#i swear he wasn't programmed like that

[melodygatesauthor]

Club Blue 🤣🤣🤣

HE'S A FUCKING WOT???

[indecisivemuch]

hii first of all luv the username cause as a libra rising, samedt ;-; i'd like to make a request for a luke x f!reader fic pls!! um, so they're best friends, and luke decides to confess to r by giving her gifts, letters, trinkets, etc. with hints about his identity, but she doesn't know who they're from. so she asks for luke's help to find out about the identity of her secret admirer. but what if there's like a mistaken identity and she thinks it's someone from the hermes cabin (maybe chris? or one of the stoll brothers idk) and luke's just all pouty but nonchalant or something, but deep down he's like 'how do i even make her see' or something (while also second guessing that maybe he shouldn't confess it's him) like fluff with tiny angst :>

Message in a Bottle

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You got a secret admirer and recruited Luke to help you find out who they are...ignoring the most obvious option (Fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: I'm so sorry for the six month hiatus. It wasn't by choice, I swear 😭. So many bad things kept happening that prevented me from writing (is this the writers curse people kept talking about?). Also, the request wanted only a sprinkle of angst, but I kinda got out of hand with it I think 😭 (sorry).

Word count: 4.4k (whoops)

You’ve always thought that too much of something is bad. Yet, ever since the day your life intertwined with Luke Castellan’s, you weren’t very sure about that anymore. 

The two of you arrived at camp around the same time, entering a friendship that felt like hitting the jackpot. Your early days together were something that you both treasured dearly. Every time you thought a certain time period would someday be reminisced as the golden days of your friendships, new things would come, and top it off. 

However, golden skies were soon evaded by clouds of pink hues. You found yourself noticing and appreciating small details you haven’t noticed before about your best friend. Initially, you acknowledged the growing feeling but decided that they better remain as footnotes in chapters of your life. However, fate’s design was different to your plans, because two years later, here you were: you looked at him almost in the same way a fool would look at the world with rose-colored glasses (but then again, maybe it was because you have learned to embrace and adore his flaws).

“Luke!”

The Hermes cabin counselor snapped his head towards the sound of your voice, eyes straying from his duty of the hour. A smile began forming on his face as you came to view, almost like he has always been programmed to do so. There was a certain spring in your steps. Moments like these made Luke feel like he was a minimalist because your happiness was somehow enough to guarantee his own. 

You situated yourself next to Luke on the ground, not minding the dirt.

“Hey now, I’m meant to be watching these kids train, don’t come over and distract me,” the Hermes cabin counselor warned, though he didn’t move his eyes away from you. He simply couldn’t.

Everything about you served as a distraction to him. From the soft smirk gracing your lips to the innocent tilting of your head. Every little detail about you was captivating and was equally capable of drawing his attention away from wherever it was meant to be. 

In fact, his attention issue around you was getting rather shameless because his friends have begun picking up on it and started teasing him for it. Personally, Luke doesn’t think it was his fault. His eyes just happen to draw to you in every room like second nature, while his mind short-circuited every time you were near. 

Maybe, and just maybe being rational and able to function properly has stopped being his forte…at least whenever you were around.

Your eyes moved to the group of kids that were only going to be at camp for the summer. From the looks of it, Luke has just assigned them to practice sword fighting in pairs. You then glanced back at your best friend, discreetly drinking in the sight of him. 

No doubt he did his fair share of demonstration before letting these kids go off on their own, because right now, his face was slightly flushed, veins evident on his forearm while the familiar orange shirt clung onto his body with glistening sweat.

You shook away the non-platonic thoughts and teased him, “Oh, come on, you wouldn’t pass up on talking to me. You adore me too much.” 

Damn right, he does. Luke could feel his cheeks heat up again.

“Fine. What are you here for, firecracker?”

“I got another gift,” you informed, presenting the bracelet in your hand. 

For the past month, you have been receiving small letters and gifts. This time it was a handmade bracelet with beads of your favorite colors, as well as charms that represented some of your hobbies and favorite things. It was clear that your anonymous admirer had put a lot of thought into such a small item. However, as always, there were no identities attached to it, leaving you clueless about the person behind these gestures.

Luke took your hand in his, eying the accessory that perfectly fitted your wrist. He started toying with the beads around your wrist that were shining in your favorite color.

The boy’s gaze flicked from the object to you, catching your soft and warm look. Gods, if you kept looking at him like that, he might just actually stop thinking logically. He could practically feel a confession lingering behind his lips, threatening to spew the second his ropes of restraint died.

“Anyway, I came here with an idea,” you broke the silence. “What if I try to find out who this person is? I mean, some of these gifts are quite specific. They seem to know my favorite color, flowers, and things I like. Surely, it wouldn’t be that hard to narrow it down and figure it out?”

Something shifted in your best friend’s behavior and you could feel it. There was a slight flustering look on Luke’s face as he avoided eye contact with you. It was rather strange to see the Hermes cabin counselor so fidgety. Luke has always been confident and composed, and you’d often be the one to humble down his playful cocky remarks. Half-way through looking at his behavior, you began speaking:

“You…”

Luke could feel the blood draining from his face at your facial expression, his face paling despite how flushed he was seconds ago from demonstrating sword fighting. The boy tried to regain his composure, though his attempt at seeming nonchalant failed as you touched his arm. Did you—

“You can be my inside man, talk to these guys to see if they’d slip up or something like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Luke hastily replied, clearing his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did that come across as a suggestion? I hate to break it to you but being best friends means you sorta have to participate in my schemes,” your lips curled as Luke grunted at your words. 

“Yeah, but—”

“Luke, please…it’ll be fun,” he almost scoffed at your words and unconvincing argument. Clearly, the two of you had different definitions of fun. Just as he opened his mouth to reject your idea again, his eyes caught yours. You were looking at him in such an eager and heart-warming gaze that it made him forget what he was intending to say.

Ah, there was no denying anymore. Being rational and able to function properly has truly stopped being his forte.

“Fine,” Luke uttered, the word pricking his tongue as regret started kicking in as he accepted being your accomplice. This decision could only come back to bite him in the ass. He watched as you quickly celebrated his lack of restraint.

“Ah, you gave in quite quickly,” you jabbed.

“Shut up.”

Oh, you were going to be the death of him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Two days have passed since you got Luke to agree to help you find your secret admirer. Though, the boy must say, the last forty eight hours have been slightly comedic for him, watching you trying to track down your secret admirer…

While the real sender of those gifts was right beside you, nodding along to your every word. 

Luke’s mind trailed to the origin of this “secret admirer” idea. He started it as a way to abate the urge of straight-up blurting out how love-struck he was with his own best friend, while also testing out the waters before finally confessing his feelings for you. 

Though it was slightly amusing how the idea led him to where he was right at that moment. The Hermes cabin counselor zoned out as he pretended to speak to another boy you thought was behind those sweet gifts and letters. 

Luke used to have those feelings under rein, but self-repression only caused it to grow exponentially. Initially, the Hermes cabin counselor dismissed those beyond friendly thoughts, thinking they would eventually fizzle away. However, against his predictions, this fondness towards you became a sort of companion to him for three long years. 

Not only that, years of excessively burying these feelings six feet underground also came back to bite him in the ass because instead of having his feelings under control, they now have the upper hand. 

Sometimes he felt like a puppet, while his feelings plucked the strings. His facial expressions were forever cursed to be sculpted in raw yearning whenever around you, having no choice over how he reacts to everything related to you.

But it didn’t matter, because he was going to finally confess soon.

Luke almost burst out laughing at the way you were standing in anticipation, waiting for his intel on the most recent candidate. It was entertaining, to say the least, pretending to engage in investigative conversation before heading back to you, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. 

However, it didn’t take long before the Hermes cabin counselor started feeling sour.

Just as he made it back to your side, he watched as you started talking again, already discussing the next guy you thought might have done these things that Luke himself came up with. He eyed your in sync footsteps with a heavy heart. Despite the matching movement, he somehow still felt eternally behind. Luke was so close, yet so far away, and never quite able to grasp onto your ever moving attention. 

Did you not consider him as an option at all? Did you truly not see him as anything other than a good friend? It started stinging him knowing you were considering all these other guys as potential candidates — the faces that now haunt him in his sleep, poisoning his mind with an acidic jealousy that was eating away his common senses and fueling immoral thoughts. 

Soon enough, that same jealousy seared his mind with this overwhelming self-doubt. Luke’s foot started feeling cold at the thought of confessing. Gods, he never thought the same security behind anonymity would now make him feel desperate to be seen by you. 

“Maybe I should give up,” you concluded, mindlessly staring ahead. Your attention elsewhere gave Clarisse and Chris an opportunity to send each other knowing looks. The two have been watching you run around in circles on a goose hunt, not knowing to look right behind at the sulking figure that was trailing after you. 

Your distracted state also meant you didn’t notice the moping human situated beside you. However, hearing your declaration of ending your chase, Luke saw a window of opportunity. Maybe now was finally the time to be truthful. After all, if he doesn’t tell you, then how will you know and see him? Luke’s momentary motivation carried him through waves of dejection.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” Luke blurted out without much more thought or preparation, and his tone made you fully turn to him. Just as words finally formed and the boy opened his mouth to tell you—

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you privately?” Somebody interrupted. Your eyes didn’t leave Luke immediately, but when you saw your best friend’s momentum had faltered, you turned to the stranger. It was another Hermes boy, somebody who you’ve seen around. You politely agreed and left with him. 

“So, I heard you’ve been looking for the person who’s been giving you anonymous gifts. And well, it’s your lucky day, 'cause…” the boy stared you up and down while you subconsciously took a small step back when he leaned forward. “...I’ve decided to come forward and reveal myself.”

“Okay…well, prove it” you squinted. Though your skepticism didn’t make the Hermes boy in front of you falter. Clearly, he expected this.

“The first thing you were given was a note, and…the two most recent gifts were a cassette tape and a bracelet — which was made from beads of your favorite color and charms like…” you zoned out as the boy started listing out some of your favorite activities that were indeed the charms on your bracelet. You fiddled with the bracelet that you had purposefully hidden out of his view right behind your back.

There was a pinch in your heart that signaled the last bit of hope dying. 

Oh…so Luke really wasn’t your secret admirer.

You internally scoffed at yourself. You should have known right after he said yes to helping you out with finding your secret admirer — which was originally an idea used as bait to determine if Luke was the sender or not, because if it was really him then he wouldn’t have agreed to help you out with this. However, not only did your best friend agree without much convincing from you, but he had seemed so nonchalant and unaffected as you named all these boys you wanted him to talk to. 

Perhaps this secret admirer thing was something good. Somebody has shown interest and their actions have been nothing but sweet. Those letters contained words that were eternally bound to your memories, even altering the way you view yourself for the better. Maybe you could get to know this person and move on from hopelessly crushing on your best friend.  

Halfway through, you realize you were so engulfed in your thoughts that you have zoned out to half of the things the Hermes boy was saying, and merely caught onto the last bit of his speech:

“...thinking maybe we could go on a date and get to know each other more tonight?”

Your stomach churned again, yet you nodded your head.

Move on. Move on. Move on. Move on. 

Your friends gave you questioning looks when you got back to where they were, clearly curious about what you were pulled away for.

“So…that was my secret admirer, and I’m going on a date with him tonight,” you hoped you sounded more enthusiastic than you were feeling. You tried convincing yourself at least it was good knowing definitely how your best friend actually felt about you. Quickly sitting down, you kept your eyes on Clarisse, knowing if you even looked over at Luke, he’d be able to tell straight away that something was wrong.

Your lack of focus also meant you didn’t think much of the quiet murmur from your best friend: “Sorry, I just remember I need to do something.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. It was now the afternoon and you just finished getting ready for your date. As you were leaving, you spotted a note at the foot of your cabin. Seeing your name written on the paper, you picked it up while eying it peculiarly.

“You could be the one that I love, 

I could be the one that you dream of,

Message in a bottle is all I can do, 

Standing here hoping it gets to you.”

Your gut feeling stirred, hitting you with waves of higher certainty over suspicions you have previously had and denied.

Those lyrics were directly associated with a memory from summer two years ago. 

Luke and you were sitting by the campfire when he asked what your favorite song was. You told him the name and mentioned you hadn’t listened to it in a while because using technology devices with signals were dangerous for Demigods. The conversation slipped your mind but clearly loitered in your best friend’s mind, because two months later while on your way back to camp from your quest together, he gifted you a tape player along with a cassette of said song along with others that you liked.

You blinked away the image of you leaning on Luke’s shoulder while the two of you listened to the song together on the train back to camp.

You re-read the note again while shaking your head. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, that Hermes boy knew the song and it was also one of his favorites. Perhaps—

Your hand started trembling around the paper. Your eyes landed on one small detail in the note: a particular handwriting choice. The rest of it matched with previous notes, but there was one singular scribbling feature you’ve never seen used before. 

Everything came crashing down and your internal eternal cycle of excuses and denial shattered.

You ran. It didn’t matter that it was raining and your attire was getting soaked. It didn’t matter at all because you were frustrated and confused. In other instances, you would have been elated at the possibility of mutual affection, but in that moment, exasperation blinded you from sensibility. 

If what you have concluded was true, then why on Earth would he allow you to go on a date with a person who stole credit for things they didn’t do? This whole time, he made you feel like a fool — for waiting that long and having hope after all that time; for asking the person you were looking for to hunt them down with you; for sulking despite having what you thought was a good opportunity to come along; for borderline going on a date with an imposter; and for not seeing it all along that it was him. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you called out.

Despite the rain, you could see your best friend’s figure stiffened before turning around to face you. The boy stood with his hands behind his back, not yet daring to look at you. 

“The “th”. You connected the cross in the ‘t’ directly to the ‘h’,” you presented the note in your hand, pointing specifically at the slip up that Luke had made in the latest note, not caring of the raindrops that were hitting the paper. “It’s how I write it, and you started writing it the same way a year after we got to know each other because you liked the way it looked,” you pressed further.

The expression on Luke’s face painted your theory into the truth of the situation. You felt your hand slightly shaking at the revelation.

“Why? You left anonymous gifts and notes and watched me put on this hunt — which by the way, was for you. And didn’t even say anything when a guy lied and said he was my secret admirer? Is this one big cruel prank?”

“No—”

“Oh! Well then, surely at one point in this whole thing, you felt like you should just tell me?” 

“I was going to.”

“Then where were you when I was just about to head out with that fraud? Maybe if you really liked me and really cared for me, like all those damn notes say, you would have fought for m—”

“I did,” Luke finally raised his voice, his face briefly hardened in an attempt to convey his desperation. His chest heaved, and the way it did almost made you think the anger radiating off every inch of his skin right then was directed towards you. But it wasn’t, and he knew you knew. 

“I confronted him right after he claimed that he was the one who gave you all those things.” 

Invisible ivies rooted your foot to the ground. You gulped, trying to digest the information you were given. However, it finally sunk in when Luke’s hands appeared from behind his back. It was then that you could see the bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Your breath hiccuped in both flattery and worry at the implication of what he had done. The darkness behind those deep hazel-brown orbs reflected a certain side of your best friend that you hadn’t seen before. Although, part of you felt like you wouldn’t mind it.

It made Luke’s blood boil knowing what he dedicated to you from the bottom of his heart was spoiled by ill intentions. Luke should have known better than to carelessly write all the letters and craft those gifts right on his bunk bed, rather than discreetly. 

Once again, the Hermes cabin counselor was pulled back to memories from an hour ago. The way the other boy shot remarks at Luke’s lack of precautions, boasting his wrong-doings like someone incapable of having a guilty conscience. Luke's jaw tightened as the image of the sly smirk on the other Hermes boy's face flashed in his mind, but a wave of satisfaction ran through him as he recalled how quickly that smirk was wiped away by his own fist.

They might be brothers by a fraction, but blood or not, that boy was dead to Luke the second he tried tricking you.

“And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out with a fraudster. Never,” Luke’s eyes softened. “And in case it’s not implied enough: I like you…a lot. I was going to confess but then this guy came along lying,” Luke could feel that tremor returning once more to his fist. He hated that something he built, from scratch, on the foundation of sincerity was momentarily tainted by the hands of a spineless liar. Not only that, he hated witnessing somebody so dear to him getting deceived in such a tasteless manner.

“I also…didn’t want to get hurt. It was starting to seem like you would ever consider me as more than just a friend with the way you were listing out all these other guys. So for a bit there I was considering just keeping quiet…forever” he confessed, eyes now straying away from you and down to his shoes.

You observed your best friend through a new perspective. So your initial suspicions were true. You had thought it was him because all the things you have received hinted to somebody who knew you so well, and who else at camp but Luke knew this many things about you. But ultimately, another part of you — the proclaimed “logical” side — has hyper-analyzed every split second you two have shared and deemed that Luke has not given any true signs of interest in you beyond as a friend. Thus, you dismissed the thought of Luke being your secret admirer.

You know now to trust your gut feelings more.

“Oh, Luke Castellan, you dumb ass…” you spoke softly underneath your breath, but you knew he heard you perfectly clearly from the way he slightly peered up. Your heart almost shattered at the dejected look on your best friend’s face and the thought of him burying his feelings eternally. You sure as hell would not allow that to be this timeline.

“I’ve liked you ever since the day you went out of your way and gave me that first cassette tape,” the marveled look on Luke’s face over your confession made you continue, “I guess I should have known it was you…cause gift giving has always been your love language.” It seemed like the boy was too stunned and struck frozen. However, his shell-shock state didn’t last long, because soon, your best friend’s gaze reverted back to the way he has always looked at you, only slightly more intense.

Your eyes fluttered at the sight of Luke Castellan in front of you at that moment. You were finally able to see the effect you’ve always had on him. The way his lips hung slightly agape, eyes dilated in such a way you were no longer able to see their usual color anymore, chest slightly heaving despite lack of physical reasons for such a reaction. You almost wanted to hit yourself for being such a fool and not spotting these details sooner. 

“Now, Castellan…you have two options,” you stepped closer to him, leaving an appropriate amount of personal space in between. “You either kiss me or—”

Luke grabbed your wrist with his uninjured hand and pulled you in. The same hand-guided your arms around his neck while also effectively eliminating the remaining distance between you two. 

Without hesitation, he kissed you.

Likewise, you returned the action without a second thought. You frankly didn’t care about the rain that was soaking the both of you. Kissing Luke felt like such a natural act that it felt simply like diving home. The way he held you made you feel like you were a national treasure he was so afraid of losing. Gods, you don’t think you mind doing this ever so often.

Though, there was a certain urgency in the way Luke kissed you, as if afraid you’d either vanish or you’d change your mind. You pressed your lips harder against his, hoping he’d understand you didn’t intend on leaving or having a change of heart.

A grunt escaped his throat as you kissed him harder. Oh, Luke Castellan already knew he was in immense trouble. He knew almost immediately that the concerning number of thoughts he had about you each day would only increase tenfold from this day on. He wondered if you could taste all of his unspoken words. If kissing you felt like this, he might as well sign away his heart, body, and mind to you. In fact, he’d sign anything you put in front of him without even considering the fine prints. 

Luke slowly backed you against a tree, giving you a bit of support to lean against whilst shielding the both of you from the heavy rain. He smiled into the kiss as you hummed at his action, feeling it echo against his lips. His heart tugged, almost leaping out of his chest when your hands made their way to both sides of his face, cupping it intently like holding something yours. Yours. Fuck, he loved the sound of that. 

You were the first to break the kiss. The both of you gasped for air while maintaining eye contact. The close-up view of his intense gaze drove your cheeks rosy. You could not help but admire the way his locks of wet curly hair clung onto his forehead, while raindrops fell from his face, some following the length of his eyelashes before falling — Oh, the way he glanced down at your lips at that second made you feel almost like you had the power to convince him into anything at the moment. 

“You’re my best friend…” he broke the silence.

“Mhm.”

“...but what if I want you to be more than that?”

