But these people were Minho’s people, and there was never any doubt about him.

You really wished you had taken your phone with you. It seemed like a good thing to have in a situation like this. The thought of where it is, or rather whom it’s with, made your skin crawl, and your mind wander. What was Johnny doing right now? Had he left the apartment already?

Staring at a spot on Changbin’s vest, you realized he’d just entered a parking lot, a motel named ‘Starlight’ coming into focus, its teal color and neon letters hard to miss. He killed the engine and waited for you to get off, before demounting himself. You lingered a bit as he adjusted the stand of the bike, and cracked his neck. Thin black ink ran down the side of it, lightning or veins, you couldn’t quite make it out from your distance, but before you could analyze it further, he motioned for you to follow him, extending a hand and recognizing what he’s doing.

Your eyes met as his jaw clenched, and his arm fell. It felt like intuition or will, and he was rejecting it all. You should’ve felt glad he was repressing himself, but all you felt instead was empty. You shouldn’t want this, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s just being nice. He’s just being kind. And it was those things, but it was something else, something that was neither your fault nor his; attraction, maybe, or just the simple fact that he felt like the calm sea, enveloping you with the promise of peace. And freedom—he set you free. Call it naivety, and perhaps it was.

You didn’t care.

That was your second mistake.

“It’s not much, but Bang’s family has owned this place for forty years,” he explained to you as he greeted the older man at the reception desk, and got the key that opened ‘Room 103.’

You climbed the rusty metal staircase to the first floor, and followed him closely as he passed the rooms by, all the way until the end of the hall. The breeze was colder up there, but you could spot a tiny star or two. You were far, so much farther that you’ve been in years, and it felt good. Nothing for miles, no one close to you to know where you were, to look for you. No one that cared enough, anyway.

“You won’t kill me, right?” you ask almost absentmindedly, the sky too mysterious, too beautiful to look away.

Changbin unlocked the door and chuckled to himself, forcing his head not to turn your way.

“Not if you behave,” he couldn’t help the suggestive tone, though. “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” he softened up and quickly added when he heard your breath catching in your throat.

He stepped aside to let you walk in the room you’ll be spending the night in, and hesitated to trail behind you. A lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls. His dick was so hard it was painful to walk, and there was no excuse for it. He was awful, but there was no intention to go through with anything. He’d bid you goodnight, leave his phone number on the nightstand, and walk out. That’s how it should happen, and that’s how it will happen. You’d been through enough, it was clear to see. 

Changbin was not going to force his own bullshit life on you.

“In case of anything you can call me immediately. I’ll answer,” he told you as you sat on the bed and fingered the phone’s cable. “If you want me to go get your stuff, say the word,” he added, sensing your uneasiness.

Your chest expanded and your lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in any more trouble, Changbin. This is enough. Thank you.”

The bouncer shook his head, furrowing his brows in refutation. “You haven’t put me through anything, sweet thing. Let me do that for you, yeah? I’ve dealt with many assholes in my life.”

“Don’t you have to go home? It’s late, I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

“Don’t have one,” he cut you off, and smiled faintly to relieve the tension his words carried. “Tell me where yours is, I want to make tonight easier for you.”

You couldn’t help the pregnant pause after that. Your mind ran, the simple fact that he’d told you something so personal like it was nothing festering into a million different thoughts, all ending with the same question mark. Where did he live, then? At the club? Not possible, right? Then, where? Would he want to spend the night there, with you? You had nothing, even this much was borrowed, but perhaps he could share it with you. If it was allowed. You knew it was risky, and that you couldn’t ignore this for long.

It’d be wiser if he left now and came later when you were asleep. You had to remind yourself this was temporary. If you were to engage in these feelings, they’d take you somewhere you’d have to deal with for way longer than a couple of nights, and you weren’t sure that was a good thing.

He looked like he was thinking the same thing.

The tattoo on his neck was definitely lightning striking, the black of it creeping before cracking down on him, and disappearing underneath his collar—underneath. You wanted to see, run your fingers on it, figure out where it reached. It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t sane.

But you wanted to, nevertheless. It was a hungry want, an inevitable want. If it didn’t happen right now, it would happen someday, soon, as soon as you both stopped fighting it, a primal instinct. It was because of how he looked and what he’d done for you, how freedom would now seem like a raspberry lollipop and a smooth gun.

“I need to go,” he said, his eyes flitting from yours, body turning away. “I need to go before I do something I regret.”

His pleading tone tugged at you. You put your tongue between your teeth so you wouldn’t respond. He’ll go bring you your clothes and your phone, and he’s going to leave you alone. You ran it over three times in your mind, before it sounded convincing enough to go with.

“You can stay,” you manage to get out, and then you realize it doesn’t sound right. “After, I mean. If there’s nowhere else to go.”

Despite his best intentions, Changbin can’t help but melt at your words. Bless your heart, sweet thing. I was right to help you.

“I’ve had my fair share of Starlight nights, sweetheart. I’m sure you need your privacy,” he leaned by the dresser to write something on the pad by the TV. “You don’t gotta worry about me, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right with you. “Thank you can’t possibly be enough.”

With a hand opening the door wider, he gave you one last smile and a quick wink, before popping the lollipop back in his mouth.

“It’s enough for me. I’ll be right back.”

Babel is playing on TV, a half forgotten movie about people on vacation, but you can’t even bring yourself to focus on the actors’ faces, much less their words. One line sticks out to you then, ‘Why did we come here?’ but before the weight of it registers, you swing the door wide open, throwing yourself out into the cold night.

The roaring sound that drove you away from your old life. That unique black paint on an expensive, vintage motorcycle you couldn’t stop thinking about. You’d never been on a bike before, had never trusted anyone enough to get near one. It had surprised you; how easily you trusted Changbin, how blindly you followed him into fields of darkness. He could’ve turned out dangerous—he could’ve threatened you. Any sane person would’ve kept their distance, assessed the situation, and gone home. A boring, uneventful life is a life nonetheless. There were bad parts, sure; decisions that were made that could’ve been prevented, people that took advantage of your kindness, but overall—it was fine, it was manageable.

Somehow, you refused to acknowledge the abuse, even then. You protected the part of you that wanted to deny, that wanted to go home and forget about it all. Johnny told you, though, he did—“no one’s coming for you, no one.” Meaning you’re unwanted, meaning you never mattered anyway, silly girl, and what are you talking about? You’ve no home, no returning.

