#i don't know how i keep going the way i do

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

next

[unriding]

TRYING TO TAKE YOU HOME WHEN YOU DON’T RECOGNIZE THEM. ft. dan heng, jing yuan, mydei, phainon, and sunday.

sfw. f!reader. in which the hsr men try their best to convince you that they really are your boyfriend and not a complete stranger trying to take you back home after a long night out.

cw for implied alcohol consumption. not mentioned otherwise — just the silly scenario where reader seemingly doesn’t recognize them upon first glance. prompt from anon on prev blog! fem!reader for all.

— DAN HENG.

He wonders if this was truly the best course of action.

“Give me back my jacket, you jerk...” your words come out slurred, barely mustering the strength needed to keep your hold on his sleeve as you trail behind him down the street.

His jacket — he'd usually correct you — but he doesn't this time, lest you eventually come to the conclusion that the mentioned jacket isn't even yours and therefore holds no importance.

“Soon. The agreement we settled on was that if you don't make a scene, I'll give it back.”

It sounds like a threat.

And if someone were to spot him now, this would certainly paint his image in a light that he would much rather not be perceived in, if given the choice.

He knows this all too well — apparent from the nervous sweat collecting along his temples and the frequent clearing of his throat whenever your grip begins to loosen, but you seem to only giggle at the statement now, eagerly nodding along.

“Really? You pinkie promise, stranger? I'll be reaaall quiet then.”

“Yes,” his brows furrow — from either stress or a sense of urgency that you don't seem to have, “I give you my word. So, please, keep your voice down and follow me.”

You respond with a cheerful hum before eventually falling silent again, the street quiet aside from the patter of your clumsy footsteps following closely behind his own.

Though it’s short-lived, much to Dan Heng’s misery.

Only about a minute or two goes by until you start to tug on his sleeve, and his heart nearly stops beating in his chest. Perhaps you’ve already realized. Or perhaps you’ve pegged him as a dangerous type of guy — which wouldn’t surprise him, given the circumstances.

“Hey…” you tug once more, even harder now, and then stop walking entirely — shifting your weight backwards to avoid being pulled straight into him.

Uh oh.

“Hey.... stranger?” You're mumbling now, eyes locked on the floor, and his breath is stuck in his throat.

“I'm sleepy.”

“You.. you want to sleep,” He repeats, still uncertain — his words coming off a bit too similar to that of a question. “Right now?”

You nod, hands coming to rub at your eyes, as if doing so could wipe away the sudden wave of drowsiness that has overtaken you. Though, your efforts prove to be futile in the end, with each blink becoming slower than the last.

“Yes,” you murmur, “Here. I'm going to nap … and then .. and then I need to find my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend. A part of him is relieved you remember, at least. Perhaps the other critical piece of information will find its way back to you soon as well.

Your eyes flutter back open when something familiar is draped across your shoulders. “Don't sleep here.”

“Here,” he turns around, lowering himself onto a knee to gesture for you to climb on. “I'll take you to your boyfriend.”

— JING YUAN.

“My boyfriend taught me how to fight, so don’t you even dare.”

He blinks, once, twice — the hand gently patting your head a moment ago now entirely frozen in place. “Oh?”

It makes sense as soon as you turn to glare at him. While he’s rather certain he hasn’t done anything to warrant such a look, another part of him — his heart, skips a happy beat over how adorable you look, even if you’re not smiling at him like usual.

“I see,” Jing Yuan continues again, only a moment later, taking a seat beside you (and choosing to ignore the way you make the conscious effort to scoot an inch away from him). Sassily so, he might add, similar to the way you so endearingly turn your body away from him and puff your cheek out when he’s teased you just a bit too much for your liking.

His hand finds its way back to you again, slower this time — traces over your cheek until he gently cups it in an effort to feel the warmth radiating from your skin. A chuckle almost betrays him and slips out at the sight of your eyes nearly fluttering shut, subconsciously leaning into his touch until you abruptly come back to your senses and swat at his hand.

He smiles at you. “Hm. Your boyfriend — is that right?”

Your eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice, likely wondering why a stranger would be speaking to you so familiarly. “My boyfriend. The one with a suuuper heavy weapon that …. that you probably couldn’t pick up … with help.”

“Ah, how admirable he must be. You have no need for worry — I would never dream of wielding such a weapon.”

You huff before deciding to face the opposite direction, all whilst scooting a secondary inch away from him. Perhaps a third, for extra measure.

“This boyfriend of yours,” he speaks again, holding back a chuckle when you dramatically sigh at the sound of his voice once again, “surely he wouldn’t mind someone like myself keeping you company until he returns, wouldn’t you think?”

“I have grown quite curious. Perhaps he would allow me to see this impressive weapon for myself.”

— MYDEI.

“Actually, you’re rather comfy, stranger.”

Mydei only huffs in response before glancing over his shoulder from where you’re draped over his left like a sack of potatoes, quickly confirming that … as of now, you still seem content, at least.

“I’ve told you before. I’m no stranger.” The singular arm currently holding your thighs to his chest tightens, and you only giggle against his back, arms freely dangling beneath you. “Yeah, yeah.”

You’ve been surprisingly cooperative. In fact, he thinks he should make a mental note to remind you about being less trusting of strangers tomorrow — because .. surely, it should not have been so easy to convince you that he could simply carry you to your ‘boyfriend.’

Even now, when he’s seemingly been reduced to nothing aside from a mere stranger, you’re as inviting and friendly to him as ever — mumbling something about his strength, followed by a worried “Hey but — let me know if you get tired or anything, okay?”

So, he lets you talk, opting to silently listen to you ramble on about your day (aside from the occasional glances over his shoulder to check on you). It’s only when he hears a sudden shift in your voice that he stiffens.

“Say…” you start, drawing patterns along his back with a finger, as if nervous about his response. “Do you think Mydei’s worried?”

“I don’t want to worry him,” he lets you continue, eyes shifting back to the path ahead of him. “What do you think, strong stranger? He won’t be mad, right? Or sad, maybe?”

He huffs. “No. He wouldn’t be mad. Not at you.”

— PHAINON.

“Oh.” You hug your knees in disappointment to let out another heavy sigh, one far too telling of your emotions — practically seeping back into your lonely puddle when you realize that this person who had found you in your corner was also in fact… not your boyfriend.

“‘Oh?’ Well, someone doesn’t sound very excited to see me.”

The stranger decides to approach you anyway, taking a seat on the tiles beside you before letting out an exhale himself, back of his head coming to lightly rest against the wall. “What’s on your mind?”

“Hmph,” you leer at him from where your head is halfway buried in your arms, knees hugged tightly against your chest. “I wanted to see my boyfriend, not some random person. I’m tired, y’know.”

“Your boyfriend? How strange.” The confusion starts to leave his face the longer he looks at you — lips curling ever so slightly at the idea that suddenly comes to mind.

“He must be cruel … to leave you here all by yourself.”

He almost slips and calls you cute when you stick an arm out to weakly jab a finger into his shoulder, turning your head to the side again to mutter a “Hey. He’s not cruel.”

Truly too cute — the way your eyes have narrowed into something resembling a glare — the same one you always give him whenever you scold him for being too careless. Though, it tends to fade as soon as it comes, replaced with soft kisses against the crown of his head as you lull him back to sleep.

“Aw,” He’s smiling now, “You’re certain he’s not cruel?”

“Obviously I’m certain,” You huff, ignoring the way he seems to look happier at this and hugging your knees even tighter against your chest. “I like being around him. A whole lot, actually.”

The way his eyes begin to soften at your (unintentional) affection most definitely wouldn’t go unnoticed by you, he’s sure, nor the way his hand twitches — wanting nothing but to extend in your direction to pull you in for a hug. Though, luckily enough for him, you’ve settled on resting your head in the comfort of your own arms again, oblivious to the lovesick one seated beside you.

“I’ll make sure to tell him again … when I see him. So let me be, you weird stranger.”

— SUNDAY.

If someone happened to be wondering whether a halovian’s wings flap awkwardly when rendered completely speechless — this would be their golden opportunity to witness it firsthand.

“M-my apologies,” his wings flutter again, then a third time when your hand only tightens around his wrist, eyes narrowing at him in suspicion. “Please excuse me. I was only checking for your temperature, since you seem to be rather…”

“No.” You don’t let go. In fact, you hold onto him as if you’ve just now captured a crook attempting to steal March’s snacks.

“..Forgive me,” his eyes flicker from your hand to your eyes — then back to your hand. As if there may be a slim chance that you’ve simply forgotten about the ironclad grip on his wrist and would release him from his confinement, soon. Surely. “Then perhaps I should go get you a glass of wa—”

“No.”

“…”

“I… I see.” The nervous flutter of his wings shifts to something more sheepish — one wing moving to cover his mouth, as if deep in thought. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth, for even someone such as himself is left dumbfounded by your current behavior. “Then.. is there anything you’d like for me to help with? Someone like March may be better suited for..”

“My boyfriend…” he falls silent as soon as you speak, noting the softness of your words now — barely above a hushed whisper (though the familiarity has him quickly perking up in response). “I want my boyfriend.”

His head tilts at this. Subtly. Truly confused — and even more so when your brows furrow only a second later, followed by a tug on his wrist. “I want my boyfriend.”

“You’re stuck with me until we find my boyfriend.”

[captain-huggy-bear]

Priorities

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Illness/comfort

Summary: When Quinn gets a text from you 2 hours before his game, he shows where his priorities lie when he drops it all for you.

Series: Teacher Reader series

Notes: I am not very well atm and I had to drive home dizzy from work the other day, the idea of Quinn being there to help has been stuck in my head so have some self indulgence from me.

A kind of sequel to In Sickness and in Health but you don't need to read that to read this.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

He's already at the rink getting ready for the game in the locker room when his phone goes off. You don't actually ring him, clearly doing that thing you always do where you're trying to not bother him on a game day, instead you send a quick text message. He expects the usual:

'Good luck on the game today, baby!'

Instead, the text he gets has him picking his phone up and calling you back in an instant, worry clouding his judgement and making his hands shake slightly.

'Hey, so guess who's being sent home because she's dizzy and can't breathe? I had my head between my legs for 20 minutes, definitely can't stand and teach. Have a good game x'.

You drop the good luck at the end like he's not supposed to be worried, like you've just casually told him about the weather and not that you we're struggling to breathe.

It doesn't really matter that Tocc is giving him the look, the one he reserves for when he's annoyed at the boys, or that half the locker room have stopped their own pre-game, pre-warm up routines to watch their captain frantically call you. He's pacing back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for you to pick up the phone.

"Quinn?" You sound so incredibly breathless its like listening to an asthmatic 80 year old who's smoked for half their life. Except you don't smoke and you're not asthmatic or 80 which makes the whole situation about 10 times worse because you shouldn't be struggling to breathe. You should be doing better today.

You've been ill, he knows this, a chest infection he forced you to get meds for on the weekend. Meds which should have started working by now, a heavy dose of antibiotics and steroids which were supposed to have helped. You'd felt well enough this morning to go in and give work another go, but he regrets letting you do that now. Clearly trying to stand up in front of teenagers and talk was not something you should have been doing, not when the school day had only started half an hour ago and you were already being sent home.

"Baby, are okay?" You're sitting on the front steps of the school with all your things when you answer the phone to Quinn's worried voice. You keep telling yourself you just need a minute, just a minute and then you won't feel so dizzy, won't feel so breathless. Just a minute and the tingles in your fingers will go and your hands will stop shaking so much. Just a minute and then you can drive home and get into bed.

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm just breathless. I'll be okay...they're...they're covering my...my lessons and..." You stop for a minute, taking big deep breathes, you sound so laboured on the phone that Quinn can't help but clench his phone tighter in his hand, "and I'm going home now." Your breaths are wheezy, just like Saturday, in fact he's certain you sound worse.

"How are you getting home?" He knows the answer before you say it and he hates it before he even hears it. You're dizzy and breathless and there is no way you should be driving home at all, but he knows you. Self-reliant to a fault, a martyr, always pushing yourself past the point of no return because you think you're fine, because you convince yourself you're fine. Because you don't want to inconvenience anyone or cause more problems. You ask to little of people around you, expecting barely anything despite all you give.

"I'm...I'm going to...to drive."

"No. You're not. I'm going to come get you." You want to protest a lot more than you do if you're being honest. But, you're so tired and it's so hard to breathe and students wandering in late to school are staring at you like you're having a break down. So your protests are relatively lacklustre by your usual standard. That actually worries him more.

"It's...there's like 2 hours before the game...you've...you've got warm ups soon." You hate the idea of him missing warm ups or god forbid the game, all because you were too stupid to realise you shouldn't have gone into work in the first place.

"So, I'll get you, take you home and come back to the rink and play. I'll walk to the school tomorrow and collect your car so you don't have to worry about it. But, you aren't driving, baby. If you even try to get in that car I will being fucking pissed. I love you, you do not get in that car." You know he's serious in that moment, not just because he's very rarely angry at you or anyone but himself, outside of the rink, but because he's got that clipped tone he only uses when he's serious. This isn't a request, it's a direct order and you have no intention of disobeying it, not when you know he's right...not when it makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside that he's so insistent about your wellbeing.

"But, what...what if you miss warm ups?" He loves how much you support him and his hockey, he always will, but he hates that your first thought is that hockey should come first. His girlfriend can barely breathe right now and he quite honestly doesn't give a flying fuck if he misses warm ups. The team had to pull themselves together at some point and you came first. Always. If they couldn't manage warm ups without him then what was the point of paying them so much money?

"Warm ups aren't my priority, baby. You are. Do not get in the car. Do not drive. Do not move. I'm leaving right now, okay? Just sit on the steps of the school and take deep breaths." He's already grabbing his keys, not even bothering to change out of his gear other than putting some proper shoes on so that he can actually drive. He knows it'll spark some speculation and rumours, Captain of the Canucks storming out of the arena 2 hours before puck drop in full gear except his skates, but he doesn't fucking care about that right now.

"...Okay...thank you, Quinny. I love you." You say it because in that moment you have never felt so loved, to have someone drop everything, something so important, to come get you...Maybe its the meds, maybe its the breathlessness, the infection, but you feel like crying a little because of how sweet he is even when he's bossing you about.

"I'll see you soon, baby. I love you too."

He doesn't waste time once he hangs up, just turns straight to Tocc and tells him, "I'll be back."

The look he gets is a mixture of disbelief, frustration and confusion and he really can't blame Tocc for it. Not when Quinn is the captain, the player that seems to make a massive difference on the ice, and he's about to run out the doors 2 hours before the game? Yeah, he knows Tocc doesn't want to hear it.

"Quinn, where you going? We have a game in 2 hours?!" He knows he's going to be cutting it fine with Vancouver traffic and getting to your school, the apartment and back to the arena, but he's not letting you drive. He could live with missing a game, losing a game, but he couldn't live with himself if he let you drive home and something happened. His job was to look after you, if he failed at that? What was the fucking point?

"Tocc, I'll be back. I promise. But, right now my girlfriend is unable to breathe and dizzy and I'm not letting her drive home, okay? Sooner I leave, sooner I come back."

Maybe it's the insistence on Quinn's face, the reality that if he was forced to stay he wouldn't play well anyway. Maybe it's that you and Tocc get along and he can see a hint of concern in the other man's eyes or maybe Tocc just trusts him that much. But, he actually agrees to let him go. Not that Quinn could really be forced to stay. They'd have to tie him to the bench.

"Okay, I'm trusting you."

"Thanks."

Quinn ignores every single person he storms past, every employee, every fan outside, every person with a camera that starts asking him where he's going as he starts his car with one destination in mind. Maybe he seems rude, maybe he seems standoffish, but he doesn't really care because right now you are sat on the steps of a school struggling to breathe and he just wants to see you and get you home and into bed.

He doesn't even care that he knows Tocc is going to be questioned about his absence or that he can already hear his phone pinging with notifications from social media, most likely people asking where he was going and speculating.

'Just saw Quinn Hughes storm out of Rogers Arena in full gear, finally got fed up of his team?'

'Um, is anyone else panicking that Hughes just left the arena like 2 hours before puck drop?'

'Captain Lexapro has officially lost it with this team, just stormed out of the arena!!'

He tries his best not to break any traffic laws getting to you, despite the fact he has a lead foot that wants to press harder on the accelerator. But, he knows you'd hate it and you'd worry more about him getting a ticket, so he just grips the steering wheel tighter until he's turning into the school car park.

He doesn't try to park in a proper space, just pulls up as close to you as possible before hopping out. Your head is between your legs, shoulders rising and falling in laboured breaths and he feels like he's been punched in the stomach at how bad you sound.

"Oh, baby..." He's kneeling on the dirty ground within seconds and you try, through broken gasps to tell him he'll get his hockey socks dirty, but he doesn't listen to you, just reaches to pull you into a hug.

"Let's get you home, okay? Tomorrow we're going back to the doctors, okay?" You're leaning your head into his shoulder so heavily that he's worried you might actually pass out. It's like the moment his arms wrap around you, you just give up on holding yourself up. In truth, that's kind of what happens. You just want to lean into him, soak up the comfort of your boyfriend lighting petting your hair and whispering into your ear.

"Don't y-you have...practice?"

"I think I can fit the doctors in around practice, baby..." He doesn't tell you, but he'd forgo practice for you. He doesn't care about anything but how you're doing and you're not okay. Quinn can see that better than anyone.

"Alright, up you get..." He stands first, hands reaching for yours to help pull you to your feet. You sway before him like you're on a 16th century galleon in a thunderstorm, forehead plonking on his chest heavily, "Atta, girl. There we go." He just strokes your hair and back while you wait for the dizziness to pass, he knows each second will make him later to the arena but he's not going to rush you when you're struggling just to stand without fainting.

"Alright, let me get your stuff and then we'll take it one step at a time, baby, okay?"

"O..okay...one step...at a time." He tries his best not to let go of you completely as he bundles your work bag onto his shoulder. Quinn is as quick as he can be with it, before pulling you under his arm and helping you inch step by step towards the car.

It's slow going, every few steps you get a little dizzy and he waits for you to nod before he pushes you forward again. You're drained, dark circles under your eyes and skin losing some of its usual colour by the time you reach the car.

Quinn had purposefully pulled up the car with the passenger side facing you and you're thankful not to have to walk around the car as you brace yourself against the door for a moment. Quinn helps ease you into the seat, reaching over to put your seatbelt on for you and adjust the headrest so you can lean back. It eases some of the weight in your chest.

"Nearly home, okay, baby?"

You just nod, exhausted as his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, spreading a soft sort of affection through your already aching chest. He's so gentle as he looks down at you, fingers rubbing circles in your cheeks, but he looks so worried and you feel so guilty because he shouldn't have to be that worried.

"You've been so brave, baby, you're so brave...soon you'll be in bed and you can watch the game and sleep, okay?" He knows you'll want to watch the game if you're sat at home, mostly because you watch every game he plays even if its on catch up, but also because he knows it'll reassure you that he made it back in time.

You nod again, blinking up at him so tired that he can't help but frown.

"Atta, girl. My brave girl." The kiss Quinn presses to your forehead is short and sweet, not lingering but filling you with warmth and lightness even as he closes the door on you and gets into the driver's side.

You miss his comforting touch and as if he knows this, his hand reaches for your thigh at any given opportunity when it isn't in use to drive. The stability of it, the comfort of just having him there is so welcome and helps you to relax back into the seat as he drives.

It's just as hard work getting you into the apartment, thankful as ever that the elevator actually works, but once you're in, Quinn feels ten times lighter.

"Right, lets get you comfy, baby...you want one of my jerseys or a hoodie?"

"Jersey...the....the black one, please."

"Okay, sit down, there ya go, good girl.." He watches you the entire time from the corner of his eye, scared you'll lean too far forward from how you're hunched over on the edge of the bed. He tries to make the entire thing quick, reaching for his black jersey, the extra big one that he bought home because you liked how it dwarfed you and even dwarfed him.

"Arms up, baby..." He helps you out of your work blouse and your bra, slipping the jersey over the top quickly to avoid the shivers you start shaking with.

The worst part is getting you to your feet to get your bottoms off. Quinn helps you rise to your feet before kneeling in front of you, dragging your hands to his shoulders for support as he helps you inch out of the remainder of your work clothes. Your fingers grip his shoulders so tight that he's certain you might leave bruises but he doesn't really care, just happy to get you comfy and help you into bed.

You're bundled under as many blankets as he can find, plus the heated blanket you got at Christmas. A big jug of water beside the bed, snacks piled high because he is not having you try to go all the way to kitchen without supervision right now.

"You want the game set to go on?"

"Y...yes, please...wanna watch you play." He turns the television on, setting it to the NHL game set to go live in less than an hour now and he knows he's going to miss warm ups at this point. Tocc's probably blowing up his phone and he knows he's cutting it fine...but you look so small bundled up in bed and he actually hates the idea of leaving you alone. He hates not having his family near all the time as a general rule, but in that moment he hates it so much more. If his mum or dad had been near he could have asked Ellen or Jim to check in on you, instead you were going to be all alone and he hated it.

"I'll score for you, yeah? You can watch me score and maybe we'll win and then I'll come and make us dinner. That sound good, baby?"

"Perfect..." Quinn smooths your hair back from your face, tucking a strand behind your ear even as he uses it as an excuse to feel your temperature. Not unreasonably warm which reassures him a little that you're at least not feverish.

He just keeps sitting there next to you, stroking your hair and caressing your cheek to the point that as much as you're loathe to get him to stop and to leave, you have to remind him he can't stay here. He has a game he's already running late to.

"You...you have to go, Quinn...I'll be okay..."

"If you're not, you'll phone 911, right?" He smooths your hair back again, in truth he really doesn't want to leave you there like that. Even as you seem to be breathing a little better now you're lying down. He considers just not going, if they lose they lose...but he knows he can't. He's captain, he promised he'd be back...and you'd be unhappy with him. He might be your boyfriend but the Canucks were your team and you'd likely make him sleep on the couch for a week.

"I promise...just go win for me?"

"Okay, sweet girl." He presses a last lingering kiss to your forehead, before getting up to leave. But, he still lingers in the doorway for a moment until you push him to go.

Once he's out of the apartment he's rushing. Barely any time and honestly when he finally gets back to the arena and gets his skates on he's surprised he's just in time to go out on the ice for the anthem...cold, not warmed up in the slightest, not ready at all to play a game, but willing to.

Tocc stops him as he's passing the bench to get to the ice, "Cutting it fine, Hughes!" despite the gruff tone, Quinn can tell that Tocc is just relieved that Quinn's back in time. As are the guys who all look at him with varying shades of relief as if they'd been freaking out the entire time. Which they probably had.

"Told you I'd be back." Quinn says it with such confidence, even though inside he knows he nearly missed the entire game. To be honest if you hadn't forced him out the apartment then he'd probably have been late at best.

"How is she?" Tocc's voice is soft, concerned and Quinn appreciates it. He appreciates that as a coach Tocc doesn't just care about how much they cost or how well they play, he cares about them and their families too...and you're included in that, ring or not.

"Not good...but safe at home."

"You need practice off tomorrow?"

"Please, I need to get her to the doctors..."

"Done. Now go help us win the game." Tocc gives him a clap on the shoulder before pushing him out onto the ice and just like that Quinn slips into captain mode.

Locked in like he always is even if his legs don't feel as loose and his stick feels a little less familiar in his hands. Knowing you're home safe helps, he can put the thought of you to the back of his mind, knowing you're safe in the apartment, comfortable and surrounded by everything you need.

You find it hard to focus on the game, but force yourself to, determined to watch Quinn play and to see the goal he intends to score for you. Maybe it's silly, there's no guarantee he'll actually score, but you can tell from the moment he's on the ice that it's one of the few things on his mind. Shot after shot after shot, a determined series of attempts that remind you how important you are to him even as you lie wheezing in bed, eating as much chocolate as Quinn put out for you.

It's part way through the first period with one goal already to Vancouver thanks to Petey that the issue of Quinn's disappearance pre-game is raised.

"Quinn Hughes was nearly late to the game today, the captain missed warm ups but that's certainly not stopping him now!" Shortie's voice rings through the room, a familiar cadence that makes you feel comforted.

"No, it's not, Shortie, do we know why Hughes was late?" Dave responds and for a moment you can't quite comprehend that you've managed to cause this much of a ruckus.

"It hasn't been confirmed and you know I'm not much of a gossip..." You have a little giggle a Shortie even as you are the topic of conversation because it's not really much in the way of gossip and it's so silly.

"But?"