“I can be both,” Luke’s lips broke out into a smile, and you mirrored his facial expression. He leaned his forehead against yours whilst softly rubbing his thumb soothingly against your waist.

“I’m not against that.” 

As a larger grin broke out on your lips, Luke’s eyes further softened. He realized right there and then that anything you wanted, he would not be against it. A breath of relief quietly escaped beneath Luke’s breath. He could not wait for whatever was in store for the both of you in the future.

Good thing his messages in a bottle did get to you.

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

masterlist

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[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰

Summary: Your relationship with Farleigh Start has always precariously walked the line between friends and enemies for years.

But maybe there's something else there, too.

Warnings: 18+ content; MDI. AFAB, Oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex (this is fiction, please use protection in rl), hints at s and d dynamics; brief, barely there choking, outdoor/technically public sex. Sex while under the influence (takes place during Oliver's party, so drugs for Farleigh and alcohol for the reader). Farleigh being an a*s, but what's new. Reader is American. Heavy denial of feelings in the beginning.

Notes: 14.6 k words. There is an abhorrent lack of Farleigh content on this site, so I thought I'd contribute. Not proofread, divider by @saradika-graphics

𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖎𝖎 - 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦

Honestly, it's a wonder how you always manage to forget the sheer opulence of the Saltburn Estate - even when it wasn't in the throes of a celebration that costs more than your yearly salary. It's like some sort of dream almost. While you're in it the details are all startingly intense. Overbearingly so. Flaunting in front of you with all of its details and sights; like a kaleidoscope. The memories never do the estate any true justice. The soft, rolling lush fields; the crystal blue skies that loom over the tall gray spires. It's all painted behind your eyelids with a haunting clarity. But as soon as you leave - as soon as you wake up - the entire experience never truly feels real. Bits and pieces slip through your fingers. It loses its tangibility somehow and you can't help but wonder if you had imaged the whole thing, even with Felix's number programed into your phone; a physical reminder that Saltburn is indeed a real, tactile place. 

But even here tonight, while walking the halls and strolling through the courtyard, it doesn't feel like reality. It seems as though you've stepped into a fever dream, crossed some imaginary threshold and entered some mirroring realm. The air is charged. Electrifying. And you swear you could feel the magnetic net of adrenaline and excitement prickling at your fingertips. A cocktail of emotions amplified by alcohol and drugs and endorphins. 

Everywhere you looked there were jovial, writhing bodies. People dancing and laughing. Some full on making out - and others dangerously close to toeing the line of having public sex - and others were having a less enjoyable time by collapsing in exhaustion or blacking out in an inebriated haze. One unfortunate soul had thrown up all over the floor boards of the foyer, and you had just narrowly missed being sprayed by the projectile vomit as you had passed. It was like the Exorcist. 

Thank God it hadn't been on one of the Persian rugs. 

It was someone's birthday, it seemed. A little impromptu. Not initially planned. Oliver's - at least that's what you believed it was. The same Oliver that Felix had mentioned during one of your phone calls. He had spoken of him fondly, but when Felix had rushed outside this evening to greet you from your taxi and help you gather up your bags, he had seemed less interested and even a little irritated in the mention of his newest companion - or as harsh as it sounds, charity case (he seems to have a new one each summer). And he had been quick to divert your line of questioning, stopping you with a somewhat curt, "he's just a friend from Oxford. That's all." And that was that. You knew not to press him over it. 

But your time with Felix was cut short when he was pulled aside by an excited Elspeth, who had spared you a quick glance and a "hello, darling," before eagerly trying to get his advice on the party preparations. Which he didn't seem particularly enthused about being dragged into. And it left you to stand awkwardly on your on in the middle of the foyer, trying to force your bleary eyes open. Jet lagged with your will to live paper thin from only having a rough five hours of sleep to back it up. And for a moment you had feared that you might actually pass out on your feet but luckily Venetia had sought you out and saved you from feeling too awkward amongst the others. Occupying the time by gossiping and interrogating you about your time back in the States. All of which, you had confessed have been rather boring. Filled with exams and dead-end dates and careless flings. And even though the initial arrival always leaves you feeling like a fish out of water, you were thankful to have been invited back over to Saltburn. The sprawling, golden fields and fresh crisp air always a welcome reprieve from the loud, chaotic clamoring and the smog blanketed horizon of Los Angeles. 

Even though the wild, scattered throng of sweating bodies that were bumping into you honestly weren't all that different from the clubs you frequent back home. Of course, the sheer show of wealth and splendor that had been rolled out for Oliver was nothing that you had ever seen before with the only thing to rival it (and surpass it, probably) being Felix's very own birthday party that you had been able to take part of a few years back. One that had been themed after a strange but no less entertaining amalgamation of cowboys, space and disco, and the costumes and decorations then had left you in a state of awe, much like tonight. 

Everywhere you looked there was something else to gawk at. Glittering lights, a hired contortionist and at one point you had even seen a swan rush past you out on the courtyard - which you had only felt sad and a little angry for. 

It was pure, unbridled pandemonium. Noisy and cloying with the scent of perfumes and marijuana and alcohol; and you couldn't escape it. Not even when you had gone outside to take advantage of the dark, balmy summer breeze to cleanse your lungs. And everything had been going well until a drunk man had lunged out of the crowd towards you. Wobbling on his feet with a loud wail akin to a war cry as he aimed a narrow tube directly at you. And you only had a fleeting second to wish that it was one of those party canisters full of tensile when he had set it off with a loud pop! And a large, shimmering cloud of glitter had burst over you like a mist, layering across your hair, and costume and skin like a sheen of sweat. You didn't even have time to yell at him before he was scurrying off into the crowd with a demented cackle, probably on his way to find some other unfortunate person to glitter bomb. 

And even worse a quick glance downward had revealed that the drink in your champagne glass had been tainted by a thin coat of sparkling silver. Even if you wanted to be lazy and drink around the floaters, the amount drifting around in the champagne was too much. You probably would have ended up choking on all of it. It was with a defeated sigh that you tossed out the remainder of your drink onto the trampled lawn. 

For the first time tonight you're actually thankful that Venetia had chosen to leave you for some tall, dark, and handsome stranger that she had met near the beginning of the party. You hadn't seen her since, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise. You would hate for her to see the state of her dress. It is just glitter, easy to wash off in the grand scheme of things, and too be fair she had said that she didn't even like the garment. It was just some random piece from another one of the Catton's wild parties - themed after Renaissance art and fables, you think. And she had sifted it out from the depths of her closet with little fanfare.  "It's just some old thing, " she had told you plainly, even though the dress probably cost more than your monthly rent. Clearly, she wouldn't be distressed over some glitter, but you were still having a hard time fighting the sinking feeling in your gut. It was borrowed. She was letting you wear it. And now it was covered in a dust of silver because some guy decided to be a dick. 

It could be worse though. It could have been a glass full of wine that he had dunked on you instead. You suppose you should take your wins where you could get them. 

A part of you thinks about returning inside the manor and calling it a night. Taking a much-needed bath to clean off the layer of glitter from your skin and just going to bed. But really, you aren't sure if you'll even be able to manage falling asleep with the sheer volume of the music playing throughout various sections of the house, and the sound of the raucous cheering and laughter. And you could imagine what Venetia or Felix would tell you, to quit being so reclusive and to get out and socialize. 

You did fly all the way over here. Planned this trip for a few weeks and made preparations with your job and roommate when Felix had called to invite you over for the summer. It would be a complete waste to turn in for the night and huddle yourself up in your quarters. 

And with the fog of alcohol draping over your body you know you should probably put a pause on it for a bit but fuck it, it's a party and you need another drink. 

 You glance around the courtyard, hoping to spy one of that servants that have been forced to parade platers of alcohol around for the many guests but all you see are the scattered throngs of people dressed in fairy wings, strange animal masks, and plastic swords. Honestly, it never amazes you how many people get invited to these events. Even with all of the family members combined, there's no way they all know every individual here directly. There's probably enough to fill a damn stadium. 

In your search your gaze sweeps over the steady bonfires, the temporary lovers grinding against each other and a pair talking amongst themselves - wait. That catches your attention. You feel heat prickling at your chest; irritation rising in some subconscious sort of reaction and as if they have a mind of their own your eyes skitter back over to them to confirm if what you thought you saw was true. And lo and behold, there he is. The bane of your existence. Farleigh Start. 

Your eyes flicker across him from his head to his old-fashioned boots. He's holding some sort of mask in one of his hands. A big bulky thing with long protruding ears and an equine shaped face and you have to squint to come to the concussion that it appears to be a donkey.

 He seems to be talking to someone. A person that you don't recognize but they both seemed to be engaged in some sort of heated stare off from near a rotating pig on a stick. It looks like he's found another unfortunate victim to prod at and humiliate. Not that it was difficult for Farleigh. He was always eager to find someone to harass and belittle. And the more that someone fought back, the more interested he seems to become. He's been a personal thorn in your side for longer than you'd like to admit. 

Of course, you knew he would be here, but that didn't necessarily mean that actually seeing him made it any easier. It had to have close to a year since you've last interacted with him, which had to have been during that awful Christmas party back in the States. Why Graham had invited both of you when he knew that neither of you get along is a mystery. It could have been some lame attempt to get two of his closest friends to finally clear up whatever animosity was between them, but in all actuality it had just made worse. All of the passive aggressive barbs and thinly veiled sneers had nearly reached a boiling point that night when Farleigh wouldn't just leave you alone. Seeming to make it his mission to antagonize you at every turn with childish insults. But as childish as they might have been, they added up over time until you were giving him what he wanted, lashing out in response to his nasty little comments. 

And to think at one point you had actually been excited to meet him. As Graham's close friend and roommate, you were interested in getting to know the guy that he couldn't stop gushing about. The one who he had praised nearly nonstop. Farleigh had been nice enough in the beginning. And you even enjoyed his company for a time. His humor had always been a bit snarky, and the jokes he told were usually at another's expense. But he had been - as much as you hate to admit it, fun. And at one point, you had even considered him a friend of sorts. Or at the very least an acquaintance whose company you enjoyed while you both rambled on about nothing and everything, often gossiping about others. 

It had all been fine between you. That was until Felix had come down to L.A. to visit. He had gone out with Farleigh and Graham to go and sightseeing, which eventually steered into hopping from club to club as the day wanned into night. And when the invitation had extended to you, your relationship with Farleigh had taken a turn. For whatever reason talking to Felix was easy. But that was just Felix you suppose; always able to make friends with just about anyone in the room. And the closer that the two of you had become, the more strained your association with Farleigh had grown until it was filled with nothing but sardonic remarks and passive hostility. And instead of being a sort of surface level confidant, he gradually became a presence that you detested. And your relationship had gone from a mutual respect and cordial conversations to some sort of strange cat and mouse game. The both of you exchanging snarky jabs in an attempt to see if the other would crack. 

You would be lying if you didn't admit that some part of you enjoyed your little spats. And maybe you had hoped that he would be here tonight. Not that you'd ever tell him that. You'd rather trip onto the sharp end of a knife. 

Suddenly Farleigh is stepping towards the stranger, shoulders rigid and body pulled taught, seeping with irritation. And he takes ahold of their face, forcing the shorter man to look into his eyes in some sort of intimidation tactic.  Farleigh's nearly seething. And his expression is firm with an apparent frustration. You don't think you've seen him so visibly aggravated before. You can't help but wonder what the mystery guy may have done to warrant such a response from him. 

And then Farleigh is pulling away, releasing the stranger from his grip with a smug smile. But on him it looks more like a sneer with the way his lips are stretched and showing off his teeth. He's moving towards your direction now, probably intending to head back to the house, and he's yet to notice you. You contemplate leaving. Of slipping back under the cover of the scattered crowd and disappearing before he sees you, but your body doesn't move. Instead, you're stock still.  There's some awful feeling in your gut that seems horrendously akin to anticipation; fluttering and soft and nauseating. 

You should just leave. You could leave if you'd just move. But it's too late. You swear there's some awful full body reaction that occurs when Farleigh's gaze meets yours and he stops in place to assess you. For a moment it's like you've been sucked into a black hole. It's like time has dilated and shrunk down around you until it's frozen solid and suddenly the lively chaos around you falls quiet, muffling down into an insignificant hum in the background. Recognition flickers in his eyes and something else crosses his face too. Something that you don't quite recognize but regardless, it feels as though the both of you are engaged in some sort of wordless exchange. There's another smile growing on his face. It's mischievous but still much more relaxed and familiar than the previous one that he had worn, and you can't help but return one of your own. 

It's then that you're finally able to gain control of your own body, walking backward a few steps before you twist around to slip amongst a gaggle of passing girls with something that is suspiciously close to excitement bubbling in your gut. You briefly use them as cover to get you closer to the house entrance, and they're all too occupied with giggling and gossiping to notice your presence. But you're able to remove yourself from the cluster when one of them drunkenly trips on her skirt, and she saves herself by latching onto the shoulder of one of her friends with a wild laugh. The others all gather around her to jokingly reprimand her as they assist her in righting herself but you're already stepping through the back threshold of the manor, and you're thrown headfirst into the alcohol infused, neon casted mayhem. Party streamers, glow sticks and blaring upbeat music. It's complete madness. You can hardly hear yourself think and trying to work yourself through the tight gaps between people's swaying bodies proves to be a challenge of its own and it's a heavy reminder as to why you had even gone outside in the first place. 

The atmosphere is cloying and thick; you feel as though you might actually be able to choke on it like it's a physical thing. As otherworldly and exciting as this party is, it's another experience entirely when you're being elbowed in the ribs by an oblivious drunk girl who isn't aware of her windmilling arms and all the intoxicated men who think that you're trying to feel them up and flirt with them when in reality you're just trying to get by. And for a split second you feel as though you may never make it out of the tumultuous sea of bodies. That you'll be cursed to wander around aimlessly in the wild, dancing masses for eternity. Subjected to the ear shattering music and scent of spilt wine and bourbon and sweat. 

But then you hear something that sounds suspiciously like your name. It's distant and damp as though your ears are plugged and for a second you had thought that you imagined it before you hear it again. This time louder and there's no mistake that someone is calling you. It has you pausing for a moment to analyze your surroundings and then you catch sight of someone familiar at the far end of the room and for a moment you think that your eyes might be lying to you with the aid of the dim lighting. The deep, saturated, shifting hues of purple and blue and red tinting the chaotic space doing very little to aid you. But someone is waving their arm up the air for you to spot them better and a long glance confirms that you were right in your assumption. The relief that sweeps across your bones is insurmountable and the glimpse of a hand raised up in the air to beckon over you is even more incentive to press forward. And you have to shoulder past people until you enter a small break in the crowd. 

"There you are!" Venetia shouts triumphantly, swaying to the rhythm of the song playing at full blast. "I've been looking all over for you!" 

You don't bother refuting her. Of countering that she was the one who had wondered off without any plans to meet up afterwards. Instead, you just move up closer to her, doing your best to match her movements and energy but you're entirely too self-conscious to actually meet her. And you feel the fleeting sense of relief that she has yet to notice all of the glitter covering her dress or doesn't care. 

"I had to go outside and get some fresh air, " you confess and even underneath the low lighting you can see the way that she nearly rolls her eyes at you, but even then, there's a well-meaning smile on her face. 

"You're at a once in a lifetime party, and you were spending it outside?" 

"Just for a minute." But she looks completely unamused by your apparently flimsy defense and suddenly she's grabbing you by the shoulders and leaning towards you like it might seal in her words better. 

"Well, you're supposed to be inside. Dancing and partying and getting drunk." She squeezes her hands against your skin. "Seriously, it's like you're allergic to fun." 

Okay, a little bit rude. And you try to remind yourself that she's just saying it because she's probably drunk. For the most part, all of the younger Catton's (Farleigh included) have a tendency to be social butterflies and party animals. It was something that you had struggled to keep up with when you had officially become friends with Felix. Luckily, he was typically the most understanding out of all of them, and he was aware enough to take notice when you were burning out. It was something that you had thought that Venetia had come to terms with as well, but every now and again she always makes sure to voice her objections. 

And you open your mouth to protest but you hardly get anything out. "That's not tru-" 

"And as your friend it's my duty to ensure that you do exactly all of the above!" She pulls away with a smirk that is entirely all too satisfied, and it immediately has the alarm bells inside your head blaring. "And maybe even a bit more." 

You don't like that last bit. 

"There's someone who I think you'd love to meet!" And you swear you can feel your stomach drop at those words but exasperation bleeds through the discomfort until you're holding back an irritated sigh as she practically gushes some stranger's name. "Reuben!" 

And at the call of his name, the guy seems to appear from the darkness and shifting bodies like some sort of spirit. It takes you completely off guard how closely and quickly he moves, and you have to physically keep yourself from flinching back. The entire situation is jarring, and you feel like an insect pinned to a corkboard with how both Venetia and this stranger - Reuben are watching you expectantly. And it takes everything to muster up a smile that you know must look strained and unnatural. "Hi," you greet lamely, but he doesn't seem to be the least bit deterred or put off. 

And he is cute, you'll admit. Kind, joyful eyes that you think are hazel but it's honestly impossible to tell in this lighting and there's a dusting of freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. He seems inviting enough if first impressions are anything to go by, but for whatever reason you don't find yourself gravitating towards him or longing for any sort of conversation with him. 

"It's nice to meet you!" He returns, loudly projecting to be heard over the stereo system. "Venetia's told me a bit about you." 

"Uh-huh, " you nod for him to continue or maybe divulge, but he doesn't. He just stands there silently without removing his gaze and you can't tell if it's because he's just oblivious or if maybe he's just socially awkward, but it has you shuffling on your feet all the same, desperate to move or do anything to make this less weird. And you glance over at Venetia who still has that hopeful expression on her face, doing your best to telegraph your discomfort without tipping Reuben off. And she does seem to notice but she doesn't tell him to leave or direct him somewhere else like you had wanted. 

"Reuben said that he's been to America before," she reveals. Apparently trying to salvage this little interaction and cultivate it into something more. 

"Oh, really?" You perk up a bit, or at least try to. "Where did you visit?" 

"Uh, New York. City, " he clarifies at the end before his demeanor shifts into something a bit sheepish and playful and the gold plastic crown perched atop his head glints in the lights. "It was a bit of a bore, I won't lie. But that was probably because I was there on a business trip and not on holiday, so feel free to put the blame on me." 

His attempt at joking does thaw at some of the unpleasant tension that had burdened the air, but even with the initial ice broken there's still just a simple, straightforward uninterest underneath it all. You aren't stupid. It's obvious why Venetia had pressed to introduce him to you, it's obvious why he had agreed. And you don't fault him for trying to get lucky at what might just be the party of the decade (for you at least) but keeping him here and stringing him along is a complete waste of everyone's time. You aren't going to sleep with him. Not tonight or any other night. And then you go to tell him as much, parting your lips to just get to the point and lay all of your cards out on the table but then Venetia is tapping on your shoulder, making you pause to look over at her. 

She has this strange, delighted smile on her lips that's even worse than the one she was wearing when she had invited Reuben over. She nods her chin over to your right, watching eyes trained on something or someone. "Your shadow's here." 

You nearly break your neck to follow her line of sight and your heart skips a beat when you see Farleigh standing several feet away from a gap in the crowd and you have to wonder just how long he's been standing there for. And you don't know why you suddenly feel as though you've been caught doing something wrong. Why your body flushes and prickles with shame and you feel like cringing. Maybe it's because of the way that he's looking at you. How his eyes dart from you to Reuben like he's assessing something. Most of the emotions flickering across his face are unreadable. But for second you think that you catch glimpses or what might be anger or irritation and worst of all betrayal before it leans into something neutral and flat. And then just as you had, he's turning on his heels and vanishing. But unlike you, he doesn't smile as he leaves. He doesn't walk away with a silent invitation to follow. 

And then Venetia is turning to Reuben with a sweet smile and tilting her head. "Alright, you can go now." 