The black-haired man carried a duffel bag across his torso, keys jingling between his fingers. You’d been smothering in that strange room, inked paper on the nightstand, fingers pressing on the digits again, and again, and again. Dialing, then putting the receiver down, a game with no winner. A phone call away, he’d said, but it’d been three tortuous hours and he’d been nowhere to be found. You were stranded in a motel outside of town, no way to escape. Your mind ran, and it ran fast, so to see him walking towards you, to witness him staying true to his word, when no other man had been able to, when nothing was for certain, and fear crept like an ocean wave—it shocked you; shook you, hand over mouth, feet pulling you back to the confines of that space he left you in, door left ajar, only so your lungs could fill with sharp wind, with bright stars peeking their way through.

Changbin was hurt. You saw that, too. He will come to you, face swollen, and you’ll deny, deny, deny.

Because that could’ve been you. Because it would’ve been bad for real, and you will never, ever admit that to yourself. Because that game did have winners and losers, and you were so obviously losing, every.single.fucking.time.

Your love had been a bad love. You don’t blame this man for condemning you.

“Sweet girl?” His voice is rough.

He pushes the thing separating you, and there it is—a cut above his brow, an angry gash on his cheek that will bruise later—you knew this, you did—blood on his white sleeve, scratched up knuckles. You’ve learned to look for the injuries first, but when did that start? Since when have you been covering, hiding, alert, so very sensitive to your own body, to reds and blues and purples?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The only thing you can say— “I’m so sorry,” head low, quivering.

Changbin finds you on the bed, a reprimanded child, and stares. He looks an ugly sight, that much he knows, but it had nothing to do with you, everything to do with the motherfucker that got to call you his. That apartment had been a mess, beer cans everywhere, smashed picture frames and mirrors—it hadn’t come easy, losing you, it was clear to see, but your ex boyfriend wouldn’t give you up without a fight, and it was far from over.

Still, the bouncer pushed through the door frame, and searched for your belongings. Landed a good punch or two, missed a few, knocked out some teeth. He’d dealt with monsters before, and he wishes he could truly tell you what he’d meant, why he said it. Not much scared him anymore, nothing stopped him. If you have nothing to live for, you go all in. Every moment matters, yet doesn’t at all. An avalanche, a landslide. A suicide mission.

Changbin had seen war, and had returned from it. Retrieving a phone was childsplay to him.

He nears you, drops the bag with your stuff right next to you on the mattress. He crouches in front of you, and despite himself—he grabs your hands. How devastating it is—to know you’re going to lose your heart. How thrilling. He searches for the pretty eyes that looked at him back at the bar. He wants to talk to the girl he freed, the girl that offered what was offered to her. 

The selfless one.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he consoles you tenderly. “Did a good deed for a girl that’s worth it. No tears, yeah?” Your tongue comes out to wet your petal lips, and you meet his gaze. He smiles at you, masking the wince it elicits out of him. He wants to keep smiling for you, nevermind the ache, nevermind the effort.

“You should see the other guy.”

You laugh at that, still half crying, and Changbin can’t help it, doesn’t want to. He wipes the tears away, cradles your face in his big hand. You’re so warm under his touch, so beautiful. He wants to do everything for you, wants to stay beside you as you tackle life. But he’s got nothing to provide, even less to his name—he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t think anyone does. You’ve been through a lot, your sadness tells him. It ripples through his chest, tightens his gut. He’ll stay if you keep him around, though.

He’ll stay, aware of what he can’t have. He sees himself in you, strangely.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, afraid to touch the liquid fire blazing on his features. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He thinks to tell you he can’t really feel pain, not anymore, but you don’t seem ready for that. Instead, he shakes his head, deflects. He reaches for the bag of food, and doesn’t tell you about the nasty stares he got from the people at the overnight deli, either. They don’t know him, they only see what they want to see. Chan taught him that. And fuck them, anyway—that was Seungmin.

“Eat something. Try to get some sleep,” he balances himself on his boots. “Your phone is in there,” he nods at the bigger bag. Misses your skin on his. “Is there— What else can I do for you, sweetheart?”

He’ll never forget the way you looked at him then. For the remainder of his days. 

Someone who could care for him, like his brothers, but a girl. You. His own girl. He’d seen the others, how easy it’d been for them. Destiny, or fucking love at first sight, that bitch. He saw and waited patiently for his turn, fists clenched, teeth gritted. The possibility knocks at his heart, beats at his scalp. It could be anyone, but it’s you, he’s sure of it. Until you, there’d been no one, no real prospect. He knows this by how much he wants to stay, by how your fingers felt on his own, how your eyes melted into his. There was attraction on both ends, yes, but he was in no rush.

No rush, and yet one touch from you—

“Where are you gonna go?” You don’t make a move to check your phone, or even make sure Changbin had picked up the right clothes. You just stare at the bloody spot on his shirt, and plead for this to happen.

The amount of self restraint he possesses surprises him. He curses it.

“I’ll figure it out. That’s what I do.”

“Stay.”

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him. It’s ironic, really; he would kill to spend the night with you, and there’s no reason why he can’t, except you’ve been hurt so fucking deep, the scars are visible to him without even being there, and how is that even possible. He knows because they mark every part of him, similar ones, and they never heal. They just remain open, gushing, pouring out, and what else can he do but repudiate their existence—it’s haunted him for years.

He’s ashamed of his own homelessness now. Embarrassed of what he’s done, how it’s cost him, how it’ll continue to do so, unless he makes a choice. The choice. But how to take your own life?

“You and I both know how that’ll end, sweet thing.”

You’re a dream; you blink, and then you’re moving, up and closer, hand reaching out, attempting to grab, to hold onto, to insist. You’re stubborn, of course you are. There’s a flame in you he likes. You know how to survive, yet your softness is intact. He wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes he could hold you with no hesitation, no doubt in his mind.

But Seo Changbin ruins things, and he does so knowingly, despite himself always. Especially pretty girls like you, girls that don’t know any better. He’s seen it happen, he’s terrified of it happening again.

“It doesn’t have to,” you say, and he desperately wants to believe it. He’ll even wrap his hand around yours, pretend for a moment or two. “It’s just sleep. You’ve done so much for me. Please.”

He sighs, hates himself for falling into your words only because they sound sweet to his ears. He knows you’re wrong, knows his nature, knows what’s taken place in this very room many times before, and even then, even fucking then—

There’s no shame in him, truly.