"Apparently he had a family emergency, his girlfriend is very unwell and he dropped everything to go get her."

"Well, that's just.."

"Romantic? Sweet?"

"I was going to say so unlike the Quinn Hughes we used to know, the one who only thought about hockey." You think back to Quinn when you first met, how everything had been hockey, hockey, hockey. You hadn't minded, your own love of the sport meant that you could handle it. But, it's true...Quinn had been rethinking his priorities ever since you started dating, where he might have prioritised hockey once, he'd started to prioritise you. You're not entirely sure at what point you became that important in his life, but it made you feel warm and fuzzy all over.

"I think it's a good thing, that's a sign of growth, just like Hughes' shot!" Shortie cuts himself off as you watch the camera pan to Quinn, following his agile movements across the ice as he skips past the other team's players as if it's as easy as breathing, "He's in past the defence, he lines up the shot and an unassisted goal for Quinn Hughes! Vancouver goal!"

You smile wide as you watch Quinn grin, celebrating with his team in a series of hugs before he finds a camera. There's a moment where you know he's grinning at you, for you, a cheeky little wink sent through the screen as if to say 'told you I'd score for you'.

"I suspect that one was for the girlfriend, Shortie."

You watch the entire game, trying not to nod off to sleep between periods. While you can't cheer and you certainly don't have the energy to celebrate too hard, every Canuck goal makes you feel lighter and brings a smile to your face.

The end result of a 5-2 win to the Canucks makes it easy for you to drift off as the game ends and the waiting for Quinn begins.

He's running off a high when the game ends, even more so when Boeser offers to take over press duties so Quinn can get back to you quickly.

The apartment is quiet when he comes in, "Baby?" not a sound comes back in response and he's careful to move quietly through the apartment to the bedroom doorway.

You're fast asleep, breathing heavy but nowhere near as bad as earlier in the day, you're surrounded by chocolate wrappers and he's quiet as he picks them all up and puts them in a bin, replacing them with the puck he scored with on your bedside table.

He tiptoes back to the kitchen quietly pottering around to make some dinner for you while you're still asleep, nothing fancy but protein, carbs and veg. The sort of thing that's definitely boring but also definitely what your body needs right now.

"Baby, time to wake up...I've made you dinner." He's gentle when he wakes you, soft fingers down your cheek as you stir awake, blinking up at him bleary eyed. Quinn helps you sit upright, the tray of food settling neatly in your lap.

"Where's...where's yours?"

"On the table, you want me to eat in here with you, sweetheart?"

He's moving before you finish nodding, grabbing another tray and his plate before joining you on the bed. He spends most of his dinner watching you eat, making sure you're not leaving large amounts and that you're okay.

He's happy about the win, happy about the score, but he's mostly just happy to be back with you and knowing that you're eating and you're okay, if not well.

Quinn's quick to tidy up your trays and even quicker to get back to you and get into a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, sliding under the covers with you and pulling you into his arms.

Your cheek rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heart a soothing sound that helps some of the anxiety about being off work ease off. Quinn's fingers caress circles and weird shapes across your arm and shoulder as he tucks you tight against him, legs twined together. Every so often he presses a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, the top of your hair, as if reassuring himself that you're okay and he's got you.

"You scored..." You mumble into his t-shirt, a small smile working it's way to your lips as his hand moves up to run through your hair, stopping at your scalp every now and then to scratch lightly until you feel like purring even if that purr is more of a wheezy rumble.

"Mmm, for you, baby." Quinn smiles down at you, another kiss pressed to your cheek.

"T...the wink?" His smile weakens slightly at your still stumbling breathlessness and the wheeze and crackle that accompany it.

"Just for you, sweet girl."

"I'm...I'm proud of you, y'know?" You smile up at him so sweetly that he can't help but feel certain in his choices today. Yeah, nearly missing a game was rough, and maybe the press are going to be dicks about it and maybe he would have felt guilty if he'd missed the game or they'd lost...but he knows he'd skip a million games if it meant you were being looked after, were safe.

"I know...and tomorrow you're going to show me how proud you are by letting me take you to the doctors again."

"Ugh..." You groan, hiding your face into his chest like that will stop him from dragging you to the doctors. Your stubbornness normally cute but in this moment less so.

Quinn cups the back of your head until your looking up at him, green eyes meeting yours with a pleading stare that makes your resolve tremble and shudder. "Please? I'm worried about you, baby...I was really scared when I got that text from you."

"Yeah?" You hate that you worried him...it's that worry that makes you concede that maybe you need to go back to the doctors and maybe as much as you hate it, you'll do it, for Quinn.

"Yeah. I can replace hockey, I can play another game if I miss one. But, I can't replace you. Let me take you to the doctors."

There's a beat of silence as he pleads with you, eyes soft, worried, gentle, thumb stroking soothingly across the base of your neck and you can't really deny him this. Not when you know you'd feel exactly the same if the roles were reversed, not when he nearly missed a game for you today and went in completely cold turkey to win it.

"Okay...as...as long as you keep cuddling me."

"I think I can do that, baby." You curl back into his arms like the spot was carved just for you and in that moment Quinn Hughes knows that you have fully hit the top of his priority list, no ands, ifs, buts or maybes. You could ask him to quit hockey tomorrow and he'd do it. He'd do anything for you and that should be terrifying, but it's not because he knows you'd never ask too much of him. If anything you ask too little.

[thewickedbohemian]

Rescue Mission and Reunion After Years Apart; so if you allow the reunion trope to be platonic that's basically the plot bunny I already have (one of the many I'm trying to get the executive function to have the fic of exist somewhere other than my head) where (though I haven't decided which one would be the one needing rescuing) the reunion between long-lost brothers Elliot Spencer and Jacob Stone occurs after one of them gets mistaken for just the other with different hair by someone important from the other one's life (haven't decided who or even if friend or foe) and since they don't know where their brother is (and if what's being asked of them is dangerous they still want to protect them) they figure it's easier to just grift-by-seat-of-pants and act as their brother until either they've done what was asked of their brother and/or they've got an out to get away. Meanwhile when the team of the brother being impersonated notices something in some news or w/e that would imply he was in two places at once both teams get dragged into the investigation.

Not sure which one I'd do if I do this but imagine either Elliot gets himself entangled in some kind of magical shenanigans that either specifically Jake was meant for or a Librarian was meant for and Jake would be the best for that job (and perhaps because fate works in mysterious ways Elliot might end up discovering or being given some magic of his own (not anything that'd be supposed to go to Jake) at some point after his true identity is revealed) or Elliot's past catches up with Jake so to keep his brother safe from dealing with all that Jake now has to become a double agent and sabotage plans he has to keep up the appearance of helping along because lbr in his how-do-you-fit-that-all-in-one-backstory checkered past Elliot probably worked for a foe of the Library at some point even if it wasn't, like, the Serpent Brotherhood specifically

This links to a wheel with nearly a hundred fic tropes for plots, settings, and more. Spin it twice.

This could also work with art inspiration, but the buttons only allow for so many characters on them. And please do ramble in the tags! I'm going to have no idea what most of you are talking about, and it's going to be great.

[mafiadad5]

House of cards. || l.hc + n.jm

“You want to make quick cash, I have a way.”

♤ now playing- house of cards: bts

♤ Jaemin and Haechan x fem!reader (ft. seven dream)

♤ genre/warnings: smut with plot, angst. college au implied, but also illegal activity au, 18+ mdni!, dom!jaemin, vanilla!haechan, slight threesome, multiple sex scenes, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (don’t do.), breeding/creampie, marking, praise, degrading, pet names, fingering, hair pulling, Jaemin is really manipulative and possessive, betrayal, mention of a gun once or twice.

♤ W/c- 21k

a/n- this is my longest fic. I actually love this, lmk what u think!

"You're late." A voice hummed beside you as you took a seat, out of breath.

"I know," you panted, setting your bag on the desk and wiping the sweat from your forehead. "I ran here, and I'm still late."

"Don't worry. You didn't miss much." He chuckled softly, his fingers already typing on his laptop. A moment later, you heard the ding of an email notification. "I sent you the notes you missed, you're covered."

"Thanks Haechan, you're the best." You said with a grin as you opened your laptop, his gesture warming your chest.

The lecture moved quickly, and by the end you had managed to catch up on everything you missed. Packing your bag, you were ready to get out of there when a light tap on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

"Hm?" You asked, turning to face him.

"Did you forget we planned to grab lunch today?" He asked, tilting his head with a soft smile.

"Oh shit Haechan. I completely forgot. I've just got so much work today." You admitted, guilt already creeping into your tone.

"That's okay," he replied, his smile not falling. "We can work together after lunch, if that's cool?"

You hesitated, but his demeanor made it so hard to say no. "Yeah, that sounds good Haechan."

"Great!" He cheered, standing and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

As you walked together to your favorite lunch spot, you found yourself noticing small details: the way his laugh carried in the air, the soft way his arm brushed yours, the golden hue of sunlight bouncing off the sidewalk. You wondered how many times you'd walked this same path, but never really seen it.

The line wasn't too long, and Haechan squinted at the menu, breaking the silence. "Hmm, the pesto sandwich sounds good. I might have to try it."

You nodded, glancing at the menu. "Yeah, that does sound good."

"What about you? Should we both get it?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with the suggestion.

"Oh, I'll probably just get some coffee or something." You replied nonchalantly, shifting your focus elsewhere.

"Just coffee?" He turned to you, his brows knitting together in concern. "Are you not hungry?"

"I mean, I am, but I have stuff at home. I'll be fine." You said, brushing off his concern.

"Y/n." He said, his tone shifting to something softer. "If you're hungry, you need to eat, plus, I really want to try the pesto sandwich with you. Come on—get one. I'll grab your usual coffee too."

"No Haechan, it's okay...I swear. Don't worry about it. Just get your own stuff—I've got mine." You shook your head, trying to keep your voice light.

He tilted his head at you, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes that he always has when he convinces you. "But I want to try the pesto with you and if you're not going to buy it, who's going to?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off. 

"Exactly." He smiled. 

"Just go grab a table, okay? I insist... please?" His voice softened, the sparkle in his eyes making it impossible to argue.

You sighed in defeat, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Fine, but this is the last time, okay?"

"Sure, sure." He said breezily, already turning toward the counter.

As you walked to your table, you couldn't help but reflect on his kindness. It wasn't just this—Haechan always had your back, always knew how to make you feel cared for even when you didn't want to accept help.

He returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray with the sandwiches and your coffee. "Special delivery." He said, setting it down with a grin.

"Thanks Haechan."

"Okay, let's dive in." He said, holding up half of his sandwich toward you like a toast.

You giggled, clinking your sandwich half against his. "Let's dive in."

You both ate quietly at first, comfortable silence filling the air as you both ate, but something in the moment stirred an ache in your chest, and you found yourself speaking before you could stop.

"Haechan." You said softly, your voice carrying a hint of sorrow.

"Hm?" He hummed, looking up from his food. 

"I just... I want to thank you for always having my back— for everything. It really means a lot to me."

His expression softened, and he rubbed at his mouth with a napkin before responding. "Y/n, there's no need to thank me. I care about you, and I'll always be here for you no matter what."

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, and for a moment, you just looked at him, taking in the way his eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight.

"Haechan... I need to tell you something." You said, your tone shifting to something more serious.

His smile dropped slightly, replaced with a hint of nervousness. "What's up?"

"I'm going back home," you said quietly. "For good."

The words hung in the air, and you watched as his face fell.

"What? How are you going to...? Wait, are you dropping out?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

You nodded. "Yeah. I'll figure something out when I get home."

"But you don't have a plan yet?" He pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "Stay a little longer, you can figure it out here."

"Haechan, me not having a plan back home is still more stable than being here." You said, your voice cracking slightly.

"But you're working so hard. We only have one year left. You can do it—I know you can." His voice was full of belief, but there was a sadness there too, like he knew he couldn't do anything to persuade you.

"Haechan... your belief doesn't pay the bills. I work two jobs, and I'm still a full time student— i'm exhausted. I can't do it anymore." You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

His leg bounced under the table, and he bit his lip before finally nodding. "Yeah, no, I get it. I really do." He lifted his head, forcing a small smile. "I just hope we stay in touch. I'll always be here to support you, ok?"

"Of course. We're still going to be friends Haechan. Nothing's going to change that, I promise."

He nodded quietly, packing up his things and gathering the trash. "I should get going, I know you have work to do."

"But I thought we were going to work together?" You asked, confused.

"Yeah, I know, but I don't want to distract you." He said, his voice soft but distant.

You frowned. "Haechan, I'm sorry if I upset you..."

"You didn't," he said quickly, his smile hesitant. "I get it, really. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok. Bye Haechan." You said, watching as he walked away. ══════════════════════════ You sat on your bed, lost in thought, the weight of your decision pressing down on your chest. The faint glow of your phone screen caught your attention as a notification popped up.

“Hey, can we talk?”

Your brows furrowed as you typed back quickly.

“Yeah, sure. Do you wanna call?”

The response came almost immediately.

“No. I want to talk in person.”

A flicker of concern passed through you. Haechan wasn't usually this abrupt.

“Oh, okay. Where do you want to meet?”

“I'll pick you up. Be there in 15.”

Your stomach twisted as you stared at the screen. Something about the way he phrased it felt off, but you pushed the feeling aside.

“Ok!”

You threw on a jacket, glancing at yourself in the mirror. What could he possibly want to talk about that couldn't wait? The thought clawed at you as you slipped outside, waiting on the curb.

The low hum of an engine pulled your attention, and a sleet jet-black BMW rolled up to the curb. Its tinted windows blended seamlessly into the darkness, making it look more like a shadow than a car. The door unlocked with a soft click, and you climbed in, greeted by the faint scent of leather and cologne.

Haechan glanced over at you, his expression unreadable as he reached over to check that your seatbelt was fastened. He didn't say much, just nodding before pulling back onto the street.

"Where are we going?" You asked, your voice cutting through the low hum of the engine.

"Just on a drive, if that's okay with you." He replied, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he maneuvered through the quiet streets. Something about his demeanor—his silence, the sharpness in his posture made the air heavier.

"Yeah, that's fine." You said slowly, trying to see where his mood was at. "What's up? What did you need to talk about?"

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was weighing his words carefully. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "I have a way you can stay here."

Your chest tightened. "Haechan, I already told you I can't—"

"Just listen." He cut you off sharply. His tone wasn't angry, but the sudden edge in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, nodding. "Ok. What is it?"

"It's risky as hell," He admitted, his grip on the wheel tightening, "but it'll make you a lot of money. More than enough to pay for your tuition and bills."

Your stomach turned. "What kind of 'risky' are we talking about?"

He hesitated again. "I can't tell you too much."

Your brows knitted together as unease crept up your spine. "This sounds very... illegal." You said, trying to add a bit of humor to ease the tension, but the way his jaw clenched at the word made your pulse quicken.

"Would you do it if it was illegal?" He asked, his tone half joking, half dead serious.

"I'm not becoming a prostitute, if that's what you're implying." You joked, your nervous laugh filling the silence.

That earned a small chuckle from him, though it was short. "No, it's not that."

"Well, can you at least tell me more?" You pressed, your voice full with both curiosity and concern.

"I can't." He said firmly, his eyes flicking toward you for a brief moment before returning to the road. "It's something I have to show you. Look—if you're not comfortable, you can back out anytime, but I do it, and... well, look at what you're sitting in right now." He gestured briefly to the interior of the car, the soft leather seats and pristine dashboard. "It's not as bad as you think."

Your heart was pounding now, the weight of his words sinking in. "Haechan, you're scaring me. Seriously."

He exhaled sharply, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. "If you're scared, then this isn't the right job for you." He said, his voice softer, but still firm.

You bit your lip, your hands clenching in your lap. "But I want to stay," you said, your voice shaky. "I want to try."

He glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. "So, you're down? Like I said, you can back out if you don't want to."

You nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah... I'm down."

He pulled up in front of your apartment building, the car slowing as he turned to look at you. "Alright. Let's talk about this more over lunch tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah." You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sounds like a plan."

You stepped out of the car, your legs shaky as you walked back to your apartment, the hum of the car fading into the night as Haechan drove off. ══════════════════════════ The next day, you sat at the small café table, your leg bouncing anxiously.  The cup of coffee in front of you was untouched, growing colder by the minute as you waited.

Finally, you spotted him weaving through the tables. He placed a red gift bag on the table beside him as he slid into the seat across from you.

"Hey Y/n!" He greeted, his tone cheerful.

"Hey." You replied with a small smile, sitting up straighter.

"How were your classes? I know you had some rough ones today." He asked, his voice light and casual, like the two of you hadn't had a tense conversation just the night before.

"They were... ok actually." You said, your smile tightening slightly. "What about you?"

"Pretty chill. You know I only have one class on Thursdays." He said, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed shrug.

"Right..." You nodded, feeling the tension tighten in your chest. The conversation was good, but you couldn't ignore the elephant in the room. "So... are you ready to talk more about, you know?"

The moment the words left your mouth, his demeanor shifted. The brightness in his expression dimmed, replaced by something harder to read. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto yours.

"What if I told you," he began slowly, his voice softer but laced with a teasing edge, "that I didn't have anything to talk about and just wanted an excuse to have you come to lunch with me?"

Your brows lifted slightly, caught off guard by his response. "Then I guess it worked, huh?" You replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

That seemed to satisfy him, and for a moment, his bright smile returned. "It did." He admitted with a quiet laugh, shaking his head. But then, just as quickly as the lightness had returned, it faded again, and he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. "There's not much I can say here." He said, glancing briefly around the café as if to check for eavesdroppers.

Your heart skipped a beat, your palms pressing nervously against your thighs under the table.

"But," he continued, sliding the red gift bag across the table toward you, "I wanted to give you this for tonight. Don't open it until you get home, ok?"

You stared at the bag, your fingers hesitating before brushing against the smooth handles. "What's with you and these cliffhangers?" You asked, trying to keep your tone light even as your mind raced with possibilities.

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I guess I just like keeping you on your toes."

Your lips twitched into a nervous smile, your fingers now gripping the bag. He stood up suddenly, smoothing the front of his jacket as he prepared to leave. "I have to go," he said, glancing at his watch. "but I'll pick you up at 9:30 tonight, ok?"

"Ok." You nodded, your voice quieter now as you looked up at him.

He paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Oh, and look your absolute best." He added, his lips curving into a small mischievous smile. "Even though you're pretty good at that already."

You felt a warmth creep up your neck at his words, but before you could respond, he was already turning away.

"See you tonight." He called over his shoulder, raising a hand in a casual wave.

You waved back, watching him walk his way through the café and out the door. The moment he was gone, the tension you'd been holding onto seemed to double. You glanced down at the gift bag sitting innocently on the table, its crimson color popped against the pale wood. ══════════════════════════ You got home and instantly opened the red gift bag, pulling out the contents with a mix of awe and unease. Inside was a beautiful black dress, its fabric soft and luxurious, shimmering faintly under the dim light of your room. You spotted the price tag and your jaw dropped—$300.

Holding the dress up, you sighed and reached for your phone, opening your text with Haechan.

"Haechan I can't accept this."

"Why not?"

"Because it's so expensive. I have black dresses I can wear. I'm giving it back when you pick me up."

"No offense, but those dresses aren't good enough."

"Ouch..."

"Sorry, you should've just accepted it and been quiet..."

"K whatever, bye."

"Bye Y/n. See you tonight."

You sighed again as you locked your phone and set it down on the bed. Your fingers grazed the dress, it was beautiful, but left you feeling conflicted. A nap seemed like the best way to shake the nerves eating away at you, so you curled up under your blanket, your mind buzzing with unanswered questions.

When you woke, the sun had already set. You got up and started getting ready, making yourself look your absolute best, just like he requested. The dress fit perfectly, clinging to you in all the right places. You styled your hair and touched up your makeup until you barely recognized yourself in the mirror.

As you waited by the window, you heard the familiar low rumble of Haechan's car before your phone even buzzed. You grabbed your things and stepped outside, the cold night air brushing against your skin as you walked toward the sleek black BMW parked by the curb.

Haechan stepped out of the driver's seat, and your eyes widened at the sight of him. He was dressed in tailored black pants and a silky black shirt that glinted faintly under the streetlights. His dark hair was styled in a perfect middle part, and his warm, tan skin seemed to glow even in the dark.

"You look gorgeous." He said, smiling as he opened the passenger door for you.

"I could say the same about you." You replied, unable to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

He got back into the car, and the two of you drove off. The silence in the car wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy, only the faint hum of the radio and the low growl of the engine. Your eyes kept drifting toward Haechan as he drove, his profile sharp and focused, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"So," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "I have three rules for you before we get there."

You nodded, your heart skipping a beat as you turned to him.

"Rule one: don't talk to anyone I don't introduce you to or people who aren't customers." His voice was steady, but there was a slight edge to it.

"Ok."

"Rule two: never, ever come to this place without me."

You hesitated but nodded again. "Ok."

"Rule three: never go home with anyone, and I mean anyone. No excuses, no exceptions. Do you understand me? This is very important."

The weight of his words pressed down on you, but you nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Good." He said, his tone softening slightly, but his gaze remained fixed on the road.

The car pulled into a narrow alley, lined with other luxury cars that gleamed under the dim glow of overhead lights. You glanced nervously at Haechan as he parked and got out, quickly walking to your side to open the door for you.

You stepped out, the sounds of the city muffled in the quiet alley. Haechan guided you toward, what looked like an ordinary convenience store. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, and your stomach twisted with confusion. It was... just a convenience store.

You followed Haechan to the counter, where a small man with a gray beard greeted him warmly. "Haechan! We missed you!"

"Yeah, I've been busy. Glad to be back." Haechan replied with a polite smile.

The man's eyes flicked to you, and his smile grew slightly. "And who's this?"

"A friend." Haechan said, glancing at you before returning his attention to the man.

"Only a friend?" The man teased, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Why do you always press me like this? She's only a friend." Haechan chuckled, but his tone shifted to something more serious.

The man's expression got serious. "You know how I feel about new customers." He said, his voice low.

Haechan pulled out a stack of cash and slid it across the counter. "Maybe this will change your mind?"

The man raised an eyebrow but pushed the money back. "Keep your money young man. I'll make this exception because she looks like she could make me some money, but don't do it again. Or you're done."

"Yes sir," Haechan said with a respectful nod. "Now, can we go?"

The man grunted, then pressed a button under the counter. A faint click echoed through the room, and a beaded curtain at the back of the store shifted slightly.

Haechan motioned for you to follow him. Your steps were hesitant as you glanced back at the man, who gave you a small smile.

Haechan pushed through the curtain and opened a hidden door, revealing a narrow, dimly lit staircase. He turned to you, his hand reaching for yours. "Come on."

You hesitated, your fingers trembling as they intertwined with his. The air grew colder as you descended, the sound of your heels echoing faintly on the worn steps.

"I don't know Haechan," you whispered. "If this is too much trouble, I can leave. I don't want to get you in trouble."

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. "We're in." He said firmly. He gestured to the door at the bottom of the stairs. "This is your last chance to turn back. Are you in?"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, I'm in."

A small smile tugged at his lips before he turned back and opened the door.

The room beyond was like nothing you'd ever seen—a lavish, red and gold space filled with poker tables, roulette wheels, and slot machines. The crowd was a mix of old and young, all dressed in the finest clothes, their wealth on display in every detail.

"Here we are." Haechan murmured beside you, his voice low and steady.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene. The luxuriousness, the mystery, the faint hum of tension in the air—it was intoxicating.

Goodness, what had you gotten yourself into?

══════════════════════════ Rule #1: don't talk to strangers or people who aren't playing customers.

Haechan led you into the vibrant room, his demeanor cool and collected as if this was second nature to him.

"So, here's a quick rundown of the place." He began, his voice calm but commanding as you trailed closely behind him. "These are the slot machines. You won't be here much because, honestly, people just kind of do whatever here. It's not really our focus."

You nodded, glancing around at the glowing machines that lit up the space. Laughter, cheers, and frustrated groans filled the air as people obsessively pulled levers and pressed buttons.

"These," he continued, leading you past the slot machines to a series of spinning wheels surrounded by a mix of excitement, "are the roulette tables. They're not huge money-makers, but I think you could handle them. People listen to pretty faces."

He smirked, shooting you a sideways glance that made your cheeks flush slightly.

He chuckled and moved on. "Now, these are the Rummikub tables." He explained, gesturing toward a quieter section of the room where small groups of people sat in the game. "This is my personal favorite because I like to play, but it's not where the big money is. You won't really need to be here unless you're playing for fun."