He looks just as confused as you do, and he turns to look at you like he's expecting you to jump in to defend him or at the very least offer an explanation, but you don't have one to give.  You're just as lost as he is and when you don't speak and tell him to stay, he backs away, spreading his arms out in a sort of silent 'what the fuck?' gesture and vanishes back into the throng of bodies. 

"What . . . was that?" You ask, tense with a mutated type of bewilderment and anger. 

"I just wanted to see it." She says cryptically and irritatingly, begins to dance in place before finally disclosing on that little comment. "The look on his face." 

"What?" You snap. 

"Please, the way you two dance around each other is getting dreadfully old. It's boring and tired. I just did something to get the ball rolling." 

This in particular isn't new by any means. You had heard it all before from the two Catton siblings. Their vehement insistence that you and Farleigh had some unspoken attraction for the other that you both refused to act or speak on. It had nearly become a joke for the both of them. To prod and poke at you and Farleigh with to their hearts content. It was something that the both of you had learned to accept over time - somewhat - and ignore. But this. This new and entirely strange. 

"So, what? You were trying to make him jealous?" Your forehead crinkles as you watch her; incredulous and perplexed. 

"Trying?" She echoes amusedly." I succeeded. Did you see the way that he was looking at you? He was practically seething." 

You almost scoff. He wouldn't be jealous; he had no reason to be. And you don't know why Venetia's little ruse has pissed you off, or why that strange look on Farleigh's face had made your heart drop, but it did. 

"The two of you are so dense that it's honestly as frustrating as it is entertaining," she says with pure exasperation. "I mean, whenever you're here, you're practically fused at the hip. Bickering like cats and dogs like we can't all see the truth." She laughs but it's more of a scoff really. "He speaks about you. All the time. Always whining and complaining about something you've done. But it's different. He practically has hearts in his eyes while does it. And it's exhausting." And then she's backing away from you, leaving you to settle and drown in the disarray of your own thoughts and come to terms with that. Does he really speak about you like that? Surely, there's no way. 

 "So can the two of you, for all of our sake's, sort whatever mess you've got going on between you and just fuck already? " 

And then she's spinning away her heels, sending you a wink over her shoulder and the silver chains wrapping around her body in a delicate draped halter glint and twinkle underneath the lights; showcasing that elaborate weblike shape that they've been constructed in. And she just leaves you. Abandoning you in the middle of the temporary dancefloor while you fight with an upstream of odd emotions. You just standing there while you tussle with the urge to find Farleigh and apologize (apologize for what?) and tell him that it was just some weird joke from Venetia (why does that matter?). You don't know why you feel the need to go and try to repair whatever damage Venetia may have just done. What that said 'damage' may even be, you don't know. And you also don't know why you're suddenly heading off in the direction that Farleigh had disappeared in, scanning the crowd for him with some ugly sense of desperation that you don't want to unpack and analyze. Not even as you yield to it.  

You aren't even sure how long you search for; your gaze jumping over every face and person that you see in the hopes that you find him. But the room is packed to say the least, and the odds of you actually stumbling across him must be low. He might not even be in this specific room anymore. And if that's case then you might as well as give up now. The estate is sprawling; if he doesn't want to be found, then he won't be. And you think about giving up. Of turning in for the night and trying to talk to him in the morning when you inevitably see him at the breakfast table. 

But then you see him. Only this time there's no double take or reason to reconfirm that it is him, this time you spot him immediately.

He seemed to have shed his doublet at some point, leaving him in his pale undershirt. His mask is gone as well. And it takes your mind a second to realize that he's not alone. That he's pressed against some girl like he might kiss her. There's a smile on his face; inviting and flirtatious and the tips of their noses brush together as they lean in close. 

You're an unintended observer. You shouldn't be here watching them in a moment that clearly isn't meant for you but it's as though your feet are glued to the floor. It's like watching a car crash. You don't want to look; you don't want to be here but some awful part of you is making you stay. Your muscles have gone still from something prickling and cold and disarming. You can feel it in your chest too. It's making your lungs seize and for one long, paralyzing moment it's almost like you can't breathe. But you don't have a right to be bothered by this. Farleigh's entitled to have one-night stands or flings or to go on dates with people if he wants to. There's no reason why he can't. And there's no reason why you should be feeling shame and betrayal and hurt right now. Absolutely no reason. You wonder if this is what he had felt just a few moments before while you were standing with Reuben and that odd little side of you hopes that he had. 

God, what if Venetia had been right? What if - 

Their lips brush together. 

They're going to kiss, some hideous part of your brain whispers and even worse your body tenses and coils like it's bracing for some sort of dreadfully anticipated impact. This is it. The moment the car crashes and erupts into burning flames. 

But then Farleigh goes still. Pausing as though someone had called his name or he's remembered something. The girl that he's pressed up against leans back with a confused furrow pinched between her eyebrows when he turns his head and his eyes land on you. 

Your mouth goes dry, and your tongue seems thick and useless, and you try to swallow around it. Now that you're here you don't even know what to do with yourself. You aren't even sure what you had gone after Farleigh for. You didn't have a plan to begin with; you didn't know what to say. You have to internally curse yourself for following after him and putting yourself in this situation. It's strange and awkward and it takes everything for you to even manage a smile. To try and look casual and pretend that maybe you had just stumbled across them and hadn't intentionally tracked him down. And you lift a hand up in a lax wave while your mind ceaselessly chants for you to leave. To just go. 

You can feel Farleigh's gaze searing into you, drilling holes into your head even as the girl that he's with leans towards him and you can't hear over the distance or the music, but she appears to be saying something if the way that her mouth is moving is any indication. 

You're quick to turn on your heels and all but nearly speed walk away from the both of them, eager to create as much distance between you and them as possible. You don't feel like you're apart from your body. It's like you're disconnected from it, uncomfortably aware of your limbs and movements as you rush away. And it's like your emotions are stuffing your body full and threatening to tear it at the seams. Emotions that you don't recognize; that you don't want to recognize. 

A warmth and pressure suddenly encircles around your wrist, much like a hand would and for a moment you think that you've imaged it. But then you're being pulled back gently by the strength of someone's grip, and it forces you to stop. You know who it is before you turn to look at them. You can smell the burn of tobacco from his cigarette habit on his clothes, and it blended with the delicate musk of his cologne. The woody notes of amber joining along with vanilla and bergamot and cardamom made your mouth water in some horrid Pavlovian response. It was humiliating. 

Then your eyes are meeting his; dark and glimmering underneath the flashing, sweeping lights dancing about the room. And for one agonizing moment neither of you say anything. It's like you're both simultaneously drifting away and stuck in place. The energy looming over the both of you is foreign and strange, and Farleigh can feel it too if the blank, unsure expression on his face gives away as much. 

And then he's releasing your wrist and you let your arm drop down at your side. He shifts on his feet and the weird tension in his shoulders drop as easily as if it were a piece of clothing and a smirk takes shape on his face. This is the Farleigh that you're more familiar with, with the condescending look in his eyes and a prideful tilt to his head. It puts you at ease. Dulling the nervous butterflies in your gut and allowing you to settle underneath his presence. 

"Well, if it isn't Felix's favorite little pet." It's meant to be an insult. Most would read it as such, but for you it brings nothing but relief. It feels like a consolation almost. That whatever these strange little interactions have been they haven't damaged your relationship with Farleigh (what relationship?) and made things odd. He glances around the room and all of the festivities, the swaying crowd and streamers and flowing alcohol. He wrinkles his nose in a way that comes off as falsely apologetic. "Or I guess I should say second favorite now." 

"Then it's a good thing that I didn't come here for him," you respond easily enough. Internally thankful that the last remaining remnants of tension in your throat hasn't prohibited your ability to speak. "I just know how thrilled you always are to see me, and so I couldn't possibly bring myself to skip out on the trip."  

"Thrilled," he echoes with a scoff. "Is that what you think? Because personally I feel like drowning myself in the pond right about now." 

"No one's stopping you, " you quip back easily, finally slipping back into your old dynamic. 

His forehead scrunches as he pins you with an incredulous look, tilting his head as he moves in closer towards you. "And leave you here all alone? What would you do without me?" 

"Thrive. Live. Experience peace." 

"Sounds boring." 

But you don't have time to respond. He's leaning back on his feet and stepping away from you while he digs one of his hands into the pocket of his costume's pants. And when he removes his hand, it comes out clutching a packet of cigarettes, which he's quick to ruffle around in. "Come on, I wanna smoke." 

You don't ask any questions as he moves, leading you out from the dancefloor and throughout the house. Every so often he glances back over his shoulder like he's reconfirming that you haven't wandered off and left. He guides you up a set of staircases, past the couple planted by the first step who are openly making out and grinding on each other and up into the twisting, changing hallways. 

"Where are we going?" You ask, nearly getting shoulder checked by a pair of girls who rush down the corridor in a fit of giggles. 

"I told you, " he replies and hardly looks back. " I want to smoke." 

You want to press him about. About how suddenly he's unable to smoke inside when you've seen him do at least a thousand times. Even at the breakfast table. He probably does it on the toilet too. It wouldn't be a surprise. You aren't sure how long the two of you walk for, higher up into the highest floors of the house until he's finally stopping and opening a door at the end of the hall. He pauses in the threshold, dipping his head in and looking in like he's checking to see if it's occupied. He could have just knocked. It would have been an unpleasant surprise for the people inside if it actually had been unavailable. But the coast must be clear because he's slipping inside and nodding his head for you to follow after. He shuts the door behind you, closing it with a click and gives you a passing smirk when you shoot him a curious glance. 

You follow him into the room, vacant apart from some paintings and a few pieces of furniture - an old office maybe, and he leads you across the floors towards a pair of large glass double doors.

He tugs on one of the handles, swinging it open, revealing what appears to be one of the balconies. He's outside before you. And by the time you slide up beside him he's already leaning against the chiseled stone railing on his elbows and the cigarette perched between his lips is lit and smoldering. 

The air outside is still warm, sweet and earthy with the scent of moister in the air, like some distant, unseeable storm is brewing. And you can see so much of the estate from this high up. The frolicking people down below in their costumes and those massive, glowing lotus lamps drifting in the pond. But even with all of the guests down on the courtyard engaging in various kinds of trouble; drinking and shouting and singing amongst themselves, up here their voices can harldy reach you. It sounds like a faint murmur on the soft summer wind. And for maybe the first time tonight you actually feel a sense of calm. 

"He's a selfish lover, " Farleigh says randomly, flicking the butt of his cigarette to sprinkle the dead ash onto the far grounds beneath. "And a notoriously fast one too. Eliana Merrick said he busted as soon as he put it in." 

He notices the lost look on your face and sighs, twisting around on his feet to lean his back against the railing instead. "Your little boytoy from earlier. Reuben Amory." He spits his name out with something that sounds suspiciously like contempt. Venomous and irritated and he lifts the cigarette up to take another drag. "His father's a friend of the family. To James specifically. That's how he always manages to weasel his way into our parties." 

"I guess I dodged a bullet then." You joke, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the elaborate pearl earrings dangling from your ear. 

"What? He didn't scratch your itch?" 

"No," you shake your head with a light shrug. "He was fine. It's just . . . I don't know, I wasn't interested." 

Farleigh snorts, making you glare at him, eyebrows furrowing. "What?"

"Nothing." But his tone is a little sarcastic, and unconvincing and the nasty smile on his lips reveals as much. "He just seemed to fit the bill of your type pretty well. Well-meaning, polite and a little pathetic." 

You nearly laugh but it comes out as more of a scoff. "That is not my type." 

"Oh, really?" He challenges, moving closer towards you and you can smell his cologne again. The vanilla sticks out the most this time. Delicate and sweet. "What about that guy you used to flirt with at IHop? " 

"He was a server. It's literally his job to be nice-" 

"And then there was your neighbor back at the apartment. The one across the hall with the abysmal amout of plants. And then who could possibly forget, what was his name? Adrian? Who you dated for all of four weeks." 

It has you falling silent, unable to counter his argument even though you have a remark waiting on the tip of your tongue. You've never realized that Farleigh had ever paid that much attention to you and your affairs. It has that syrupy, fuzzy feeling pooling in the center of your chest despite that fact that you're actively telling yourself that it doesn't actually mean anything. It's normal for people to notice things about people that they're forced into proximity with. 

"Wow, I never knew you were so interested in my love life, " you say, gripping onto the rough texture of the railing. Stroking your fingers over the soft groves and bumps. "Maybe you should get one of your own." 

"But yours is always so entertaining," he snuffs out the cigarette and carelessly drops the butt onto the ground near his feet. "You know, with the way that it always seems to crash and burn." 

It probably would have stung to hear if you weren't able to say that you were the one to end all of the relationships that you had been in. That you were always the one to take the first step in severing ties. Even with Adrian you had been the one to sit him down and explain that you just hadn't been able to see it progressing anywhere. The both of you were too different. Your goals and wants in life were polarizing and the only things that had brought you together were superficial at best. You just weren't built to last. 

"Please, like yours has ever been any better." But he doesn't look the least bit offended. Instead, there's a satisfied quality to his expression. Your lips purse and something akin to defeat weighs down your shoulders. "Besides, they were all too sweet anyway. A little too nice. They could never keep up. I'd always end up saying something to hurt their feelings on accident and they would think that I meant it and then I'd get the silent treatment." 

"Not like us, huh?" Farleigh responds a little softly. And he was right. There was always something about your dynamic with Farleigh that you had never been able to achieve in your relationships. The constant push and pull. The competition of your endless banter and insults. The way that you could be completely bare and unrestrained with your words without putting your standing with him at risk. There was . . . an intimacy in it that couldn't compare with anyone else. You had seen the worst of Farleigh. The sneers and jabs and heated sarcasm. And in turn he had gotten the brunt of your own ire and jokes, but it still didn't change a thing. Neither of you ran from it. Instead, you both seemed to revel in it. To seek it out even. It was a type of security that you had never found with any other friend or lover. 

And you don't know what it is, but some invisible element shifts and rises between the both of you. Something that's always been there. Simmering and quiet, building up underneath your every interaction like water boiling on a hot stove. 

"No. Not like us," you admit in a near whisper like if you spoke to loudly that it might disrupt whatever magnetic thrum has fallen over you both. So low that he might not have heard you. But then you see something flash in his eyes. Something hungry and eager and he's moving closer until you can feel his body heat pouring over your skin, seeping underneath the delicate fabric of your dress and into your bones. 

"I hated all of them," he says it like a confession. Hushed and passionate. And you suppose that it is one. Told in total confidence, with a certain fervor like a sinner tucked away in a confessional booth. "I hated them because they should have been me." 

It makes you gasp lowly. And your fingers squeeze around the banister like it might ground you and keep you from floating away. And suddenly Venetia's previous statements are echoing around in your skull; mocking and satisfied. You feel slightly stupid now. Blind. But never in a million years would you have guessed that Farleigh had actually ever been jealous of the men that you had dated. It seems like such a silly concept. Or else it would have in the past, but now here he is confirming the very thing that the two Catton sibling's have been vehemently trying to drill into your head for years. And you like it. God, you actually like it. Some nasty little side of you is completely satisfied and even elated that he's been seething over all of your old flings and exes. It feels good because you've been doing the same thing you suddenly realize. Every time that stinging burn had caught up in your chest at the sight of him curled up with some other person - it hadn't been irritation for Farleigh. It was jealousy. You had actually been jealous. 

"Can I tell you something?" You ask. 

He just hums, low and soft. You can't even glance away from him. Not even if you wanted to. Not with the way that he's looking at you. His stare is heavy and intense, and it feels like you're being held by the throat, forced to maintain eye contact with your breath steadily being stolen from your lungs. "I wished they were you, too." 

It's like something breaks free from you when you say it. It was heavy, oppressive and suffocating and in its absence, it's replaced by a sense of ease and a freedom that makes you want to laugh and maybe even cry. And maybe if you weren't preoccupied with the entirety of your attention zoned in on Farleigh you might would have.

Now he's stepping even closer than before, and now you can actually feel the press of his body against yours. The pressure of it has your lips parting, and you have to angle your head to maintain your shared gaze without breaking it. Then his hand is tucking underneath your chin; the pad of his thumb lifts to brush over you, tracing the shape of your bottom lip with something that feels close to reverence. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

Something inside of you breaks apart at the question, crumbling and washing away like sand underneath the crashing power of a wave. You nod before you even fully register it, and your body is buzzing with a honeyed heat. And you understand that if you do this then whatever relationship you have with Farleigh is going to fundamentally altered. It will be the point of no return and the consequences, positive or negative, will be unavoidable. Maybe tomorrow things will go sour. Maybe by then you'll be back to hating each other, even worse than before. But you want this. Consequences and all. 

"God, yes. Please." 

His lips are soft and warm, and they taste sugary and faintly floral with what might have been the flavors of some beverage that he had drank earlier. There's the bite of tobacco on his skin too, sharp and smoky. It's usually something that you had never enjoyed when kissing people in the past, but right now it hardly even registers. You're too busy getting lost in the feel of him. The warmth of his hands framing your face, the way that he shifts you on your feet and nudges you back against the railing of the balcony. Your hands are everywhere that they can reach, stroking down his chest and dipping down to grip his hips, pulling them flush against you like any amount of space left between you might kill you. 

He groans into your mouth at the gesture, nipping at you lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. It has heat, liquid and thick building between the cradle of your thighs. And you know that it's just kissing, but you can't help but internally berate yourself, because if the both of you hadn't been so horribly bullheaded you could have been doing this the entire time. 

And he pulls away from you all too soon, making an embarrassing whimper bubble up from your throat, but he's hushing you with a soft coo, snickering lightly under his breath when he ducks his head beneath your chin to suck at the skin there. Taking it between his teeth and lips and you can't help to soft, breathless pants that start to leave your chest in response. It's purely possessive and you're sure that he's trying to leave marks there, and you can't find it in yourself to tell him not to. It's like your muscles are melting, going boneless at the sensation of his tongue tasting your skin, licking up the salt from it. You can feel the shape of his smug smile against your throat, and it makes you want to slap him. But instead, you're reaching a hand up to cradle the back of his neck, keeping him close to you. 

You're wet already, soaking through your underwear. It's something that you would have been awfully conscious of in the past with another partner, but here and now you can hardly think around the red fog that's beginning to cloud your brain. And then he's shifting, sweeping a hand underneath the silk skirt of your dress to clasp around your thigh so that he could pull it to the side, allowing him to nudge his leg between the both of yours. 

"Farleigh," you gasp, and he cruelly grinds his thigh against the heat of you, steadily feeding the pressure thrumming there but not letting it build towards anything more. It's frustrating. Mean. And it has you clawing at his shoulders impatiently. 

"Yeah? What is it?" He asks, nipping at the sensitive skin on your ear, making sure to be mindful of your earring. You don't respond at first, unable to with the way that he's still steadily moving his thigh against you. It's simple, but with the way that you're already so pathetically worked up, it feels like agony. "Come on, you can tell me." 

And to make it worse, that hand that had been gripped around your leg is now moving further underneath your dress, slipping between the press of your bodies to settle above where you want him. His fingers play with the elastic band of your panties, teasing, implying more. But then he hooks it in the crook of his fingers and pulls, letting it snap back against your skin. The sting is dull, but it has you gasping regardless. You mindlessly reach for his hand that's still underneath your skirt, taking it into your own. And you briefly fear that he'll pull it from your grip. But he allows you to guide him. He removes his head from your neck to look into your eyes, watching your expression when you finally slip his hand underneath your underwear, and you can feel the shocking chill of his signet ring trailing across your heated skin. He takes over from there and you can't help the way that you arch into him when his fingers finally move down to where you need him the most. His face pinches when he spreads you open, and he nearly groans at the feel of you. "Jesus, baby, you're fucking soaking already." 