“Sweetheart…” he studies your face, memorizes the creases, the lines, the smoothness of your cheeks. “You need someone that can take you home. Someone to take care of you good.”

“You did. You have.”

“I’m crooked. You don’t know what I’ve done… what I’m capable of.”

“I trust you,” you press on, squeezing his fingers, and it’s because of that gesture that he caves.

His lips curve sideways, and he’s itching for candy again. Your words are bitter, are syrupy, and clean, ambrosial. It’ll sting like a bitch when you leave, when you find out the truth. ‘Cause you will, sooner or later. You’ll have to.

Changbin nods, admitting defeat to humor you. “You impossible fucking girl. Fine. A compromise, then.”

You’re elated. You’re glad he’ll be safe, at least for tonight. The least you can do for him.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he states, putting some space between you again, and pushing curly hair away from his face. “But you gotta promise me right now that you’re going to eat.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I promise.”

His voice drops, then. “And that you’re never going back to him. Or to that apartment. Hell, I’ll find you a job, one where he can’t fucking find you,” his jaw clenches, hands busying themselves with the blankets, throwing them on the bed, anything to release the tension building up. “I’m never letting that son of a bitch near you again.”

“He’ll sure as fuck be damned if he ever steps foot on Route, I can swear that.”

It felt strange to think yourself separate from Johnny. To think you could exist without him and him without you. The bad was there, but there’d been good too, once. It never outweighed and it didn’t matter, anyway, it’d settle in your brain someday, but your heart felt uneasy just by the mention of him. You’d spend so much time convincing yourself you weren’t a victim, that you forgot to see it for what it was—a codependent, extremely toxic environment.

You had to remind yourself that the bruises on your side were still real, and that they would take at least a couple weeks to disappear. For some reason, you hoped Changbin would never see them.

You hoped he would kiss all of them better, away.

Changbin had you shower, and change, staying outside the door the entire time, staring directly at your face and nowhere else. He supervised as you ate, and tucked you into bed after you’d brushed your teeth. No one had done any of this for you before, and you kept trying to communicate that to him. He’s plenty capable of taking care of you, of anyone that comes his way; he’s generous, he owns a heart that beats, that bleeds. That’s more than some people can claim, certainly more than what you’ve encountered, and for that you’ll never forget him, no matter if he decides to keep away from you, to land you softly on your feet and disappear without a trace afterwards.

He changed you, in some way, and that will always belong to him. How many people can say that?

There were dark circles forming around his brown eyes, wrinkles on his previously perfectly pressed button down. The tie around his neck was coming loose, like he’d tugged at it a few times already. This man had really fought for your honor tonight. He fought for you like one would for his own country; for freedom, for release. For prideful reasons, and yet so utterly selfless in the act. It was all for you.

But what did he get out of the deal? A transaction had yet to be made. You wanted to give something in return. Even as he turned off the lights, and lowered the volume on the TV, even as he made sure all windows in the small room were locked, you thought and thought. What could he want? What was missing from his life? You wanted to learn more about him. Sleep was not of essence at that point.

Knowing him was.

“How did you meet Bang Chan?”

Changbin lifted his head, a mass of muscle sitting on a tiny chair in the corner, a figure hard to miss, demanding to be acknowledged, to be seen. He held his phone in one hand, the bright screen illuminating part of his rugged face. Who was he texting? Is there anyone waiting for him, somewhere? The knot in your stomach turned and turned. You kept him here without thinking, too blinded by your own feelings.

“That’s a complicated question to answer,” he said a few moments later. You couldn’t make out his expression, but his tone sounded clipped. “He found me, or I found him. We’re both high school dropouts. I was working on cars, bikes, just any… thing, really, trying to get by, and one day he came by looking for a job. Shit happened,” he chuckled at that, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, a lot of shit happened. And five years later, here we are.”

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me.”

“Because I saved you the bullshit middle that no one wants to fucking hear, or remember.”

You clasped your mouth shut, immediately turning apologetic. You didn’t mean to assume, only to figure out. He seemed to sense your silence, its reason, and you heard him exhale through his nose in mirroring remorse, saw him lean forward on his forearms.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing,” he half whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, let his voice wash over you in the silence. “I’m sorry, too.” For this. For things you had no control over that happened to him. For things that will continue to happen.

“Ask me more.” An invitation.

You obliged. “And Minho?”

“At the bar. He was the first person Chan hired.”

“How old are you?”

There was a ghost of a smile in his gruff voice now. “Twenty-seven.”

Your heart fluttered. You put a hand over your chest, above the blankets, hoping, wishing your breathing would even out, your thighs would stop pressing against each other. He said nothing, spoke only when prompted, when so many quiet things ran between you, muttering, electricity through a cable, buzzing, excited, dangerous, eager.

“Changbin…”

A pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Do you— Do you like me?”

Another exhale. Inhale. He looked ready to pounce. To run for the hills. You focused on his face.

“More than I should,” he replied honestly. “More than I’m allowed to.”

Your eyes involuntarily closed again, the tension thick, hovering above you like a cloud full of rain. You wanted it to pour, to smash down on you, to crack you open and overflow you.

You wanted him to come closer. To stay forever.

“I allow you,” you murmur. “There’s nothing holding you back.”

Another one of those signature breathy laughs of his you’d grown to want more of. They stretched his handsome face, widened his molasses eyes. This man didn’t laugh a whole lot, that much was obvious. But when he did—God, was it a sight to behold.

“That may be so, darling,” he mutters hoarsely. “I’m holding myself back. You don’t want to deal with the shitshow that comes with me, and I’d never put you through it for the sake of having you.”

A heartbreaking realization. Perhaps you heard wrong. Tears swell up, chest heavy. You beg for sleep now.

“I’m not worth it,” you assume bitterly.

He taps his boot on the carpeted floor. He’s impatient, a bird taking flight. You truly meant it. You’re not holding him back; nothing is.

“Because you’re worth it,” he croaks, voice full of something you can’t quite pinpoint. “Because you’re laying there, so fucking close, and I can’t touch you. I’m afraid to even get near you.”

You swallow, throat dry, all choked up. What does it mean, that you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you wanted this strange man? What does it mean that you had to come out to the desert to find out?

“Why don’t you have a home?”

Changbin springs up, carrying a terrifying purpose in his stance. He’s going to walk out, he’s going to leave, and it’ll all be your fault. You’ve cornered a lion, and it will show you its teeth.

The truth is he’s suffocating. Jesus Christ, he’s never felt this before in his entire goddamned life.