He stopped for a moment, scanning the room before continuing. "And finally, these are the poker and blackjack tables." He said, his tone shifting slightly as he pointed to the most crowded section of the room. The energy here was different—intense and electric. Stacks of cash and high stakes surrounded every table. "This is where we want to be. These tables are our bread and butter. This is where the real money gets made."

You took it all in, your stomach twisting slightly with nerves. "Um, Haechan, not to kill the vibe or anything, but I don't think this is for me." You admitted hesitantly. "I'm terrible at gambling. They'd destroy me out there."

He stopped walking and turned to face you, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "You're not gambling Y/n." He said, his voice patient but firm. "That's not the job."

"Then... what is the job?" You asked, feeling a little more nervous now.

He smiled as he pushed open a heavy red door labeled "EMPLOYEES ONLY." Inside, three men were gathered, each with a distinct aura that made it clear they were used to being in charge of something.

"Haechan! Where've you been?" One of them said, standing up to greet him with a firm handshake.

"Busy, as always." Haechan replied with a grin. "But I'm here now. Got something new to show you." He turned slightly, motioning toward you.

The man looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow. "And who's this?"

"This is Y/n. She's going to be working with us." Haechan explained, his tone casual but confident.

"She's gonna be a money maker, I can tell already." The man said, extending a hand toward you. "I'm Mark. Nice to meet you Y/n."

You shook his hand, offering a polite smile. "Nice to meet you too."

"Hi, I'm Renjun." Said another man seated at a desk covered in monitors displaying security camera feeds. He glanced at you briefly before turning his attention back to the screens. "Wow, you're really pretty." He added, looking at Haechan. "Where'd you find her?"

Haechan rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Mind your business."

"And I'm Jisung." Said a tall guy with a deep voice, walking into the room. "I'm the boss around here."

"Jisung, you are not the boss." Another voice interjected. A sharp looking man sitting in the corner smirked at Jisung. "I'm Chenle. Don't listen to him—he just likes to act important."

You laughed nervously, glancing at Haechan for reassurance.

"Alright, alright." Haechan interrupted, steering the conversation back. "I'm gonna go find the actual boss. Can you guys give Y/n the rundown while I'm gone?"

"Of course." Mark said, gesturing for you to sit down.

As you took a seat, Mark leaned forward. "Ok, so here's how it works. Your job is to keep people here. Talk to them, smile, flirt a little if you need to. Serve drinks, compliment them—basically make them feel like winners so they keep playing. That's it."

"That sounds... easy enough." You said, nodding slowly.

"It is, for the most part." Mark agreed. "But here's the deal—if you cash out less than $500 in tips and earnings by the end of the night, you get a strike. Four strikes, and you're out. Got it?"

"Got it." You replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Haechan returned a few minutes later, his smile reassuring as he asked, "You ready to start Y/n?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." You said, standing up and smoothing down your dress.

He led you back out to the floor, stopping at a busy poker table. "Here's your first table of the night. Just do your thing."

Hours had passed, and while the work had been easier than you expected, it was also exhausting. Smiling endlessly, chatting up customers, and walking back and forth had drained your energy. You were relieved when Haechan finally appeared beside you, leaning in close to whisper.

"Let's go cash you out." He said softly, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You followed him to the office, your feet aching. The room looked the same as before, but the men inside seemed more worn down now, their postures slouched and expressions slightly tired.

Mark perked up when you entered, shooting you a friendly grin. "How was your first night Y/n?"

"It was good." You replied, managing a smile. "Some weirdos, but I can handle it."

Mark chuckled. "Yeah, that's pretty typical. Just remember, we're here to protect you. None of us are gonna let anything happen to you—or any of the other women who work here." He added, his voice kind, but firm.

Jisung chimed in, offering you an encouraging smile. "He's right. We don't tolerate anyone stepping out of line. Now, are you ready for your cash out?"

You nodded eagerly, and Jisung walked over to a machine in the corner, his fingers flying over the buttons.

"Renjun, can I get a head count for her?" Jisung asked without looking up.

Renjun who was still monitoring the cameras, swiveled in his chair to glance at you. "She's got about ten customers." He reported before turning back to the screens.

Jisung pressed one final button, and the machine whirred before spitting out a stack of cash. He counted it quickly, nodding to himself before handing it over to you.

"$7,500." Jisung said impressed. "Not bad for your first night."

Your eyes widened as you accepted the money, the weight of it startling in your hands. "Thank you."

"What?" Chenle exclaimed from across the room. "$7,500 on her first night? That can't be right!"

Haechan laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "Just accept that there are people better than you Chenle."

Chenle shot him a disbelieving look, muttering something under his breath, but Haechan ignored him. Instead, he turned to you, his expression softening. "Alright Y/n, can you wait for me at the entrance? I still need to do my cash out and talk to them for a minute."

"Yeah, sure. It was nice meeting you all." You said, waving to the others as you made your way to the door.

"It was nice meeting you too!" Jisung called after you, the rest of them nodding or waving in agreement.

You walked out, heading toward the entrance. As you neared the door, a deep voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?"

You turned around, and your breath hitched slightly. The man addressing you was easily the most attractive person you'd seen all night.

"Oh, I was just leaving." You said with a polite smile.

"Why so soon princess?" He asked, stepping closer, his voice low and smooth.

"My friend is leaving, so I'm going with him." You explained.

"Haechan?" He asked, tilting his head.

You nodded. "Yeah, that's him. You know him?"

He smirked. "Yeah, I know him. So... you're dating or something?"

You shook your head quickly. "No, we're just friends, but I came with him, so it's only right to leave with him."

"It's right to stay too." He countered, his voice dripping with charm. "I'd love to have a beautiful woman to look at a little longer."

You laughed softly, the flirty glint in his eyes making your cheeks warm. "Well, I won't stay beautiful if I don't get my beauty sleep. I'll be back, you'll have someone to stare at again."

He slipped five crisp $100 bills into your hand, his fingers brushing yours briefly. "You promise?" He murmured.

"Pinky promise." You replied with a playful smile.

Satisfied, he flashed you one last grin before walking away, leaving you slightly flustered and holding the money. You couldn't stop smiling as you waited for Haechan.

He appeared shortly after his own cash out complete. "Ready to go?"

"Yep." You said, following him out the door. The crisp night air hit your face, refreshing after the stuffy casino atmosphere. You climbed into Haechan's car, unable to contain the excitement bubbling inside you.

"I still can't believe this." You said as he started the engine. "$7,500 Haechan. Are you kidding me? That's so much money!"

Haechan glanced at you, his smile bright. "You did really good. I didn't even make that much tonight."

"Well, technically, I made $8,000." You held up the five $100 bills, laughing. "This random guy gave me this to promise I'd come back. I didn't even do anything!"

Haechan's smile fell slightly. "Wait, didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers?" His tone had shifted, becoming more serious.

Your excitement dimmed just a bit. "Well, he was a customer, obviously, so I didn't think it was a big deal. I didn't want to be rude."

Haechan sighed, his grip tightening on the wheel. "How could you be so sure it was a customer?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right." You said, your voice low with defeat. 

He took a deep breath. "Just... be careful. Some of these guys, they'll push boundaries if you let them." He spoke softly, relaxing again.

You nodded, a small wave of unease washing over you. "I'll be more careful next time."

"Good." He said, his easygoing demeanor returned as a small smile painted his face.

You tilted your head in curiosity as you started to think. "So, isn't it just a regular casino? What makes it illegal?"

He chuckled softly, though there was a darker edge to it. "It's a lot more than just gambling Y/n. This place is a money laundering front. No taxes, no oversight. A lot of the cash that comes in is dirty—earned through illegal means. We clean it for them, and we profit off it. Also people can't snitch if we use them to keep playing. Like if someone drinks too much and blows a $1,000,000 check, that's not our fault and they just have to take that L."

You frowned. "That sounds... really shady. What about the people who lose all their money? Doesn't that bother you?"

"They're not innocent." He said, his voice firm. "Most of them are criminals or addicts. They're already hurting themselves or other people. We just benefit from it. That's the business."

His logic made sense, but it didn't sit entirely right with you. "I guess you're right..." You said softly, though a small frown lingered on your face.

Haechan glanced at you, his smile returning. "Don't overthink it. You're just here to make money, not solve the world's problems."

You nodded slowly, leaning back in your seat. "What happens if I don't want to go through with this?"

Haechan's cheerful expression dimmed slightly. He hesitated before answering, as if carefully choosing his words. "Well, you could just walk away. No one's going to stop you if you don't come back. But..." His voice dropped, and for the first time that night, he looked genuinely uncomfortable. "If you talk—if you go to the police, or try to blow the whistle, things get messy."

"Messy how?" You asked, your throat tightening.

He glanced at you, his gaze serious. "You could be arrested. They'll find a way to charge you with something without exposing themselves. And if that doesn't work..." He hesitated again, his grip tightening on the wheel. "You could... disappear."

"Disappear?" You echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Killed." He said bluntly, though his tone was soft. "But that's only if you snitch. As long as you keep your mouth shut, you're safe. I'll protect you from everything else. You just have to trust me."

You stared at him, his words sinking in like cold water. "I trust you." You said finally, though your voice was shaky.

Haechan's expression softened, his usual bright smile returning. "Good. I've been doing this for a long time Y/n. I know how to keep you safe."

He pulled up to your apartment building.

"Thanks for tonight." You said, your voice quieter now. "For taking care of me."

He smiled. "Anytime. Text me when you're inside, ok?"

You nodded, climbing out of the car and heading up to your apartment. Once inside, you dropped your things and leaned against the door, exhaling a shaky breath. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"You're okay, right?"

You smiled faintly, typing back.

"Yeah, I had fun. Thank you for caring about me this much."

His reply came almost instantly.

"Always."

You meant it when you said you trusted him, but as you stared at the $8,000 now sitting on your counter, a lingering unease settled in your chest. This all felt too good to be true. ══════════════════════════

The days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you'd settled into a strange rhythm at the casino. You'd show up with Haechan, who would always meet you at your door, teasing you about taking forever to get ready.

"I swear you spend more time picking an outfit than we do making money." He'd joke, leaning against your doorframe with that familiar smirk that made your stomach twist.

"Maybe I like looking good for tips." You'd reply, brushing past him with a smile that was just as teasing.

It wasn't long before you learned the ins and outs of the job. Jisung and Chenle started treating you like one of the guys, offering pointers and cracking jokes about your mistakes. Mark was a constant source of encouragement, always reminding you to keep your head up when things got overwhelming.

And then there was Haechan.

He was always there—your partner, your guide, your protector. He would steer you away from customers he didn't trust, stand close when someone got too handsy, and give you a quiet thumbs up from across the room when he saw you closing out a big tip.

"You're a natural." He'd say whenever you doubted yourself, his voice warm and sincere in a way that made your chest ache.

It wasn't just his words. It was the way he would linger a little too long when handing you your coat, his fingers brushing against yours. The way his eyes would soften when you laughed, like he was seeing something he didn't know he needed.

You tried not to think too much about it. After all, this wasn't the kind of world where feelings could blossom freely. There was always a shadow hanging over you—an unspoken reminder that nothing about this life was safe.

Still, moments with Haechan felt... different. Like tonight.

The casino had been unusually packed, the noise and lights more overwhelming than usual. You worked the floor for hours, smiling until your cheeks hurt and dodging the advances of too drunk customers. By the time the night was over, you were exhausted, leaning against the wall near the entrance as you waited for Haechan.

"Long night?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts.

You looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets and that familiar playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Understatement." You muttered, pushing yourself off the wall.

He chuckled, tilting his head toward the exit. "C'mon. Let's get out of here."

The drive back was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you, but then Haechan broke the silence.

"You've been killing it lately." He said, glancing at you. "Seriously. Even Chenle said he's impressed."

You smiled, the compliment warming you more than it should have. "Thanks. It's been... a lot to get used to, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of it."

"You are." He said softly, his tone more serious now. "You're doing great Y/n. Better than I expected."

"Better than you expected?" You teased, raising an eyebrow. "Wow, ouch."

He laughed, the sound filling the car. "That's not what I meant. I knew you'd do well—I just didn't think you'd handle everything this easily. It's not exactly... normal, you know?"

You nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. "Yeah, I know, but I've got you guys, so it helps."

His expression softened, and for a moment, he didn't say anything. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "You've got me at least."

The words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the way he looked at you—like he meant it, like he wanted you to believe it.

"I know, I've always have." You said, your voice just as soft.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, the tension between you settling into something warm. When he dropped you off at your apartment, he lingered for a moment, leaning against the car door as you fumbled with your keys.

"Get some rest." He said, his tone lighter now. "You've earned it."

"You too." You replied, pausing in the doorway. "Haechan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For... everything."

He smiled, the kind of smile that felt like it was just for you. "Always."

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it as your heart raced.

The weeks continued to pass, each night at the casino blurring into the next. You found yourself looking forward to the moments you shared with Haechan, the quiet car rides and the easy banter that seemed to come so naturally.

It was in the way he'd stand a little too close when you talked, the way his hand would linger on your lower back as he guided you through the crowded floor. You told yourself it didn't mean anything, that it was just Haechan being Haechan, but deep down, you weren't so sure. ══════════════════════════ Rule two: never, ever go to this place without Haechan.

It was early evening when Haechan's text popped up on your phone. You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup, already running late.

"Don't bother getting ready tonight. I'm sick, and we're not going in."

You frowned, rereading the text. Your heart sank. Tuition was due in two days, and while you had some of the money saved up, you still needed tonight's cash out to cover the rest.

You quickly typed back.

"I need to go. Can't you power through just for a few hours?"

His response came faster than you expected.

"No Y/n. Just take the night off."

It was one of the rules he'd drilled into your head since day one: Never go to the casino alone. But the deadline for your tuition payment loomed over you, and staying home wasn't an option.

You made up your mind quickly, grabbing your bag and heading out the door.

The casino was just as chaotic as usual—loud music, flashing lights, and the hum of people talking, laughing, and gambling. Without Haechan by your side, it felt overwhelming, but you pushed past the nerves. You told yourself you'd just do a few rounds, make your money, and leave before anyone noticed you were there alone.

As you made your way through the floor, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

"Princess."

You turned around, your heart skipping a beat when you saw him—the guy from your first night, the one who'd slipped you $500. He looked just as attractive as you remembered, dressed sharply with an air of confidence that made him stand out even in a place like this.

"Leaving so soon?" He asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Uh, no. Just... getting started." You replied, trying to sound casual as your heart raced.

His smile widened, and he stepped closer. "What if, instead of working, you spend the night talking to me?"

You raised an eyebrow, half laughing. "You want to pay me to talk to you?"

"Why not?" He said smoothly. "I think you're interesting, and I'd like to get to know you better."

You hesitated, glancing around the room. "I don't even know your name."

"Jaemin." He said, holding out his hand.

You shook it, your gaze narrowing slightly. "That name sounds familiar."

"It should." He said, his smirk deepening. "I'm kind of a big deal around here."

You tilted your head, trying to place him, but nothing clicked. "I don't know what that means, but ok."

He chuckled, leaning in just enough to make your pulse quicken. "One conversation. I'll pay for your cash out tonight if you do."

You froze, your eyes narrowing. "How do you even know about cash outs?"

Jaemin's grin widened, his voice dropping lower. "Because I'm the boss sweetheart. The one who runs everything here."

Your heart stopped. "Wait—you're the boss?"

"Guilty." He said, his tone casual but his eyes locked on yours. "Now, about that conversation?"

You didn't have much of a choice. If he was really the boss, there was no way you could turn him down without risking your job—or worse.

"Alright," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "but I expect you to keep your promise."

"Always." He replied, his tone smooth as silk.

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP lounges, a secluded space far away from the noise of the casino floor. The atmosphere was intimate, the lighting low and warm.

"So," Jaemin said, leaning back on the couch and studying you with a faint smile. "Tell me about yourself."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Isn't this supposed to be about you?"

"I already know about me." He said, his tone teasing. "I want to know about you. What made you decide to work here?"

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I needed the money. Tuition's expensive, and this seemed... easier than working three part time jobs."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Fair enough. So, what's your major?"

"Business," you replied. "and before you ask—no, I'm not planning to end up in a place like this after I graduate."

Jaemin laughed, a low, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Smart girl, but you know, you've got a natural talent for this. You could go far if you wanted to."

"I'll take that as a compliment." You said, your lips curving into a smile.

"You should. I'd be lying if I said you didn't catch my attention the moment I saw you."

You felt your cheeks heat up but managed to play it cool. "Well, you'll have to get used to disappointment. I'm not here for attention—I'm here for money."

Jaemin tilted his head, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "And here I was thinking you came back tonight because you couldn't stop thinking about me."

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. "You're ridiculous."

"Am I?" He asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Because I think I'm pretty good at reading people, and right now, I'm reading you."

"Oh yeah? And what's my story Mr. Boss?" you asked, crossing your arms and leaning back.

He mirrored your posture, smirking. "You're smart, ambitious, and probably way too good for a place like this, but you're also a little reckless—you wouldn't be here alone tonight if you weren't."

The flirtation in his voice was impossible to ignore, and your heart picked up speed. "Maybe I'm just bad at following rules." You said, your tone light but your gaze steady.

"Good," Jaemin said, his voice dropping an octave. "I like people who know how to break the rules."

The way he said it made your stomach flip, and for a moment, you were grateful for the low lighting that hid your expression.

"Careful." You said, forcing a smirk. "I might start to think you're the reckless one."

"Who's to say I'm not?" He replied smoothly. He leaned back, watching you like he was waiting for you to challenge him further.

The energy between you was magnetic. It wasn't until Jaemin's next comment that your breath caught.

"Tell me something princess." He said, his voice soft, but deliberate. "Do you always play hard to get, or is that just for me?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. The intensity in his gaze made it impossible to think straight.

"You really think I'm playing?" You managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk deepened, and he leaned in just enough to make your pulse race. "I think you're having fun, but if I'm wrong, you can tell me to stop anytime."

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. Before you could say anything, the moment was interrupted.

"Jaemin."

Both of you turned to see Haechan standing in the doorway, his expression stormy. His eyes flicked between you and Jaemin, his jaw clenched tight.

Jaemin stood, his demeanor casual despite the tension radiating from Haechan. "If it's about business it can wait." Jaemin said, his tone light but firm.

"It's not." Haechan replied, his voice clipped. "Can we talk? Alone."

Jaemin glanced at you, his smirk softening into something almost reassuring. "Don't go anywhere princess. I'll be right back."

As soon as the door closed behind them, you braced yourself. It didn't take long before Haechan came back, his expression darker than before.

Haechan's shoulders tensed as he stared at you, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought he might snap. "I just don't understand why you'd risk everything by coming here alone. Did you even think about what could've happened to you?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm reckless Haechan." You shot back, your voice sharp. "I'm not stupid. I was careful, and you weren't here. What was I supposed to do? Sit at home and hope for the best while my tuition goes unpaid?"

His nostrils flared, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice but not his intensity. "You were supposed to trust me. I told you I'd take care of it, and instead, you went behind my back and broke the most important rule here."

"Trust you?" You echoed, scoffing bitterly. "You mean the way you've been keeping things from me? Like the fact that Jaemin owns this place? You want me to trust you, but you don't even tell me the full truth."

Haechan flinched slightly, guilt flashing in his eyes before frustration took over again. "I didn't tell you about Jaemin because I didn't want you getting mixed up with him. He's—"

"He's what?" you interrupted, your anger boiling over. "Because from where I'm standing, he's the only one who's been upfront with me tonight. And maybe if you had been honest from the start, I wouldn't have felt the need to come here on my own."

His hands curled into fists at his sides, his voice tight with suppressed emotion. "You don't get it, do you? This isn't just some game. Jaemin isn't some harmless guy throwing money around—he's dangerous Y/n. I've seen what happens to people who cross him. I didn't tell you because I was trying to protect you!"

"Protect me?" You repeated, shaking your head. "You're not protecting me Haechan. You're treating me like I'm incapable of making my own decisions, and I'm tired of it."

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. Haechan's shoulders sagged slightly, his expression softening but still guarded. "I'm not trying to control you." He said quietly, his voice almost breaking. "I just—"

He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he looked away.

"You just what?" You pressed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place.

"I don't want to lose you." He finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The vulnerability in his words hit you harder than you expected, but it wasn't enough to extinguish the frustration still simmering in your chest.

"You don't get to say that after everything." You said, your tone softer but still firm. "You don't get to act like you care and then keep me in the dark."

His jaw worked as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You're right." He said, his voice heavy. "I messed up, but you still shouldn't have come here alone."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "And you shouldn't have lied to me. Looks like we both messed up."

"Let's just go." He said after a long pause, his voice low.

You nodded stiffly, still too angry to say more. As the two of you walked out of the lounge, Jaemin's voice followed you.

"Leaving so soon princess?" He called, his tone laced with amusement.

Haechan didn't even look back, his hand brushing your arm as he gently guided you toward the exit.

The car ride was silent, the air between you thick with unresolved tension. You stared out the window, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, while Haechan gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

As you approached your apartment, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "We'll talk about this later."

You didn't respond, but the flicker of hurt in his tone made your chest ache. As much as you wanted to hold onto your anger, you couldn't shake the feeling that tonight had changed something between you. ══════════════════════════

The tension between you and Haechan was suffocating, and the silence in the car lingered long after you had arrived home. He didn't follow you inside, didn't offer his usual lingering goodbye, just sat in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel, his knuckles white as if he was fighting every instinct to say something.

You didn't look back when you walked into your apartment, but the guilt started to settle in the moment you closed the door behind you. Still, your frustration bubbled just beneath the surface. You knew Haechan cared, but you also felt trapped under the weight of his protectiveness, like he didn't see you as someone capable of standing on your own.

As you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You hesitated before grabbing it, expecting a text from Haechan, but instead a random number flashed across the screen.

"Did you make it home safely princess?"

Jaemin. Your lips twitched into a small smile despite the events of the evening. Why does he care? you wondered.

"Yeah, I'm home. Thanks for asking."

Almost immediately, he replied.

"Good. You shouldn't let Haechan get to you too much. He's always been protective, but he means well."

You stared at the message, your mind racing. Why does it feel like he knows so much?

"How did you even get my number?"

"I have my ways."

Your stomach twisted at his vague response, a strange mix of unease and intrigue coursing through you.

"That's not an answer Jaemin."

"Let's just say I make it my business to know the people who interest me. And you Y/n, are very interesting."

Your cheeks flushed at the implication, but a small part of you bristled at the invasion of privacy.

"You're really something else, huh?"

"Only for you princess."

Before you could respond, another text came through.

"I'd rather see that smile of yours in person than try to guess how you're feeling through a screen. Think you can handle another night at the lounge soon?"

Your heart skipped a beat. He was so smooth, so disarming, and it was hard not to be charmed by his confidence. But after tonight, you weren't sure how you felt about stepping foot in the lounge again.

"We'll see. I don't want to cause any more trouble."

"You're not trouble Y/n. You're a breath of fresh air in a room full of suffocating smoke."

Your heart fluttered, you hated how easily his words affected you.

"Goodnight Jaemin."

"Sweet dreams princess."

You set your phone down, biting your lip to suppress a smile, but the weight of your fight with Haechan lingered. You knew you'd have to face him again soon, and the thought filled you with equal parts dread and anticipation.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when Haechan showed up at your apartment. He didn't knock, just let himself in with the spare key you'd given him months ago. You found him leaning against your kitchen counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"We need to talk." He said, his voice low, but steady.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I know."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm still mad. I'm furious actually, but more than that, I'm scared. You don't understand how dangerous Jaemin is Y/n. He's not some harmless flirt—he's the kind of guy who could ruin your life without blinking."

You flinched at his words, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "And what if I can handle him? What if I don't need you swooping in to save me all the time?"

Haechan's jaw clenched. "It's not about you needing me. It's about the fact that I can't sit back and watch you get hurt. You're too important to me."

Your breath caught at the intensity in his voice, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say.

"Haechan..."

He shook his head, stepping closer. "I know I've been holding back, not telling you everything, but it's not because I don't trust you—it's because I don't trust him. Jaemin doesn't do anything without a reason, and if he's got his eyes on you, it's not because he's just being nice."

You frowned, your chest tightening with a mix of emotions. "I can't just ignore him Haechan. He knows things—about the lounge, about you, about me. Part of me feels like if I don't play along, it'll only make things worse."

His eyes softened, but his frustration was still evident. "If you think Jaemin is the kind of person you can play along with, you don't know him like I do."