Your eyes flutter from the drag of one of his knuckles brushing over your clit and it's like it's directly connected to every individual nerve in your body, making you squirm and moan raggedly. 

"Is this all for me?" He asks, dipping one of his fingers lower, teasingly circling the entrance of your cunt but he doesn't go any further. 

"Yes." Your lungs feel tight and your nipples brush against his chest with each breath that you take, doing little to help ease the tension and desire threatening to tear you apart. "Yes, it's 'cause of you. Please, Farleigh. C'mon." 

"What's the rush?" He taunts, angling his head to take your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. "The night's still young. " 

He rocks his thumb against your clit, smirking at you with pure arrogant satisfaction from the way that you shudder underneath his touch. You know that he's absolutely delighting in the way that you've been practically turned into mush by what is essentially some heavy petting. Especially after all of the years of trying one up each other, you're sure that this is doing wonders for his ego. Like it needs to get any bigger. That little prickle of irritation peeks out from underneath the saccharine haze shrouded over you, and you can't keep it down. "I fucking swear, Farleigh, " you nearly hiss, nudging your hips in the hopes that it'll drag the pressure of his fingers closer. "If you don't do something, I swear I'll-" 

"You'll what?" Comes his immediate reply, the low rasp of his voice sounds completely unbothered. 

"I'll leave, " you say firmly. Or as firmly as you possibly can with the way that the knuckle of his thumb has begun to rotate around your clit in tight, but soft sweeping brushes. But he doesn't appear to be worried in the slightest. He just grins at you. And shakes his head as he lowers it to nudge his nose against yours. 

"No, you won't." He says it so certainly. Like he's omnipresent and has already seen the decided future. Like your fate is already sealed. And he's right as much as it pisses you off to admit it. You won't leave. But you don't want to tell him that and give him the satisfaction. " 'Cause you need me don't you, baby? Need me to make you cum." 

You're nodding in agreement before you even realize it, throwing whatever semblance of control that you had right out of the window. 

"Yeah? Gonna let me taste you?" Just the words alone nearly makes you keen aloud like some desperate slut, and you just barely swallow the sound down. But he must see it in your eyes. The sheer want and desperation that you feel coursing through your body like a drug. The need possessing you might actually be debilitating and you're back to clawing at his shoulders and arms in an attempt to just do something. To pin your focus on something other than the heavy ache between your legs. And you can just distantly hear yourself chanting a string of 'yes' like a broken record. 

He tugs his hand from your underwear, and you can't help but mourn the loss, even when he's lowering himself down on his knees and planting kisses down across the expanse of your body as he goes. But then he's rucking the skirt of your dress up over your hips and tucking his fingers back into your underwear like he's getting ready to pull them down. Instead, he's just staring, and his eyebrows are pinched together almost like he's pained. 

"You really are soaked," he says with a sort of awe. A thrum of embarrassment rings through you when you realize that he's probably admiring the noticeable wet spot that has dampened the crotch of your underwear from your arousal. You try to close your legs, mostly out of reflex but the sharp, reprimanding smack on the outside of your thigh that you get in response makes you freeze in place. He glares up at you and you have to reach behind you to grip the railing to keep from collapsing from underneath the intensity smoldering in his gaze. 

"Keep them open," is his only warning before he all but rips your panties down your hips. Guiding one of your legs up with a hand for you to step out of them, but he leaves your lace underwear to hang from the high heel on your opposite foot; apparently too impatient to fully remove them. And he barely gives you time to think or breathe before he's taking ahold of you by your waist and swinging both of your thighs over his shoulders. 

The feel of his tongue laving over the heat of your pussy in a long, greedy swipe makes you scream, completely uncaring for all of the guests down below. And all some distant, buried part of you can do is hope that you're up too high for anyone to hear you. That no one happens to glance up and see you clutching onto the railing for dear life. There's no build up to it. He's completely unrestrained, apparently having the goal to make you cum as quickly as possible with the way that he's working his mouth on you. Swirling his tongue over the swollen, sensitive nerves of your clit and lapping at the dripping entrance of your cunt like a man possessed. 

You mouth drops open with heavy pants, and your hands scramble across the cool chiseled stone for something to ground you and keep you pinned to reality. You can see the glint of your arousal smearing across his lips and cheeks and the look in his eyes is a blend of determination and a dazed kind of contentment, and you can feel him groaning against your pussy, amplifying your pleasure. And if it wasn't for the way that you could barely stop whimpering and crying out, you'd nearly think that he was enjoying this more than you with his pleased hums thrumming throughout your body. 

He takes your clit into the cradle of his mouth and sucks, and you think that you actually sob but you feel miles away from your body and also helplessly, deliciously trapped inside of it. "Farleigh, " you keen, humping against his face in a debauched display of hedonism. One of your hands reaches down, gripping onto his hair when your eyes roll back from the hot suction of his mouth. 

"You taste so good, baby, " he huffs, lapping at the entrance of your cunt with firm, maddening strokes. "So fucking good." 

It's too much. You feel like you're on fire. Like he's pulling you apart with each swipe of his tongue and putting you back together again one agonizing piece at a time. It feels cruel but it's also utter bliss. Your thighs are shaking from how tightly they're seized, clamped around his head in a tight squeeze. But he doesn't seem to be bothered about it, because when you try to be mindful and spread them open, he just takes them into his hold and presses them back up against his ears again like he wants to be suffocated. And the thought of that alone has something sharp and electric zipping through you. You file that little theory away for later. 

And that familiar ache is rising up like a high, simmering tide. Building and rushing towards you with a quickness that takes you by surprise and you can feel your entire body winding up and coiling tight in anticipation. He drags you closer to his mouth, scooting you down lower against the railing. You're pretty sure that your back is going to be covered in scratches from the rough texture digging across your skin, but as of right now you couldn't give less of a shit. You let your head loll back on the stone, unable to find the concentration or strength to keep it up yourself. You stare up at the sky sightlessly, just barely taking in the winking glow of the scattered stars above while pure, liquid heaven seeps across your limbs. 

That overwhelming looming pleasure is right over you now, just a few good strokes off. And with the way that he's licking and sucking at you with his mouth it won't be long before you're breaking apart for him. 

"Farleigh," you whimper, choking around a wanton moan, trying to warn him. 

He doesn't give you any verbal indication that he hears you. But the grip on your thigh's tense in response, and he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue before dipping it down inside of you; fucking you with it. You can't help the way you're grinding against him, crying out breathlessly when the point of his nose nudges against that swollen bundle of nerves, urging your orgasm to rush towards you at a breakneck speed that you can't brace for. 

"Farleigh!" You nearly shriek this time while that wild, rush of pleasure crashes down on you with the intensity of torrential downpour. It tears through your body in a way that's almost violent, making you twist under the heat of his mouth and the iron grip that he still has secured around your legs like you've been jabbed with an electrical current. You sob through the brunt of it, probably alarming the entirety of the Saltburn Estate of your current position. And even after the most of it has made its way across your body, he doesn't stop lapping at you, determined to make sure that he wrings every ounce of your pleasure out of you. It isn't until you're weakly nudging his head away from your sensitive cunt that he pulls his mouth away, but he occupies it by kissing at the inner stretch of your thighs. He massages your hips gently and the sensation works to help guide you back into your own body and return a sense of coherence to you. 

All you can do is just sit there and catch your breath, panting raggedly into the night air. You stare up at the stars with complete disbelief while your brain tries to catch up with the fact that Farleigh had just casually sucked your soul out of your body. Sure, you had heard stories of his sexual prowess from some of his past flings before. Heard all of the people gushing and praising his technique in the bedroom, and you had never not believed them per se, you had just never imagined that he was actually this good. 

"You doing alright up there?" He asks and his voice is ragged and a little raspy like he was the one screaming and not you. 

"Yeah," you confirm after a brief pause. "Just give me a minute and I'm gonna suck your dick." 

You can feel him chuckle against you, playful and more than a little cocky but he's more than earned the right to be. "Take your time." 

Thankfully, the strength has begun to come back to your body. And even though your limbs are still a little bit shaky you're more than determined and able to ignore it and push through. You raise your head up look at him, using your arms to shift and lift yourself up. He looks up at you expectedly, eyebrows raising with amusement while he aids you in removing your wobbling legs from his shoulders. 

He must notice something in your gaze; desperation, want, determination, because he just moves to lean back on his elbows with a relaxed smirk. 

"Right here?" He asks. You just nod wordlessly as you lower yourself down on your knees. You could go inside. You probably should. There wasn't a bed in the room that you had entered the balcony from, but there was a couch. Hell, even the floor in there would probably be more comfortable for the both of you than the harsh rock underneath you right now, but you don't want to wait. Not even with the room being so close. Your knees are going to absolutely hate you tomorrow but as of right now, you can't find it in yourself to care.  

He parts his legs for you to settle between them and you're fast to crawl over him while he lifts himself up to kiss you. Your lips connect with teeth and tongue, and you moan into each other's mouths when you reach down to cup the length of him from over his pants. He's hot and heavy, even with the layer of fabric covering him. You're still sensitive from your recent orgasm but when you feel the weight of him against your palm, your pussy flutters and tinge of heat settles in the base of your abdomen. 

"Baby please, just take it out, " he whines. His voice is petulant and quivering. On any other night you would have used it as an excuse to tease him, but as of right now, you don't have the heart (or patience) to. The urgency in his tone has you thumbing at the buttons closing his pants, but it doesn't help that they're so small and that its dark. You have to squint underneath the dim moonlight to find them and your fingers slip more than once. But luckily you manage to pop all of them through their opening in the fabric; even with the way that Farleigh impatiently grinds into the air, trying to use your hand and forearm as something to grind his cock against. 

It's so desperate and dirty but it's also so fucking hot. Seeing him all laid out and begging has a heavy anticipation fizzling underneath your skin, prompting you to grip at the edge of his pants. He's eagerly lifting his hips up, aiding you as you tug the fabric down, working it around the swell of his ass and his hips. And he audibly groans in relief when his cock springs free from the restraint of his clothes. It's so hard that it looks like must be uncomfortable, and there's a steady stream of precum pouring from the tip and trailing down along a thick, throbbing vein in a pearlescent sheen.  

Your mouth waters at the sight, and you have to swallow it in the fear that you might actually drool if you don't. He catches the way you're admiring him, and something smug bleeds into his dazed expression. A reversal from the way that he had outright begged for you earlier. You really want to wipe that look off of his face. 

Then you're giving into your basest desires and leaning forward to lick at the head of his cock with long, steady sweeps, scooping up the salt of him into your mouth. He's rewarding you as soon as you touch him, breathing out a strained, "fuck," while his fingers come up to grip your hair, already knocking a few of the fake flowers clipped along your updo free; honeysuckles and pink camellias. He doesn't force your head down, but he doesn't remove his hold either, gently urging you to keep going and you can't help but concede. Stretching your jaw open further to slip him inside your mouth before slowly pulling off of him with a firm suck, lapping at the slit of his cock when you do. 

He isn't the biggest you've taken, but he's still thick enough for you to feel a slight strain at the hinges of your jaw, but it doesn't deter you in the slightest. You nod your head down to take him in your throat, making sure to be mindful of your teeth as you go and luckily, you're aided by the lubrication of your saliva. You don't stop until you feel the faintest hint of your gag reflex and even then, you have to push off the thought to just keep going, to let yourself gag on him. You'll save that for some other time. As of right now, you want to be able to savor every little movement and twitch and whimper. 

You've just started and it's already so sloppy, wet with the way that your drool smears around your lips and chin, and Farleigh seems to be struggling to keep his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck your mouth. His thighs are tense underneath the palms of your hands, muscles flexing and twitching with frayed restraint and each jerky hitch of his hips is punctuated by airy sighs and moans. 

A glance up from your place between his legs has you appreciating the way that his back is already arching. He looks gorgeous like this, all splayed out with the thick of his eyelashes fluttering against the jut of his cheek bones. You've always had the sneaking suspicion that Farleigh would lean a bit on the submissive side in bed. Always overcompensating with his arrogant attitude and sarcasm, but you didn't think that he'd be this sensitive. You aren't sure if it's just because he might have already been so worked up from eating you out, or if he's naturally just responsive, but either way the way that he's acting is doing wonders for your ego. The power that you're getting from seeing him already so pleased and dazed is filling your head full of a syrupy sort of satisfaction. 

You pull off of his cock with a pop, delighting in the way that he whimpers in protest. You just hum in response, smirking at him while you nuzzle your nose down the line of his shaft and all of his complaints die out once you take one of his balls into the warm cradle of your tongue, reaching up to grip him in your hand while your mouth is occupied. 

He moans raggedly, a string of whispered, "so good, don't stop - please, don't stop." Like you'd ever do that now that you've got him underneath you. And not to sound dramatic, but the sky could split open with brimstone and hellfire and the apocalypse could reign down on Saltburn and you still wouldn't pull away from him. Not when he sounds so sweet. Not while he tastes so good. Salty and earthy across your pallet. And the way that he pants into the balmy night air, already breathless has the heat between the apex of your thighs back with a vengence; burning and wet, and you have to rub them together in an attempt to ease the tension there. 

You can't help the way that you moan around him, lightly sucking at the sensitive point between his balls and the base of his cock while you smear your thumb over his slit. You the use the fluid to aid in few more pumps from your hand before you're licking back up his shaft again, swallowing him back down while your hand switches places to fondle his sack and the cry that he lets out in response is heavenly. Urging you to bob you head down on him in a steady rhythm. You try to remember to breathe through your nose but in your fervor, you often find yourself neglecting to take in lungfulls of air and as a result an oxygen deprived haze has begun to fizzle over your head. But you can't bring yourself to be worried over it. It feels good. The fuzzy, drunken buzz stuffing your skull full while you work his cock is stupidly addictive. 

He must notice the glazed over look in your eyes because he's smiling at you from around the way that his lips have dropped open to release a bout of heavy pants. He drops the hand that had been clutching your hair to sweep his fingers across your face in a gesture that's way too sweet for a guy who's getting head. And it has something soft and sweet blossoming in your chest when he strokes your cheek with his thumb; it makes you feel delicate and adored even while your chin is smeared with spit and cum and your jaw is starting to ache. 

"You're already a little fucked out aren't you?" It's rhetorical, you know, but you find yourself moaning in response regardless. "You look so georgous like this." 

Liar. There's absolutely you look even remotely attractive right now. You can feel the prickle of tears threatening to slip past your water line and down your face, and you're sure that your lashes have begun to clamp together from the damp. Your lips are swollen and there's a sheen of sweat glittering on your forehead. You probably look like a wreck but it still has you melting, and you begin to lick and suck at him with even more passion than before. 

And it must have felt good for him because his head is rolling back on his shoulders and his elbows nearly collapse, leaving him to drop onto his back with a gutted groan. His eyes roll back, and his thighs seize. His white undershirt has ridden up around his ribs, showing off the stretch of his abdomen and you can see the way that his muscles flex and tense with the same pulse of his hips. He's close and it only has you doubling your efforts with even more vigor, desperate to taste him on your tongue, to feel the heat of him in your mouth and throat. The sound of his gasping has changed in pitch, rising into something that sounds close to a sob. 

But then you're being torn off of him without warning and you can't contain your mournful whimper when the weight of him leaves your mouth. Irritation and betrayal flares and you can't keep yourself from glaring at him even while he looks close to wrecked, rambling underneath his breath something that sounds like, "I'm sorry baby, I need to feel you, " as he hauls you onto his lap. 

And your scattered brain is still able to grab onto what he wants. You gather up your skirt to settle your knees on either side of his hips and you're quick to grab ahold of his cock to line it up with your entrance. Neither of you have the mental capacity to tease or draw the process out longer than it needs to be, and you're thankful that he had already ate you out earlier, giving you some semblance of prep. And without any fanfare you're sinking down onto his cock, and your pussy flutters around his girth, stretching until he's buried in at the hilt. 

The shared groans that you let out are ones of relief and pure bliss. Your body shudders at the fullness nestled within the apex of your thighs and Farleigh impatiently grinds his hips up into yours, rocking his pelvis into your clit with a petulant huff. "Come on baby, ride me, " he urges. "Fucking take it." 

You can't find it in yourself to deny him. Or yourself. And he lets you plant your hands onto his chest for support when you lift yourself up with your thighs to begin wildly bouncing on his cock, grinding and swiveling your hips with each downstroke. That thick, heated pleasure is already building up near the base of your spine, and you already know that you aren't going to last long. Not with how worked up you are. And you don't think that he's going to be able to hold off either. 

He's watching you with something akin to wonder in his eyes and his lips are snagged between his teeth like he might be trying to quiet himself. Like he's trying to selfishly hide those punched out little moans. And you don't know why he tried to be hushed now after he's been groaning and whimpering this entire time but that petulant expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He's doing it on purpose, the brat. It has you leaning over him to pepper soft kisses over his cheeks, nipping at his chin and jaw sweetly, before you squeeze your pussy around his cock like a vice and you place your hand around the base of his throat. You don't tighten your fingers around it, but let him feel the pressure of your grip, testing the waters to see if your earlier theory had been right. 

And his body goes taut underneath you while his hips thrust into you with a harsh twitch. A gutted moan follows closely behind, and he grips onto your thighs like he needs it to ground himself and keep himself present. 

"Feel good?" It's admittedly a little condescending but even then, you can't help the softness that bleeds through your tone. He nods his head drunkenly, tilting his head back to bare his throat to you. The way that he's melting underneath the ceaseless roll of your hips and mindlessly fucking into you with deep, heavy thrusts is already driving you towards that tide of heat and ecstasy, and they way that you openly keen reveals as much. 

Your knees are already stinging from the harsh stone floor digging into them and your thighs are already burning with exertion from the ruthless pace that you had set. But you have no desire to stop yet. To switch positions or ask him to take over, not with how beautiful and fucked out he looks beneath you.  

You're both already messy and incoherent, chasing after your pleasure desperately. The noises coming from the place where your bodies are joined is filthy with the repetitive smack of skin on skin and the crude squelching of your cum echoing off of the rock walls around you. And maybe if your brain wasn't practically mush you might would have had the capacity to care, but you just can't find it within yourself while you watch every minute, rapturous expression flit across Farleigh's face. Not while his plush lips are parted for him to gasp, and his eyes have nearly gone cross. 

"Baby, " he whines brokenly. A warning for the way that he's quickly hurdling towards his release from the constant rock of your hips. Yours isn't far off either, simmering and curling within the pit of your abdomen and you can already tell that your orgasm is going to destroy you. It's so close. So, so, so close and you find yourself nodding shakily in response to him. 

"I know, I know, " your jaw goes lax at a partially hard thrust from his hips, muscles spasming around the drag of his cock. 

"Where - where can I- " 

"Inside," you answer, choking on your breath." I'm on the pill - it's safe, you can- " 

He cuts you off with a gutted, shredded groan of your name and his entire body seizes up from the power of his orgasm. The warmth of his release spreads throughout your lower stomach and another choppy, wild thrust from Farleigh grinds his pelvis into the tender nerves of your clit. It just sneaks up on you. Sweeping you up and dragging you down before you can even register that it's ravaging your body and making you scream. For a second you completely forget what it means to have a physical body. You don't have hands, or feet, or a mind. You don't have a favorite song and there aren't any bills to pay, or an apartment back home in America, and the chaotic party downstairs doesn't exist. The cold stone floor beneath your knees isn't there. You're just floating. Suspended in a state of bliss and pleasure. 

For a moment you just are. 

And then your lungs are gasping, filling up with oxygen. Clarity comes back to you in pulses and the feeling in your limbs follows behind. Sensation returns to your toes and fingertips and then your eyes are fluttering open. The first thing you hear is the rapid pulse of a heartbeat and when you breathe the scent of something like vanilla and cigarette smoke nestles within your lungs. It has you rubbing your cheek against the heat of their chest - Farleigh's chest, your brain supplies sluggishly. You don't remember collapsing on top of him but apparently you had. 