“I burned it down.”

And no matter what he does, he can’t not want.

He’s out the door the next, phone on speed dial, pressed against his ear.

Minho answers a beat before voicemail. His voice is unassuming, a little drunk, a little slurred. The bouncer leans his temple against the cool of the wall, listening to the wind brush past mountains, past roofs and rock and still awakening man-made trees, and he wonders how helping has ever worked in his favor.

How he does it regardless, all knowing. This has been the worst one yet; worse than revenge, worse than faking your own death. His heart was involved this time. This thing he never compromises, this thing he forgets that exists sometimes, bigger and more fervent than ever.

It came back to bite him in the ass, full force.

“Can’t I have one single fucking day to myself, Bin, what is it now—”

“Take her. I beg you—take her.”

There was background noise on the receiving end. Perhaps he was in one of those parties of his again, the ones Seungmin warned him against. Changbin had no use for caution, no reason why he should be scared. What the bartender was into—he had no interest in it, could care less for it, unless Minho was having a hard time there. Besides that, he had enough to worry about, enough on his plate. Always on the brink of overflowing, yet never quite. 

This was different. This was the almost that could tilt it all over.

“Take who, Changbin? Are you drunk, too?” His friend laughs, he knows nothing. He didn’t answer his phone to Chan.

“(Y/N). She came to Route with her boyfriend. All Hell broke loose, so I brought her to Starlight.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

Changbin rolled on his back, fist against his mouth, staring up at the night sky, at the stars you were so transfixed by. They had no reason being so bright; of reminding him of innocent eyes, and rose petal lips. He searched in his pocket for a lollipop, unwrapping it with his teeth. Cherry flavored, the color of your cheeks getting out of that shower.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of your legs, those silky things that carried the rest of you. He wanted to wrap them around his neck, he wanted to run his hands up and down the length of them, feel the skin there, and up, up, up, to your cunt, to your fucking soul—

“I don’t know what to do with her, Minho. With myself. I’d never seen her before, I never thought—”

“You said Starlight, right? I’ll be right there. Give me about forty minutes.”

“Don’t— Fuck, don’t really take her, Min, yeah? I just… I need you, man. She needs you, too, I think.”

His friend the problem solver. Similar to Bang Chan, but different in texture. Where the owner was rough leather, the bartender was velvety soft, safe to fall on. With Chan you never knew, it was calculated, it was for the Greater Good, it was give and take. You called Minho, he’d rush over, scold you later.

“I’m fairly sure she’s in good hands, Bin. Keep an eye out, yeah? You’re dealing with the Sharks now.”

He saw that. The tattoo on your ex’s neck. Chan knows how to deal with those better, no bloodshed, no mourning. Changbin just keeps them out, turns them away. If they don’t listen, words don’t matter to him, they don’t count. He’s got a shiny gun under his vest for that. It’s best you never find out, that you never know.

But you will. That’s inevitable, too.

He popped the candy in his mouth and waited. Johnny, was it? His threat rang in the bouncer’s head, shit he’s heard a million times before. Only thing was before he had nothing to lose. Now, he has you. He found you or you found him, that’s how people enter his life, so what? Why the fuck would he give you up? Changbin has killed for his chosen family. 

What’s once more? No motherfucker is immortal, himself included.

Only difference is that Seo Changbin doesn’t legally exist anymore. He’s dead. Nothing more than a goddamn ghost.

He won’t dare go back in your room, not without Minho. Your friend will know how to handle you, this, how to better—properly—take care of you. If anything, you’ll choose to go with him, stay over at his place for the time being. Changbin will still trail after you like a surveillance shadow, recording all your steps, memorizing the movements that make you, your nose scrunches, your gentle hip swings. You move like water where he’s nothing but fire. He can only be put out by you, can only diminish himself, evaporate on contact. 

None of it changes the way he feels about you.

He’s not sure how long he stayed out there, awaiting the familiar sound of the MotoTec Cali the bartender owned, but he saw it before he heard it, his thoughts too loud, overwhelming every one of his senses. Minho pulled up next to his own Davidson, taking off his helmet and kicking the stand in place. The motel’s sign shone brightly against his pale complexion, and it took his friend a couple of seconds to make out Changbin’s figure on the balcony, leaned over the railing, candy sticking out of his mouth like usual.

“About fucking time,” the black-haired man muttered under his breath.

“Talking shit?” Minho joked loudly, and climbed the stairs. He was obviously tipsy.

“I’m just glad you made it in one piece, Lee.”

Minho’s face was glowing, but his eyes were dilated, worried. He glanced towards the door, and then back at his friend, at his injured state, assessing the situation.

“Me too,” he agreed, before growing serious. “Is she okay?”

Changbin nodded. “She’s fine, he didn’t hurt her.” He took the lollipop out of his mouth, lip stinging. “He pulled a number on me, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. Johnny owns a boxing gym. Don’t underestimate him.”

The bouncer scoffed, spitting on the ground, a piece of his mind on what he thought about that. “He’s a bitch I left moaning on the floor. I got a few of her things from her place,” he neared his friend, lowering his tone, “I’m not— I don’t want her going back there, Minho. Chan let her stay here for the weekend, but you… can you take her in? Until I find her some place nice?”

The burgundy-haired man furrowed his brows, tilting his head in question. “You’re going to find her a place? What’s it to you?”

“Fuck you.”

Minho smirked, and patted his friend on the back, quietly opening the door. “You better keep her close, Seo Changbin, eh? She’s precious to me.”

You were asleep, hidden under a pile of blankets, stirring momentarily only to turn.

The two men looked at each other, then looked back at you. Should they wake you? Best to let you rest. Minho needed to talk to you, though, despite the bouncer’s disapproval, followed by a backhanded slap on the sternum. They went at it soundlessly, before Changbin shook his head and pointed an accusatory finger the older’s way.

Minho sat by you, fingers tangling in your hair fondly, caressing your head. You hummed, not all there. He tried again, this time shaking you softly, hoping your eyes would open just enough to recognize him.

They did.

“Minho?” You mumbled, unsure.

“It’s me, pet. Wake up for me, will you?”

You sat up abruptly, rubbing at your eyes. Changbin glared at his friend, arms folded over his massive chest, leaning against the window broodingly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, but wrap your arms around him anyway.

He hugs you back tight, breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. “Bin called me. I got worried.”