"I'm not an idiot." You snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. "I don't need you to lecture me about how dangerous he is. I'm just trying to figure this out on my own terms, without you controlling every step I take."

His jaw tightened, and his voice dropped. "Then figure it out, but don't come crying to me when it blows up in your face."

Your chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than you expected. "So that's it? You're just done?"

Haechan's expression was stormy, but there was an unmistakable sadness in his eyes. "I don't want to be, but I can't protect you if you keep running straight into the fire."

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold back tears. "Maybe I don't need your protection Haechan. Maybe I just need you to trust me."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you as if searching for something. Finally, he exhaled sharply and grabbed his jacket.

"Well I don't." He said flatly, heading for the door. "Since you're so big and bad now, figure it out yourself."

══════════════════════════ Rule #3: never go home with anyone.

The door slammed behind Haechan, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment, and for a moment, you just stood there, staring at the space he left. The words he'd said still stung—especially the way he'd walked out without looking back, as if you weren't even worth the fight anymore.

You didn't know why it hurt so much. Maybe it was the way he'd always been there, his protective instincts always so fierce. Or maybe it was the way he'd seemed to abandon you when you needed him most. Either way, the emptiness in your chest wasn't something you could ignore.

You sank onto the couch, trying to clear your head. You don't need him, you thought. You're strong enough to handle this on your own, but as much as you told yourself that, the ache in your heart didn't fade.

After a while, you found yourself reaching for your phone and staring at Jaemin's number, the memory of his charming words still lingering in your mind. He'd always known how to make you smile, how to make you feel like you were the only person in the room. Honestly, right now, you needed that distraction.

You hesitated for a moment before typing out a simple message.

"Hey, are you working tonight?"

You didn't have to wait long for his reply.

"I'm always working, but I'm free if you need some company. You gonna come see me tonight?"

There was something about the way he phrased it that made your stomach flutter. You knew what he meant, and despite the mess that had just unfolded with Haechan, you felt the pull toward him. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it wasn't the healthiest decision, but in that moment, you didn't care. You wanted to feel wanted again.

"I'll be there in a bit."

You changed quickly, putting on something that made you feel confident. You weren't exactly sure what was drawing you back to the casino, but you had to admit, Jaemin was part of the reason. The way he looked at you, the way he made you feel like you were the center of his world, it was intoxicating. It was exactly what you needed after the fight with Haechan.

The casino was as chaotic as always when you arrived, but the moment you stepped through the door, your eyes immediately found Jaemin. He was talking to someone, but the second he saw you, his gaze sharpened, and a smile spread across his face.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to grace me with her presence." Jaemin said, walking toward you. His presence seemed to fill the room in a way that made you feel all eyes on you.

"Couldn't resist, huh?" He added, a playful glint in his eyes.

"I guess not." You replied, unable to fight the small smile tugging at your lips. You leaned against the bar as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the tension between you, the unspoken connection that had been simmering from the moment you first met him.

Jaemin stepped in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "So, what's a beautiful woman like you doing here all alone? Shouldn't you be somewhere safer?"

The way he said "safer" made it sound like a challenge, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

"I don't know," you answered, keeping your voice steady, "maybe I wanted to see you again."

His smile widened, and without missing a beat, he placed his hand lightly on your back, guiding you away from the bar. "I'm glad you did. I was starting to think I'd have to drag you here myself."

You chuckled at the thought, but there was no mistaking the way he was looking at you now. His hand lingered lower on your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

As you both moved through the crowd, Jaemin leaned in closer, his voice just above a whisper. "I've been thinking about you Y/n. You've been on my mind since that night at the casino."

His words were smooth, but it was the intensity in his eyes that made your stomach tighten.

"Have you?" You asked, voice dropping to match his intimacy. You were close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his proximity making your heart race.

"Yeah." Jaemin replied, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I can't help myself when I see someone as stunning as you. I like the way you move, the way you talk, the way you look at me." His fingers brushed the edge of your arm as he spoke.

You didn't pull away. You couldn't. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have been so bold then." You teased, your breath catching in your throat as his gaze darkened.

"I'm bold because I know exactly what I want." Jaemin said, his voice a smooth caress against your ear as he leaned in even closer. "And right now, I want you."

You swallowed hard, the tension between you two almost unbearable now. "What are you saying Jaemin?"

He stopped walking and turned to face you, his hand gently cupping your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. "I'm saying... maybe you should come back to my place tonight. We can skip all the small talk and go straight to what we both want."

Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat rising between you, but even then there was a lingering thought in the back of your mind—Haechan. You had just had a fight with him, but did that mean you had to go through with this?

Jaemin didn't wait for your answer. "You don't have to decide now, but I'm not going to ask again." He whispered, his lips so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. "Let's see where the night takes us."

And before you could stop yourself, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. "Okay."

You followed him out of the casino, your heart racing as you left behind everything familiar—everything safe. Jaemin's house was breathtakingly luxurious—sleek and modern, with high ceilings and expansive glass walls that reflected the glittering city lights, but you didn't get much of a chance to take it in. His focus was entirely on you, and you were too consumed by him to care about your surroundings.

The moment the door shut behind you, his hands found your waist, pulling you against him. His lips crashed into yours, hungry and demanding. There was no hesitation, no time for second thoughts. He guided you deeper into the house.

Jaemin's kiss was intoxicating, his tongue teasing yours as he deepened it, his hands gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go. You barely noticed when he guided you into a room, sitting you on the cool surface of a dresser. His body moved between your legs effortlessly, as if he'd always belonged there.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes blazing with unspoken desire. "So pretty." He whispered, his voice rough yet tender. His lips found your jawline, trailing soft kisses down your neck. Each touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, his hands squeezing your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the dresser until there was no space left between you.

Your breath hitched as he kissed harsher now, his lips sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving marks. You couldn't stop the soft moans escaping your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his way deeper into your senses. His touch, his scent, his presence—it was overwhelming.

Jaemin's hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your hips as he pressed you against him. He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged. "You sure about this?" He asked, his voice low.

You smiled, biting your lip, your voice barely steady. "I'm sure."

His lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction evident. Without wasting another moment, he lifted you off the dresser and turned you toward the large mirror across the room. Your reflection stared back at you, flushed and disheveled, as he bent you over the smooth wooden surface. His hands roamed down your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his lips found the back of your neck.

"Look how pretty you are." He murmured, his deep voice washing over you. His eyes locked on yours through the mirror, a mixture of admiration and desire in his gaze.

As he slid your dress up over your hips, exposing more of your skin to the air, you felt your breath hitch. His lips trailed down the back of your neck, leaving a trail of soft, open mouthed kisses that sent tingles down your spine.

The warmth of his hands returned, firm and sure as they settled on your hips, holding you in place. One hand slid lower, his fingers brushing against the sensitive heat between your legs. Even through the fabric, the contact made you tremble.

His smirk widened as he watched your reflection react to his touch, your lips parting in a soft gasp. "And you're so wet for me already." He whispered, his tone teasing yet dripping with satisfaction.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the mirror. His fingers pressed against you more firmly, circling in a way that had your knees weakening beneath you.

"You feel that?" He asked, his voice low and rough against your ear as he leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back. "That's how much you want this. How much you want me."

You nodded, unable to find your voice, your body responding to his touch in ways words couldn't capture. He grinned at your reflection, his confidence intoxicating as he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck.

"Good." He murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Because I'm not stopping until I've had all of you. 

Jaemin's eyes stayed locked on yours through the mirror as he reached down, pulling away the last barrier of clothing keeping you from him. His gaze never left, taking in every inch of your exposed skin, the heat in his expression enough to make your pulse race. His fingers trailed teasingly along your inner thigh, drawing shivers from your body before finally sliding between your folds.  

When he slipped one finger inside, your breath caught, and a soft moan escaped your lips. "Jaemin." You whimpered, your head falling forward slightly as your body instinctively pressed back against his hand. He didn't hold back, setting a relentless pace that had your knees trembling almost immediately.  

"What's the matter?" He asked, his voice low and taunting, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Can't handle it? You're gonna have a rough time if you can't even take my fingers princess." His laughter was dark and quiet through the room as he pushed another finger inside.  

"I can take it." You shot back, your voice laced with determination—though the words broke into a shaky moan as his fingers curled just right, brushing against that spot that made you see stars.  

"Yeah?" He replied, his tone both amused and challenging. He quickened his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you, the slight curve of them sending waves of pleasure rolling through your body. "Then take it. Show me you can handle it."  

Your stomach tightened, the coil of heat building steadily as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck... oh my god" You gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the dresser for support as your legs started to quake.  

Jaemin's smirk widened, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "It's okay. Don't fight it. Just let go for me. Soak my fingers princess." His words were both commanding and soothing, pushing you right to the brink.  

"I'm there." You managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper as your body gave in. Your knees buckled, and a flood of warmth coursed through you.

Jaemin slowed his movements but didn't stop, milking every last tremor from your body before finally pulling his fingers out. He lifted his hand into view, his fingers glistening as he tilted them slightly.  

"Look." He said with a satisfied smile. "Look at what you did."  

You barely managed to lift your head, still catching your breath, but when your eyes met his in the mirror, the smirk on his face sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He brought his fingers closer, holding them in front of your lips.  

"Clean me up." He ordered softly, his eyes dark with desire.  

Your tongue flicked out, tasting yourself as you took his fingers into your mouth, your lips wrapping around them. The way he watched you, his gaze heavy and unwavering, sent a shiver down your spine. When you were finished, he pulled his fingers away slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face.  

"Such a good girl for me." He murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

"Turn around for me." Jaemin murmured, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Before you could move, he grasped your chin gently, tilting your face up to his. His lips met yours in another deep, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. When he finally pulled away, his lips were slightly swollen, and his gaze burned into yours. 

"Now, take my pants off." He whispered.

You didn't hesitate. Your hands moved quickly to undo the button and zipper, pulling his pants down his hips and letting them pool around his ankles. Your fingers hovered teasingly at the waistband of his underwear for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his. The faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips gave you all the encouragement you needed. You slid the last piece of fabric down, freeing him completely. 

"Good." He praised, his voice a soft growl. "Now turn back around." 

You obeyed, turning to face the mirror again. His hands settled on your hips as he stepped closer, the heat of his body radiating against your back. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke. 

"I want you to look at yourself the whole time I'm fucking you. Don't you dare look anywhere else. Do you understand?" 

"Yes." You whispered breathlessly, your body already trembling in anticipation. 

"Good." He murmured, his lips curving into a grin as he teased your entrance with the tip of his length. 

He paused for just a moment, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror, savoring the way your body reacted to his teasing. Then, without warning, he pushed his full length into you in one smooth motion. 

"Fuck." You whimpered, your fingers gripping the edge of the dresser as your body adjusted to the stretch. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve alive and buzzing. 

"You're so fucking tight." Jaemin groaned, his voice a breathy moan, almost like a chuckle. His hands gripped your hips firmly, his fingers pressing into your skin as he began to move, his thrusts deep. 

"You're taking me so well." He murmured, his eyes dark and intense as they met yours in the mirror. "Like this pretty little hole was made just for me." His smirk was wicked, dripping with satisfaction as he watched you. 

The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin, your moans and his low groans. Every thrust was harder than the last, and his grip on your plush thighs tightened, holding you steady as he drove into you relentlessly. 

The pressure was overwhelming, instinctively your head began to lower, seeking relief from the intensity. 

"What did I tell you?" Jaemin's voice cut through, sharp and demanding. 

"To... to look up the whole time." You stammered, your voice shaky and weak. 

"Then why are you looking down?" He asked, his breath hitching slightly even as he kept his relentless pace. 

"It feels so good." You whimpered. "I... I can't take it." 

He chuckled darkly. "Then I'll make you take it." 

One of his hands slid into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back up. Your eyes met his in the mirror again, and the intensity in his gaze sent another wave of heat crashing through you. 

He picked up his pace, thrusting into you harder and deeper. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, drowning out everything else. Your back arched as he pulled your hair tighter, forcing you to keep your eyes on the mirror. 

"Such a filthy slut," he growled, his voice low and rough. "but you can't take it, hm?" 

You tried to respond, to form words, but all that escaped were broken moans and gasps, your voice caught in your throat as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. 

"Fuck." Jaemin groaned, his pace faltering for just a moment as his thrusts grew rougher. "I'm almost there. You gonna cum with me?" 

You nodded frantically, unable to speak, your body trembling as your stomach tightened.

"Good fucking slut." He rasped, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove into you with one final thrust. 

The two of you came undone together, your release washing over you so intense you thought you might collapse. Jaemin's groans mixed with your cries as he spilled into you, his grip on your body grounding you as you both rode out the last moments of pleasure. 

His hands softened, sliding up your sides and pulling you gently against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his breathing still ragged. 

"You did so well." He whispered, his tone soft and full of praise. "So fucking perfect." 

You forgot about the fight with Haechan, about the rules you'd broken. Well, you tried, but as you got cleaned up you couldn't stop thinking about him.  ═════════════════════════ Jaemin had gotten a call that he needed to return to the casino to handle some business. The car ride back was unnervingly silent, and when you finally arrived, he didn't spare a moment. Without so much as a glance your way, he rushed inside, leaving you behind.

You sighed, shaking your head before following him in. You finally reached the office. Inside, Mark, Jisung, and Chenle were gathered in conversation over some paperwork.

"Where did you two go?" Mark asked, getting up from his chair the moment he saw you.

"To his house." You replied casually, brushing off the weight of the evening.

"To his what?" Mark stuttered, his voice rising slightly. His eyes flickered to Jisung, who immediately froze mid gesture.

"Are you okay?" Jisung added, a hint of worry in his tone as he exchanged a wide eyed look with Mark.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why are you asking me that?" You asked, growing defensive under their intense stares.

"Well..." Jisung hesitated, leaning back in his chair. "No one ever goes to Jaemin's house. I mean no one." He paused, sucking his teeth.

"Well, at least no one who's seen again." Chenle said without looking up from his papers.

You blinked at him, stunned by his bluntness. "I'm here, aren't I?" You replied, forcing a smile. "I really think he likes me."

Jisung and Mark exchanged another skeptical look, their eyebrows rising simultaneously.

"He definitely treats you differently." Jisung admitted.

Mark on the other hand scoffed lightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You couldn't go after someone a little safer though?" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "Someone like who?"

"Someone like Haechan." Mark suggested, his smirk widening.

"Haechan doesn't even like me." You shot back, shaking your head.

Mark's smile twisted slightly, awkwardness replacing his teasing. Chenle for the first time looked up from his papers and locked eyes with Jisung. A shared understanding passed between them.

"Oh, um... I don't think that's—" Mark started to say, but his words were cut off as the door swung open.

"What's up guys?" Haechan said, walking in like he owned the room. His sharp eyes swept over everyone, lingering briefly on you before moving on.

"Hey Haechan." Mark greeted, forcing a casual tone.

"Hey." You added, offering him a small smile.

Haechan nodded at you but didn't stop to engage, heading straight for Mark.

"Haechan." Mark blurted, clearly still in disbelief. "Y/n actually made it to Jaemin's house."

Haechan froze for a moment, then chuckled. "Yeah, I know." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm surprised she made it back." His gaze flickered to you.

"What's that supposed to mean Haechan?" You asked, your voice rising slightly with offense.

"Oh, I don't know." He replied coolly. "Maybe that you could've been killed. You do realize no one makes it out of Jaemin's house, right?"

You glared at him. "Well, you never told me that."

"It's almost like I did though." He snapped, his jaw tightening.

"I survived, ok? I'm fine." You crossed your arms, but he wasn't looking at you anymore. He turned his back and walked toward the counter, busying himself with some documents.

Mark mouthed something to you, gesturing toward Haechan with pleading eyes: "Make it right."

You sighed deeply, swallowing your pride. Rubbing the back of your neck, you walked up behind Haechan and gently touched his arm. "Can we talk Haechan? Please?"

He stiffened at your touch, turning his head slightly to glance at you. His eyes were dark, and unreadable. "Didn't I tell you I was done with you?" He hissed. His words stung more than you cared to admit.

"Haechan, please." You said softly. "I don't want you to be done with me. Can we just... talk?"

For a moment, his expression softened, the anger in his eyes replaced by something you couldn't quite place. He sighed. "Fine, but only for a second."

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the room, leading you down a secluded hallway. The narrow space left little room for distance, forcing you both closer than you'd been in weeks.

"What?" He asked sharply, his voice low and full with frustration.

"Haechan." You began, your voice quiet. "I'm sorry, but what did you expect me to do?"

"I don't know—maybe listen to me. Not break my trust. Not put yourself in danger." He shot back, his words tumbling out in a rush.

"I can protect myself." You said, trying to meet his gaze.

His laugh was bitter. "Y/n, Jaemin is dangerous. You seriously could've been killed. Do you have any idea how bad this night could've gone?"

"But it didn't," you countered. "I'm fine. I made it back."

"You think this is the end of it? You've put yourself in a situation you can't get out of. What happens when he gets angry at you? What happens if you piss him off—if one night he decides you're not worth his time anymore?" His voice cracked slightly, his vulnerability slipping through. "You don't get second chances with people like him."

You stepped closer, cupping his face in your hands. His breath hitched at the sudden touch, his eyes searching yours.

"Haechan." You whispered, "I know I've made mistakes. I know I've hurt you, but I trust you, and I need you to trust me too."

"It's not that I don't trust you." He murmured, his hands ghosting over your sides before he pulled them away. "I just... I can't let anything happen to you. I'll never forgive myself if I do."

You leaned in closer, your forehead brushing against his. "Nothing's going to happen. I promise, i'm right here."

For a moment, the world fell away as your lips met his. The kiss was soft, yet filled with an unspoken longing. When he pulled back his eyes were glossy, his lips slightly parted.

"Go home." He whispered.

"Haechan—"

"Go home." He repeated, shaking his head. "I'll call you a car, but you can't stay here."

Reluctantly you nodded. "Ok."

You lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking away, your heart heavy, but hopeful as you exited the casino.

══════════════════════════

It was another night that you had spent there without Haechan. It wasn't the first time, but after the talk you both had you wanted him to be there with you at least.

Taking a small break, you slipped into the back office when your phone buzzed with a notification.

"Darling, can you meet me in the private hallway, please? I know you're here."

Jaemin's text sent your heart racing. Without hesitation, you rushed to the hallway, trying to figure out what he wanted. When you arrived, you saw him standing there—with Haechan.

A smile played on Jaemin's lips as you approached. "You needed me?" You asked, glancing briefly at Haechan, whose expression was unreadable.

"Of course. I always need you princess." Jaemin replied smoothly. Then he turned to Haechan, his tone sharpening. "But I think Haechan needs you too. Isn't that right Haechan?"

"Jaemin, what are you talking about?" Haechan stammered, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips.

"Answer the question. Do you need her?" Jaemin pressed, his gaze unwavering.

Haechan's composure faltered. "Yes," he admitted softly. "I need her."

Jaemin smirked. "You know, I reviewed the security footage and saw you two here in this very hallway." His tone grew colder. "I don't like people taking what's mine Haechan, you know that."

"I'm sorry Jaemin. I didn't realize things were that serious between you two." Haechan said, glancing nervously at you.

Jaemin stepped closer. "Have you fucked her yet?"

The bluntness of the question caught Haechan off guard. "No." He replied quickly.

"But you've thought about it, haven't you?" Jaemin pressed, his voice dangerously calm. "You want to, don't you?"

Haechan hesitated, his throat dry. Jaemin had a way of knowing everything—even things you didn't fully realize about yourself.

"Yes." Haechan admitted, his voice barely audible.

"Yes what?" Jaemin demanded, tilting his head.

"Yes, I want to fuck her." Haechan said, glancing your way before looking down.

Jaemin turned his attention to you. "And what about you princess? You've thought about it too, haven't you?"

Your stomach churned. Lying wasn't an option—not with Jaemin. His piercing gaze demanded the truth.

"Yes," you confessed quietly. "I've thought about it." 

Haechan glanced up at you for a second, a gleam of light shining in his eyes. Jaemin's smirk widened. "Good. Tell me, which one of us do you want more?"

Your eyes flickered to Haechan for a moment, he shook his head, looking your eyes before you answered. "You Jaemin. Of course."

He seemed satisfied with your response. "Come here princess." He commanded softly.

You stepped closer.

"Get on your knees for me."

Obediently, you sank to your knees before him, looking up with wide, vulnerable eyes.

Haechan shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... maybe I should go—"

"No." Jaemin interrupted firmly. "Stay right here."

He turned back to you. "Princess, pull my pants down. Make me feel good. Maybe I'll forgive you."

You obeyed, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled his pants and underwear down, freeing him.

"Don't act shy." He teased, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "You've seen it before."

You took him into your mouth slowly, earning a low groan from him. His hand found its way into your hair, guiding you gently at first, then with increasing intensity.

"Fuck, just like that." He praised, his voice husky.

Haechan's breath hitched as he watched. He tried to look away but couldn't, getting more turned on by the second.

Jaemin's grip on your hair tightened as he thrust deeper, his groans growing louder. "You're doing so good baby. Keep going."

The wet sounds him in your mouth filled the hallway, along with Jaemin's moans and the occasional choked gasp from you.

Haechan's hands clenched at his sides, his arousal straining against his pants.

"I'm close." Jaemin groaned, his movements growing frantic. "Let me finish in your throat."

Moments later, he spilled into your mouth, his release warm. You swallowed, wiping your face as Jaemin smiled down at you.

"You did so well princess." He murmured, stroking your cheek. Then his gaze shifted to Haechan.

"Now it's his turn."

"What?!" Haechan exclaimed, his voice rising. "I'm not sucking your dick Jaemin!"

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking idiot Haechan. Y/n, baby, go to him."

You crawled over to Haechan, your eyes searching his for permission. "Can I?" You asked softly.

Haechan's lips parted as he nodded, his breaths shallow. "Yeah... you can."

Your fingers worked at his waistband, unbuttoning and unzipping slowly. When you freed him, his dick was hard and twitching.

"Are you sure?" You whispered again.

"Yes, I'm sure." He replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

You leaned forward, taking him into your mouth. His moans were soft at first, then grew louder as you moved. His hands hovered uncertainly before settling lightly on your head.

"Fuck Y/n." He whimpered, his voice cracking with pleasure.

Jaemin watched intently, a smirk tugging at his lips.

When Haechan's hips began to buck, Jaemin interjected. "Stop."

You and Haechan froze, turning to look at him.

"I want you to fuck her." Jaemin said, his tone low and commanding. "Finish inside her."

"Man you're a pervert." Haechan muttered under his breath before turning back to you. "Do you want this?" He asked, his voice tender.

"Yes." You answered, your cheeks flushed. "More than anything."

Moments later, Haechan had you pressed against the wall, your dress pushed up and underwear discarded. His movements were tentative at first, ensuring you were comfortable, but soon his thrusts grew harder, more desperate.

"Fuck, feels so good." He moaned out in a smile. He wanted you like this for a while, and now he finally had it, even if Jaemin was there to see it. 

"Gonna cum, Haechan." You moaned out, throwing your head back on the cold, hard wall. 

"Me too." he whimpered, becoming undone as your walls clenched around him. 

"You gonna finish deep inside me, hm? Fill me up with your seed?" You whispered out in a breathy moan. 

"Fuck, yes." Haechan whimpered out, twitching inside of you as your stomach tightened. 

Jaemin just watched the scene unfold, his cock twitching as he looked at the both of you moving on each other. He didn't want to admit it, but it was hotter than he imagined.

Haechan finished in you, taking a deep breath as he twitched in you for a second. You both came down from your highs, avoiding eye contact as he exited you.

"Well, that was worth watching." Jaemin spoke. "Now you two get cleaned up and meet me in the office. I have some news." You two obliged, getting cleaned up before meeting the others in the office. ══════════════════════════

The door swung open, and the room fell silent as Jaemin stepped in, his presence commanding as ever. His sharp gaze swept across everyone, warning them not to interrupt.

"Good to see everyone working so hard." Jaemin said with a faint smirk, his tone deceptively light. He sauntered toward your desk, stopping in front of you with an unreadable expression. "Y/n, stand up."

Confused, you obeyed, your eyes flickering to Haechan, who was already frowning. Mark and Chenle exchanged glances, but no one said anything.

Jaemin cleared his throat, placing a hand on your shoulder as he addressed the room. "I wanted to let you all know that Y/n will no longer be working here."