"God damn," he slurs, prompting an amused, tired laugh from you. For a moment the two of you just lay there, taking the time to return to yourselves and grasp your senses. And with it, reality rises up too. That you're laying here with Farleigh on an open balcony with his cum dripping from between your thighs. And apart from his confession earlier there's some small insecure part of you that's worried that he hadn't fully meant it. That this was just a simple fling. Something to ease the tension that's been brewing between the both of you for the past few years. But you don't get to wallow in your fears for long before he's tapping on your thigh and shuffling up onto his elbows. 

You just hum at him questioningly, not yet trusting your voice. 

"Need a cigarette," he answers. 

That has you moving, lifting yourself from his hips and you both hiss, sensitive and raw when he slips from you. Your knees are tender too, aching and you inelegantly plop yourself on your rump beside Farleigh to give them some relief. And you briefly occupy yourself with your underwear, slipping it back underneath your dress and smoothing out your skirt as best as you can. 

He works on slipping his pants and tights back over his hips, digging into his pocket as soon they've been righted for a cigarette and his lighter. You watch him with something nervous in your gut. And you tell yourself that you're being stupid and overdramatic. So, what if this was just a one-time thing? It was an amazing time. And if this turned out to be some random fling then that would just make it even more special, right? And he said that he was jealous of your past exes but that didn't necessarily mean that he had feelings for you. You had been the one to jump to conclusions and assume. 

And even if by tomorrow he pretends that this never happened then that would be fine. You'd make do. You'd survive. It won't be the end of the world. 

"Do you want to spend the night with me?" 

The question tears you from your thoughts. Saves you from them really and pulls your attention onto Farleigh. His eyes are glimmering from the burning embers at the end of his cigarette, laying some strange quality in his gaze bare. But whatever it is looks uncertain and hesitant. And it serves as reminder that this is new territory for him as well. That he's just as unsure as you are. It gives you a little boost of confidence that you aren't alone in your self-induced doubts. It makes you smile; soft and relaxed and you hope that it helps whatever thoughts he may have running around in his own head. 

"Sure," you say. "But I want to rewatch House of Wax. " 

His face scrunches up in response, but he's already rising up to his feet and holding a hand out for you to take, helping to pull you up on your wobbling feet. "That movie is shit." 

"Well, I wouldn't be able to tell with the way that you wouldn't stop talking the last time that we all watched it." You grip onto his forearms while you find your balance, lowly cursing your heels and unsteady ankles. The energy has shifted into place, as easily as breathing; thawing all of the worries and insecurities that had initially clattered around in your brain as though they hadn't been there at all. 

"That's because the characters were nothing but cliches and one note, " he scoffs and promptly drops his cigarette on the balcony, snuffing it out by grinding it with his shoe. 

"I also need a bath." 

A smile curls on his lips, a little teasing. " Want to share?" 

You stare at him, a little disbelieving. There's absolutely no way that you could do that again tonight. At least not so soon. You're exhausted, barley holding yourself up as it is and you're still clinging to one of Farleigh's arms for support. 

"Really? After that?" You question, eyebrows raising, but you can't keep yourself from trying to joke despite your surprise. "You're terrible." 

Farleigh chuckles, guiding you towards the double doors gently, "Oh, don't look at me like that," he says, purely amused. "I wasn't suggesting another round, you're the one with your head in the gutter." 

You don't reply. Too caught up in the fuzzy way that it makes you feel; his request to share a bath with you. A small gesture maybe, but it also feels wonderfully domestic and intimate. It has you leaning into his side as you step into the adjacent room, breathing in the scent of his cologne, soaking up the body heat that radiates from his skin. Whatever new chapter between the both of you has opened has still left you two with a lot of unsaid questions and answers. You still don't know what you two are. If there's a label to apply to you both of it was just a one-night stand, but you don't have to get those answers right this second. For now, you can just bask in his company and come morning, once you've both had time to think and adjust you can sit him down and have a conversation. And maybe (hopefully) your relationship will finally become something more. 

But as for now, you don't mind spending the night in his room. Of cuddling up underneath the covers of his bed after a nice bath and watching a movie together, even though you know that the duration of it is going to be spent with him criticizing every line of bad dialogue and griping over plot holes, no matter how insignificant they may be. 

It sounds like the perfect night, honestly. 

But still there is still one burning question that's searing at your brain like a hot coal, and you can't keep yourself from voicing it. 

"Do you think anybody heard us?" 

And his answer is blunt and honest. 

"Oh, yeah, there's no way they didn't." 

[hoshigray]

hey there! what do you think would toji’s reaction be when he finds out that you like getting spanked? (your version of toji lives in my mind rent free)

Damn, noonie!! This one was enticing to write, I ain't gon' lie lol had to sacrifice sleep to see it through hahaha. Hope you enjoy it!! And tysmmmm ;w; it's nice to know that others like how I write for my man~~ ♡

Cw: dom!Toji x fem!reader - doggy style/backshot position - Daddy kink - impact play/spanking (obvi) - slight degradation (Toji calls you a whore) - clitoral play (pinches to the clit) - pet names (angel, baby, sweetie/sweetheart, mama) - praise - mentions of drool - unprotected sex but Toji doesn't shoot inside. Wc: 1.4k

The first time it happened was on accident.

You and Toji were sitting on the couch watching television— his favorite basketball team was on, and by the looks of it (and the older man's frustration ticking up by the second), the game wasn't going so well. The score was neck-and-neck; you could tell it was pushing your boyfriend to the edge.

Nervously, you pick up your glass to sip your beverage, only to find it completely empty. You get up from the couch and move past Toji. However, simultaneously, something happened on the program that caused the man to groan in vexation and throw his big hands out aggressively.

The back of his hand unexpectedly meets your ass, causing you to shriek and drop the glass. Toji hears the sound of glass shattering and stops watching the sport to assess what transpired. When he sees you rub your butt where the back of his palm bumped into, apologies enter the scene.

"Oh shit, sorry 'bout that, baby." He gets up to pull you away from the glass, but you forgive him knowing his actions weren't intentional.

The second time, though, was far from an accident.

Toji came home from grocery shopping and walked into the shared bedroom to see you lying on the bed, on the phone with your best friend talking about whatever. A quick smile is flashed his way before returning to your conversation while he removes his leather jacket and exchanges his outdoor clothes for something more comfortable.

When he's done changing, he looks at you, so glued to your device that you don't notice him observing. He notices how laid back you are, lying on your stomach with just an oversized sweatshirt — his sweatshirt — and your panty-covered bottom for his eyes to see.

Emerald eyes linger on your lower half, tracing the lacy material of your undergarment. A smirk sneaks through scarred lips while Toji silently moves towards you, raising his hand before it comes down on your ass. And it comes down hard.

Expected, you react to the sudden interruption. But this time, Toji doesn't hear a shriek leave your lips. No, no. To his ears, it sounded like something with a more pleasant intonation. A moan.

You freeze. He freezes. No one says anything until someone on the other side of your phone comments.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Your best friend has a worried tone in their voice. "Was that a moan just now? Oh, I swear to God, Y/n, you better not be having sex while on the phone—"

You quickly interject. "No, no, no! Sorry, it was just that...Toji!!" With anger plastered on your face, you glare at your boyfriend, who's undoubtedly the culprit of what happened a few seconds ago.

He doesn't explain himself as he straightens himself and exits the bedroom. Even as he escaped, his smug grin remained on his face. "My bad, kid." he laughed and closed the bedroom door.

Fast forward to the present, you and Toji are in the comfort of your shared bedroom. "Nnmph! Oh, fuck...Daddy, feels so goo—Ahhhnn!"

With your back arched and your butt raised, Toji fucks you doggy style. Your mouth is covered by the satin covers of the pillow, suppressing the ecstatic noises from your mouth. His hands are positioned on each side of your hips, stationing you to take in the ruts of his sex. You can feel every dent and vein of his cock scraping your insides, the delicious sensation corrupting your senses.

The man drills his dick deep within you, and the sounds of his pelvis slamming onto your butt fill the bedroom. Toji can't help but admire having you like this for him and him alone: exposing your sweat-covered back and your soft rear being pounded. It turns him on so fucking much. And don't get him started on your pussy. The way your inner walls clench around him every time the base of his cock kisses your southern lips? Oh, it fucks him up so much, using every fiber of his being to not come too quick.

"Hnngh! Fuck, Y/n..." He moans to you, grinding his hips on your butt for his length to further churn your insides. It has you gripping the sheets with a bitten lip. "Feel so good fr' me, mama."

Although, he can't help but notice something. Anytime he brushes his hand on your buttocks, a jolt comes from your body. Along with a quick grasp of your cunt around his cock.

It's been apparent for the past six minutes, yet only now is when it hits him: the accident and his little prank before directly connect to what's happening now. It hits him, and he can't fight the tiny smile that's starting to bloom.

Now, the third time has finally presented itself.

"Hey, sweetie." You moan at the pet name, and hums of pleasure seep out when Toji slows the pace of his thrusts. "Does my baby like to get spanked?

Suddenly, everything in the room feels like it's come to a halt, and your blood runs cold. "H-Huh?" You meekly question.

"Oh, I know you heard me." A chill trickles down your spine when you hear him snicker from behind, and a squeak exits your puffy lips when you feel a big hand slither up and down the cusp of your ass. "Go on. Tell Daddy how much you love to get y'r ass smacked by me, sweetheart."

You can't tell if the sweat on your forehead is from the heat or the anxious pool in your stomach. You try to rationalize. "N-Now, Toji. Let's not try any—Eeeyaaah!!!"

A harsh slap on your ass causes you to substitute your thoughts with a forced scream. Your cunt tightens around his cock in haste, and he hisses. His fingers dig deep into the stinging flesh, and you can only imagine the tiny crescents his nails are branding onto your delicate skin.

"Aaaaahhh, shit...Sorry, angel, I didn't quite catch that." Toji bends down to bite your shoulder, resulting in another choked cry filling the air. "What's my name again, Y/n?" His voice drops to a dangerous low octave that makes you shiver.

"Nnmmm...I'm sorry, Daddy," you purr under him.

He grins hard with his hand kneading your ass. "Y'r grippin' me hard every time I play with this ass." He smacks your asscheek again, tears prickle at the corner of your eyes, and you prove his point when your slit contracts around him again. "What do you want Daddy to do 'bout that?"

With heavy huffs, you try to regain some sense to formulate a proper response for the man dominating over you. Your face is hot with embarrassment coursing through your quivering body.

"I...I want—"

"Speak a lil louder, baby." Fingernails sink deep into the skin of your ass, and you jerk from the pain.

"Pleaseeee, Daddyyy," you know your whines only feed his ego, but that's what he wants. That's how you'll get what you're aching for. "Pleaseee, I want you to slap my ass...I want it so ba—Aaaaahhhh!!!"

And with that, Toji doesn't hold back. Fast ruts to your soaping slit are paired along with strikes to your butt, and there's no use in you trying to conceal the mewls flying out your mouth. Every harsh smack to your bottom forces your pussy to clamp around Toji's dick. The contrasts between the pleasurable commotion and the extreme hits of his hands are too intense for your brain to comprehend.

Toji, however, enjoys this type of change in rhythm. "Aiishhh, damn. Who woulda thought my baby liked gettin' their ass smacked, grippin' me like a dirty whore." Your asscheeks are now stinging and hot from his painful touch, your cunt clenching ahold of him as he bullies your body inside and out. "But—Oh, fuckin' shit...I fuckin' love this."

And you can't deny it either; despite you moaning out loud and having your body be used like a porn star, your arousal is at an all-time high. Tears and drool now fall from your pretty face and stain the satin pillow covers.

So much so that your orgasm hits you without your recollection when Toji snakes down a hand to pinch on your clit. The abrupt, cruel, yet exhilarating tweak to your sensitive bud topped it off, tipping you to experience your long-awaited climax.

Toji knows he'll follow suit when he feels the walls of your chasm flutter around his cock, taking out his member to shoot his load out. His essence paints your ass, striking down slowly to your back.

You two heave through the aftershocks, your body now sweaty and dirty with filth on your back and between your legs. The older man leans down to kiss your shoulders. "Did so good fr' me, mama. We outta do that more often."

[sungbeam]

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

nonidol!kang yeosang x f!reader

yeosang doesn't remember your name, but he remembers what kissing you tastes like and how you like your eggs in the morning. just your regular prince charming trying to find his cinderella, or in this case, his passenger princess..?

9.5k (lord.....), nc-17, s2l, frateez au, college au, mentions of alcohol, swearing, kissing, humor, fluff, minimal angst, another cinderella story au/trope(?), drama (i bring i bring all the drama-ma-ma-ma), a girl who is not a girl's girl :l, the barest of proofreading

a/n: this is for the @atzhouse you can't outrage us event! guys if the flirting is lackluster, it's cuz im running out of rizz

“I don't believe you.”

The last place you expected to end up was in the front seat of some guy's white Lexus while the party raged on inside the ATZ fraternity house just down the street. According to him, he had to run out just before the crowd rolled in, and when he got back, somebody had snatched his parking spot. 

“Okay, but why don't you believe me?”

The car smelled not like fresh leather, but an enchanting mixture of something like pine and smoked wood. Bitter, yet somehow, refreshing. You bet, even as the alcohol was hitting you, that it was what he smelled like. 

His name was Yeosang—the guy sitting next to you in the driver's seat, the owner of this car, and the ATZ fraternity brother you bumped into at his house's own party. That had been just about twenty minutes ago when you'd ended up isolated from your pack of friends, and Yeosang had needed a desperate breather. It seemed he'd been running from someone (question mark), so you asked if he knew where the kitchen was. Eager to get away from whoever it was, he guided you straight to the kitchen and where the secret stash of flavored sojus were. 

An offhand comment about wishing you didn't have to miss this one drama episode dropping tonight led to a longer conversation about the dramas you both enjoyed, which somehow landed you in his passenger seat. 

The rest was history. Or—you supposed the rest was now. 

“Because,” Yeosang said in a tone that sounded a lot like he was saying 'duh’, “you don't look like a biology major.”

He was gorgeous, even if the lighting in the party and out here was jack shit. The way the shadows cut across his face made him look like a faerie torn straight out of one of your old sketchbooks. You were half certain he had pointed ears beneath the cat-eared beanie he wore, but maybe that was just the alcohol doing its thing. 

You sputtered out a laugh as he knocked back another gulp of his melon soju. He was more drunk than you were, maybe not by too much because that wouldn't have been fair, but it did take him seven tries to unlock his car seven minutes ago. “What's a bio major s'posed to look like?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, lips pressed together in a line that dug into his cheeks. “Not you.”

It only made you laugh harder. It wasn't even that funny. “That doesn't even make sense!”

“Does it have to make sense?” He squawked. His face shuddered for a moment as if he just experienced a glitch. “I forgot what I was gonna say, but it's the vibe.”

“The vibe,” you parroted in mild amusement. After you swallowed down your next gulp of soju, you gestured to him with the bottle, “Okay, now what about you? Your major, go.”

“I read shit.”

“Who doesn't?”

“Jared, 19,” he replied, dead serious. 

Equally serious, you asked with wide eyes, “Really?”

He gave you an emphatic nod back. Really. Now, if you were a little less tipsy, you wouldn't have taken what he said at face value, but tonight was already miles away from your regularly scheduled program. 

You pondered on that—the “I read shit,” not the misfortunes of one nineteen year old named Jared. “So if you read a lot of shit, does that make you a literature major? No, wait! I got it; you look like Comparative Lit.”

“Bingo,” he cheered, raising his bottle up into the air. “Wait. What do you mean I look like a comparative lit major? What does a comp lit major even look like?”

“I dunno, but it’s you.” 

He pursed his lips into a deadpan at your callback to what he'd said before, and you merely stuck your tongue out at him like the mature adult you were. “Touché, my friend. Touché…”

Silence passed between you two for the first time since you met each other. In the distance, you could hear the muffled sounds of the party raging on. It wasn't that you didn't go to parties often; it was more so that you usually went to house parties hosted by friends or friends-of-a-friend. Making it all the way to Greek Row was not something you did every weekend, but a mutual friend—Chungha—knew the ATZ president and got you and your friends in. 

Nearly finished with his third bottle (or was it his fourth?...), Yeosang knocked the remainder down his throat with a grimace. With the empty bottle, he set it at his feet on the car floor to join another—the cup holders were already occupied with yours and his second rounds. The first was abandoned on the frat house lawn somewhere. 

“I think—” he slurred, blinking slowly at you like a cat, “—that you look like an artist.”

“An artist?” You parroted dumbly and felt warmth rise to your cheeks. “And why would you say that? Vibes?”

“Well, yes!”

You sputtered out a laugh at the way he said that. “Then yes, I am an artist,” you said, emphasizing the latter half of the word so it sounded like “teest” and not “tist.”

Yeosang gave a hoot. “I'm so good at this. Does that—does that mean you can paint me like one of your French girls?” He pulled his lips into an adorable, little smile, the back of his hand poised beneath his chin as he fluttered his lashes. 

“I don't think I could do you justice,” you admitted. There was a rather annoying buzz at the back of your brain that was distracting you. With a shake of your head, you refocused your gaze on him. “You're too pretty.”

He preened at the compliment, unconsciously reaching up to adjust his beanie. “Like calls to like then.”

“What does that mean?” Your buzzed-out brain couldn't compute—

“It means that prettiness is attracted to prettiness, and I'm attracted to you.”

You whined, burying your face in your hands. Yeosang giggled to himself, incredibly proud at making you flustered, his knees curling upward to kick his feet in the cramped space. “I don't like you.”

“You don't?” 

“No,” you raised your head up with a displeased frown, only to see that his eyes seemed to be twinkling with unrestrained happiness and something else. You weren't in the right state to hyper-analyze the way he looked at you, but it made your heart skip more than just a beat. “It's not fair that you're a literature major.”

“But I'm drunk,” he said innocently. 

“That's even worse!”

He grinned boyishly at you, bashfully stretching his limbs and then cupping the back of his neck with a hand. “What if I told you I'm minoring in math?”

You deadpanned. “I don't think that makes me feel any better. You rule both the realms of words and numbers.”

“It doesn't mean I'm good at math,” he guffawed, leaning back in his seat. “It's only there 'cause my mom's a math teacher, and having a math minor makes my parents feel better.”

That sounded familiar… awfully familiar. The thought made you sober a bit, and it seemed your counterpart wasn't so wasted that he didn't notice the shift either.

“Uh oh,” he chuckled nervously, “what'd I say?”

You waved your hand around dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. I'm kind of the opposite—my bio major is sort of to appease my parents and the fine art minor is for my sanity.”

He pressed his lips into a line, nodding in understanding. “Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So you don't… you're not happy? With what you're doing, I mean.”

Maybe it was the way he asked it, but it made the cogs in your head turn. You bit your lip. “I'm happy-ish. It's kind of a lot, but I'll survive.”

“'m sorry I upset you,” he pouted. “But,” he stammered, swallowing, “but I get it. My parents never wanna talk about my major anymore. Pretty sure they're just bitter and disappointed. I always feel like I’m walking on eggshells around them.” 

You could tell that it affected him more than he wanted to admit. You wordlessly passed him your half-drunk bottle, and he gladly took a generous sip. When it was back in your hands, you guzzled down the remainder. 

The buzz was getting better. 

“Well, if they're not proud of you, I am,” you declared, setting the empty bottle at your feet. Your eyes blinked slowly for a moment as you got your bearings again. Maybe… maybe you should stop drinking! Yes, that would be the smart thing to do. 

Yeosang hummed. “Thanks,” he said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He gazed over at you from his side of the car. “I'm proud of you, too. You'll be happy one day; it'll always turn out okay, Yn-ie.”

Something warm and fuzzy settled in your chest, like a cat had just curled up there, purring and content. 

A thought suddenly popped into your head. “Yeosang, how do you like your eggs?”