“I…” you look at the man by the door. His expression softens upon noticing your stare. “I’m okay, Min, I… I left him. I did it. Changbin helped me.”

Minho smiled encouragingly, pulling back just a bit to look into your eyes. “Did he now? I’m so fucking glad, pet, that’s great news.”

You nodded, but your lips curved downwards, concern spreading across your features. “But it’s  not, really, is it? Johnny’s vengeful, he… well, you see what he did,” you turned towards your battered savior once again, biting on your lip thoughtfully. “I don’t want him coming after you, I don’t—”

Minho shushed you, bringing you into his arms, hand rubbing on your back soothingly. “Trust me, baby, we can take care of ourselves. We deal with people like him more often than you’d think.”

“Don’t we, Changbin?”

The bouncer said nothing, but the smirk on his face was in full effect. His gaze ran down your soft cheeks, to your exposed neck, to the shirt falling off your shoulder, and he felt his blood boiling, his dick getting hard all over again at the mere sight. Cursed to know, but unable to follow through, his body betraying him…

Heaven and Hell were teaming up against him in the form of you; the sweetest thing he’s ever come across, the only thing that could genuinely threaten his very existence.

“He’s going to take you to work tomorrow, okay? Let me make some arrangements, and I’ll come for you Monday. You can stay with me for as long as you’d like.”

His heart shouldn’t have stopped the way it did when your eyes snapped to meet his, full of surprise, questioning, scared. You thought he was getting rid of you; that you’d been a burden to him, and he was gladly wiping you off his hands and onto Minho’s. Couldn’t be fucking further from the truth, but how was he supposed to voice those words?

I’d put you in my pocket if I could. I’d fucking carry you on my shoulders, if it meant I’d be able to keep you. Fuck his damned heart, his sappy brain. Truth of the matter was—you’re his girl now. A dead man claimed you, and once that happens, everything acquires meaning, everything matters.

He’d have to live vicariously.

“Thank you,” you said, and that was that. You were disappointed, your lids heavy with sorrow, and Changbin would have to talk to you, he’d have to explain.

He couldn’t bear seeing you this way. Not when he first laid eyes on you, not now that he knows what that stirring in his chest meant. Your sadness wrapped around his throat like a chain, squeezing, choking.

Minho noticed the tension between you, felt it in his bones. He couldn’t quite understand how the two of you came to be so close in the few hours you’ve known each other, but he won’t pretend to know how a heart works, its inner secrets, the way it just seems to pick and keep picking. He rises from the bed, leaning to kiss your forehead, and he thumbs your chin, smiling down at you one last time.

“Get some rest. You’ve nothing to worry about, you’re cared for.”

You nod only so he won’t insist, and with that he turns to leave. Changbin passes an arm over his shoulder in goodbye, but his eyes never leave your frame. You’re curling into yourself, blanket over your body, trying to shrink, to make yourself smaller so as to not take as much space, so as to not become too much of a responsibility.

He was getting angry for you. Angry that this seemed to be a familiar practice for you, a trauma response. He wanted to beat that fucker’s face in, gauge his eyes out, tear his arms off. Murder came easy, but this? What he was fantasizing about?

You had to be a specific kind of fucked up to do that, and Changbin has never claimed to be a good person. He was the man you went for for your dirty work, the gruesome stuff, the things no normal person could handle. He did it if it was right, if the intention behind it was justifiable. Scum was meant to be cleaned off, and people like Johnny were just that. A smudge on his bike. Dirt under his shoe.

“Keep me updated,” Minho tells his friend, and waves at you, before the door closes and you’re left alone.

You don’t speak.

Neither does Changbin. Not at first.

But your being angry with him? He decides he doesn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“You understand why you can’t come with me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You lay back down, turning away from him.

“I understand.” Soft, weak.

He cracks, scatters to reach you, to not let you slip through his fingers. He wants your eyes on his again. He wants your naked shoulder, the curve of your face imprinting on his palm. He realizes, violently, that he needs you. That if he doesn’t have you he’ll go fucking crazy, insane, absolutely ballistic. The pull you have on him is too strong, the attraction too big, the feeling so intense it makes him want to tug at his hair and scream at the world for shunning him.

You don’t need more than a few hours to fall in love, it turns out. A girl can smile at you and that’s…it—you’re done for the rest of your life, now. No one had warned him about that, but he had witnessed it. In the way Seungmin looks over at the bar, even when the door is closed, like he can see right through it. How Chan doesn’t seem a separate person from that woman; how when she’s around, he’s alert, astute, awake to everything.

Fuck him to Hell, he should’ve paid attention. They don’t call it Route 66 for no reason, he’s sure of that now.

“Don’t make me say it, (Y/N),” your name on his lips sounded important, sounded real. He whispered it again in hopes you’d look at him again, in hopes he’d get to hold your hand once more. “You don’t want someone like me, you don’t need this… Minho knows you better, he’ll—fuck,” he pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, suddenly exhausted. “You’ll be okay there. I won’t have to worry.”

For a while, you left him alone with his words echoing back to him. It scared the shit out of him, how terrified he was of never seeing you again, how each passing second of your silence sliced through him like a knife.

Then, you mercied him. You spoke.

“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. You’ve done so much for me, and I’m incredibly indebted to you, Changbin,” you kept that same tone from before, and he had half a mind to forcibly turn you, to swoop you in his arms and never let go. 

“I just don’t know how to shut my heart to you. I don’t know why it’s telling me to stay, why it’s pointing to you so desperately…”

He did it, then. Passed his arms right under you and brought you close to him, closing the gap that’s been eating him alive. You gasped, hands clasped against your chest, and looked at him, looked at him, looked at him. He drank you in, nose nuzzled against your neck, taking every inch of you in, strong arms tightening around you, lips on your skin.

Lips on your skin. He groaned, and dug his face at the nape of you, ashamed of his weakness, afraid of his inability to control himself. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away. But you… he had no defenses left. He should’ve left when he had the choice.

There’s no choice now.

“The things I want to do to you, sweet thing…” he gravelly muttered. “I’ve been lonely my whole fucking life. I never expected to find you, a thing like you. A girl for me, just for me…” One of his hands traveled up to your cheek, keeping it there, your body fully placed on his lap now. You were consumed, engulfed in flames you had no intention of extinguishing. “Do you feel how hard I am for you, darling?”

His hot breath fanned across your face, raising goosebumps. You nodded, mind jumbled, words long gone. “Yes,” you managed out. “Yes.”