The air grew thick, you stiffening as your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

"What?" Haechan's voice was sharp, breaking the stunned silence. He stood up, his jaw clenched as he stared at Jaemin.

Jaemin smiled faintly, ignoring Haechan's outburst. "She's moving in with me."

Mark's eyes widened, and Chenle shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Jisung stared at the floor, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze. No one dared to speak out, but their unease was intense.

"Jaemin, I—" You started to say, but his hand tightened on your shoulder, silencing you.

"It's not up for discussion." Jaemin said, his gaze locking with Haechan's. "She'll be safer with me, and I'm sure you all understand that."

Haechan took a step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "You can't just—"

"Haechan." Jaemin's voice was calm but carried an edge of warning. "It's done. You should be glad I'm looking after her."

You glanced at Haechan, seeing the hurt and anger swirling in his eyes. He looked at you with betrayal.

"Y/n." Jaemin said, his tone softening slightly as he turned to you. "Go wait for me outside. I'll join you in a moment."

You hesitated, looking back at Haechan, who shook his head slightly, as if begging you not to go, but you nodded at Jaemin and walked out of the room, your heart heavy.

The hallway was quiet, but you could hear Haechan's heavy footsteps behind you before he even said a word. You turned, catching the stormy look on his face as he approached.

"Y/n." He said, his voice low. "What the hell are you doing? You can't just go with him."

You blinked, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Why not? He's just being protective, right? I mean, he said I'll be safer with him." You shrugged, forcing a smile. "Makes sense to me."

Haechan stared at you like you'd just grown a second head. "Are you serious right now? You really think Jaemin's doing this out of the goodness of his heart?"

You tilted your head. "Well... yeah? I mean, he's been really sweet to me. Maybe he just, I don't know, likes me?"

Haechan let out a bitter laugh, rubbing his hand over his face. "Y/n, he doesn't like anyone. He doesn't care about anyone. You're not moving in with him because he's sweet on you—you're moving in with him because he wants to control you."

"That's a little dramatic." You said, crossing your arms. "He hasn't done anything to hurt me."

"Yet." Haechan snapped. "He hasn't done anything yet. Do you know how many people have gone to Jaemin's house and never been seen again? Do you know what kind of man he really is?"

You sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. "Haechan, you're worrying over nothing. I'll be fine. He's not going to do anything to me—I mean, I survived last time, didn't I?"

"That's not the point!" Haechan snapped. "You're not taking this seriously, Y/n. He's dangerous. This isn't some fairytale where everything turns out fine just because you smile and say you'll be okay."

"I am okay." You insisted, your tone firm but still lighthearted. "You're just overthinking it. Jaemin likes me, and he's not going to hurt me. I mean, come on—look at me. Who would want to hurt this?" You gestured to yourself, flashing him a playful grin.

Haechan's jaw tightened, his frustration through the roof. "This isn't a joke Y/n. I'm not 'overthinking it.' I'm telling you you're walking straight into a trap, and you're acting like it's nothing."

You softened a little, stepping even closer. "Haechan, I get it. You're worried about me, and I appreciate that, but I need you to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"No, you don't." He said flatly, his voice dropping. "You don't know anything about what you're doing. You're just... you're just trusting him like he hasn't already shown you who he is."

"I trust myself." You said, your tone turning stubborn. "And I trust you to be there for me if something does go wrong."

His eyes softened for just a moment before hardening again. "You shouldn't have to count on me to save you. You should listen to me before it gets to that point."

You shrugged, offering him a small, almost apologetic smile. "But where's the fun in that?"

"Y/n." He said sharply, stepping closer so you could see the anger and hurt in his eyes. "I'm not kidding. This isn't a game. If you go with him, I don't know if I'll be able to protect you. I don't know if I'll even see you again."

Your chest tightened at the raw emotion in his voice, but you kept your expression light. "You're being dramatic again. I'll be fine Haechan. I promise."

He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face as if trying to find some crack in your confidence. Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're impossible, you know that? If anything happens to you—"

"Nothing's going to happen." You interrupted, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "I'll be fine. You'll see."

He didn't look convinced, but he finally stepped back, letting you go. "Just... don't forget what I said." He said quietly, pulling you into a long hug. 

"I won't." You said holding him tightly, offering him one last smile before heading back to Jaemin.

As you walked away, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Haechan might be right—and that your stubbornness might cost you more than you were willing to admit. ══════════════════════════

At first, Jaemin's house felt almost like a dream. The kind of dream that was too extravagant to be real. He gave you the best room, stocked it with things he said he'd noticed you liked—your favorite snacks, clothes that fit perfectly, and books you'd mentioned in passing. The fridge was always full, the view from the balcony was breathtaking, and Jaemin himself was, well, everything you thought he'd be: charming, attentive, even affectionate.

For a while, it was easy to forget Haechan's warnings, but as the weeks passed little things started to feel... off.

It began with Jaemin's schedule. He started coming home later and later, offering vague excuses about "business." When you asked for more details, he'd give you a pointed look and a dismissive, "Don't worry about it."

Then there were the boundaries—ones you didn't even realize he'd set until you accidentally crossed them.

One day, you'd decided to take a walk around the neighborhood, needing some fresh air. When you got back, Jaemin was waiting for you in the living room, his posture unnerving.

"Where were you?" He asked, his tone calm but cold.

"Just outside." You said, shrugging. "I needed some fresh air."

"Next time, tell me first." He said, his voice dangerously quiet.

You blinked. "I didn't think it was a big deal—"

"It is." He interrupted, his eyes locking on yours. "You don't leave this house without telling me. Understood?"

The weight of his stare made your stomach twist, but you nodded. "Ok."

After that, things escalated.

One evening, you had gotten a call from Haechan. He wanted to check in, to make sure you were okay. Jaemin walked in while you were still on the phone, and the look on his face made your blood run cold.

"Who was that?" He asked once you hung up.

"Haechan." You said honestly. "He just wanted to see how I was doing."

Jaemin didn't say anything at first, but the tension in the room was suffocating. Finally, he leaned against the counter, his gaze sharp.

"You don't need to talk to him anymore." He said flatly.

You frowned. "What? Why not? He's my friend."

"Not anymore." Jaemin said, his voice calm but firm. "You're with me now. You don't need him."

"Jaemin, you can't just—"

"I can." He cut you off. "And I am. If you're going to be here, you follow my rules. No Haechan."

You stared at him, your heart pounding. "This is ridiculous."

"Is it?" He asked, stepping closer. "Or are you just too stubborn to admit that I know what's best for you?"

The way he towered over you, his eyes dark, made your throat tighten. You wanted to argue, to push back, but something in his demeanor stopped you.

From then on, Jaemin's behavior grew more controlling. He wanted to know where you were at all times, who you were talking to, what you were doing. If you questioned him, his responses ranged from smooth and manipulative to outright threatening.

"You're lucky I'm patient with you." He'd say with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Most people wouldn't tolerate this kind of behavior."

Or, "I'm keeping you safe. You don't realize how dangerous things could get if you don't listen to me."

Every time you thought about leaving, Jaemin's words echoed in your mind. "Where would you go? Back to Haechan? Do you think he'd be able to protect you from me? From the people I know?"

He said it so casually, but the threat was clear.

One night, you sat alone in your room, staring out at the city lights. You felt like a bird in a gilded cage—trapped, isolated, and unsure of how you'd gotten here. Haechan's warnings played on a loop in your head, and for the first time, you started to wonder if he'd been right all along. ══════════════════════════

Jaemin was in an unusually good mood when he walked into the room that evening. His face lit up with a rare excitement. 

"Get dressed." He said, his tone almost playful. "We're having a dinner tonight."

You looked up from the book you were pretending to read, your heart sinking. "A dinner? With who?"

"Someone important." He said, brushing off your question with a wave of his hand. "Wear something nice. I want you to look stunning."

That familiar unease settled in your chest. Jaemin's version of "important" usually meant trouble, but you didn't argue. Instead, you forced a smile and got up, heading to the closet to find something appropriate.

An hour later, you found yourself sitting in a private dining room of an upscale restaurant, your nerves on edge. Across from you sat a man Jaemin introduced as Jeno, a name that didn't mean anything to you, but clearly held weight with Jaemin.

Jeno was polished, with a sharp suit and a demeanor that put you on edge. He and Jaemin chatted easily, their conversation littered with inside jokes and references to "opportunities" and "potential".

"So." Jaemin said suddenly, turning to you with a wide smile. "I've been telling Jeno about you. He's impressed."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Impressed with what?"

"With your adaptability." Jaemin said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "And your loyalty. Those are rare qualities."

Jeno nodded, his gaze piercing. "Jaemin speaks highly of you. That's not something he does often."

You offered a polite smile, but your palms were sweating. Something about the way they were both looking at you made you feel like a pawn in a game you didn't understand.

After dessert, Jaemin finally got to the point. "Jeno has a proposition for us." He said, his tone casual but his eyes glinting with something sharper. "An opportunity to make more money than we've ever dreamed of. Filthy rich."

Jeno chuckled, raising his glass in agreement.

"But it's not something we can do here," Jaemin continued, his gaze fixed on you. "We would have to move. Start fresh in a different country. Somewhere far from all of this."

Your stomach dropped. "Move? Where?"

"Europe, most likely." Jeno said, his voice smooth. "The details are still being finalized, but it's an opportunity you wouldn't want to miss."

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your growing unease. "This sounds... big."

"It is." Jaemin said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It's everything we've been working toward. This could change our lives Y/n."

Your heart was pounding, but you nodded along, not trusting yourself to say anything else.

That night, back at the house you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"You can't be serious about this." You said as Jaemin poured himself a drink.

He glanced at you, his expression already stiffening. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because it's insane." You said, your voice rising. "Moving our lives, moving to a different country... It's too much."

"It's not too much." He said, his tone sharp. "It's a chance to have everything we've ever wanted."

"Everything you've ever wanted." You corrected, crossing your arms. "You didn't even ask me if I wanted this."

Jaemin slammed his glass down on the counter, making you jump. "What do you think this has all been for? The late nights, the risks, the sacrifices? Do you think I'm doing this just for me?"

"I don't know Jaemin." You said, your voice trembling. "Sometimes it feels like you don't care what I want."

He took a step closer, his gaze dark. "You don't know what you want. That's the problem. You're scared of taking risks, of stepping out of your comfort zone, but I'm not. I see the bigger picture, and I'm trying to bring you along with me."

"I'm not scared." You shot back, though your voice lacked conviction.

"Then prove it." He said, his voice softening slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. "Trust me. I've never steered you wrong before, have I?"

You hesitated, your mind racing.

Jaemin's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your heart ache. "I'm doing this for us." He said, his voice low and persuasive. "I want to build a life with you. Don't you want that too?"

Your defenses faded under the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze. You wanted to believe him, to trust that he had your best interests at heart.

"Ok." You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."

A slow satisfied smile spread across his face. "That's my girl." 

But as he pulled you into his arms, a pit of unease settled in your stomach. ══════════════════════════ The Europe deal was finalized. Jaemin had been talking about it all morning, logistics and plans, leaving no room for hesitation. His excitement was infectious, but you couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort in your chest.

As he left to finalize more details with Jeno, you stood in the lavish bedroom he had claimed as yours and stared at your phone. It was time. You had texted Haechan. 

"Can you come over?"

It took a moment before the three dots appeared on the screen.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

You hesitated. Telling him the truth felt too dangerous, but you couldn't lie to him either.

"I'm fine. Just come. I'll send the address."

"I'm on my way. Don't ring the doorbell? Got it, but you're scaring me."

You smiled faintly, shaking your head. That was so like Haechan—always worrying about you, always trying to fix things.

The minutes ticked by slowly after you sent him the address. Your heart pounded in your chest, equal parts excitement and dread. You knew Jaemin would be dangerous if you didn't execute things right, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, it was time.

When you finally heard the soft knock on the balcony door, you exhaled sharply and hurried over to open it. Haechan stepped inside, his eyes immediately scanning your face.

"You scared me." He said, his voice low but firm. "Why did you call me here?"

You didn't answer right away. Instead, you grabbed his wrist and led him deeper into the room, shutting the door firmly behind you.

"Y/n, talk to me. You stopped talking to me before, so why now?" He urged, his brows furrowed.

Before you could answer, you both froze. The sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hall, followed by the unmistakable voice of Jaemin.

"Y/n?" His tone was sharp, suspicious. You could hear the anger simmering beneath it. "What the hell is going on in there? Open the door."

Haechan's eyes widened, but you simply smiled, reaching up to lock the door.

"Y/n." Jaemin growled from the other side, rattling the handle. "Open this door right now."

"Sit down." You murmured to Haechan, your tone almost playful.

"What?!" He hissed, his panic barely contained.

"Sit down." You repeated, your hand on his chest as you pushed him gently back onto the bed.

"Y/n, I swear to God, if you don't open this door—" Jaemin's voice rose, his fist banging against the wood.

You ignored him entirely, your focus solely on Haechan. His eyes darted nervously to the door, but when your lips met his, all his resistance melted away.

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" He whispered against your lips, his voice a mix of disbelief and desire.

"I missed you." You murmured, climbing onto his lap, feeling the warmth radiate from his body.

The banging on the door grew louder, Jaemin's voice a scream now. "Y/n, I'm not playing games with you. Open this damn door!"

But you didn't care. For the first time in months, you felt free.

"Y/n, I don't think this is the time. We have to get out of here." Haechan muttered, a hint of concern lacing his words.

"Do you not miss me too?" You asked, your voice soft, yet teasing as you pushed him down onto his back, your body hovering over him.

"Of course I miss you." He responded, his breath hitching as he gazed into your eyes.

"Then shut up and kiss me." You replied, your heart racing as you leaned in, capturing his lips with yours once more.

When his lips met yours, it was as if the world outside ceased to exist. The frantic knocking and Jaemin's angry shouts faded into the background.

Haechan wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you as close as he could. You fumbled with the button of his jeans, unzipping them with trembling fingers as your lips remained locked together, lost in each other.

With a swift motion, you pulled down his pants and underwear, and he mirrored your actions, shedding your own clothes in a flurry of urgency and desire. 

He sat up, holding you securely in his lap as you sank down onto him, both of you letting out a long awaited moan that lingered in the air.

"Fuck, I miss you so much." He whimpered, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours, eyes filled with a mix of passion and lust.

"I missed you too baby. I told you I'd be fine." You smiled, leaning into him again, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

As you began to move, the moans that escaped your lips grew louder, a deliberate tease for Jaemin outside, who was still banging on the door.

"I'm almost there." You moaned, breaking the kiss and resting your head in the crook of his neck, feeling the tension coil tightly in your stomach as you clenched around him.

"Me too." He whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. He held you tightly as you both rode out your highs together, lost in a world that was just the two of you.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—no angry knocks, no outside world—just the intoxicating connection between you and Haechan.  ══════════════════════════

"Haechan, you have to go." You whispered, removing yourself from on top of him.

"Y/n, this is insane." He whispered fiercely, his eyes wide with fear and frustration. "We need to leave together. He's going to kill you!"

You stepped closer to him, your hands brushing his as you looked into his panicked eyes. "No Haechan. You need to leave. Go to the casino and wait for me there. I'll handle this."

"Handle this? Y/n, you're not listening! You can't face Jaemin alone!" His voice cracked as he spoke with despair.

You placed a hand on his cheek, trying to calm him. "I know you're scared. I am too, but I need you to trust me ok? I've got this."

His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. "Let me be the one to face him. Please. If anyone's going to take the risk—"

"No." You cut him off firmly. "This is my fight Haechan. I need you to leave now. If you stay, you'll only make things worse."

He stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he let out a shaky breath and nodded. "Fine, but if you're not at the casino in an hour I'm coming back for you. I mean it."

You gave him a small reassuring smile. "I'll be there."

Reluctantly he climbed over the balcony railing, glancing back at you one last time before disappearing.

You turned back to the door, unlocking it and stepping aside just as Jaemin stormed in, his eyes full of fury. He scanned the room quickly, his gaze snapping to you.

"Where is he?" He demanded, his voice low.

"He's gone." You said calmly, crossing your arms.

Jaemin's expression darkened, and in a swift motion, he pulled a gun from the back of his waistband, pointing it directly at you.

"Don't lie to me." He growled.

Your heart pounded, but you didn't flinch. Instead, you stepped forward, closing the gap between you and the barrel of the gun. "Shoot me then." You said, your voice steady.

Jaemin's hand trembled, the gun shaking slightly as he stared at you in disbelief. "You think I won't?"

"I think you won't." You said, your eyes locked on his. "Because you need me."

For a moment, he stood frozen, the weight of your words sinking in. Then with a frustrated growl he lowered the gun, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" He snapped, running a hand through his hair. "I'm trying to protect you—to take care of you. Don't you see that?"

You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. "Protect me? Jaemin the only person you care about protecting is yourself. All of this—Europe, the business—it's not about us. It's about you and your greed."

"You're wrong." He insisted, stepping closer. His voice softened, dripping with fake sincerity. "We could have everything together Y/n. Power, money, freedom. Just say yes and I'll give you the world."

But weren't falling for it. You stepped back, your expression cold. "No Jaemin. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to Europe, transfer all your assets to the casino and you're signing it over to Haechan."

His face twisted in anger. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you really think I'd give everything up because you asked me to?"

He stepped closer, his tone turning darker. "If you think you can threaten me you're wrong. I'll kill you, and Haechan too."

You smirked, unbothered by his threats. "You won't touch either of usJaemin. Because if anything happens to me, there are people who will make sure you pay for it. Dirty cops, powerful people. They'll come for you—and only you."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" You challenged. "Go ahead. Try me. You'll find out just how serious I am."

For the first time, Jaemin hesitated, the confidence in his demeanor fading. He stared at you, his mind clearly racing.

"You're lucky I'm keeping you alive." You said, your voice low and sharp. "Because you didn't have the decency to do the same."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

You tilted your head, your smirk growing. "Do you seriously not remember my face?"

Jaemin's expression froze. For a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes, but just as quickly he composed himself, his lips curling into a bitter smile.

"I don't know how I could forget." He said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Guess I didn't look that deep in your eyes."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "Well, you should've because now those eyes are the last thing you'll ever underestimate."

Jaemin's smirk fell, and for the first time, you felt the power shift entirely into your hands. ══════════════════════════

The casino buzzed with its usual energy, but all eyes turned to the center of the room when Jaemin strode in with you at his side. He walked with purpose, his expression a mix of authority and resignation. The usual crowd. Mark, Haechan, Jisung, Chenle, paused their work to watch as Jaemin climbed onto the small stage at the front of the room.

"I have an announcement to make." Jaemin began, his voice carrying across the space. "I am resigning and stepping away from the business. I'll be signing over the casino to Haechan, and after today you'll never see me again."

The room erupted in stunned murmurs. Jisung's jaw dropped, Chenle stared in disbelief, and Haechan blinked rapidly, trying to process what he just heard.

"You're signing it over to me?" Haechan asked.

Jaemin nodded. "Yes. I've decided that you're the best fit to take over."

Haechan shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't want it. Mark deserves it more than anyone. He's the one who's been running this place while the rest of us deal with... other things."

Mark's eyes widened. "Haechan...what?"

"You're the one who works the hardest." Haechan insisted. "This place wouldn't even function without you. You should take it."

Jaemin turned to you, his brows knitting together. "What do you think?"

You gave a small shrug, your expression calm. "That's fine with me."

Without further argument, Jaemin stepped down and signed the paperwork to transfer permanent ownership to Mark. The room was silent as he set down the pen and turned to face everyone.

"Guess that's it." Jaemin said, his voice tinged with something like relief. He looked at you, his smirk returning. "Can I at least get a kiss goodbye princess?"

You walked up to him, leaning in as if you were going to fulfill his request. Instead you whispered in his ear. "Fuck you." Before planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Stepping back, you waved with an exaggerated flourish.

"Goodbye Jaemin. Don't come back."

Jaemin chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You're a piece of work." With that he turned and left the casino, disappearing into the night for good.

Mark looked dazed, clutching the paperwork like he couldn't believe what just happened.

Haechan rushed to you, pulling you into a tight hug. "You're okay, I can't believe you pulled this off. How did you even do it?"

Chenle leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, what did you do? Spill."

You gave him a sly smile. "That's a secret."

Jisung shrugged. "That's fine. We're just glad you're back."

The group laughed, but the mood shifted when you cleared your throat. "Actually... I'm going back home."

The laughter stopped, and everyone stared at you.

"What?" Haechan asked, his voice low.

"I need to get away from all this." You said softly. "It's been... a lot. I just need some time to figure things out."

The room was quiet for a moment before Mark nodded. "We get it. You've been through so much. You deserve to take care of yourself."

Everyone murmured their agreement, but Haechan looked crushed. "You're leaving again? Y/n come on. You dropped out of school anyway—why not stay? Stay with me."

You gave him a small smile, touching his arm. "I need to do this Haechan. Please understand."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but we're driving to your apartment to get your stuff. I'm not letting you leave without spending time with you first."

You grinned. "Deal, but... can I drive your car?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to drive my car?"

"Yeah." You said grinning.

He hesitated, then handed you the keys with a playful eye roll. "Fine, don't crash it."

The drive to your apartment was smooth, the atmosphere between you and Haechan lighter than it had been in days. Once inside, the two of you collapsed onto the couch, the worry finally melting away.

Haechan leaned back, looking at you curiously. "Wait... How did you know how to get to the casino by yourself? I mean yeah, we've driven there a lot, but you can't even remember how to get to my place half the time."

Your smile fell for a moment, and you shifted in your seat. "If I tell you the truth, don't get mad, ok?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a teasing edge to his voice. "What did you do Y/n?" ══════════════════════════

The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Haechan stared at you from the couch, his brows furrowed with curiosity and confusion.

You took a deep breath, suddenly feeling the weight of the secret you'd carried for so long. You sat next to him, avoiding his gaze as you started.

"When I was 18 I lived in another state with my parents." You began, your voice soft but steady. "They were... rich. Very rich, but it wasn't clean money. They were involved in something shady, but they never told me what it was. I didn't ask—I didn't want to know."

Haechan's expression softened as he listened, sensing the shift in your tone.

"One night, I was in my room when I heard gunshots. I froze, I didn't know what to do. I peeked out of my door, and... I saw them. My parents lying there on the floor... dead."

Haechan's eyes widened, and his hand instinctively reached for yours.

"There were three men." You continued. "They were cleaning up the mess, moving things around, making it look like it didn't happen there, and then I saw him. The one in charge, and I remember his face so clearly... Jaemin."

He leaned back stunned. "Jaemin?"

You nodded. "I'll never forget that face. The way he looked so calm, so... collected. He even sat at my large family photo, looked at us smiling together and didn't care. I didn't know what to do so I ran. I left the state, and I spent months trying to figure out who he was and what my parents were involved in. That's how I found out about the underground casino."

Haechan stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he processed your words.

"I found out where it was and applied to a college nearby. I needed to get close to Jaemin, but I couldn't just walk into his life. So, I went to the casino to check it out. At first, I thought I had the wrong place. It looked like an ordinary gas station."

You gave a small, bitter laugh. "I was ready to call the cops and let them handle it, but then... by pure chance. I saw someone leaving through the back behind the beaded curtains... I saw you."

Haechan stiffened, realization dawning on him. "Wait... me?"

You nodded again. "I recognized you later at school. We had classes together, and I knew if I wanted in, I had to get close to you. So, I told you this elaborate story about being broke and needing money for tuition. I even thought you'd get suspicious because of my nice apartment, but you didn't. You felt sorry for me, and you trusted me. That's when you introduced me to the casino— you were my way in."

He blinked, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. "So... you used me."

"It wasn't like that." You said quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "At first yes, it was about Jaemin. The plan was always to take him down, but then I got to know you. I started to care about you a lot."

Haechan's jaw tightened, but he didn't pull away. "What's going to happen to Jaemin?"

"When he gets to Europe, he's going to be arrested. I've been working with people—dirty cops, private investigators. I made sure that he'll be broke, with no way to come back here or rebuild. Everyone here will be fine. The business is safe, and so are you."

Haechan looked down, shaking his head. "You planned all of this... from the beginning?"

"Yes." You admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I had to. He destroyed my family. But I promise you... I never meant to hurt you."

He was silent for a long moment before finally looking at you. "So what now? You're just... leaving?"

"I have to." You said softly. "This isn't my world. I've done what I needed to do. I need to go back home, to where I belong. But..." You hesitated, looking into his eyes. "If you want... you could come with me."

Haechan's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"I'm serious." You said with a small smile. "Come with me, stay with me. We can leave all of this behind and start over."