He snorted and burst into laughter, coaxing a similar expression out of you. A moment later, you were trying your best to pout at him, “Hey! Don't laugh! I hear it's all the rage on the pick-up line scene.”

“You're trying to pick me up?” He giggled. All memories of the previous topic flew out the car window.

“Well, is it working?”

He licked his lips around a smile, leaning over the center console to rest his cheek against his fist. “Ask me again.”

You took another sip of your soju before returning it to its cupholder. “Okay. Yeosang, how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“However you'd like them.”

You deadpanned, and that only made him laugh louder. His head tilted back so you caught a glimpse of his canines, before he brought himself back down to Earth. His cheeks looked as flushed as you felt—even in the dim streetlight you could make out the blooms of peony pink across his cheekbones. “Yeo.”

He reached over to pat your head a couple times, though the sloppiness of his movements made it feel closer to two affectionate smacks. “Okay okay. Sorry. How about we say it at the same time?”

“Okay.” That wasn't a bad compromise. 

“Okay, one, two, three—”

“Sunny-side up,” you both said at once. 

Your eyes and his eyes widened at once, gasps of delight sounding into the quiet car. Could this guy be any more perfect?

“You're not bluffing?” You asked with narrowed eyes. 

Yeosang shook his head vigorously. “Mm-mm. I wouldn't lie to you, Yn-ie. Scout's honor,” he slurred, holding his hand up as if he was a boy scout. 

You giggled at the gesture, and he broke form to melt into an ooey gooey puddle of liquefied butterflies. For a moment, he just stared at you with a strange look on his face, one that you couldn't quite place when you were in this inebriated state. 

You chuckled, shifting your position when one leg started falling asleep. “What’s wr—?”

He leaned forward and—oh. Oh. Those were—his lips were on yours. He had leaned over the console and kissed you. He was kissing you. 

And when you didn't kiss him back, he drew backwards, an embarrassed expression painted over the adorable flush on his cheeks. “That—I shouldn't have done that, should I? I'm sorry; I dunno what I was—”

You crushed your mouth against his this time, effectively stealing the apology right off his tongue. He tasted like melon soju, and his touch was gentle as he brought his hand up to cup the side of your face, cradle your jaw. He was tracing the outline of your features in the dark like he could sketch them in the lines in his mind. 

He tasted like the color of amber, warm and bright, but not blindingly so. He was mellow and sweet, with the undertones of the burnt wood in his cologne. 

You melded your lips against his mouth like you could engrave him into you, and you were practically half over the middle console already. Yeosang's free hand fumbled backward to find the button on the side of his chair—there. The chair began moving backward with a monotonous brrr sound, and as it moved you couldn't quite keep your lips physically attached to his. 

You disconnected from him for what felt like an eternity in order to climb over—shoes knocking against empty soju bottles, ass nearly bumping the horn—and with some clumsy, awkward maneuvering, you were on him again, this time quite literally. You tumbled into his lap, his hands landing on either side of your waist and your hands bracing against the back of his chair.

He loosened a soft groan with the return of your lips to his, and he hauled you down closer to him, until your chests were pressed flush against one another and you couldn't tell which heartbeat was who's. His beanie fell off at some point, but your fingers buried themselves within the dark, silken mass of his hair, a hat in their own right. 

When you both pulled away for breath, your chests heaved in tandem to catch it. You settled your cheek against his shoulder while you inhaled the smell of his cologne, much stronger now that you sat against his chest with your nose by his throat. His hand warmed the small of your back with the other cupping the back of your head in an affectionate cradle. 

“I don't think I've ever kissed someone like that,” you admitted into the quiet. You suddenly couldn't hear the muffled music blasting from the party in the background anymore. 

“Me neither,” he replied, voice hoarse from the kiss. “I've never met someone like you before.”

“Never in your life?”

“Never in my life.”

“So let me get this straight,” drawled Wooyoung with both hands poised at his temples, eyes screwed shut against the bright morning light coming in through the window. There were currently eight people crowded onto President Hongjoong's bed at a time that was far too early to be alive for a group of people who partied until four in the morning. “You're saying that you know this girl's family life, how she likes her eggs in the morning, and how she kisses—but you don't even know her name?”

Yeosang was propped up against the headboard, squeezed between a very unfairly serene-looking Seonghwa and a mildly hungover Hongjoong. Yeosang's bangs were flat against his forehead and he squinted his tired eyes through the strands. “No, that's not what I said. I said that I know her name… it's just not coming to me right now.”

He knew your name. Right? You told him your name, right? He addressed you by your name at least once last night, right? 

(If he was being honest, as soon as Yeosang woke up this morning, he started whimsically recalling the events of last night in his head. But once he realized he neither had your number nor remembered your name, he jostled his friends up to invade the president's room for an emergency round table discussion. Who would have guessed their alarm clock would be a very panicked Maltese screaming, “I DON'T REMEMBER HER NAME!”)

“Which pretty much means you don't know her name,” Jongho piped up where he was laying against Yunho's back on the corner of the bed, his eyes closed while he attempted to squeeze in five more milliseconds of sleep. 

“Well, do you know who she came with?” San asked. “She probably has at least one mutual friend or else she wouldn't have gotten in.”

Mingi furrowed his brows together. “Not necessarily. The pledges might not have been thorough when checking.”

Hongjoong's eyes narrowed. “You were supposed to be there with them at the door, Mingi.”

“Oh, was I?”

Yunho cut in before Hongjoong could tackle Mingi off the bed. He grinned to himself, “Okay, but San has a point. Usually people are only able to sneak in if they're with a group.”

“Awh,” Wooyoung cooed, reaching over to pinch at Yeosang's cheek, “Yeosangie fell in love with a stowaway—ow! Hey! He just bit me!”

“Deserved,” Seonghwa said plainly. He turned his head so as to not have to face Wooyoung's wounded puppy eyes. It was too early for this. “Do you know if she came with anyone, Yeosang-ah?”

Yeosang scrunched his nose up, disgruntled. “No. I'm pretty sure she was looking for her friends when we met… something like that. I remember some things, but not everything.” He pinched the place between his brows in an attempt to piece together his memory of last night. He could remember the way you made him feel—it was the jittery warmth that came with falling, and his heart had never grown wings before like it had around you. 

After the kiss, the two of you had sunk into a comfortable, quiet conversation about anything and everything beneath the sun. For the first time in a long time, he felt comfortable and heard by someone other than his fraternity brothers. You were perfect, for lack of a better word. And he knew a lot of words. 

But how could he fucking forget your name? 

He was never drinking that much melon soju ever again. 

“She's a biology major,” he offered with a defeated sigh, letting his hand fall into his lap. 

“What does she look like?” Hongjoong asked. 

Yeosang's gaze went up to the ceiling as he recalled what you looked like to his friends. It was pretty dark the entire time he was with you, but there were a few moments when the streetlights hit your face and his conscience was constantly trying to keep his drunk ass from kissing you within the first ten minutes of meeting you. He'd managed to hold it together for a little bit longer before throwing all caution to the wind. 

When he was done, San said in light amusement, “I'm just surprised you kissed her first. She must be something then, huh?”

Yeosang couldn't conceal the smile that slowly crept onto his face. “Yeah, she's…” He cleared his throat. “I just don't want last night to be the first and last time I see her.” It couldn't be—just when he thought he clicked with someone, the universe couldn't possibly be so cruel as to rip you away from him, could it?

“Don't you worry!” Mingi chirped, “We'll help you find your passenger princess.”

Seonghwa snorted. “Passenger princess? What is this, Cinderella?”

“It might as well be,” San chuckled, lifting his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Operation: Passenger Princess is a go!”

Yeosang wasn't sure if recruiting his friends’ help was a good or awful decision. But because his past, drunk self hadn't done many favors for his future, sober self, he would take all the help he could get. 

You knew the moment you stumbled out of your bedroom and saw your roommate that you were in trouble. It wasn't trouble in the conventional sense; considering her eyes were laughing as she watched your pitiful walk of shame from your room to the shared bathroom, you knew you were not going to hear the end of everything that happened last night ever. 

“Not a word,” you said to her as you winced at the blinding bathroom lights. 

Her toothbrush hung out of her mouth as she slipped in behind you to spit her toothpaste into the sink. When her mouth was rinsed and clear, she made eye contact with you in the mirror, eyebrows wagging up and down. “So you and Yeosang, huh?”

You glared at her from around your own toothbrush. You would have taken the damn thing out to defend yourself, but you were already late. 

Reina took full advantage of your occupied vocal chords. “I never knew pretty frat boys were your type, Yn,” she teased, practically floating out of the bathroom to go check on the state of her espresso in the kitchen. 

“Aye hae yuu,” you grumbled around your toothbrush. 

“What's that?” She cackled, bringing a hand up to the shell of her ear. “I love you? I love you, too, Yn. But you know who else loves you?—”

“Dompt shae it.”

“Yeosaaaang!” 

You loathed the fact that her saying such things made butterflies flap their wings and dance around in your belly. It was simply delusional to think of love when all you and Yeosang did last night was make out in his car and accompany each other in deep, provoking conversation… conversation that definitely didn't make you feel incredibly seen or anything… definitely not. 

Finally, you were able to spit your toothpaste out to make your argument. “Okay, first of all, I don't even have his number. And—how could he love me?” As if possession of a phone number could even correlate to love either.

Reina paused, her expression arranging into loud incredulity. “You what? After all I went through to separate the two of you to go home, you didn't exchange numbers?”

Okay, so maybe you shouldn't have disclosed that information—now you just looked stupid. 

You lathered up facial cleanser in your hands and on your face. “Look. Exchanging numbers was just the last thing on our minds—” Oh, Yn. Have you ever said something smart? 

Reina snorted. “Oh, I know.”

“We didn't just make out,” you grumbled, your cheeks warming beneath your hands. You furiously splashed cool water over your skin before patting your face dry. There likely wasn't much time left before you and Reina had to run to meet your other friends at your weekly volunteering session. “We talked.”

“Uh-huh, and you know that denial is a river in Egypt, right?”

Suffice to say that Reina most definitely did not let your shenanigans from last night go. The two of you managed to reach the food bank sometime before fifteen minutes past your original start time. Everyone else was already stationed and on time, and because you and Reina were the last to arrive, you were sent straight to dishwashing. 

As you and Reina pulled on your twin pairs of pink rubber gloves, your friend Mark Lee (and brother with the NCT fraternity) barrelled into the backroom with a dirty ladle in his hands. His head perked up at the sight of you both, a smile blooming on his face. “Well, good morning, Party Animals. How was the ATZ party last night?”

He deposited the ladle into the sink for you to wash while he went to go find a clean one. 

“It was cool, but I think Yn would love to tell you all about her experience,” Reina teased, bumping her elbow against your side. 

Mark sidled up beside the two of you and leaned in close in proper tea-spilling fashion. “Oh my gosh, did something happen?”

You scowled at Reina, then said to Mark, “Nothing catastrophic—”

“She hooked up with Yeosang!”

You cut her a hard glance. “Reina, I don't think Neptune heard you.”

Mark's eyes went comically wide, jaw slackening. “Yn and Yeosang? That's so wild. Like—like Kang Yeosang?”

“I think? We didn't exactly exchange last names, but why would it be wild? We just kissed and talked.”

“Who kissed who now?” The new voice had you all glancing back over to the kitchen door where another member of the group, Yura, walked in. Yura was Reina's cousin, and the two grew up quite close, so it was natural that they ended up in similar social circles. You and all your other friends got along pleasantly with her. She flashed you all a small smile. “From the sounds of it, I'm guessing you guys had a fun time at the party last night?”

“We did!” Reina chirped. 

“Shame you couldn't come with us this time,” you said offhandedly. It wasn't like Yura to miss a party. 

Reina cocked her head to the side. “I could've sworn I saw you there though—”

“Ah,” Yura waved her hand to dismiss her cousin's thought. She chuckled, “You're probably mistaking someone else as me; I had that paper I needed to work on last night, remember? But Yn, you and Yeosang?”

You groaned. “I thought we were over this.”

“Dude, we can't not get over this,” Mark quipped back. “Yeosang just doesn't do stuff like that—hook up with people, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Yura chimed in, “I've seen him at a couple other Greek parties with some of my sorority friends and he looks pretty standoffish most of the time. He's usually always with one of his brothers. He's kind of cold, really.”

Mark furrowed his brows. “I wouldn't call him cold; he's just a little shy, is all.”

“My friends told me that a lot of sorority girls chase after him,” Yura said with wide eyes. “They get, like, aggressive about him or something.”

You and Reina exchanged a look. Was that who he was running from last night? “That must be kinda stressful,” you said softly with a small frown. 

“Apparently, that's why his social medias don't take DMs unless approved,” she shrugged. 

Well, there went your backup plan of finding him on social media. Then again, if he recognized you or your name, would that help if you requested him? That was if you deigned to change your profile picture to yourself and not one of your silly doodles. 

You couldn't help the weight that your heart seemed to gain as it sank to the pit of your stomach. 

“Well, that's mildly disappointing,” Reina muttered, turning to quickly wash the ladle Mark had just dropped off. 

“I just wouldn't want you to get targeted by any of those crazy sorority girls, y'know?” Yura gave a laugh that sounded almost nervous. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. 

You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Yeah, no, I—I get it. Thanks, Yura.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “Of course,” she said. With a wave, she made her way back toward the kitchen door. “Mark, we better get back to work. See you guys at lunch break!”

When she was gone, Mark clapped a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, listen. I don't really know the guy personally, but me and Wooyoung are pretty tight. I can get in touch with them if you want—”

Baekhyun, the section leader for your session, charged into the kitchen with his arm piled high with dirty dishes. If you didn’t fear for the safety of the porcelain bowl at the top of the stack, you might have chuckled at the scene before you. “Mark! We don't pay you to stand around.”

“Hyung,” Mark huffed exasperatedly as he rushed over to help Baekhyun before the section leader could get knocked over the head by a rogue dish assisted by gravity. “You don't pay us. We're here out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“Well, I don't get paid enough for this,” Baekhyun said once all the dishes were transferred to the sink, and you and Reina were put to work. “Now come on; lots to do!”

Just as Mark was about to follow after Baekhyun, he caught your eyes. “I'm serious about the offer, Yn.”

You smiled. “Thanks, man, but let me think about it and I'll get back to you.”

“Yeah, just lemme know!” And he was gone. 

Word broke out that someone in the ATZ household was searching for a girl. Word of mouth was a method of dissemination that could spread like wildfire, leaping from one tongue to one ear to another, leaving only ash and debris behind. And around Greek Row, it became a massive game of Telephone. 

But while nearly everyone in the university's fraternities and sororities knew about his strife, Yeosang’s efforts seemed to be for naught. The only thing that emerged from this were more people harping after him, claiming to be 'the one he was looking for.’ None of them were you. 

Your name had manifested itself in his head about halfway into the week. He'd been toiling over the theory readings his professor assigned for Thursday's lecture when he'd underlined a word, and it came crashing down upon him with ice cold clarity. 

His eyes went wide as he shot up out of his chair, nearly sending Jongho careening off his bed on the other side of the room. “What the—”

“Yn,” Yeosang said. Then he declared a little louder, a giddy smile on his face, triumphant and bright, “Her name is Yn.”

Jongho resettled himself on top of his bed. “Well that narrows things down for us,” he drawled, taking his phone out and typing something out. “I don't suppose you have her last name.”

Yeosang fwumped onto the edge of his bed with his lips pressed into a line. “Dude. I literally just thought of her first name. Do you really think I can come up with—”

“Okay, okay,” Jongho laughed, flicking his wrist at him for a moment before resuming his typing. 

“Who're you texting?” Yeosang asked as curiosity drew him across the room to Jongho's side. 

His friend sat up so he could peer over his shoulder at the phone screen. “I'm doing the heavy lifting,” he teased. Based on the social media handle at the top of the direct messages channel, Jongho was texting Chungha, a friend of the frat's but a closer friend of President Hongjoong's, and the recently graduated head of the Phi Omega Phi sorority. “Hongjoong hyung mentioned offhandedly that Chungha wanted to get some friends into the party on Friday, so I'm seeing if she recognizes this Yn person you're looking for.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows flicked upward as he settled into a more comfortable position on Jongho’s bed while they awaited Chungha’s response. In the meantime, he pulled out his own phone in an attempt to search for your name amongst his mutuals. He frowned at the lack of a successful search—did you use a different name or did you not have a social media account? Was that why you hadn’t attempted to contact him in the past few days?

For a moment, a shard of self-consciousness pierced through his chest at the prospect that you didn’t want to contact him. Did sobriety make you embarrassed at what happened that night? Had he made you uncomfortable with the amount of vulnerability that was in the car—no, the vulnerability was mutual… but maybe—

“Gotcha.” 

Yeosang’s head whipped back over to Jongho’s screen. Having your name and major seemed to ring a bell for Chungha, and she forwarded a social media handle, along with a “tell Yeosang good luck ;)”. 

“Thank you, Jongho. And bless up, Chungha,” Yeosang muttered as he swiftly input the social media handle into his search bar. There it was—a private art account with your first name in the biography line. There were only one or two people who you both shared mutuals with, which made sense. 

His thumb hovered over the request button, and he bit his lip. With little else left to do and his heart banging around in his ribs from the anticipation alone, he clicked the button. 

It didn’t take you incredibly long to accept his follow request and to follow him back. (Though, half an hour felt like an eternity when he was so anxious.) He made it painfully obvious that you acted in response, because Yeosang fumbled his phone between his palms like it was a hot potato, before he dropped it and stubbed his toe with it. 

Jongho sent him a strange look as he handed the device back to a red-faced Yeosang, who furrowed his brows together to think of an opening direct message to you. 

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Jongho said as he peered over Yeosang's shoulder this time. He had even paused the game he was playing on his phone to stay tuned into the live entertainment. 

Yeosang made a face. “Yes, it does.” It had to be the perfect mix of witty and funny and subtle and—

He figured it out. 

@/yskang99: how do u like ur eggs?

Jongho released a sound of utter flabbergast, and Yeosang shushed him, both pairs of eyes pinned to the three dots that appeared on the bottom left-hand side of the screen. 

@/studioyn: sunny side up

Yeosang broke into a smile, and Jongho's face contorted into pure incredulity. “What kind of security question is that?”

“Inside joke,” Yeosang replied giddily, rising from Jongho's bed to cross over to his side of the room. He collapsed into his desk chair and propped his feet up along the end of his bed. 

Jongho scoffed, shifting his lounging position. He threw his friend another incredulous glance before giving up and returning to his game. He'd done his job. 

@/yskang99: congrats u passed the test!

@/studioyn: ahh so that was a test? i imagined us doing a virtual handshake tbh

@/yskang99: i like that better actually

@/studioyn: also how did u find me lmao

Yeosang bit his lip through a grin. I have my ways, he typed out cryptically, cheekily. 

@/studioyn: wtvr u say ig… 🤨🤨🤨

For a brief moment, Yeosang wondered if he should bring up the concern lingering in his mind—why you hadn't reached out to him. He didn't want to simply assume that he was “popular” enough that just anybody knew who he was, but he was also aware that most people were able to track him down on social media. But would that kill the vibe? He liked the energy. 

@/studioyn: i can't get a read on whether or not ur any different than how u were drunk 

@/yskang99: would that matter?

@/studioyn: not particularly, no, but i've met people who r

@/yskang99: no i get that, i've met my fair share too :/ 

He began typing out slowly: I missed you… Then he swiftly amended it to: I missed talking to you. 

@/studioyn: awhh wait ik we've only technically spoken the one time, but i missed talking to u too yeo :’)

A smile split his face from ear to ear. Would you wanna hang out again? Only if you're comfortable, of course. 

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. You were thinking and his heart was sinking.

Finally, your response came in. I'd love to, but I don't wanna disappoint you with my god awful schedule this next week. 

@/yskang99: what abt the weekend? something low stakes maybe?