“You think I’m nice,” he continued, his deep voice reverberating through you. “You think so highly of me, don’t you?” He turned your face so his mouth can face yours, with every thought of kissing you, of tasting you. “Give me permission. Tell me I can,” he whispered, eyes flickering, pitch black with desire.

You whimpered, tears stinging. “You can,” you exclaimed. “Please—”

Changbin devoured you. He grabbed your face roughly, fingers bruising in the best way, and attacked your mouth, tongue pushing past your red lips, conquering, spreading like wildfire. You felt dizzy, able only to hold onto him for dear life, and he held back just as unyielding, a solid body against yours, moving with you.

He came back up for a breath, a drowning man at sea. He swept some hair away from your beautiful face, and stared at your swollen lips, the way they called out to him, but he’d already gone too far. There was nothing more left to do but drown, and just as well. Changbin never much cared for living anyway, he’d gladly die for this.

“What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart, hm?” he tore off the blankets, shamelessly running his gaze down your body, your curves, all the ways you could bend. His cock twitched in his pants, restrained, in need of attention. He wanted you wretchedly, hopelessly.

“Half of me wants to tear you apart, the other half wants to tuck you into bed and leave you alone…” he trailed off, licking his lips, thirsty for anything you would give him. “I know right from wrong, I know this’ll be so fucking wrong—tell me to leave you alone. Tell me to stop, baby.”

You said nothing. He inhaled, steadying himself. He had to get a grip, fast. He was losing his entire fucking sense, his mind. He didn’t want it to be like this, not with you, not here. But you were so soft, you smelled so good, felt so good, your skin warm, his heart beating against yours. It had been so hard to resist you, so hard to pretend… Changbin had never been good at lying, always going after what he wanted.

Habits were hard to break.

“You need to stop this, beautiful, I have no strength, I always fuck everything up,” he rasped, fingers creeping under your shirt already, finding their way up to your breasts—so plump, perfectly fitted for his hand, God, he was so full of you, and how to quit you now, there was no way, no fucking way—

“Don’t,” you whisper to him, and kiss his jaw, the faintest peck. “I want this, Changbin.”

“But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you fight back defensively. “I care about what you did for me, and that was everything. It’s everything.”

He’d never even realized how much he’d been suffering with the weight of his actions. It all came crashing down on him now, all because you were on the verge of unlocking him, of getting as close as possible, and what if he poisoned you? What if he infected you with the shit he’d committed, with the terrible fucking crimes that followed him everywhere?

Not you. Not to you.

“I’ve killed people, sweetheart. I’ve buried them with my own two hands.”

Not the earth shattering, ground splitting, apocalypse inducing revelation he was expecting it to be. And perhaps, somehow, it wasn’t. Because he was telling it to you, the girl made for him, the girl put on this earth for him to find, his girl. And his girl would understand, because she’d see right through it. He hoped she would.

He was right.

“Why?” was the only thing you asked.

So, he told you. He figured might as well lay it all down for you to do as you like. If you hated him and never wanted anything to do with him after it, he’d have to suck it up and live with it. He’d still do as he promised, that wouldn’t change. He would protect you with his life, he was obligated to now.

“Some asshole did a hit-and-run on our friend Felix a couple years back. It left him paralyzed from the waist down. Chan swore to find the guy who did it, to make him pay,” Changbin held you close as he spoke, afraid if he let go you might run off. “I took it personally. I hunted the fucker down, destroyed his car—you don’t need to hear the rest. I knew it’d be a lifetime in jail for me, there was no saving grace if they found me.

“So, I died. I faked my own death, burned the house I’d just bought down. Chan held a funeral for me, with a fake body, a fake death certificate… My family thinks I’m dead,” he chuckled, against his better judgment. This was no time for laughing. “They think their son is dead. Their son is a fucking murderer.”

The last thing he expected—you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his vest, gun heavy in its holster, a concealed weapon he’s had to carry ever since he started working at Route, a thing that binds him to the Devil, a thing that has nothing to do with you, that shouldn’t even belong in your world.

Changbin was rendered speechless.

“I don’t care,” you choked out. “You’re a good person that did a terrible thing, and I will never hold it against you. If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not going to work, Changbin. I dated a killer for most of my adult years.”

“And you want to live with a new one?”

You slapped him. He let you, because he deserved it, but grabbed your wrist afterwards, fiery gaze meeting yours. It was a low blow, a punch to your character, and he regretted it immensely. He just couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Please see this. Please understand why I shouldn’t be the one for you. I never had to be careful with my words, I’ve never cared this much for anyone.

It didn’t matter. You were the one to kiss him this time, hard and bravely.

You kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and your lips, your soft lips—they were sending him straight to Hell, six feet under and worse, to where he can never find his way out, to where he’d eternally be unable to crawl out. He didn’t need a prophecy for this, didn’t need to navigate through a game to get the girl.

He just had to look into her eyes, learn her name. Make her stay.

Changbin wishes he could say he knew how to be gentle, how to blossom under your hand, open up to your touch. His inexperience messed with him, angered him; he was supposed to treat you differently, he was supposed to take care of you, he’d promised. But you drove him crazy, your every move sliced him, dug into his ribcage and turned. 

Call it an old habit. Or self preservation.

He wanted to see you. All of you. And then he wanted to be the one doing the turning, the slicing.

“You want this?” he breathed down your throat, pulling your head back by your hair. You had a beauty mark just under your ear. He wished to kiss it, wished to lick it. Take it as his.

Your mouth opened, your heartbeat irregular.

“There’s no going back if we do this, sweetheart,” he stated menacingly. “I’m not an easy man—I will burn myself to the fucking ground for you.”

None of it was painless to say. Every second near you required a considerable amount of effort. His own personal Odyssey.

“Changbin…” Pleading. For him. For what you want him to give you.

“No,” he growled, pressing his body on yours. “You need to know this. You need to know what you’re getting into. I don’t get sweet things like you in my life, I have no fucking clue how to deal with something good like you, and it sure as Hell won’t be easy letting go of you, if you choose to leave. Do you understand, (Y/N)? Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

You whimper, completely surrendered to him, and he can almost smell your wetness, your desire for him. He thrusts his erection against your hip, and breathes deeply through his nostrils, nothing but softness, nothing but heat radiating from you. That’s for him, too. Goddamn it all.

“I’ve never had someone like you before, either,” you confess softly, your eyes wet.