He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as he processed your words. "Ok." He said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Let's go."

The two of you packed up your things, leaving behind the chaos of the casino and everything it represented. Weeks later, you found yourselves in your home state, in a house far removed from the shadows of your past.

Haechan stood on the balcony, looking out at the peaceful view. "You know." He said, glancing back at you, "I never thought I'd end up here— with you."

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Me neither, but I'm glad we did."

He turned to you, his expression serious. "No more secret ok?"

"No more secrets." You promised.

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt free.

══════════════════════════

mafiadad5

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. This may sound a little dumb, but you are revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step !

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: airports and train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. If you can't, buy a gun. (Remember Alabama has a 99% acceptation rate, you can get one in 10 minutes.) I hate firearms, but the enemy will have them too. Arm yourself.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[dignitywhatdignity]

I'm a stay at home mom, and by necessary extension, a housewife.

I look like a fool in a flowy white sundress. I live in jeans and graphic t-shirts.

We don't have a backyard, much less a field of native wildflowers (I do try to grow native wildflowers in my shoebox-sized front garden).

I'm lucky, and also unlucky. My husband makes good enough money to support me not working; if I worked full time, I'd barely be covering daycare. I'm well aware how vulnerable that makes me.

I struggled, as a kid. I couldn't be a tomboy, because tomboy liked (and were good at) sports. I was a benchwarmer in softball. I lost every tennis match. I kept aging out of recreational and instructional leagues, and my parents and I agreed it was a waste of time and money for me to join competitive leagues, since I'd just be sitting there doing nothing. Even dance class, when it was obvious I was never going to compete, I was largely blown off by the instructors, who had future champions more worthy of the attention.

I wore a skirt every day -- school uniforms -- but i couldn't keep my knee socks up. I couldn't keep myself neat (typical adhd girl, I excelled in school as long as I could bite my nails or twirl my hair. So my nails and hair looked like shit).

I was among the top three in the class, with two boys. The boys hated me because I outperformed them. The girls... I think just didn't know what to do with me. I was probably annoying. I wasn't feminine enough. No doubt I was a bit of a know it all (but if you read books, you'd know it too! Why doesn't anyone else like books?!) .

It was a joke, an insult, to be romantically linked to me. "You like [dwd]!!!" What's wrong with you. "[Dwd] likes you!!!!" You poor asshole, stuck with her attention. One or two guys may have liked me and showed it in that toxic, abusive way boys were encouraged to in the 1990s. Or maybe they were just hateful, bullying shits. The two aren't mutually exclusive. In any event, I was clearly too ugly, too annoying, too smart for anyone to like.

And I wasn't about to change myself to get them to like me. I wouldn't have known how even if i wanted to.

So if someone said I looked good, they were clearly making fun of me. (Usually they were. Maybe sometimes they weren't. I still have a hard time telling the difference. Sometimes Husband calls me his "beauty queen of 18" and I'm like, "yes, I'm old and ugly, you don't need to tease me.")

In high school, I'd be in groups where I was the only girl among boys. If they didn't like you, they'd hit you or ignore you.

I'd be in groups where there were no guys, or only one guy. If they didn't like you, they'd swear you were their best friend and then, when your back was turned, declare you a bitch and a slut.

Never dated a guy from my own school. Anyone I did date was easily more awkward than i was. And I didn't have a serious boyfriend until shortly before graduation.

So in college I was definitely "not like other girls". The sororities didn't want me. I didn't wear uggs and booty shorts to class; neither did I join the rugby team and show up wearing sweatpants and bruises. My circle of friends was mostly guys; even after I wised up, my wedding party was, too.

I don't want a fucking homestead. I'm barely treading water keeping my house clean as it is. Bread from scratch and homemade jam? I cook three days a week; enjoy your leftovers and sandwiches.

I still don't have as many friends as I'd like, and none of us relate to each other. B is a divorced mom with a high-powered job who is a devoted mom when she has custody and wild when her kid is with dad. A is a single mom by choice with a high-powered job, generational wealth, and a ton of family support. K1 and her husband moved to another city; their jobs are there to subsidized their hobbies: hiking, gourmet cooking, crafts. K2 and her husband...might be homesteading; they bought a big piece of land for babies and dogs to run free on. D and her husband are definitely homesteading, but she's the breadwinner and he's the homemaker; if you dared him, I am *sure* he'd run around in their field of wildflowers wearing a white sundress.

All this to say:

I'm a housewife.

I'm a cis woman.

I have never in my life done femininity "right" and I am too old and too tired to start now.

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[umamaki]

THE SWEETHEART GRIP

one way soldiers kept their loved ones close during battle was by inserting a photo of them under a clear grip of either plexiglass or acrylic on their pistols. this is known as the sweetheart grip.

l&ds sylus x reader

me finding out about anything: how can i make this about love and deepspace... and yes i am american. yes i still don't respect anyone involved in or supporting the military leave me alone.

divider

So... Sylus definitely has a sweetheart grip of you. On all of his guns, actually. And you're not even aware of it.

They're all his favorite photos of you. Pictures of you on dates, selfies you've posted on social media, polaroids he's taken of you after sex.

He's insanely adept at weapons assembly so of coursee all his stuff is custom. Takes them apart, adds tributes of you, puts them back together.

You know he STAYS strapped. Always has a gun on him, always has a piece of you with him. As if your souls are not literally bound together. Whatever. He needs a physical reminder I guess. Can't go anywhere without some sort of keepsake. Keeps him sane.

Likes keeping his weapons clean; never lets your image get bloody, wet, scratched, foggy. Carries around a cloth to wipe away at any imperfections. Would never ruin your picture like that. Spends a modest chunk of his day making sure they're clean to his liking. It's so canon, have you seen this man during the in-game study and work feature even??!

Looks at your pretty picture all the time. Whips out his gun as if it’s his phone. Professional meetings, philanthropy galas, you name it. Intimidates everyone around him in doing so, thinking he's gonna shoot them—not that they would say that to his face—but no. He simply misses your cute face. Just wants a reminder of who's waiting at home for him.

Looks at your picture while he aims his gun at someone's head. Asks himself if this is what you would want. Shoots them anyways lol. Uses his palm to cover your photo as he pulls the trigger, careful to not taint your darling image with his enemy's blood.

You're bound to find out. He doesn't hide the fact from you, doesn't flaunt it either, so it's a while before you do end up finding your face staring back at you whilst looking through his armory.

"Sylus, what is this?" You ask, holding up the pistol so he can see.

"It's you, do you like it?"

"Well yes, I can see that it's me. Why is my face on your gun? And why am I naked in this one?"

"Technically your face is on all of my guns, sweetheart. That one's just my favorite." As if it's the most obvious fact in the world.

"... You did this yourself?"

"Absolutely. Do you not like it?"

"It's not that, but..." he waits, then the last thing he would expect you to say comes from your mouth, "...can you do this to my guns?"

He laughs, booming and robust, "why? You want my nudes on your guns? You must like me a lot, huh?"

It's enough for you to give him a slap on his bicep. "Fine. Nevermind. Don't know why I even asked."

He's still laughing as he pulls you into his body. He tickles your stomach, turning your pout into your own set of giggles, "I'm teasing, sweetheart. You can use as many nudes of me as you want. Shall we begin now?"

He jolts his hips up to your body, catching you off guard. He's noticeably hard now, tent in his pants evident. You get the hint.

“Why wait when we’re already here?”

“That’s the spirit, sweetheart.”

[dirtyyoungthingg]

its been a long day. between school and extracurriculars, i am exhausted and stressed. i need a release. bad.

what better way to relieve my stress than fucking myself silly?

i walk into my bedroom, already smiling thanks to the plan my sweet little brain came up with. my smile drops when i realize you're sitting on my bed.

next to my toys.

"d-dad...--"

"what the fuck are these, hm?" you gesture to the two toys on the bed. i immediately shrink into myself, embarrassed.

"...dunno...."

"dont play dumb with me." you stand and grab a fistful of my hair, bringing my gaze up to meet yours. you glance back over at the toys. "do you even know how to use those?" nervously, i nod.

"i-i'm a big girl."

you can't help but smile a little. "yeah?" you throw me down onto the bed. "show dad. let me see you be a big girl, and maybe i'll let you keep these." i scramble onto my back, my heart pounding in my ears as i try to wrap my brain around whats happening.

my dad wants to watch me fuck myself.... my thighs squeeze together as you settle onto the foot of the bed. you tut at me and place your hands on my knees.

"don't be shy now. its nothing i havent seen before." your mind flashes back to our special bathtimes. how you loved catching glimpses of my sweet little pussy underneath the bubbles. how you'd use your special soap on me, as long as i didnt tell anyone.

"but dad--"

you spread my legs open suddenly, my skirt raising to show off my printed pink panties. "shut the fuck up. take those off." my face is flushed as i comply, sliding out of my panties. you grab them from me and bring them to your nose. "god... you always smell so good." i shiver at the cold air hitting my wet cunt. you set the panties down and reach to rub your thumb lightly against my sweet little pussy lips. your other hand moves to grab the first toy, a small bullet vibrator. you smile at it for a moment. "where'd you get this guy, huh?"

"th-the mall... one of the stores sells stuff like that in the back..." you turn it on, and a small but consistent buzzing sound fills the air. you raise your eyebrows as you click it back off.

"not bad." you press it into my hands. "go on. show me how you use it."

i feel dizzy, nervous. this is wrong, you shouldnt be making me do this. and yet, i'm so wet, and i was planning on playing with myself anyway... maybe its not so bad that dad's here.... i bite my lower lip as i turn the small vibe back on and begin to run it over my little pussy lips. a breath catches in my throat when i brush over my swollen clit. you take another deep breath from my panties as you watch, palming yourself through your pants. i press the vibe to my clit as i watch. "g-god... dad...."

"thaaaaat's right baby. just like that." you unbuckle your belt and pull your cock out, wrapping the soft pink fabric of my panties around the length of it as you begin to pump your cock with your fist. the sight is making me lightheaded with lust. i squirm as the vibrator presses harder onto my clit, letting out a moan. "good girl..."

you glance over at the other toy, a sizable dildo. you grab it with your other hand and look down at my glistening cunt. so small and sweet... "...can you even fit this in that sweet little hole, baby?"

i sheepishly look away, shaking my head no. "so-sometimes if i try i can get it halfway in, but it really hurts..." you can't help but laugh a little.

"you just need daddy's help, baby." you grab the vibrator and click it off. i can't help but whimper a little and squirm at the lack of touch. you smile. "turn over, raise that cute little ass up for me." i comply, rolling over onto my stomach and putting my ass up in the air. my skirt from school is still on, and you have to slide it up so you can get to my bare ass. yet another reminder that i'm your daughter, your baby... you shouldn't be doing this... and yet you continue.

you use the head of the dildo and lazily drag it over my opening, humming softly as you see the wetness that collects on the toy. "you're so wet... i'm sure we could fit this in if we tried. you're a big girl, right? thats why you have these toys?" i nod, too flustered to really speak.

"i-i'm a big girl..."

"that's right baby. you're a big girl. and that's why you're gonna take all of this, deep inside your sweet little kiddo cunt." you press the toy into me, slowly, working it in and out of my pussy bit by bit. my eyes screw shut as i whine. i'm still just so tight, so small... you bite your lower lip in concentration as you press the dildo even further inside me suddenly. i gasp and try to squirm away. it's too much, too deep...! i am met with a swift slap on my ass that makes me yelp and causes tears to spring from my eyes.

"ah-ah. that's enough of that, young lady." your tone is gruff, and makes me shudder inwardly. you manhandle me back into the proper position. "you wanted to be a big girl. owning these toys, fucking yourself with them. acting like such a whore. you're lucky this is how i'm choosing to correct this behavior." you smack the other cheek to punctuate your point. "i could've just thrown you down, raped you right here." you begin to thrust the dildo in and out of my cunt quickly, ignoring my pleas for you to stop. "coulda just taken everything ive ever wanted. your mouth, your pussy, your ass..."

i'm sobbing at this point as you relentlessly fuck me with the toy. "coulda treated you like the whore you are. traipsing around with those little skirts, those tiny tops that leave nothing to your father's imagination, much less anyone elses." you've driven the toy all the way into me at this point. i'm crying, my brain overloaded from pain and pleasure.

"t-too m-much--! p-please, stop!"

"shut the fuck up." you use your free hand to press my face into the pillows. "god, do you ever stop talking?" the toys pace is too much. you notice how much i'm clenching around it. "and look at that. you're close. you can't be having that bad of a time if you're that close to cumming while your dad plays with you how he sees fit." my cries are muffled by the pillows as i beg you over and over to stop, please god stop, it's too much.

"no, baby. i'm not gonna stop. not until you cum all over your special big girl toy for daddy. c'mon, i know you want to. you know you want to. cum for me. cum for dad."

and just like that, the dizzying feeling reaches its peak. i cum with the toy deep inside me, my sweet cries ringing out as i throw my head back. you slow your movements down until you stop.

"that's my girl." you slide the dildo out of my cunt. "i knew you could do it. and look at that! you took the whole thing! such a big girl for daddy, such a good girl."

i'm too much of a dazed mess to fight you off as you slide your pants down and position yourself over me. you line your cock up with my twitching cunt, humming softly.

"now i get to show you that you don't need those silly toys. all a girl needs is her father."

[ch0llies]

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO PT.2

read part one here

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: oral (fem reviving), masterbation, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 6k

ib: @ariestrxsh ‘s young god

You pause in the doorway, your breath catching at his words. Earn it? Your stomach twists. Matt watches you with that lazy, knowing smirk that makes your skin itch.

Your fingers tighten on the doorframe. “How do I… earn it?”

Matt’s smirk deepens. He steps forward, closing the space between you just enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw, barely touching but enough to make you feel dizzy.

“You’ll know,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “When you deserve it, I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath shudders, heat crawling up your spine. You don’t even know what you’re asking for but the way he’s looking at you, the way your entire body is reacting, makes you desperate to find out.

You swallow hard, shifting on your feet. “But-”

Matt just chuckles, shaking his head as he backs away, hands sliding into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. You look down. His arousal is gone now, or at least, hidden well enough that he’s in control again. Unlike you.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.”

His voice is final, dismissive, like he’s already won whatever game you didn’t realize you were playing.

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a second longer before turning on shaky legs, stepping out into the hallway and returning to your room.

The next morning you try to act like nothing happened, but the moment you step into the kitchen and see Matt leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, wearing that damn fitted black tank top and grey sweatpants again, you feel your entire body react.

His gaze flicks to you immediately.

He notices the way you freeze.

The way your thighs instinctively press together.

The way your lips part slightly, like you’re remembering exactly what they felt like against his.

He smirks. Like he knows. Like he owns every single thought running through your head.

Your brother, completely oblivious, slaps Matt on the back as he walks past. “Dude, you good? You look like you slept like shit.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still locked onto yours and that’s when you finally notice the deep purple eyebags under his eyes. He always had eyebags, but your brother was right. These looked worse.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Didn’t get much sleep. Mind was elsewhere.”

Your breath catches.

Your brother shrugs, already grabbing cereal from the cabinet. “I told you not to stay up. We gotta commute back to campus tomorrow morning. We only got today to get our sleep schedule back in check.”

Matt exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his smirk growing as he watches you shift on your feet, still burning under his gaze.

You sit at the kitchen table, trying so hard to act normal, to pretend that your body doesn’t still burn from last night. But it’s impossible when Matt keeps looking at you like that- like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, exactly what your body still craves.

“What the fuck?!”

Your brother’s sharp voice shatters the illusion, making you flinch. Your eyes snap to him just as he’s stepping closer, his expression twisted in disbelief, his gaze locked onto you.

No- your neck.

Your stomach plummets.

His eyes widen, his jaw tightening as he glares at the unmistakable mark just beneath your jawline. The dark, deep, evidence of everything you were trying to keep secret.

Panic floods you.

“I-”

“Who the fuck did this?” His voice is sharp, angry, his fists clenching at his sides.

You freeze, heart hammering, throat dry. You can’t say Matt.

Matt is right there.

Standing beside you, silent. His expression unreadable. He’s watching you, waiting- not stepping in, not making excuses, just waiting to see what you’ll do.

You scramble for something- anything- to say, but before you can, your brother scoffs, his lip curling in disgust.

“You kidding me right now?” His voice is lower now, sharp with anger. “You know who gets hickeys?” He takes a step closer, voice cold “Sluts.”

Your stomach drops.

Heat rushes to your face- not from embarrassment, but from humiliation. You shake your head quickly, trying to explain, but nothing comes out.

Matt stiffens beside you.

“Yo,” his voice is calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Lay off, dude”

Your brother whips his head toward him, eyes blazing. “Excuse me?”

Matt crosses his arms, jaw tight. “She’s eighteen now, man. She can make her own decisions.”

Your brother laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, fuck off with that bullshit, Matt. That’s still my sister.” His glare snaps back to you. “And you? You let some random asshole mark you up like that?”

You flinch, your breath shuddering. “I-”

“You have no fucking self-respect, do you?”

Your throat tightens, burns. Your hands tremble as you grip the table, heat stinging behind your eyes. You feel exposed, humiliated, like a child being scolded for something you barely even understand.

Matt’s jaw flexes, his fists clenching at his sides. His whole body tenses, like he’s barely keeping himself in check. But he still doesn’t step in. Not unless you decide you want him to.

Because this is your secret to tell.

Your brother scoffs again, shaking his head. “Fucking pathetic.”

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you shove yourself up, your vision blurring. “Fuck you.” Your voice cracks, half anger, half tears, but you don’t care.

You turn on your heel and storm out.

You hear Matt curse under his breath, hear your brother mutter something, but you don’t stop. You run down the hall, slamming your door shut behind you before collapsing onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow as hot, embarrassed tears spill down your cheeks.

It was late now. Almost midnight- maybe even one in the morning. You’ve barely moved from your bed since breakfast, too embarrassed, too humiliated to face anyone, especially Matt.

He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t defend you the way you wished, but he also didn’t throw you under the bus. He let you decide whether or not to reveal what happened. But still some part of it was just so embarrassing.

The house is quiet, everyone already in bed. You shift under the covers, your oversized t-shirt sliding against your bare skin, your thigh-high socks still hugging your legs, providing some comfort.

The door creaks open.

A dark figure slips inside, moving carefully, deliberately. The door shuts again with a soft click and you hear the lock slide shortly after.

Your heart stammers, your stomach flipping as the shadow moves closer, the dim light from the hallway illuminating just enough of his face.

Matt.

You sit up quickly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, your voice a hushed whisper. “Matt?”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice low, soothing.

Your pulse races as he steps closer…. closer…. until he’s right in front of you.

He drops to his knees.

Your breath stutters.

He’s kneeling in front of you, his broad hands and long fingers resting on your thighs, his eyes flickering up to yours, dark and unreadable.

Your lips part, confusion swirling in your chest. “What are you-”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, rough around the edges, like he’s been holding onto the words all day. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, his gaze never leaving yours.

“For what?” you murmur, genuinely confused.

“For leaving marks,” he says, his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You blink, still dazed. “I- I didn’t even know they were there.”

Matt exhales sharply, his jaw clenching.

“I don’t even really know what hickeys are,” you admit, your voice small, unsure.

His lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like your innocence physically pains him. Then, slowly, he drops his forehead onto your thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“I’m still sorry,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your legs. “It’s my fault.”

Your stomach flutters, your fingers twitching at your sides. You should probably be upset. But all you can focus on is the weight of his head resting against your thighs, the way his hands grip you so gently, as if he’s afraid to hold you too tight.

“It… didn’t hurt or anything,” you murmur.

Matt huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, his breath hot against your bare legs. “That’s not the point, angel.”

There’s a pause, heavy, thick with something you don’t understand.

“What did it feel like?”

Your fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets, your legs pressing together slightly on instinct. You weren’t expecting that question.

“I…. I don’t know,” you stammer, heat creeping up your neck.

Matt lifts his head slightly, his dark eyes flickering up to yours, waiting. “Yes, you do,” he murmurs.

You exhale shakily, your entire body buzzing. You hesitate, then admit, “It… felt like it did yesterday.”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. His fingers flex against your thighs, his grip tightening just slightly. “And what was that?”

Your lips part, but the words won’t come. You’re too flustered, too hot, your thighs squeezing together again as the memory of last night floods your mind.

Matt just watches you.

“Warm,” you whisper, barely audible. “And… and needy.”

His jaw clenches, his fingers sliding higher.

“Where?”

You suck in a breath, unable to say it, so instead, you let your gaze flicker downward. Down to where his hands are still crawling up your thighs, where the warmth is building again, pulsing, aching.

Matt follows your gaze, and when he looks back up at you, his expression changes.

He moves slowly and lowers his head, his breath warm as his lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your fingers dig into the sheets, your stomach flipping, your entire body locking up as he keeps going.

Lower.

Lower.

Until his nose brushes the soft crevice between your thighs, his face pressing directly against the heat radiating from your core.

Your breath shatters.

Matt doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

Just stays there.

Breathing you in.

Letting you feel it.

Your entire body tenses, frozen in place, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

He does nothing. Just lets the weight of his presence sink into you. Like he’s claiming you. Without even touching you.

Matt stays still for a moment, just breathing against you, the warmth of his face pressing into the heat radiating from your core. His grip on your thighs tightens, and then slowly he nuzzles his head deeper, his nose pressing against the soft, sensitive space between your legs.

A soft, strained groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your skin.

Your entire body jolts, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as your back arches involuntarily, your fingers gripping the sheets for something to ground you.

“Matt…” your voice comes out breathy, shaking. “Why are you… putting your head… there?”

He doesn’t answer.

Not at first.

He just stays there, pressed against you, breathing you in like he needs it, like the heat between your thighs is suffocating him but he still wants more.

Slowly, he lifts his head.

His pupils are blown, dark and hungry, his cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly as his gaze locks onto yours. His breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His voice is thick, strained.

“Because it doesn’t just make me feel warm and needy.” His grip on you tightens, his jaw clenching. “No… it makes me feel even better than on fire.”

Your lips part, your stomach twisting. “Even better than on fire?”

Matt exhales sharply, his eyes flickering down, back to where his face had just been.

Then without hesitation he drops his head again, his nose pressing into you even firmer this time. His arms slide around you, wrapping around your lower back, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his face like he needs to feel you.

You let out a small, shaky whimper as your body jerks forward, pressing even more against him.

Matt groans again, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath hot against you.

“Yes,” he rasps, voice muffled against your thighs. “Even better than on fire.”

Matt stays pressed against you, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive heat between your thighs. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer.

And then he pushes his nose deeper.

A sharp, unexpected shock runs through you as he nudges against something sensitive, something that makes your entire body jerk. A moan slips past your lips before you can stop it- a high, breathy, and completely foreign to your own ears. Just like the sound yesterday but even worse.

Your eyes widen immediately, a gasp catching in your throat as you slap a hand over your mouth. Your body tenses, heat flooding every inch of your skin.

“Matty-” your voice is shaky, breathless. “What was that?”

Matt stays still, his nose still buried between your thighs, his breath slow and deliberate as he exhales against the damp fabric of your underwear. When he finally pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression is unreadable.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing.

Before you can respond, he does it again.

Another press of his nose, deliberate and slow, right against that same spot.

Your entire body twitches. Your back arches slightly, another sound escaping your throat, softer this time- more desperate.

“That,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you, your head tilting back slightly. “That feels really…”

You trail off, your face burning, your breathing uneven as you struggle to even form the words.

Matt watches you carefully, his lips parting slightly, his jaw tight as he exhales through his nose. Then, he leans in again, pressing another slow, intentional nudge against that same spot.

“That’s a spot on girls,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot through the fabric. “It helps you feel really, really good.” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “Do you feel good when I do that?”

You whimper, the sound soft and helpless as your hands instinctively fly to his hair, your fingers gripping the strands without thinking. Your thighs tremble slightly around his head as another rush of warmth pools deep in your stomach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you barely manage to whisper-

“…Yes.”

Matt watches you carefully, his breathing slow and controlled despite the tension crackling between you like fire. His hands, still gripping your thighs, slowly slide up, slipping beneath the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely over your frame. His palms are warm against your bare skin, fingertips tracing soft, teasing patterns as he pushes the fabric up, exposing more of you to him.

“You want me to keep goin’, angel?” His voice is low, rough, thick with something dangerous.

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

Without thinking you press your fingers deeper into his hair, giving the slightest push, an unconscious plea.