@/yskang99: my brothers and i r going to the nct house on sat

@/studioyn: oh!! im actually close friends w mark lee :] i'll see if i can drag my friends along, and we can link up there?

The thought of seeing you again, even if it was at another dumb Greek party, made electricity zip through his veins. His stomach filled to the brim with butterflies, and he had to shift his position because of how much it tickled. 

@/yskang99: yeah sounds great :D i'll look forward to seeing u

@/studioyn: same here yeo :’))

@/studioyn: how's ur week been so far? 

Yeosang leaned back in his chair again, propping his elbows on the armrests to sink into a comfortable position. He had a feeling he might be here awhile, but he would sit here all night if it meant talking to you. 

“Yn! We're gonna be late!” 

You nearly jolted at the sound of Reina's voice carrying through the other side of your bedroom door. You dropped your phone onto your bed, racing to finish up the rest of your makeup. “You can never be late to a Greek party!” You countered, swiping your thumb over the pigment you just put on your lips. 

Your bedroom door opened just as you were slipping a chain necklace around your collar. Reina poked her head in, her eyes looking you up and down. “Ooh-la-la,” she gushed with a teasing smile. “Someone's gotten all dolled up. I wonder who for…”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the obvious warmth rising to your face. “I just felt like it,” you defended weakly while spritzing a light mist of perfume over your neck and wrists. You stood up from your desk to collect your wallet, keys, and lip gloss to dump into a purse, then went over to retrieve your phone. 

The screen displayed another message from Yeosang, no doubt continuing the conversation you had to abruptly pause because you would be late for the NCT party. This was going to be the second Greek party in two weeks—a record for your books. But you had a feeling it was going to be a good time like last week, you were sure of it. 

As you skimmed the message Yeosang sent, you slipped out of the room to join Reina in the main living space. She casted you a pointed look with arms crossed over her chest and lips pressed together. 

“What?” You blinked over at her innocently. 

“You're never gonna see your boy at this rate,” she said as the two of you picked out your shoes for the night. 

You sent a text answering Yeosang and letting him know you would be at the party soon. “He's not 'my boy,’” you said. 

“Right. He's your man.”

You hated how hard it was to keep the giggle in your throat down. It was embarrassing how you smiled just then, too, turning your head away from a smug Reina. 

God, he was just a guy; how did you get so head-over-heels after just one night? It had to be the fact that you'd been texting him nonstop over the past few days. Though you were busy and exhausted, you continued to check your phone all throughout the days and stayed up long into the nights just to talk to him. He had you hook, line, and sinker. 

At some point, you'd forgotten what Yura warned you about on Saturday. 

Your friends picked you and Reina up in one of their family minivans. A round of greetings went up as you clambered in behind Reina, and your friend asked where her cousin was tonight if she wasn't carpooling with the rest of you. 

“She said she was at her sorority friend's house,” Sieun said offhandedly from the driver's seat. The minivan door closed on its own with a mechanical whirring sound. “She's probably at the party already.”

Some nights, parties called for a pregame session, while others (not unlike this one) was attacked raw. Sieun parked the minivan about a block outside of Greek row where there were spaces between cars along the curbs and where there was less of a chance of her accidentally running over a drunk partygoer stumbling into the street. The party was already in full swing with neon green strobe lights blazing aggressively through the front windows, and Gasolina blasting at nothing less than one hundred percent speaker volume. 

You felt your phone vibrate in your hand as Reina grabbed your hand to avoid instantly losing you in the crowd. 

@/yskang99: im on the second floor where there's less people 😋😋 they've got a nice balcony we can hide on!!

“Mark said they've got spiked Capri Sun somewhere in here!” Reina shouted into your ear. 

You nodded your head vigorously. “Let's find it then!”

@/studioyn: gonna grab hard caprisun and then head up!! do u want some??

@/yskang99: surprise me w a flavor, pretty pls x

You grinned to yourself and slid your phone into your purse to focus on the task at hand. 

The NCT fraternity house wasn't a completely unknown landscape to you and Reina. Being friends with one of its brothers and friends-by-association with all the rest, you'd popped by more than a few times. You could likely navigate this house with your eyes closed; that was what it was like weaving through the dark rooms and throngs of people squeezed together like sardines in a can, anyway. 

Along yours and Reina's trek to the kitchen, you gained a couple people in your conga line of linked hands, NCT's own Xiaojun and Jungwoo. NCT frat brothers always pregamed, so the two brothers were already tipsy and giggled about your kindergarten field trip line (with Reina being dubbed the poor kindergarten teacher tasked with keeping you together). 

When you arrived at your destination, it didn't take long for you to lose both Xiaojun and Jungwoo to the game of Texas Hold 'Em being played at the breakfast table. The singular lightbulb overheard made it feel like a smoke-filled backdoor gambling den. 

“Aha!” You cheered after playing a game of mystery cooler roulette, and opened the cooler lid that held the spiked Capri Sun juice pouches on ice. 

“Mine!” Reina snatched up the last cherry flavored one, the shiny aluminum slippery and ice-cold as she impaled the opening with the thin, yellow straw. 

You grabbed a Pacific Cooler flavored pouch for yourself, and a second for Yeosang. 

“Ah, is that for the man of your dreams?” Reina said between sips, her pouch already half empty. 

You sent her a look. “He has good taste, which means he'll probably appreciate Pacific Cooler as much as I do.”

“As long as it's not lemonade,” came a voice to your left. There stood a rather tall and lean man, his warm smile enunciated by the dim kitchen lighting as the green strobe lights from the living room painted across his face. “I can't deal with sour shit,” he explained, making a face. 

You laughed. “That's valid. Fruit Punch is a classic though.”

“Can't argue with that,” he replied, leaning down to pick his poison for the night. He stabbed a straw into his pouch of strawberry kiwi juice, then arched an eyebrow at you. “I feel like I know you. Do I know you?”

“Hey,” Reina chimed in as she leaned over your shoulder, “you're with the ATZ frat, aren't you? I recognize you from Twister last week.”

He smiled sheepishly from around his straw. “Ah… haha, not my best moment, but yes. I'm Yunho.”

“Reina,” your friend replied. 

“Yn,” you added on. 

Yunho's expression jerked as if he'd just been delivered an electric shock. He waved his pointer finger at you. “Oh my god, you're Yeosang's girl!”

Your eyes shuddered in surprise. Yeosang's girl. “Sorry?” You stammered. There was an insane amount of possessive pronouns being used tonight, buy you definitely weren't complaining about it, and could he perhaps say that again—

“Yeah, he won't shut up about you.” Yunho slurped up the rest of his juice pouch, draining and flattening the life out of it in record time. “He loves Pacific Cooler, by the way.”

He took his leave then, saying nothing else to you and Reina except for shooting you a pair of finger guns like saying 'go get em, tiger!’

Reina wheezed, draping herself over you for a moment. “Oh—my god! Good thing Yeosang's just as down in the trenches as you are.”

“Don't do this to me, Reina,” you whined and dragged her along out of the kitchen toward the second floor staircase. “I don't need encouragement; the crush is enough!”

“It's never enough,” she declared with her pointer finger up in the sky. “You are gone, my friend! Gone, I say.”

You patted her head as you both began your ascent up the stairs. “Alrighty; then gone, I am. Do you remember where the balcony is on this floor?”

She hummed. “Ooh! Somewhere by Johnjae's room, abouts. I just remember because Mark told us how—”

“Right—the sophomore year Romeo and Juliet reenactment,” you snorted. You couldn't wrap your head around the batshit crazy things that occurred around these parts. “Who convinced Doyoung to play Paris anyway?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “Must've been bribed—oh, there it is, but I think there's a couple out there already…”

There was most definitely a couple on the balcony. Their outlines were silhouettes against the residual strobe lights shining up from downstairs, so it was a little too dark to make out who they were. They seemed close—the girl was all over the boy, the latter trying to hold her up by her waist. Maybe she'd had too much to drink, and for a moment, you were glad someone was taking care of her. 

But when she leaned in for a kiss, green light glanced across their faces to reveal their features to you. It was only a split second, but it was all you needed. 

“Reina,” you exhaled in shock, turning away from the balcony with enough speed to nearly give you whiplash. 

She didn't question you, as you both careened back down the hall from where you came from, heading for one of the open bedrooms on this floor to collect yourselves. When the two of you were out of earshot of the balcony, she hissed under her breath in utter disbelief, “Yura?”

You'd seen it nearly clear as day, too. That was Yura kissing Yeosang. 

Your head spun as you shouldered your way into Mark's and Haechan's room, their names plastered on the door in foam letter stickers from the craft store. As Reina closed the door and turned on the lights, you sat down in Mark's desk chair attempting to make sense of what you and Reina just witnessed. 

Yeosang and Yura? But wasn't Yura the one who warned you that chasing after Yeosang was a risk because of how many others were, as well? Why would… 

Oh. 

Well, now you just felt stupid. 

Reina dragged over Haechan's desk chair to settle in front of you, her expression less enraged than before, and more concerned over what she was reading off of your face. “Hey, don't do that. Don't think like that.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking,” you murmured, setting the untouched juice pouches on the desk. 

“You're thinking that you're stupid.” 

“Okay, maybe you do know what I'm thinking.” You inhaled, then exhaled slowly, leaning forward onto your knees. “I don't really know what to think or assume.”

Reina nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “That's okay. I don't think I really understand what I saw either.”

“But that was Yura, right?”

She bobbed her head again. “That was my cousin, yeah.”

“Would it be fair to even think that she told me all that shit last week to discourage me from seeing him?” You didn't enjoy thinking that another person would have such malicious intentions without understanding their point of view, especially someone you considered yourself friends with. 

“Well,” Reina drawled, “I think we both saw what we saw, and Yura was acting strangely about it on Saturday. It would be fair if you were hurt by it; I think your feelings have been clear.”

You gave a small nod. “Do you think he…?”

“I'm not sure, hon.” 

You resolved to talk to him about it. If anything, you had these juice pouches left to console yourself, but you wanted to make sure you knew where his feelings laid. You would be lying if you said your heart didn't harbor even a glimmer of hope that this was all a misunderstanding, and that the kiss was an accident and didn't matter. 

You and Reina left the relative safety of Mark and Haechan's bedroom to go find Yeosang. There weren't any new messages between either of you since the Capri Sun exchange, and you thought about texting him on his whereabouts. 

The balcony by Johnny and Jaehyun's room was empty now, barren of any evidence somebody was there in the first place. 

You and Reina wandered back down to the main floor. The party was nowhere near over; the night was still young. Hope was sinking fast in your stomach as the two of you traveled from room to room in search of him, but with no luck. Even asking around was useless. 

“Text him,” Reina encouraged, as the two of you sipped on the juice pouches that were supposed to be for you and him. 

She held your spiked juice while you texted him. 

As time passed, and a response had yet to come through, you tossed yours and Reina's flattened Capri Sun pouches into the nearest garbage can.

If he wasn't going to answer, then maybe you would just go home for the night. You had a lot to think about. 

Defeated, you let Reina sweep you under her arm and guide you to the front door. “Let's go home, hm?” She said, rubbing your shoulder. 

On your way to the front door, you paused. You thought you heard someone calling your name—

You turned around to find Mark barreling toward you through the crowd with another guy at his side. “Mark?” You shouted over the music. 

“Hey, we've been looking all over for you,” he said. Nodding to his friend, he told you, “This is Wooyoung, by the way, the ATZ brother I'm friends with.”

“Yeosang's been looking for you,” Wooyoung said in earnest, eyes as wide as Mark's. Had they been looking for you as much as you were looking for Yeosang?

Something like hope sparked in your chest again—you were at odds. The fight had nearly dissipated from your blood and you were ready to go home. But if he was trying to find you… it must be worth it then, right?

“Where is he?” You asked. 

It was nearing midnight by the time you settled yourself on the concrete curb outside the ATZ frat house just down the block from the target being thrown at the NCT house. With everyone over there, no wonder it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think. With the coming of deep autumn, a slight breeze wafted by that drifted over your skin and raised goosebumps on your arms. 

You heard gravel crunching from behind you, coming down the ATZ driveway, and before you could turn your head to look, a warm jacket was placed over your shoulders. You held your breath, fingers finding the lapel to keep it from slipping as you glanced over at your counterpart. 

Yeosang lowered himself onto the curb next to you, mimicking your position with his knees bent and arms resting upon them. “I—my phone died,” he said lowly. 

“Oh.” That took care of at least two of your questions. 

“Is there—” He stopped himself, amending his statement, “There's something on your mind.”

Understatement of the century. You pulled his jacket around you, the intertwining scents of alcohol and his cologne lingering on the collar. “I was going to meet you at the balcony, and I was there, but… but I saw you and Yura, and…”

It was his turn to say “oh.” He angled his body toward you now until his knees bumped against yours and he was muttering out an apology he didn't need to say. He laid his upper body over his arms that were folded onto his knees and peered up at you through lengthy lashes.

He was waiting for you to finish. 

You swallowed, following his lead and turning your body toward him. “I saw her kiss you,” you said, the sound barely audible to anybody but you and him. “Reina and I went somewhere to kind of just soak in what we saw, and then we went back out to find you so I could talk to you about it, but we couldn't find you.”

“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he murmured, eyebrows furrowed together. “It—it didn't mean anything. She did try to kiss me, but I pushed her away before she could.”

You believed him. You loosened a small chuckle from your lips. “Y'know, it sounds silly to me now, but last week she told me that there were a number of girls who were pursing you and were very aggressive about it.”

He snorted. “If there were any, I only know of one.”

“She…?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, lips pursing. “I know she's liked me for a while, but I've made it clear I don't see her the same way. At last Friday's party, I was actually trying to lose her in the crowd when I found you.”

Your eyes widened. “So she was there?” Then Reina had actually seen her cousin at the party; Yura had lied about where she was. 

“She told me tonight that she was scared about me liking you more than her,” Yeosang said as he lifted his body back up to rest his cheek against his fist. “She was really drunk—which was why you probably saw me trying to hold her up—and then she… tried to kiss me. I pushed her away, and one of her friends found us, so I handed her over and went to get some air.”

And that was why you couldn't find him. You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding in. “Are you—are you okay? I'm so sorry she did that to you.” 

The corners of his lips tugged upward in a reassuring smile. “I'm alright, thank you. And it's not your fault.”

“I know, but still,” you insisted. “Your boundaries were violated, and it makes me feel so icky that I've called her a friend of mine, and—what?” 

Your words came to a screeching halt when you realized that Yeosang was just smiling at you. Or rather, gazing at you, admiring you. It was whatever he did whenever his eyes possessed a set of twin jewels in his irises that needed no light to glitter like gold; and when his grin softened at the corners by a tenderness that knocked the wind out of you, all words and systems failed you. 

You recognized this look, except this time, you weren't drunk. 

“I'm really happy I met you,” he said in your silence. “And I'm happy I got to see you again.”

You nearly melted. You smiled back at him, replying quietly, “Couldn’t have said it any better. Thank you for being honest with me.”

“And thank you for believing me.” He reached for your hand, his movements slow as if giving you an opening to pull back if you wanted to. But you didn't, and you closed the remaining space to link your fingers and press your palms together. 

You and Yeosang shared mutual smiles in the dim lighting outside his fraternity house. Your heart beat had quickened a considerable amount now that he was so close to you again. 

You cleared your throat. "Just to be clear though—when you said she was scared about you liking me more than her—?"

His smile reached his eyes and turned them into upturned crescent moons. "I'm not scared," he said, "that I like you more than I have ever liked her." By a landslide.

Your heart gave a lurch in your chest. "Good," you smiled. "That's good, because I like you a whole lot, too."

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yeosang inclined his chin toward where his car was parked a couple vehicles down. “Properly this time, now that we're not completely wasted?”

You laughed. “I would love nothing more.”

Pleased, he helped you to your feet. You must have stood up far too quickly though, because the blood rushed up to your head in a riptide current. You swore as the vertigo hit you, and your footing stumbled. 

“Woah, careful there, pretty,” he murmured, his low voice by your ear as he steadied you with one hand pressed between your shoulder blades and the other around your waist. 

Oh, there went your heart… it flew up to halo around Yeosang's head, and it wasn't yours anymore—

“You okay?” He mused. 

You cleared your throat, straightening. “Yeah, I'm great,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head toward your chest. 

A warm, fond chuckle left his mouth. “Cute,” he murmured. He lifted your chin up so you would look at him, his eyes darting down toward your mouth, and yours mirroring his movements. “I was wondering…”

“You can kiss me,” you blurted out, ignoring the utter leap in your pulse and the heat crawling up the back of your neck. 

You tasted his smile as he leaned over to seal his mouth over your own, a long awaited return to the place that felt just right. You breathed him in, inhaled him, devoured him whole—you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer just as his hands pressed you flush against him. 

In the distance against the heavy house music in the background, a cheer went up into the night sky. 

You and Yeosang parted only to crane your heads in the direction of the noise, only to find what looked like a gathering of your friends and his friends hooting and applauding like it was New Years. 

“OPERATION: PASSENGER PRINCESS WINS!” The guy from earlier, Wooyoung, practically howled up at the sky. 

You pressed your face against Yeosang's shoulder as he groaned. “I am so sorry about them,” he chuckled through a grimace, lips grazing over your crown. 

You laughed along with him. “My friends are also among the guilty party, Yeo.” 

He kept his arm around your waist and you kept your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked away from your friends and toward his car. Contentment curled itself up over your chest again, and it nestled in deep, as if it planned to stay awhile. 

“By the way,” you piped up as he unlocked his car. 

“Mhm?”

You opened the passenger side door and leaned over the top of it to ask, “What the hell is Operation: Passenger Princess?” 

Yeosang sputtered out a laugh and his cheekbones burned red. “How about we save that for our third date?”

You blinked, lips parting. 

Yeosang grinned impishly. “Close that mouth, pretty, or I'll close it for you.”

Your jaw snapped closed, and his laugh echoed against the houses along this street. You climbed into the car after him, flustered beyond words. “I don't like you,” was all you could come up with. 

“I'm sure you don't.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed! also, the plan is to try and write another wooyo frat au as well, so pray for me...

atz m.list

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[whatislovevavy]

Sliding Stops & Beating Hearts

Reiner! Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Honeybee)

Summary: Tyler Owens has worked almost his entire life for this moment. And he's so glad he gets to share it with you.

Warnings: Tyler being down bad for his wife, afab!reader, fluff, swearing, smut (18+), oral (m+f), facesitting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

WC: 4.6k (I'm so sorry, but not sorry enough to make it shorter)

AN: Hey girlies :) Apologies for taking so long to post this, I've been very busy and it feels like I have to wait for what feels like some kind of astronomical event for me to be able to write. Tyler Owens is essentially Jake Seresin so yeah I'm writing for him now lol. Reining has always been one of my favorite equestrian sports to watch. Granted, I've never done it nor competed so apologies to any reiners out there if there's inaccuracies with how competitions go lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy :)

None of the pictures featured are mine and were taken off of Pinterest. All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

The competition had been fierce and each ounce of caffeine in your veins from your strenuous, early morning drive from Arkansas to Oklahoma had done nothing to quell your nerves. 

You could feel the sweat emulate from your palms as you watched each rider and horse pair complete their routine with near flawlessness, confidence, professionalism, and near perfect scores on maneuvers. 

Tyler would need to give it his all to bring home the NRHA world championship title for this season. 

You watched with bated breath as the pair before Tyler’s exited through the in-gate, applause and cheers ricocheting off the concrete and aluminum walls of the stadium. The announcer’s voice crackling and echoing through the speakers as the pairs score was displayed on the JumboTron that hung ominously above the center of the arena, threatening to crush Tyler's lifelong dream if a perfect score wasn't achieved. You fiddled with the competition program in your hand, waiting for the announcer to give the go ahead for Tyler Owens and Coppertone Boy, or as he was affectionately called at home, Copper, to enter the arena. 