Changbin wastes no time, then. He grabs you by the waist and turns you to sit on him straight, eyes boring into yours, legs on either side of him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, lashes fluttering, mouth swollen. He digs his nails on the soft skin, then drags his hands downwards to your dips, your ass. You inhale sharply, your hips unconsciously rubbing against his growing bulge.

“Show me how you like it,” he mumbles, drawing circles above your pajama bottoms. “Show me what to do, darling.”

Biting your lip, you reluctantly grab one of his big hands, and guide it to your breast. He feels your hard nipple through the thin material, wants it between his lips, his tongue sucking—he wants you in his mouth like his favorite lollipops. Wanted to switch the candy for you. You couldn’t be any worse than sugar, but maybe you were.

Maybe he was screwed either way.

“Unbuckle your belt,” you command, and your sweetness has suddenly turned saccharine.

This is the girl that was begging him to kill her piece of shit boyfriend with everything in her back at the club. The one that wasn’t afraid of the gun pointed.

He wanted to challenge her. That one. “Do it for me.” Let me feel your hands, beautiful girl.

You did. Slowly, carefully. Changbin wasn’t even aware he was holding his own breath, until his chest felt ready to explode. Still, he didn’t dare. Couldn’t, with the way your fingers went for his zipper. He was really fucking about to sink himself into you, after humoring himself he wouldn’t touch a strand of your hair. 

What a fucking hypocrite.

His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking. You run a finger over the head of it, gathering the precum there, and neared it towards your mouth, your eyes lifting innocently to meet his own. Changbin couldn’t look away, you had him completely fucking hooked. Fucking witch. He was scared of himself, then; scared of what he might do to you.

This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Taste it,” he rasped, breath bated. “Put me in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Your lips curved, the finger disappearing between your lips. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He wanted to draw blood. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until it died.

He wanted to fuck you into the mattress.

“I can think of something better,” you whisper to him, leaning close to his ear. His eyes follow you, cock throbbing, needing you there, needing you on. “Undress me, Changbin.” 

The Devil finally comes to collect.

Your shirt goes first. His hands reach behind your back to unhook your bra, rushed in their ardor, and he feels no more than a mere teenager, creaming his pants for the first time. You have him delirious, raving. Will it always be like this? This spinning, this dizziness with you. He feels like he hopped into a dance he doesn’t know the steps to. Uncharted waters. He hates it.

He shakes off the holster strap from his shoulders, wants that gun as far the fuck away from you as possible, and bends to take your nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, wanting a reaction from you, anything that would tip the scale back to him. He needed the little control he had before, needed it for what was left of his sanity. You were a dream, spread across his lap, begging him to touch you, to fuck you. No girl had asked before, none had tasted him like this.

Changbin was a giver, but you weren’t letting him give.

“So fucking beautiful…” as he dips his head in between your breasts, as he hooks his thumbs under your bottoms and panties and pulls. You lift for him, and shrug them off, passing your leg over him again once you’re fully naked. “Too beautiful, fuck me.”

He kisses you. Grabs your face and crushes his mouth on yours. He’ll get you to understand, he’ll show you. You moan against him, and it shoots all the way down to his dick. He wants to make the first move; he wants to grab his length and shove himself inside you, wants to bottom out and fuck the shit out of you. It’s an animalistic urge, one he’s not sure you deserve. You’re worth so much more—to be laid down, to be caressed all over. To be made love to. But Changbin wouldn’t know where to begin, and he’d mess it all up. So, he does what he knows and whispers to you, hopes this tether running between you is enough. Hoping his feelings for you are enough.

“Stop me,” he begs one last time, thinking that this could somehow be fixed, could be suppressed, and halted. “You can still run, sweet thing.”

You shake your head and press your fingers on the side of his face. He blinks, heart jump-starting. You actually want this. Him. You want him.

“I’m not going to,” you hush his demons, destroy his defenses.

The room is dark, the TV has stopped its programming. Changbin closes his eyes, listens to the white noise, the static. It luls him, resets him. You reach between you and grab him. He curses, or hisses, and wraps his arms around you tighter. Don’t do this, you don’t understand, you don’t fucking understand, not yet, and I…

You push him inside you, and he groans, forehead falling forward, touching yours. Your breath ghosts over his features, and he feels you stiffening up. He has to move, but there’s not one ounce of strength in his fucking body. So much for all this muscle—it’s useless against you.

“Changbin,” you choke out, hips rolling, demanding friction.

He snaps out of it. “I got you, baby, relax, I have you, I promise.” You meet halfway as he feels you working on his cock, and he thrusts up, hard, slamming you down at the same time.

You cry out and he loses it. Taking in every inch of your euphoric face, he fucks into you forcefully, almost violently, needing to find something in you, to conquer it, to keep it. His dominant hand falls on your ass, slapping, and you bounce down harder, mouth agape, brows furrowed. He loves you like this, this image of you, so free, so eager. Your pussy drowns him, envelops him, a perfectly fitted glove, and he makes sure to graze your walls, to mark his name in there, to have you come back for more, to keep you.

That’s what he’s looking for. To keep you. For you to want him to have you. If you moan out his name one more fucking time… Jesus Christ, has he ever fucked another woman before? You’ve erased them all, you’ve eradicated all memory of them.

You shudder, a thin strip of sweat forming on your chest, and he licks it all his. You taste salty, you taste sweet. You smell like soap, like vanilla. And like him, your juices mixing together, your musks tangling. He won’t last much longer, but he wants you to come first. He wants to watch you cum, coming undone on his cock, on him, while he holds you, while his fingers rub circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. He wants you filthy, wants you his, wants you forever, like this.

Just like this.

“Look at you, sweet fucking girl, taking my cock so well…” He bites his lip, tastes metal, but doesn’t care. “You ride me so good, baby, let me see you. Fuck yes. C’ mon.”

You’re so warm, half there, eyes shut, focusing on that feeling in your gut, low in your belly, and he can’t wait. He can’t wait for you to flood him, to taste you. You’re loving his fingers, he sees it, as soon as he touched your clit your back arched, your hips loosened. Fuck, he wants to flip you around and take you on all fours. Wants to screw you from behind, have you come like that, too. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of, everything he will ever need.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, please!” your breath hitches, and Changbin grabs you by the throat, watches how you open your eyes wide, afraid. It sends him over the edge—you send him over the edge. It’s okay, my pretty girl, let it out, it’s okay, goddamn you, let me hear you, listen to that pussy, you’re so fucking wet…

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? I can feel it,” he mumbles over your lips, his fingers tightening their hold just slightly. “You’re gonna make a mess for me.”

“Yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, and thrusts one, two, three—

Your entire body stiffens and shivers. He blows as you fall limply on top of him, and he shushes you, fingers sliding up to your hair, pushing back, lips connecting with your temple. You make no move to push him off you, to take him out. You really wanted this. You wanted it as much as I did, sweetheart.

He transfers you on the mattress, laying you down gingerly, and is immediately met with cold, with emptiness. What were once old friends, now bitter enemies. He wants to get used to the warmth, to the gentleness you offer. He wants to call these things his, as well.

Most of all, he wants to take you in his arms again. Wants to stick his body close to yours and fall asleep. Something so simple, yet unattainable. Until now. Until you.

Changbin pecks your shoulder as you come down from your orgasm, then presses a hand between your legs, feeling for the stickiness. He slides a finger up your labia, and brings it to his mouth, sucking the clear liquid off. You turn to look at him, knees folding, pulled towards your torso.

You turned shy again. He smiles without meaning to.

“Wanted a taste,” he defends himself. “My fingers will have to do for now,” and he winks at you.

You blush, red spots spreading across your cheeks, and bring your hand over your mouth. Precious. Cute. Changbin lifts your hand from its place and places a kiss on your soft mouth. Thank you, and he wishes you can somehow hear it in his head.

Then, he tucks himself back in his jeans, and straps back up, letting his head fall, his hand rubbing his neck. It wasn’t just exhaustion—his heart was physically hurting. He just had sex with the girl of his dreams. He came inside of her, and laid with her.

She asked him to stay. Twice.

But the truth remained—he had killed, he needed to pay for his crimes. It was only a matter of time before the police pieced everything together, and there was no amount of paying off Bang Chan could do that would keep all of them away. Some people were pure from birth.

Like you. He hoped you would be the death of him so he’d never have to deal with any of it. But that doesn’t sound like Seo Changbin, either. What is there left to do except wait it out, then? He had this golden opportunity to spend some time with a heavensend girl. He couldn’t possibly fuck it up.

He had to take care of her first.

“I have to make a call, sweetheart.”

He didn’t sleep a wink.

Instead, he watched your rib cage expand then deflate, eight hours of it. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wake you up or not, so he just let you be. If you missed a day of work—well, you deserved a day off after what you went through, didn’t you?

And, either way, it didn’t matter. If they gave you trouble, Changbin had already found you a different job. A better paying one, too, if he was to merely guess. And an apartment, close by to the bar so he could reach you fast if need be. All was ready to go albeit your consent and personal information.

Minho had texted him about an hour ago to ask about you. The bouncer sent a ‘she’s sleeping’ and left it at that. Your friend didn’t have to know about what he’d done, or how you liked it, despite blessing the two of you.

Changbin was regretting it all a little too fucking much. For your sake. If he had no morals, no conscience or basic fucking decency, this would’ve been just another lay, just another poor girl he’d saved. But you weren’t, and this wasn’t.

Wasn’t what? A relationship. A mistake.

Yeah, sleep sure as fuck hadn’t been an option.

Just before the clock struck eleven o’clock, you stirred, stretching your arms in either direction of you, your mouth opening and closing. The sun had been well up in the sky, a warm day with a slight breeze.

Changbin had covered you with multiple blankets, but they had all managed to sneak down to your feet. You were still naked, except for your panties. His cock stirred, and he cleared his throat, messing the mop of curls on top of his head.

Fucking get a grip, asshole.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

He saw you blink up at the ceiling, before you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. Your eyes met and—your lips curved sleepily at him. He smirked back fondly, but didn’t dare get up from where he was sat the entire morning.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, pulling a thinner sheet over you, your cheeks rosy as you rested your head on your arm.

“Great,” he lied. “How about you, love?”

“Okay.” But your face was positively glowing, your eyes sparkled.

His chest clenched. He rubbed a hand over it, trying to appear casual. There was nothing casual about the way you made him feel just then. He never stayed after sex, he never saw how the women he took to this motel looked the morning after.

And he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep staring at you. He wanted you to look at him back, always.

“What time do you have work?”

Your eyes widened, hands immediately jumping to find your phone, to check the time.

“Fuck!”

Changbin sat back, arms crossing over his chest, watching you run around the room panicked. He’d never get used to the sight of your breasts bouncing, or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. It was all very endearing, very lovely.

Lovely. Nothing had been lovely before. Fucking Hell.

“Don’t go,” he teased you. “I can think of a few things we can do here.”

Half way in a pair of jeans, you looked up at him like he’d grown two heads. His laugh was throaty, genuine. Your eyes, though. They betrayed you.

“I still have to work, Changbin,” you retorted with an obvious voice, head going through a T-shirt. 

“Just sayin’, sweetheart. You look fucking hot.”

You blush, but otherwise ignore him.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re mounting his motorcycle, your body pressed against his. He can’t help but think of last night, of the way your cunt squeezed him deeper, how your nails dug into his neck.

How was he going to go without you for a whole day? After knowing what he does. After having had a taste?

He needed a fucking shower. He needed ten minutes without you so he could get his head straight.

Every time he closed his eyes—there you were, your velvet skin, your breathy voice moaning out his name.

“If anything happens, anything at all, you call me,” he says for what seems like the tenth time.”Immediately.”

You all but groan, gaze flitting guiltily to the entrance of the clothing store you worked at. “Yes,” you reply for what, also most likely, is the tenth time. “I will, Changbin. I promise. Please.”

He nods his head towards your workplace. “Go. Be careful.”

You turn to run, but then stop on your tracks like you forgot something. Changbin leans against his bike, eyebrows raising. He has no time to register what is happening, or why possibly—you kiss him straight on the mouth, bruisingly, and grin widely at him.

He’s dumbfounded. Touches his lips to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Yesterday wasn’t a dream, then. You still wanted him. He drops his head so you don’t see him smiling like a fool.

“I’ll see you later!” You call out.

“I’ll be right here, darling.” And he meant it.

From the corner of his eye, a shark out of water. Prowling.

tags. @ughbehavior, @streetlight-s, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @koorminii, @choinsaw.

a/n. literally no one asked for this to be so long, and yet it is and i’m so sorry. i do hope you still give it a chance, since i worked quite hard on it. i left it as an open ending, in case i want to add a second chapter to it, but as it stands, the story is finished. hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading lovelies! 💕