His pupils darken instantly, his lips parting as a low groan escapes him. But it’s not just that. It’s the way your thighs instinctively spread wider, granting him more access without even realizing it.

“Fuck,” Matt breathes, his grip tightening on your hips for a moment before he leans back in.

The first press of his nose is slow, testing, just like before.

And then- he flicks it.

A sharp, teasing nudge directly against that sensitive spot.

Your entire body jerks, a gasp breaking from your lips, your thighs twitching around his head. But Matt doesn’t stop. No, he keeps doing it. Slow at first as always, up and down, teasing motions that make your breath stutter and your grip in his hair tighten.

Then he groans. Low, deep, and vibrating against you.

The sensation sends another shockwave through your body, and a soft, helpless moan slips past your lips.

“Yeah?” Matt murmurs against you, his voice thick with need. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You can’t even respond properly. Just a breathless, desperate whimper as your hips shift slightly, pressing closer.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up, then back down, rubbing slow, torturous circles against you before flicking against that sensitive spot again.

A choked moan rips from your throat, your body reacting before your mind can catch up, your thighs trembling around him.

“Fuck, angel,” Matt groans again, his voice gravelly and wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You sound so fuckin’ sweet.”

He presses harder, a slow, teasing drag, and your body shakes, another desperate whimper slipping free.

Your head tilts back, fingers gripping his hair tightly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Matt lets out another ragged groan, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he keeps going, his voice muffled but still deliberate-

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

And when he flicks his nose just right again, you do.

Matt groans against you, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers flexing like he’s desperate to hold you in place.

You are a mess.

Your breath is ragged, your legs trembling as he keeps going, dragging his nose in slow, deliberate motions against that sensitive spot. Every flick, every press, every little nuzzle makes your thighs twitch, makes another helpless moan spill from your lips.

Matt loves it.

You can feel how much he loves it. The way his grip tightens, the way his breathing turns heavier, the way his groans slip out with every little movement.

“Fuck,” he mutters against you, voice wrecked. “You’re shaking.”

You are. Your thighs are trembling under his touch, your hands fisted tightly in his hair, your entire body burning.

“Feels so- mhphh- feel so good,” you gasp, barely able to speak through the overwhelming sensation.

Matt groans at that, his grip on you tightening.

“You like that, yeah?” he murmurs, flicking his nose against you again, making you arch. “Like me making you feel good?”

You can only nod, breathless, your fingers tugging at his hair as another moan slips from your lips.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up again, then back down, teasing you, working you up so slowly you feel like you’re going to lose your mind.

“Matty,” you whimper, voice shaking.

He hums in response, the deep sound sending another shudder through your body.

“You sound so fuckin’ sweet, angel,” he groans. “So perfect.”

And then he does it again. A slow, firm press, his nose nudging against you just right, and your entire body jerks, another sharp, desperate moan breaking from your throat.

Matt can feel it- the way your body is trembling under his touch, the way your fingers are gripping his hair tightly, like you need something to anchor you through the overwhelming sensations rolling through you.

His lips part against your nearly soaked through panties, his breath hot and ragged as he presses in deeper, his nose dragging slow, deliberate movements that make you whimper, make your back arch off the bed.

“Oh my- Matt,” you gasp, voice breathless and shaking.

He groans, his grip on your thighs tightening. “That’s it, angel,” he mutters against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your core. “Let me hear you.”

You barely register what you’re doing. Your body acts before your brain can catch up. Your thighs spread more, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage.

His movements become more focused, more precise, flicking his nose against that exact spot over and over again, pressing firmer, dragging the tip up and down before pushing in harder.

Your breath shatters, a high-pitched whimper slipping from your lips.

“Oh-”

Matt groans deeply, his voice thick with need. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “You’re shaking so much.”

You really are, too. Your legs trembling around his head, your stomach clenching with each movement he makes.

“Feels…” You gasp sharply as another flick sends you spiraling, your hands tightening in his hair. “Feels so-”

Matt hums again, the deep vibration sparking another moan from you.

“I know, angel,” he breathes, dragging his nose in slow, torturous strokes against you. “I know. Just let go.”

Your entire body tenses, heat pooling low in your stomach, coiling tighter, tighter. The pressure is overwhelming, so much more than anything you’ve ever felt, building and building until-

A sharp flick. A firm press.

You break.

A soft, desperate cry escapes you as your entire body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you, your thighs clamping around his head as you tremble, gasping for air.

Matt groans as he feels you come undone beneath him, his grip firm, his voice wrecked as he murmurs, “That’s it, angel. Let me feel you.”

Your hands tighten in his hair, your body writhing beneath him as he keeps going, drawing it out, letting you ride the high until you’re left breathless, limp against the bed, completely spent.

He finally pulls back, his breath heavy, his lips parted as he looks up at you with pure hunger.

He watches you, his breath still ragged, his pupils dark and hungry as he takes in the sight of you. Of your body trembling, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, your thighs still twitching from the overwhelming sensation coursing through you.

Without a word, he leans back in.

Your breath catches as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the soaking wet fabric of your underwear, the heat of his tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive spot he had just been teasing mercilessly with his nose.

Your whole body jolts, a small whimper slipping from your lips as he finally pulls away.

Matt exhales heavily, his breath warm against your skin as he lifts his head, resting his cheek against your thigh, his hands still gripping them firmly, keeping you open.

And then he looks up at you, his expression something almost possessive flickering behind his gaze.

“You know how you asked me what cumming was?” he murmurs, his voice low, deep, dangerous.

Your breath stutters, your stomach flipping violently as you suddenly feel it- the way your body is still pulsing, the wetness between your thighs making everything too real.

Your face burns.

You inhale sharply, trying to press your legs closed out of instinct, out of sheer embarrassment, but Matt’s hands immediately tighten around your thighs, keeping them spread.

You let out a small, flustered whimper, your body still oversensitive, still buzzing, and Matt’s lips twitch into a knowing smirk as he trails a single finger along the wet fabric, pressing just lightly, just enough to make your breath hitch.

His voice drops, his tone laced with something smug, something possessive.

“That was cumming.”

Your chest rises and falls as your body continues to hum with the aftershocks of what just happened.

You swallow hard, blinking down at Matt, who’s still resting his cheek against your thigh, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

You shift slightly, trying to process everything, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as your mind struggles to catch up. “Oh,” you whisper, your voice soft, dazed. “That was the… release you were talking about.”

Matt exhales sharply, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with desire. “That was the release.”

Your body shudders again as you feel it- another slow, warm trickle of something leaking through your already soaking underwear, your thighs twitching at the sensation. You shift slightly, uncomfortable, still feeling so sensitive.

Matt notices.

His eyes darken as he watches the way you move, his grip tightening on your thighs. He pulls them further apart, just slightly, just enough to get a better view of your cum leaking through your underwear.

Your breath catches, your face burning, and you stutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “W-was that what you meant when you said you were going to be inside me?”

The instant the words leave your lips, Matt’s entire body tenses.

His fingers dig into your thighs, his jaw clenching as his head drops for a moment, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

You blink down at him, confused by his reaction, watching as he visibly composes himself before finally lifting his head again.

His pupils are blown, his cheeks flushed, but when he meets your gaze, he manages a smirk, shaking his head slightly.

“No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. “Not quite.”

You pout, shifting slightly again, still feeling the lingering ache between your legs. “I haven’t earned it yet?”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, his smirk deepening as he tilts his head, dragging his thumbs slowly up your inner thighs, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with promise as he stands up and kisses your forehead. “Go to sleep.”

You simply nod, closing your eyes and flopping back on the bed, eyes already fluttering shut.

Matt watches you turn over and then walks toward your door.

The moment your door clicks shut, Matt exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against the wood and gripping the door handle hard. His knuckles turn white from the pressure, his breathing still ragged, still uneven. His entire body is tight- burning, aching, straining against the very last threads of his self-control.

Jesus Christ.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady himself, but it’s fucking impossible. Not after what just happened. Not after you looked at him like that, asked him those questions with your wide, innocent eyes, spread your legs for him like it was natural, like you trusted him with your body in a way that made him feel both honored and fucking ruined.

And then your sweet oblivious little mouth just had to ask if that was what he meant when he said he’d be inside you.

Matt groans under his breath, his jaw clenching so tight it aches. He can still see you, still feel the heat of you against his face, the way you twitched, gasped, moaned for him. His name had slipped from your lips like a prayer, and fuck- he had almost lost himself right then and there.

He had barely. Barely. Held himself together.

But now?

Now, he’s alone.

Now, there’s nothing stopping him.

His hands shake as he shoves down the waistband of his sweatpants, the thick pressure of his arousal almost painful at this point. His cock is aching, flushed and leaking, proof of just how much you had affected him- proof of just how fucking desperate he is for you.

A harsh breath leaves his lips as he wraps a fist around himself, finally getting the friction he needs. His head tilts back slightly, his other hand pressed flat against the wooden door as he strokes himself, letting his mind wander exactly where it wants to go.

You.

Your flushed face, your swollen lips, the way your breath had stuttered every time he pressed against your clit, how you had gasped when you came, how your fingers had tangled in his hair, tugging, holding him there like you never wanted him to leave.

Fuck.

Matt squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw tightening as he picks up the pace, his breath turning uneven, ragged. His hips jerk into his fist, and his mind spirals further- what if he hadn’t stopped? What if he had really shown you what it meant to have him inside you? What if he had been buried between your thighs, licking into you, tasting you properly, making you come again, and again, and again, until you were crying his name, begging for more-

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening, his grip firm as he chases it. He was so fucking close, so wound up, his body on fire, his thighs tensing as a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

It crashes into him fast, hard- his release ripping through him in sharp, pulsing waves as he cups his tip with his other hand, catching the release in his palm so he doesn’t cum on the floor. His hand slows, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths, his entire body thrumming from the intensity of it.

For a moment, he just stands there, his palm still wrapped around himself, hand full of his cum, and his head tilted backward.

He quickly rushes himself to the bathroom, and clean up. it isn’t until he washes his hands in the sink that the thought briefly crosses his mind. He drags a hand down his face. What if your brother had walked out? Or worse, your father?

But Matt wasn’t truly thinking about that. Not at all.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his body still buzzing from the release and somehow still aching for more.

It should’ve been enough. Should’ve. But it wasn’t.

Not even close.

Because the second he dries his hands and leans against the counter, gripping the cool edge with both hands, his mind betrays him, replaying every single fucking second of what had just happened all over again.

The way you looked at him. The way you gasped when he touched you. The way your voice had trembled when you whispered his name, all breathless and needy, like you needed him, like you had never felt anything like that before.

His jaw clenches, his fingers flexing against the counter, his body already stirring back to life, heat curling low in his stomach again.

He groans under his breath, shoving a hand through his hair. His body is still so wired, still so fucking hard, and he knows there’s only one way to fix it.

He turns the faucet on, letting the water run as he braces himself over the sink, staring at his own reflection. His pupils are blown, his skin still flushed, his chest rising and falling too fast.

He can still smell you on his face.

His grip tightens on the edge of the sink, his breath coming out in a slow, shaky exhale.

Then, without hesitation, he shoves his sweatpants down again, his cock already achingly hard once more.

He barely has time to wrap a fist around himself before his hips jerk into his palm, the sensation making him groan low in his throat.

His hand moves so very slow. He was teasing, taunting, and dragging the pleasure out in long, torturous strokes, just like he had done to you.

Fuck, angel, his mind taunts, replaying his own words against his skull. You sound so fuckin’ sweet.

His breathing shudders, his grip tightening. A deep groan rips from his throat, his strokes faster now, his hips chasing the sensation.

But it’s not enough.

He needs more.

He needs to see you again.

His jaw clenches as he yanks his phone off the counter, flicking the camera on and angling it towards the mirror. His pupils are blown, his chest flushed, his cock thick and leaking, his hand wrapped tight around himself.

He groans again, dropping his own dick to grab his shirt, pulling it between his teeth before returning to the throbbing member, pumping it a few times before snapping a few pictures.

After talking that he tilts the phone downward, recording for a few seconds as he slowly strokes himself, watching the way his abs tense as he fucks into his own hand.

He imagines sending it to you as he puts the phone facedown back on the counter.

Imagines your innocent little gasp when you see it.

Imagines your wide, curious eyes as you whisper, Matty, why does it look like that?

Imagines himself teaching you.

A ragged moan tears from his throat, his body tensing, his stomach tightening as the heat coils in his spine, building- building- building-

Until he shatters again.

His breath stutters, his hand slowing, his body pulsing, his release spilling over his fingers in thick, hot waves.

His jaw drops, his head tilting back, his chest heaving as he rides it out, so fucking spent that his knees nearly buckle.

He stands there for a moment, panting, gripping the counter, waiting for his body to stop shaking.

He barely has time to catch his breath before the need creeps back in for the third time. He was so sensitive and so overstimulated that he didn’t think it was even possible to be still hard. But here he was. His muscles were still tense, his skin overheated, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of release.

His cock is still hard, twitching against his abdomen, a constant, aching reminder of what he just did- and what he still wants.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, his jaw clenching as his fingers flex against the counter. The mirror reflects the mess he’s become- flushed cheeks, sweat-slicked skin, pupils blown so wide that his irises are barely visible.

He knows what he’s about to do is reckless.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But that innocent little pout you gave him earlier? The way you whispered, I haven’t earned it yet? The way you looked at him with those wide eyes as if you had no clue what you were actually asking for?

Fuck.

His phone is still face down on the counter.

He grabs it.

His other hand is already sliding down, already pushing his waistband down. He tilts the phone in one hand, aiming it downward as he presses record.

His fingertips skim down his stomach, dragging over his tightened abs, the muscles twitching under his touch. He hisses softly, teasing himself, delaying the inevitable as he traces the sharp lines of his obliques, feeling the tension coil again, deeper, tighter.

His cock jumps, aching for attention, the head still slick and sensitive from his last orgasm. But he doesn’t grip himself yet- not yet.

Instead, he lets his fingers tease, barely brushing the flushed tip, smearing the remnants of his cum across his skin, feeling the hot, sticky slickness coat his fingertips.

A low groan vibrates from his chest as he swirls his thumb over the head, his body jerking at the overstimulation.

“Fuck-”

The sound echoes in the bathroom, rough and needy.

He sets the phone down on the counter, leaning against the wall so his face is now in frame too, his breath coming out uneven as his fingers finally wrap around himself again.

The first stroke is a torturous drag from base to tip. His grip was firm but not tight, just enough to make his hips stutter forward, chasing the friction.

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening as he squeezes just a little harder, dragging his fist back down.

He rolls his hips into his hand, setting a rhythm. Slow but deep, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of pleasure up his spine.

He starts to buck his hips up, his thumb circling the leaking tip before dragging back down along the vein running the underside of his shaft.

His pace picks up, his grip tighter now, his strokes longer, firmer, his abs flexing with every sharp movement.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he tilts his head back, his jaw going slack as his pleasure builds, stronger, heavier, deeper.

His thighs tense as he pumps his fist faster, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants, sweat beading at his temple as his body coils tight, tight, tight-

The tension is blistering, a sharp, almost painful heat curling at the base of his spine, twisting through his muscles, spreading everywhere.

His chest heaves, his entire body locking up as his strokes turn sloppy, desperate, chasing the sharp edge of release that’s so fucking close-

“Fuck, Y/N-”

The moment your name falls from his lips, his body shatters.

A deep moan tears from his throat as pleasure crashes through him hard, blinding and nearly unbearable.

Thick ropes of release spill over his fist again, streaking hot across his stomach, dripping onto his abs as his body shakes, his thighs genuinely trembling with the aftershocks.

His strokes slow, his breath stuttering, his muscles clenching and unclenching drastically as he rides it out, his head dropping forward, sweat dampening his hair.

For a few moments, the only sound in the bathroom is his ragged breathing, the soft hum of the ventilation fan, the faint creak of the counter as he braces against it.

His hand is still wrapped around himself, sticky and hot.

His phone screen flickers.

And that’s when he realizes-

The video was still recording.

The entire thing.

The sharp, filthy sounds of his pleasure, the way he groaned your name, the way his body unraveled for you.

And before he can think, before he can talk himself out of it, his finger hovers over send.

And then he presses it.

a/n: yall wanted a part 2 so bad so here you go🧡🧡 lmk if u want a part 3

for @mattsobvimyfav

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 (if u wanna be on the taglist, just comment)

[schattenhonig]

As someone whose parents grew up and were politically active in GDR (German Democratic Republic, a socialist surveillance regime) and taught me most of these when I was a child, I'd like to add:

Be very, VERY careful what you post on social media, as every post contains information about you, even if it's something you don't think is important. They can and will collect every snippet and put them together like a puzzle, and you never know to what conclusions they might come

Don't discuss sensitive topics in front of children. No matter how often you tell them to keep quiet about it, they will probably mess up. Not because they're stupid or can't fathom the importance, but because they cannot recognise questioning techniques. Hell, even grown-ups can't, that's the whole point!

Build a public persona that isn't too far from the truth so you don't have to put in so much effort. This is a long game, and consistency is key. You have no strong preferences for the next four years. You become Norman McNormalpants.

Do not discuss politics. Ever.

If you know someone who is part of a resistance group, no, you don't. You haven't heard from them in months. Even if you're part of that group, too.

Nothing ever is free. If an app or service says it is, no, they're not. They're going to sell your data, and they don't care who is buying. Morality will always lose to the right leverage.

You have no idea how much data they can get about you. They can and will use anything they can find, from locating you via the pictures you take with your phone and uploading them to a cloud to what you bought on which day via payback cards and your Alexa shopping list

You have no idea how much and which information they already have about you, and you have no idea how much references to others they can find in your data.

You have no idea how they will get information about you. Everyone and everything could be a spy. Yes, even your granny, definitely your phone and Alexa, and I wouldn't trust the fridge or the roomba either.

Bravery and stupidity look very much the same, so don't do anything stupid. Taking risks will get you in trouble sooner rather than later. You're no use to any resistance or your family and friends when you're incarcerated or shot down. Small acts of kindness and defiance go a long way, but always calculate the risks first.

I know this sounds really paranoid, and maybe it is, and although I definitely don't want to scare anyone, those next four years might get tough. It's good to know a few things, and keep them in mind, when shit hits the fan. Do whatever you have to do to keep your loved ones and yourselves safe. Being considerate and careful is no cowardice.

reminders for today:

if you or someone you know might need it in the next few years, purchase plan b. the shelf life of plan b is 4 years, and we might not be able to access it as easily as we can now in the days ahead.

if you are larger/plus size: go online and purchase ella instead of plan b. plan b is less effective if you aren’t under 160 pounds.

if you can, purchase books that project 2025 is looking to ban.

mass deportations are starting. if you see ice vehicles or agents, yell ice raid and la migra as loud as you can.

if someone asks who you voted for, keep your mouth shut. they’re fishing for traitors.

if anyone, anyone at all asks about your neighbors or their legal status in the us, you know nothing. don’t be the reason that their family is separated.

if anyone asks about your religion or lack thereof, keep it vague. this administration will look for any excuse to persecute you.

your friends are trans or queer? for the next four years they’re not. don’t expose anyone’s status as a trans or queer person to anyone else, even if you think you can trust them.

did someone you know get an abortion? no, they didn’t. they were never pregnant.

in short, don’t be a snitch, and keep to yourself these next four years. we’ll make it through this even if it seems hopeless at times.

this is all i can think of at the moment, but i’ll be adding on to this as the day continues.

we can survive this. we’ve survived before, and we’ll survive again.

[laufeysvalentine]

cry.

sirius black x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ sirius x potter!reader ... sirius loves you, but he swears he's not good for you. angst, childhood friends to lovers, inspired by cry by cas, coward!sirius, ooc!sirius a little pls don't come after me love u bye

word count ༄ 2.7k

nora’s notes ༄ CAUSE I NEEEEEED TO TELLLL YOU SOMEEEEETHING! erm okay i know i said i was working on pt two of i want you but i got distracted by this instead. i haven't read it through bc if i do i won't publish it PLS don't mind how the writing quality from my last post has dramatically worsened...

you look so pretty like this. mouth drawn open, drool trickling from your soft mouth. your face, your whole body, turned towards the boy next to you. even in sleep, you’re drawn to him. so trusting, so open. 

something in his gut twists. 

—

“sirius!” a call comes from behind him, accompanied by a smattering of footsteps as he watches you approach. your lips are parted to take in more air, and he’s overcome by the urge to grab your face and absolutely kiss you silly. 

he ignores it, trying to instead focus on what you’re saying. 

“...hogsmeade tomorrow?” you ask, a twinge of hope seeping into your voice. you’re so eager, eyes wide, that he feels terrible not knowing what you said. “were you listening?” 

“sorry, darling, i was too distracted by your beauty. what was that?” he tilts his head at you, taking pride in the way the tips of your ears turn reddish. 

flicking his ear, you repeat your question. “d’you wanna have lunch at hogsmeade tomorrow? james said he was going with re–erm, lily, or something, and rem and peter are busy.” 

“uhh,” he pauses, thinking about his schedule. 

“it’s okay if you’re busy,” you tack on quickly, noting his hesitation. 

“no, no,” he frowns, upset by the way you’re tugging at your neckline, looking away from him. “i’ll go. i promise. i’ll be there. lunch, you said?” 

that smile, that beaming, beautiful smile, lights up the whole world and has him smiling along with you. you’re contagious. he wants to breathe you in and keep the disease all to himself. 

he makes a mental note to cancel all of his plans tomorrow. he wants to see you all day. 

—

you shift on the pillow, face burying further and further into the sheets, as if permanently embedding yourself onto your bed. the comforter slips from where it was from your shoulders, allowing him a good look at your bare back, the expanse of your shoulders. he wants to press kisses against them, knead his hands into a sweet massage–anything to make you feel good. 

your face is serene when you sleep. the knot between your brows, which james swore was permanent at this point, has dissolved with rest. his thumb traces your eyebrows before he can stop himself, knowing this is the last time he’ll see you this calm for a while. 

he turns away from you, trying to avoid looking at any part of you. he can already feel the guilt gnawing at his fingers, worming its way into his bones. he needs to get it out. 

before thinking too hard about it, he shuffles around, standing from your bed and grabbing his boxers from where they landed on the floor last night. he takes the rest of his clothes and slips them on as quietly as possible. but before he leaves your room, he pauses to drink you in. you, in all your drooling, snoring glory. 

you move around, a hand reaching out to your left, roaming up and down the bed as if searching for him. he’d prefer it if you sucker punched him in the stomach. 

he can’t won’t think about that look in your eyes yesterday, when you begged him to fuck you. it was devastated. especially when he closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds and opened them to see you, caged under his body, just watching him. 

like you knew he couldn’t give you everything. like you knew he would be there, but he wouldn’t be there. and when he closed his eyes again, he pretended he couldn’t feel the wetness slipping from your eyelids. 

—

“he got another one,” your brother sighs as he enters the common room, only a few seconds after a red-faced sirius, who stormed through, scrubbing at his face. 

“a howler?” you ask james, sitting up straight in concern. “from… her?” 

he nods, making a move to pass you where you’re sat with your legs draped across the couch, having eaten dinner much earlier than the marauders. 

“i’ll go,” you say, stopping him from walking up the stairs. “he won’t want to see anyone who saw it happen.” 

“but i’m his best friend,” james counters, pushing his glasses up his nose. “he won’t mind.” 

“just let me.” you plead with your eyes, which makes him hesitate just enough for you to pass him and head to the dorm. “stay down there.” 

he relents, and you enter sirius’ dorm with the tiniest bit of a sashay. you know he hates feeling weak, so the best way to treat him is not like he’s delicate. even if he is. just a little bit. 

you hum a bit, making your way to james’ bed, which sits directly across from the window sirius is sat in front of. the boy is looking out the window, a cigarette tucked between his fingers, and as much as he looks devastatingly handsome, his eyes are also red with a sort of tiredness you only acquire after years of crying. 

“may i?” you reach for the cigarette, and he hands it to you with a limp hand, not even looking over. he knows exactly what you’re doing, but he’s not going to stop you. to do that would be to deny the only thing he wants right now. 

you take a long drag, purposefully blowing the smoke into his face, smiling when he gives you a reaction. “turn around?” you ask with a softness that he can’t deny. 

not when you’re just so lovable in comparison to the scarlet that still tinges his vision, the cold screech of his mother, screaming, telling him he wasn’t good enough, humiliating him in front of his friends. he slept around, he was a disgrace. she reminded him of who he was–who he’d always be: a black. 

without realizing, his fingers clench into balls, and he listens to you, letting you thread your fingers through his thick hair, shoulders relaxing with your touch. 

“talk about it?” you murmur, braiding the top of his head into a soft french braid. 

just for a second, he hesitates. then, with a sigh that echoes through his body, he shakes his head. “you.” 

you get what he means, and so, you steer the conversation into mindless blabbers about your day, what you ate, who you hung out with. the more you speak, the more you feel the tension in his body dissolve into your hands. after a bout of silence, “you’re a good person, sirius.” 

he chuckles a bit at that. “you and my mother would disagree.” 

“it’s true,” you double down. “who else would take on an illegal animal form, just to help their friend? who would pull pranks on anyone who even dared to look at any of their friends the wrong way? who would go with james to threaten all the guys who look at me funny? just kidding, you’re not off the hook for that one.”

his head lifts towards yours with a pout. “he was creepy, darling. he was staring at you like he wanted to sink his teeth into your pretty little flesh, and it creeped me out.” 

you wrinkle your nose. “ew.” 

still, something warms in him at the thought of you accepting him. of seeing him as a good person. only–he wasn’t sure if that was true. he felt terrible more often than not. always a destroyer, a nuisance. couldn’t keep a girl, couldn’t love properly. if there was anything walburga black was good at, it was getting under his skin. 

right now, it seemed like she had crawled through his bloodstream and settled into it. and it sure didn’t seem like she was going to leave anytime soon. 

—

sirius is ignoring all of the calls that come through. the second he left your house, he went to the cliffside with a pack of marlboro’s and a hair tie. after lighting one and putting his hair back, he admires the valley. it was magnificent, with sloping mountains of green sliding down both sides, kissing in the middle. flowers decorated the hills, and his breath catches. it is so beautiful. 

but he’s terrified of slipping. if he falls down into that valley, he would have no chance of coming back up. the slope is too steep. 

he stands, stepping back to watch from afar. another step, and a stumble backwards. his foot catches on a stray rock, and he lands hard on his ass. ow. 

when he grabs for his phone, a lump knocks on the walls of his stomach. he has thousands of messages from james, who has clearly been updated on the situation and is spamming him like crazy. but only one has your name on top of it, staring up at him with those teary eyes, wide, desperate: please don’t shut me out. 

—

the christmas lights that tangled themselves in your tree were the nicest, coziest light for you to read by. you had insisted on celebrating some muggle traditions that lily had taught you about, and of course, james was all onboard. the two of you convinced your parents to put up decorations around the living room, and now you spend all of your time there. after grabbing the new novel you’re reading, you curl onto the couch to read. 

will the noseless villain defeat the scrawny boy? you’re just turning the page when something–no, someone–spills out of the chimney, covered in soot, stumbling onto the carpet. some dark liquid is leaking out from his skin.  

you’d recognize that figure anywhere.

sirius. 

the book slips from your grasp and you run towards him. “james!” you holler at the top of your lungs, fingers skimming his torso. “siri, i–are you okay? that was a dumb question, of course not. what–what do you need?” 

he peers up at you, his eyes glassy. “darling, i have to tell you–i–” 

james comes running through the doorway, hearing the commotion, and yells for your parents. they take off his shirt, and you can see all of the bruises that have molded themselves onto his body. he has a large gash on his ribcage, and he looks victim to a crucio or two. 

oh god. 

before you can stop them, water collects at your lashline, cascading down your cheeks. something pushes you to sit by him, hold his hand, and when you do, he glances at you. his face is weak from the pain, but he still reaches out to wipe your tears away. 

“don’t cry for me, y/n.” he murmurs softly as your mother tends to his wounds. 

“i can’t help it,” you let out a small hiccup, your fingers tracing his. 

i’m not worth it, is what he almost says. he turns his head away from you. he can’t look at you anymore. not when you’re this distraught over him. merlin. 

he catches you crying for him again in your room, a few weeks later. you were dancing in the kitchen to whatever came on the radio, and he bumped into a stack of plates on the counter. they shattered, and he almost had a panic attack right then and there. what would he do when euphemia kicked him out? he had nowhere else to go. 

he knew you would cry when you nudged an explanation out of him. you comforted him, and it really was no big deal in the end, but something in his bones told him you would cry for him. and it made him want to claw his skin off. 

—

sirius tries to escape, but of course, you find him. of course, you always do. even when–no, especially when he tries to hide. when he hates himself so much that he wants to rip his own flesh apart, break his own bones, you see him. 

he’s not sure if he hates or loves that about you. 

you’re outside his door, distraught scribbled into the wrinkle of your eyes and the quiver of you sweet, sweet lips. “sirius?” 

maybe he can just avoid you. maybe he can just let himself absorb you forever, ignore the reality. 

“i know you’re home,” you call softly, wringing your fingers. “can we talk about last night?” 

he swallows. do what’s good for her. you have to make her happy, above all else. he opens the door. 

“hi,” you say with a shyness he hasn’t seen in years. you step forward, crossing the boundaries, letting yourself into his place. into his heart. 

— 

“darling, i…” he swallows, and something twinges in your legs, telling you to run. but you can’t tear your gaze away from his adam’s apple, which you pressed kisses to only hours earlier, when you whispered sweet words to each other, saccharine promises. 

you tilt your head at him, and bile rushes to his mouth. how could he ever do this? he is a coward. 

“we can’t be together.” he says after a minute of silence, eyes trained on your feet. “we can’t.” 

at first, you don’t even try to argue. that makes it even worse. “i’ll wait for you.” 

“no, it’s–i,” he pauses, takes a deep breath. “i… i just can’t. not now, not ever. maybe, i’d change, someday. but i can’t help the way i feel.” 

“you… you don’t feel the same about me?” it comes out in a breathy whisper, and it's his turn to watch you swallow, something scratching at your eyes. 

“i wish that i could,” he responds. i wish i was good, wish that i could give you my love now. 

“oh. i… oh.” your voice is barely audible. the stumble of your feet as you race towards the door is louder. it echoes through his bare apartment, second to the pounding of his heart as you close the door gently. you were always too kind, too soft to him. 

he was always too terrible for you. 

—

the first time sirius met james potter, the boy took one look at him and said, “don’t you dare go after my sister.” 

he shrugged it off at the time–why would he care about james’ sister anyways? all he wanted were friends. real, genuine friends. maybe ones that would really piss walburga off, if he was lucky. and james potter seemed just the type. 

but when he met you, something changed. he wanted you, he knew that much. even at thirteen, fourteen, he knew he felt something different for you. a feeling he wanted to keep close to his chest and never let go. he already had a spot for you in his heart; it was probably drilled in at birth, that’s how well you fit into it. 

yet, every year, even before he said anything, james would waggle his finger. “oh, please, padfoot, not my sister. you can’t even hold down one girl, i’m never letting you near here. you’d just break her heart. besides, you don’t want her, anyways,” and that throaty laugh. he never realized how much those words had grabbed fistfuls of sirius’ guts, squeezing them until nothing came out. 

he internalized them. he was untouchable, the boy every girl wanted, that every girl could fuck, but never have. 

—

sirius black had been selfish many, many times in his life. but this, this was the most selfish decision he’d ever made. it sucks that he was too drunk on cheap booze and a scary kind of lovesickness to notice. 

the only thing he can see right now–the only thing he can think about clearly–is you, in the most stunning dress he’d ever seen. when you walked in, his jaw dropped with a little whoa. 

you’re the only one for him. that’s how it’s always been. 

it’s too fucking bad that when he spun you around to love ballads on the dance floor, you let him. it’s worse that when his forehead kissed yours, you let him. you let him press his ugliness against your perfect. he took you by the waist, and you let him. 

his most selfish decision, underneath him, begging for him, tugging on his collar and smearing kisses on his jaw, his neck, his v-line. 

oh, shit. 

james came into his conscience, on his tails was walburga. you’re not good enough for her. you never have been. you’re a mistake, a disgrace. you’ll sleep around, mince her heart into chunks. run, sirius. that’s all you’ve ever done. 

seeing you in front of him, he knew. with that lovely, lovely smile and that gleam in your eyes, oh. he’d only make you cry. 

masterlist | next part

tags: @lydiasfalling @moonysloveee @kenjikishimotoswifey

p.s. idk if anyone from my last post wanted to be on my general taglist or js for that post so if u do lmk and i'll add youuuu (or if you want to be removed)

have a good day!! 💝

[chrissturnsfav]

rapper!chris singer!reader are at a party some guy is making singer!reader uncomfortable she tells chris what’s he doing?

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris doesn't play about singer!reader

the party is in full swing, music pounding through the walls, bass shaking the floor. you’re off in the corner with your friends, sipping on something strong enough to make your chest warm. it’s comfortable and easy—but then...

you notice him first out of the corner of your eye. some guy, tall, loud, one of those guys who think the whole room revolves around him. he’s been circling for a while, and now he’s here, standing too close to you, his voice cutting through your friends' laughter.

"yo, you got a name, or am i just gonna have to call you ‘pretty’ all night?" he says, grinning like he’s some fucking hot shot.

you step back slightly, keeping your smile tight as you ignore the way you cringe at his shitty ass pick up line. "i’m good, thanks."

but he doesn’t back down that easy, leaning in like he owns the air between you. you can even feel his breath on your face, and it makes your nose scrunch up. "don’t be like that. i’m just tryna talk."

his drawl makes your skin prickle, the large and crowded space around you shrinking. you glance across the room, you see chris, manspreading on a couch with his rapper friends along with nick and matt, drink in hand, blunt between his plush lips, laughing at something someone just said.

you know how he gets after a few drinks—more protective, less patient—but you don’t care. you don’t feel safe.

you make your way over, weaving coyly through bodies until you’re standing in front of him. his eyes light up when he sees you, but his smile falters slightly when he catches your expression.

"wassup, kid?" he asks, sitting up straight as he looks up at you, elbows on his knees as he plucks the blunt out from between his lips. his tone is different now, serious.

you nod back toward the guy, not even wanting to look in that direction. "some dude’s being…weird, i dunno. just don't feel comfortable."

chris smirks dangerously, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. he sets his drink down, his jaw tightening as he looks around the sea of people. "where?"

you hesitate, but he’s already on his feet, towering over you even though he’s not that tall—just commanding. you nod toward the guy across the room, and chris follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing.

"yo, hold this," he says to nick over his shoulder, handing the blunt to his brother—who looks confused, but chris doesn't let him ask any questions before he's on the move.

he crosses the room like he’s on a mission, brushing past people like they’re invisible. you trail behind, far enough to not get in his way but close enough to see everything. chris stops in front of the guy, sizing him up before he even says a word.

"yo," chris starts, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the noise. "sum'n wrong?"

the guy looks confused, glancing between you and chris. "nah, man, nothing's wrong."

"then why the fuck you over here talkin’ to my girl?" chris asks, his tone calm but dangerous. when the guy doesn't respond—processing what's going on and who he's being confronted by—chris scoffs, the same dangerous smirk on his lips again. "you ain't hear what i said, playboy?"

the guy tries to laugh it off, holding up his hands. "i didn’t know she was with anyone."

chris steps closer, and suddenly, the space feels electric. "yeah, aight," he snickers. this guy knows damn well you had a boyfriend. of course he did, everyone knows. "you gonna jus' continue to stand here lookin’ stupid, or you gonna move before i fuckin' make you?"

the guy mutters something under his breath and backs off, disappearing into the crowd. chris doesn’t even watch him leave. he turns to you instead, his hand sliding around your hips.

"you good, mama?" he asks, his voice softer now, his eyes scanning your face.

"yeah, i’m fine," you say, feeling a little more at ease with him so close.

he pulls you in, his lips brushing against your ear. "ain’t nobody messin’ wit' you when m'here. don’t even trip."

you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. "you’re so dramatic."

he smirks, pulling back just enough to look at you. "nah, i ain't dramatic," he chuckles, his grip on your hips tightening, hang hovering just above your ass. "ion play 'bout my girl, that's all."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast

@chrissturnsfav ™

[luvybun]

Fun asks telling u to write things u say? Look no further…

Been very feral for super soft domestic smut. Morning sex on a weekend and the man just fucking WORSHIPS you and ur body. Im especially picturing dino, hoshi or mingyu.

Pretty please💓

Mwah💋

౨ৎ princess treatment - lee chan x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 genre: smut, fluff, established relationship ᡣ𐭩 cw: feminine pet names, oral (f receiving), riding, piv sex, no protection (don't do this), praise, (please lmk if i've missed anything) ᡣ𐭩 words: 1.2k ᡣ𐭩 notes: YOU REALLY DELIVERED WHEN YOU SAID FUN ASK

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. any names, images, or references to real individuals are purely fictional and do not portray or represent their real-life counterparts in any way.

꒰୨୧꒱ 18+ content, MDNI ꒰୨୧꒱

plump lips littering your clavicle and neck with kisses made you flutter your eyes open. you sighed, wrapping your arms around the neck of the man leaning above you. chan peaked his head up from your neck and smiled.

"good morning," he muttered, his voice laced with sleep.

"good morning," you replied with a playful smile. "is there a reason you're waking me up on our day off?"

he leaned down and pressed a kiss on your lips, it's chaste but with a hint of some other want. "i was going to wait... i just don't want to waste a second with you."

"my sleep is not a waste of-"

chan cut you off with another kiss. your hands traveled over his shoulders, feeling the way that his muscles of his back moved with him. his skin is warm from laying under the bedsheets all night.

"baby," you interrupted him. "i'm gross, and i have morning breath-"

"you're not gross." he pressed a kiss to your cheek. "and you don't have morning breath." another kiss. "you're beautiful."

the light from the windows were dulled from the blinds, leaving a warm glow over the room. chan looked angelic the way that he leaned over you. his chest and face were slightly flushed. you brushed your fingers over his chest, softly leading your digits up his neck and into his hair.

"love," you hummed. "i think i've blinded you just a little."

"you blind me every day." he grinned.

"no-" you giggled. "you know what i mean."

"i don't." he pressed more kisses on your jaw. "in fact... let me show you what i really mean."

you hummed in delight as he went under the covers, quickly lifting the duvet to look at him. chan pushed your legs apart slowly, kissing the inside of your thigh. he smiled at you, like the two of you had a secret that no one else would ever know of.

"you're a tease," you whispered.

"i like taking my time." he pressed a kiss right above the waistband of your panties. "help me take these off?"

you lifted your hips for him, and he carefully slid them down your legs. he took them out from under the covers and threw them somewhere on the floor. he peppered more kisses along your thighs before reaching your core. you giggled as he pressed a kiss above your clit.

"my pretty girl..." chan wrapped his arms around your thighs to keep you in place. "you have no idea how much i've missed being with you like this."

before you could lovingly reply that you've missed him too, chan laid his tongue flat against your pussy - not breaking eye contact. you let out a quiet whimper, your hands reaching to run through his already messy hair.

he ate you out like his life depended on it, your juices dripping down his chin. his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, definitely leaving marks in their wake. you were left on a cloud of bliss, only brought down by an earth shattering orgasm.

when chan came back up from under the covers, his hair was wild and his face flushed and wet. "good morning to you too..." you giggled and shuffled around to get on top of him.

chan groaned as your pussy brushed against his hard-on. feeling a lot less tired, you pulled the t-shirt you borrowed from him over your head and threw it to the side. he took a second to take in the view, smiling like a lovesick fool.

"what?" you asked.

"you're a goddess."

chan sat up up, trying to get closer to you. you put your hands on the skin of his shoulders - finding comfort in the way he radiates warmth. you feel his big hands on your waist, smiling at the way they start drumming to a mysterious melody. instinctively, you start caressing his neck - trying to find those areas where he's extra sensitive. one of your hands come up to cup his cheek, and he immediately leans into it.

"i'll do anything for you, you know that right?" he murmured and turned his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

"i know," you hummed.

you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, before you started grinding down on him. chan let out a soft moan against your lips. taking the hint, he shuffled around to take off his underwear and started lining his cock up with your entrance. you kept yourself stable with your hands on his shoulders, as you sank down on him. once he had bottomed out inside you, you started littering his lips with kisses - trying to find a moment to adjust to him.

"you look so pretty taking my cock like a good girl," chan whispered as he pressed a few kisses on your temple and cheek.

he adjusted himself to lay down, making you gasp. "baby-"

"take your time," he assured you. "move at your own pace."

you put your hands on his chest and slowly lifted yourself up - the delicious feeling of cock leaving you, just for you to drop back down and be full again. you started moving more feverishly, desperate to get another release. chan's hands stayed on your hips, keeping you somewhat in check.

"you're doing so good, baby- looking so beautiful."

you whimpered. your legs were still shaky from your last orgasm, and you were already growing tired. it wasn't exactly the smartest idea to try riding him first thing in the morning. chan noticed your sloppy movements, and held you still. he put his feet on the mattress and started lifting his hips to meet yours.

"oh my god-" you moaned, nails sinking into his chest.

"take it, yeah, just like that..." chan groaned as he continuously slammed inside you.

your limp body fell onto his chest, and he took the opportunity to flip you over on your back to continue fucking into you. the new position let him get even deeper inside you, as he lifted your knees up to your chest.

"want me to cum inside you, don't you baby?" he muttered through gritted teeth.

"yes! yes, please!"

"so perfect for me," he moaned. "my pretty angel, all fucked out on my cock."

you nodded deliriously, clenching around him at the thought of him cumming inside you. "want you, channie... please."

chan's thrusts grew sloppy, and soon he came inside you - pressing his hips as close to yours as he could. still coming down from his high, he started rubbing your clit until your legs were shaking and you came for the second time this morning.

"oh, thank you, baby," he whispered. "such a good girl, thank you... did such a good job for me."

chan carefully put your legs down on the mattress, and leaned over you - his cock still inside you, as he pressed an innocent kiss to your cheek.

"you doing okay, babe?" he asked in between kisses.

"mhm..." you sighed dreamily and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "thank you, channie."

"i told you." he leaned back up and caressed your cheek in his hand. "anything for you, princess."

[zero-up]

"Shooters are still A thing. Therefore: no one shouldn't complain when someone kills A CEO. Because making rich people unrelated to the suffering of 6-year-olds is totally good because."

What was the point of killing that CEO? How will it improve the health care system? Doesn't it just make it harder to attack the corporation he was in charge of, which role likely just continue honest though nothing happened anyway? Even if the CEO was completely evil, what was the point? Was it just to make someone you don't like suffer? Did you even know the CEO before this incident?

Gosh, I hate the Luigi apology! Especially when they try to pull the "so we should just sit down and politely ask for rides?". My dude, what will violence accomplish? How will killing anyone illegally make anything better in any way shape or form? What is the process here? How does this work? What is the step 2? Because unless your goal is to literally overthrow the government, I'm not really seeing how killing people can help you accomplish your goals.

You want to know how peace can actually solve the issue? By voting! Your elected officials rely on votes in order to keep power. You're elected officials have to care about their voters, because if they don't: they lose power. And if you do not vote: you do not have power over your elected officials. Doing research and voting sound like work? Fine then, don't vote, I don't either for that very reason. But at least I'm not saying "ViOlEnCe Is ThE oNlY aNsWeR" when I can't even be bother to vote!

And everyone sympathizing for the CEO because they don't want to live in a society that normalizes violence. And trust me: you don't either. You don't want the average person to think it's justified to resort to violence for political reasons. Because long beliefs don't magically have A different effect on one's psychology than true beliefs, and the vast majority of people think they are good, and that people they don't like are guilty.

If you normalize good people killing the guilty, then you also normalize bad people killing the innocent. That's not a slippery slope fallacy, that's A logical consequence of most bad people think their good people.

I generally do not like or trust the cops. If there's no other reason to hate them: let it be for how they conduct interrogations. And I have many problems with the US legal system. But I recognize the benefit of the law is that it forces people to abide by a standard that maximizes the punishment of the guilty and minimizes the punishment of the innocent. We can definitely do way better, but the easiest way to do that is to improving the system we currently have, and trying to ignore it or circumvent it is way more likely to make things incredibly worse than they are to make it better.

And trust me, I could go on, I have at least one extra point I could make right now that's alluded to in a previous point. I actually have A Reddit post draft that I barely started a while ago that I should probably finish at some point. But right now I'm really just venting because this gets me angry every time I see it, and I'm kind of annoyed that someone I followed unironically unironically reposted this, I still they thought it was so obviously correct that they didn't need to worry about backlash. And honestly, the Luigi-simping is just an example of a greater problem where people unironically think political violence is justified without ever putting A single iota of thought into how that would actually work. They come to conclusions based entirely off of what feels right, and then they call others naive when they point out how absurd their conclusions are.

I just want people to critically examine the own beliefs more, or at least honestly listen to what others critiques of theirs more.

[rafeshit]

celebrity!drew x assistant!reader

warnings — none other than tensionn and kissin

summary — you surprise him at one his premieres that he begged you to come to

youve been Drew's assistant for months, tasked with managing his chaotic schedule and taming the problems in his daily life. It's a wonder you haven't lost your mind yet, given the constant demands and last-minute changes that come with catering to a celebrity. But somehow, you've learned to navigate Drew's world with ease, all while maintaining a sense of calm that eludes him. It's almost comical, really, you're the epitome of organization and precision, whereas Drew is a walking disaster, always running late and anxiety driven about the next big thing.

despite your different approaches to life, you've developed an unlikely friendship with Drew over the past few months. You've grown accustomed to his anxious energy, and he's learned to appreciate your no-nonsense attitude. As the days have turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you've begun to realize that your feelings for Drew go beyond friendship. You've tried to brush it off as a silly crush, but the truth is, you're hooked. You can't help but admire the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners when he smiles or how he stutters when he speaks to you. The problem, of course, is that Drew is a notorious playboy, always on the prowl for the next girl to pounce on. You're not naive enough to think you stand a chance.

today is the day of the premier for Onslaught, Drew's latest movie. He's been a nervous wreck all morning, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror as he preps for the red carpet. When he turns to you and says, "I don't understand why you're not coming with me," you know you have to draw a line. You can't keep enabling his dependency on you, no matter how much you care for him. So you say the one word that will likely send him into a wreck "No!" Drew's scoffs, and he storms out of the room without a word.

you have to admit that your relationship is a little inappropriate. drew latches onto you like a child does to a mother and he uses you as an anchor in everything he does because you do things so well. So you have to draw the line somewhere.

fast-forward to the premier, where Drew is currently sweating bullets during an interview. His anxiety is at an all time high, his eyes darting towards the crowd as he forces a smile onto his face. And then, suddenly, a hair on the back of his neck stands on end. He looks up, his gaze locking onto yours as you stand at the edge of the crowd, smiling brightly back at him. The camera flashes, capturing the moment, and for an instant, everyone’s eyes were on you. But It's just you and Drew, locked in this moment feeling as though you were the only two in the room.

As the interviews wrap up, you make your way over to Drew, he turns to you, asking, "You showed up. Why'd you show up?"

You take a deep breath, preparing for the aftermath of your earlier argument. "I'm really sorry, I just—" But Drew cuts you off, "Why?" He says practically demanding an answer.

"You know why," you say, winking at him.

He chuckles, shaking his head, and you both enter into the building engulfed in a room full of his colleagues. He hands you a glass of sparkling champagne. "Well, I suppose you're here now. Let's make the most of it."

As you sip your drink, taking in the atmosphere, Drew fills you in on the reactions to his movie surrounding Onslaught. His hand finds its way to your back, moving up and down in a gentle, possessive gesture that raises more than a few eyebrows among his co-stars.

Just then, a handsome stranger approaches you,"You look stunning in that black dress, miss." he says, his smile wide and his eyes inviting. "May I have the pleasure of your name?"

You feel Drew's hand squeeze your back ever so slightly before it slips off, only to graze your butt in a gentle way. The stranger's eyes flicker to Drew, who was disinterested in the stranger advances from the start, "Sorry, she's unavailable," Drew says, ushering him away.

You turn to him, with a confused on your face. "Unavailable?" you repeat.

Drew offers a downward smile and shrugs. "Yeah. And you're fired."

You're taken aback, "What? Why?" This job has been your lively hood and the biggest break you could ever imagine, it would be catastrophic for you to lose it. You start to wonder where you messed up and if it was even fixable, because his words were certain and clear.

He smirks. "Because I can't date my assistant without it being a problem." Your eyebrows shoot up, and before you can process his words, Drew leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hands pull your waist closer to him, deepening the embrace. You both earn side eyes from everyone in the room but you two were far from caring.

Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer and finally He breaks the kiss, still holding your waist as he whispers in your ear, “this dress is coming off tonight.”