“Come on, honeybee, I think you're more nervous than I am.” The fingers of your hand stop gingerly massaging into the muscle between Copper’s alert ears, eyes meeting Tyler’s unnervingly calm ones. You sighed, bringing your hand down to softly stroke the stallion’s velvet muzzle, looking back out at the arena that would be vacant for only a few moments more. “It's just the anticipation is all.”

He swallowed, dipping his heels down further against his stirrups, his weight settling on the back of the palomino American Quarter Horse. His thumb running along the smooth leather reins in his moderately calloused hands, his posture straightening. Tipping his hat on his head, eyes drifting from your almost perfect facade of calm collection to the no longer virginal arena footing. 

He gingerly scratched at Copper’s strong, gilded withers and neck concealed by the silken, alabaster strands of his freshly detangled mane, easing any anxiety the 10 year old stallion may have had. 

“Copper will take care of me out there, and I'm coming back, Sweets” his lip quirked into a gentle smirk, letting your anxiety ease a bit. 

Copper gently nudged you with his head, trying to get one last scratch in before entering. Or maybe to try to reassure you. “I know, I-,” you took a breath, licking your lips,” just really want this for you, and we're so close. I can taste it.” 

His eyes glazed a bit, a special kind of warmth spreading in his chest. You had helped him hitch the trailer to pick up Copper from the auction a few townships over back in his early twenties. You were the one who was with him every step of the way, through every high and frustrating low of training him and getting him ready for every competition. You were the one to stay up all night with him when Copper coliced during a muggy spring night a few years back. You were the one who encouraged him to try reining after his bull riding rodeo career came to a halt. You were the one to hide out with him on his family's ranch in Arkansas during the summer thunderstorms in the hayloft as kids and lovesick teenagers. And you were the first person he got to kiss out in the back field after the haying season was done, laying under the cover of Cassiopeia and The Big Dipper with homemade strawberry moonshine. It made the wedding band on a chain around his neck all the more meaningful. The microphone crackled as the announcer cleared his throat, announcing for Tyler to enter the arena. 

“Come on, baby, I need my good luck kiss before I go out there.” His urgent, but sweet, tone made you chuckle.  Stepping on your tippy toes, you met his lips that only seemed to get softer the more you kissed him. As your lips left his, you gave the stallion that gleamed like a new penny under the stadium lights a last, quick rub at his withers and a whispered “take care of him for me.” The stallion nudged his pink and gray muzzle into your side, letting out a puff of breath, seeming to listen and affirm your wish. 

You turned back to the man you had loved since you were a sophmore in highschool. “You'll get something a lot more when you come back.” You said softly with a flirtatious tone, trying to lighten the nerves that seemed to electrify your fingertips. Your eyes told an unspoken “whether you win, or lose.” His eyebrows rise before a smirk settles on his lips. “Looking forward to it darlin,” he winks before turning his attention to the packed arena. He gives the stallion a gentle squeeze of his sides with his calves to get him into a working walk, head low, and relaxed as his metal shoe-clad hooves rhythmically ricocheted off the pavement leading up to the arena as applause and whistles from the crowd marked his entrance like a gladiator entering the Colosseum. You watched him leave your side with bated breath. 

You always envied how he was able to feed off of the crowd instead of cowering under it, even when he was getting tossed around as a professional bull rider in the local rodeo circuit. It was a trait that Tyler and Copper had in common that made them a perfect pair.

You watched each calculated movement he whispered to Copper through his hands, legs, and seat. Each movement done in perfect harmony, from flying lead changes to each heart racing spin and rollback. You practically knew the routine like the back of your hand, softly mouthing the required movements right as Tyler and Copper conducted them with  complete poise and confidence. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flit back and forth from the golden stallion enrapturing the attention of the crowd and the judges scribbling down notes that had the potential to cut like a blade. Tyler had a calm, at-ease aura around him; his hands still with just the right amount of contact on the reins, loose hips and strong legs that wrapped around the barrel of the strong, powerful, and graceful horse below him. Copper’s ears kept at ease, each one flitting back to listen to each whispered task Tyler gave him. His mane and tail swayed beautifully with the rest of his muscular, golden dappled frame; steel horseshoes gleaming under the large overhead lights. You felt your anxiety rise as Tyler only had one maneuver left to accomplish- a sliding stop from a full gallop, the most exhilarating maneuver in reining.

Your breath felt like lead in your lungs as you watched each stride Copper took to complete his routine. With an impressive stall of his hind quarters, Copper planted himself against the arena footing to come to a full stop, his hind legs slightly folding under him as Tyler kept his body steady. The arena went quiet for only a second as Copper found his footing, remaining in a halt. As soon as the judges gave Tyler the go ahead to leave the arena, you jumped up in glee, applauding and whistling, just like the entirety of the arena   as Tyler gave Copper a loose rein, giving his strong neck deligent pats of encouragement and rubbing his withers as he made his way out of the arena at a working walk pace. After all, he had earned it. 

But would it be enough to win?

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as Tyler met your gaze with a heart stopping grin, his handsome dimples on display, timothy grass green eyes shining for you as his chest rose and fell from his exertion, and the sweat evident under his Stetson at his hairline. 

As soon as he cleared the in-gate, he was out of the saddle and embracing you, lips on yours as you giggled against him as he picked you up and spun you around, your fingers splayed over his stubbly cheeks. Copper stood patiently as his reins hit the cement floor. Your fingers resting at the back of his neck, feeling his sweat, natural scent, and the smell of leather and horses caress your senses. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you said, voice thick with tears bubbling beneath your eyes as your hands encased his gently stubbled cheeks, his grin matching your own, voice thick, “Honey, whatever happens, I’m-,” his eyes becoming glassy, “I’m just so glad I’ve been able to do this with you. I love you so goddamn much.” He brought your lips back to his in a sweet, love filled kiss that made your stomach flutter.  The crackle of the microphone breaks you both away from your kiss, his embrace still on your hips. Tyler cranes his neck to look up at the JumboTron. 

Your eyes widening, putting your hands over your mouth and looking up at Tyler’s shock-parted lips as the arena broke into cheers. Tyler swings you around by your hips before bringing you to his lips again. 

A perfect score. 

—

As soon as Tyler rode out on Copper with you by his side during the award ceremony, and your picture was taken with his NRHA Championship trophy and Copper got his red, blue, and yellow tri-colored ribbon, you both were ready to load up Copper and drive all the way back to Arkansas. 

Photographers, interviewers, and cameras followed your little group out of the arena. Tyler and Copper both walked with pride in a way that showed a healthy balance of confidence and natural charisma. Copper not once flinched as cameras flashed as Tyler had him periodically stop for interviewers to ask questions, reins loose in his hand. Copper seemed to almost pose for the camera with his ears forward and moving with momentum whenever the cameras flashed; aware that he had done a good job and was being appreciated. You, on the other hand, preferred to be on the other side of Copper’s strong withers, away from the cameras, gently running your hand along his glistening coat; it took you and Tyler countless hours for it to gleam like gold. 

“Who would you say is someone who has always supported you on the road to winning this NRHA world championship title?”

You felt like you were hiding behind the near two ton animal, peeking over his strong neck to watch Tyler with his tipped up Stetson and near alabaster dress shirt. He turned from the interviewer to you with an easy grin on his face, gently reaching behind him to take your hand from underneath Copper’s neck, bringing you around his large head and into Tyler’s chest, placing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks like wildfire as you gave the interviewer a shy toothy smile. 

“I’ve had the undeserved pleasure to have by my side, during this entire journey, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known; my wife.” You felt your throat tighten and tears start to bubble up in your eyes at his gesture, all while trying to subtly hide away into his shoulder as the interviewer seemed to soak up the sweet moment between the new NRHA world champion and his wife. 

“You’ll have to forgive her, my honeybee’s a bit shy.” he chuckled, the interviewer following suit before asking her final questions with you by his side. 

As the last of the interviewers left to talk to the other competitors, you and Tyler led Copper back to the trailer to get him bedded in the trailer for the long way home.

You tried to keep your thoughts pure as you walked through the trucks and trailers with Copper in tow, passing competitors that turned into friends; like Bradley Bradshaw and his oil black quarter horse gelding, Turn and Burn, and Natasha Trace and her sorrel chestnut mare, Rising Phoenix. Both of which had gotten in the top 5 tonight out of 38. 

But Tyler looked too good right now. Too good. And his display of affection in front of the interviewer made your insides warm and jumble inside you. 

His hair peeking out from under his stetson, the color subdued from sweat; his taut jeans around his slim waist; his obnoxiously large belt buckle that glimmered in the overhead lot lights; his flushed, sweat soaked skin; bright, fern green eyes, and the defined line of his jaw to his handsome dimples. 

It didn’t help that you got distracted watching him tend to Copper as you put the tack in the trailer, biting your lip as you watched the thin material of his shirt cling to his back muscles. 

“Honeybee, you alright over there?” You almost needed to shake your head out of your trance, before trying to quickly put the tack away in the closet of the trailer, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on your lewd thoughts. 

As soon as you turned around from putting the tack away, Tyler was at the entryway. Both hands on the edge of the storage space prevented any chance of escape, sluttily leaning his weight on the frame like the scantily-clad men in those romance books Tyler always teased you for reading. He didn’t have anything to complain about though; he reaped the reward of it everytime. 

Your eyes met his mischief filled ones. “You got something on your mind, Honey?” 

You diverted your gaze from his eyes to his Stetson. He noticed, promptly removing it and placing it over his denim-clad pelvis with a teasing smile as he saw your eyes follow his movement. He always loved the dust of pink on your cheeks when he flirted with you. He took a step into the trailer, feeling his intoxicating scent invade your senses. 

You took a step forward, letting your eyes obscenely run over from his sweat-slicked back hair, to the slight crook in his nose, to his plush lips. Leaning into his ear, “I’ll tell you once Copper is in the trailer. Fed and watered.” Tyler almost shivered at the barely decent tone you used. You both were in a public space for Christ’s sake. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You bit your lip, a chuckle vibrating in your chest at his pace towards the patient stallion grazing from his well deserved hay bag as soon the words left your lips.

—

After ensuring all of your belongings were packed away, you went to check on Tyler and Copper. As you turned the corner, Tyler was just finishing up putting the latches on the trailer. “How’s our big guy doing?” You asked, leaning against the side of the trailer. 

He turned to you, “fed, watered, and out like a light. Copper’s going to sleep well on the ride home. Gave him a few extra flakes of hay to keep him occupied.”

“Now,” he took a step closer to you, a smirk painted across his lips, “I wanna hear what was on your mind earlier, pretty girl,” he purred. 

You took a step closer to him with a flirtatious smile blooming on your face, reaching out for his belt loops on his jeans. 

— 

“Honeybee,” he whimpered, heading hitting back against his truck as you sunk to the dusty ground beneath your knees, scrambling to unbuckle his obnoxiously large belt buckle, and unzipping his denim jeans with a harsh tug. He hissed, “careful, sweets, don't want to damage the goods,” you chuckled before bringing his jeans down to his knees. His breath freezing in his throat as you ran your palms against his defined Adonis belt and abs, scratching at the hair of his happy trail as your smooth palm found its home - wrapped around his thick, pulsing cock in his briefs. Tyler's eyes clenched shut, a hiss leaking from his kiss-swollen lips as you began to pump him in a corkscrew motion. God, he looked so good like this. Letting you take care of him and make him crumble beneath the palms of your hands. 

“Jesus, sweetheart.” His hips stuttered as you gave his oh so sensitive, engorged tip delicate kitten licks before taking him into your mouth, sucking softly. Eyes drifting shut as you savored the subtle musk of your husband and the salty taste of the precum leaking out of his cock. You hummed around his dick as his fingers weaved into your hair, keeping his cock encased in your hot mouth. 

Jesus, the glorious sight in your mind- Tyler’s head and Stetson tipped back, lips agape, cheeks flushed pink with sweat and arousal, dress shirt unbuttoned, strong abdominal and pectoral muscles exposed from years of ranch work, hips jutting out as his jeans and briefs tethered his ankles as you worked his fat cock. 

A sound akin to a mewl left his lips as you bobbed your head along his length, working his cock with your saliva soaked hand. 

“Oh fu- baby, that feels so fucking good.” His graveled voice made you clench your thighs, his eyes opening to see you pumping his cock as you playfully sucked on his balls. Saliva dribbling down your lips to the dirt below, leaving your mark on the event grounds. Your sinful acts hidden in the shadows of your truck and trailer. 

This was definitely the best way to celebrate a world championship win, he thought through a hazy conscience as he failed to find a steady tempo of breath. 

You could feel the tightness of his balls and the steady throbbing of the vein running underneath his thick cock. His fingers tightening in your hair. 

“God-Fuck-” His trail of words were cut off with a deep groan he tried to muffle the best he could.

 His hand kept your mouth around his cock as he shot his load down your welcoming throat, letting you swallow every hot drop he had to give. His body slumping against the truck, catching his breath as you rose up off the dirt, tenderly tucking him back into his jeans, bringing your lips to his. 

After a few moments, Tyler deepened the kiss,  reaching for the backseat door. He broke away from your lips, littering your neck and collarbones with messy, open-mouthed kisses. Your lips would get swollen soon from how hard you were biting them to conceal your mewls. His hands palmed and toyed with your cotton-clad breasts, feeling his calloused fingers slide under your t-shirt to fondle at your steadily peaking nipples. “Baby, we might need to do this half-clothed,” you murmured against his lips. He let his lips leave yours, realizing where you guys were: on the outskirts of the arena grounds. 

“Well, Honeybee, we’ll just have to do it with your pants down then, pretty girl.” He smiled sinfully. His gravelly tone always made you clench your thighs in need, and feel excited and jittery inside; like a new-born foal learning to run. 

He stripped off his dress shirt, leaving him with chest and abs exposed in the shadow of the truck. Before you had the chance to admire his half-bare body, he was unzipping your jeans and pulling them down along with your panties in one fell swoop. He guided your legs out of them before placing his beloved Stetson on your head. The sight of you bare below the waist and his white stetson had his cock twitching again. 

He hopped on the seat, laying down on the leather upholstery. “Come on, honey girl, get up here. I want a taste.” He purred, eyes raking from your face down to the little honey stash between your thighs with a Cheshire-like grin. 

You chuckled, excitement thrumming through your belly like a current of electricity. His hands guided your hips over his twitching dick, over his thick pecs, and right above where he wanted you. Your breath catches in your throat as Tyler brings your hips down with his broad hands, clutching at your soft waist as he starts lapping at your drenched core.  

“Fuck, Ty-” you clutched at his tufts of hair that peaked through your fingers, like the daisies in the hayfields. He toyed with your clit, his stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive inner thighs. He gently sucked on your clit to pull each sweet moan and gasp from your lips. His thick fingers forming troughs along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, keeping your weeping pussy pinned above his eager mouth. 

“Please.”

He grunted as your hips rocked against him, his grip tightening on your hips, guiding your movements. Your head tipping back as your thoughts failed to construe into something tangible besides broken moans and words. It’s amazing how Tyler’s Stetson has stayed on during your impromptu ride. 

God, the sight he had from below your thighs; black t-shirt riding up to just below your bra, your hands clutching at his hair and your covered breasts, beautiful parted lips, reddened cheeks and his staple atop your head.

You looked divine like this. Hell, you were divine for wanting to marry him in the first place. 

He gave your clit a delicate kiss, just enough to make you whine a little. Littering kisses along your inner thighs, feeling the tender flesh quake above him as you protested him giving attention to places that weren’t where you needed him to be. He licked his lips savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and gently teased two fingers at your entrance making you gasp and whimper at the intrusion.

“Baby, you look so good from down here, so fucking good.”

His graveled voice was marked by a unique breathlessness that times like these brought him. Your hands pushed your t-shirt up and your bra down to toy with your exposed breasts and perky nipples as the Oklahoma evening air pebbled them. Your hazy gaze looking downward at your lover’s tousled hair, flushed cheeks and lust-blown pupils with a characteristic devilish grin on his arousal soaked lips.

“Fuck, baby”

He smiled as he guided his fingers into your welcoming heat, your pretty moans music to his ears. 

His fingers finding the perfect tempo against that little spot inside you that made your toes curl against the upholstery of the car. His free hand holding an iron grip on your hip, keeping you steady.

If you hadn’t felt like you were going to cum before, you were now.  

Tyler could feel your velvet walls constrict around his welcomed digits. A soft yelp leaves your lips as he finds your clit again; toying and sucking at the delicate bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He sucked harder the more you pulled at his hair.

“Tyler, I’m so close, please make me cum baby-please.”

The wanton, sultry tone your voice got in this state made him ache in his jeans and move his fingers that much more eagerly. 

You felt the familiar build up of pleasure in your tummy and the sparks of pleasure traveling from your toes. Tyler watched as you fell apart over him with a wracked moan of his name as his fingers continued to rub that special spot inside you, and as he continued to toy with your poor, abused clit.

He slowed his movements to a halt, letting his fingers leave to hold your hips steady, bringing his lips to languidly kiss and lathe at your cum soaked folds, drawing out any last sparks of pleasure and the sweet, little noises you always made for him. 

Your thighs shook with the aftermath of your orgasm, your body still ringing with small sparks of pleasure and sensitivity, your whimpers pouring out. 

He lathed his last set of kisses to your pussy before sliding your hips down to rest over his throbbing dick, hidden behind a layer of denim. 

Tyler brought both hands to encase your face, bringing your lips to his in a kiss full of teeth and tongue, your mouth going to the prominent vein on the side of his neck, lathing and marking the flesh as your own, spurred on by the deep groans of the man underneath you. He growled, feeling you bite into the skin there. It would surprise him if you didn’t draw blood. 

“I want to ride your thick cock, baby.” you simpered.

“Fuck, you make me so hard, Honeybee.” He growled, feeling you unzip his jeans, pulling out his aching cock and lining him up at your entrance. Gently teasing the tip, running it along your folds, letting it soak up your arousal. You smirked as you listened to the borderline moans that reverberated from his chest. He felt his eyes almost roll back at the feeling of your walls welcoming him in; back home. You watched with lust hazed eyes as his face was consumed with tension; his eyes clenched shut, brow lines rippling the tanned skin of his forehead, his tense jaw and kiss swollen lips. 

He guided your hips, savoring the feeling of you. His hips bucking up into your awaiting pussy as he got more and more invigorated for his release. 

“Fuck, Honey-fuck!” He growled as he felt your walls squeeze him for all he was worth. 

“God, you’re always so good for me, such a good fucking girl” he said as he held your hips tighter, fucking up into you at a faster pace than before. Gasps and moans falling from your lips as he pummeled that sweet, heavenly spot inside you that had you seeing a kaleidoscope of sensations behind your eyes, and your fingers clawing at his pecs and shoulders for stability. Tyler could feel the coil in his stomach tightening as his release was barreling towards him like a train going into a station. His abs tightening, pace unrelenting as he chased his high. He could feel you were close with this new set pace, your lips parted as sweet sounds echoed from your lips. He held on until he felt your walls snap close on him like a vice, your thighs shaking as your high washed over him with a broken moan and tremor. His hips rose, fucking into you one last time before releasing his hot load into your pretty pussy with a deep growl. 

—

He gingerly pulled up your panties, keeping his cum trapped between your folds. He snapped the button of your jeans closed as he languidly made out with you. He changed into a t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right, keeping his jeans on. You both silently changed into your new set of clothes with content, lovesick smiles on your face. You gave him a kiss as he passed you his sweatshirt to wear during the ride home. 

You both settled into the front seat of the truck. By now, most people had gone home, the bright stars above watching over you. He placed his Stetson on the backseat, smirking as he watched you reach out for the cowboy hat, placing it on your head with a cute smile that made him smirk and shake his head. 

He leaned over, placing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, Honeybee.”

“I love you too, Ty.”

You give his thick thigh a squeeze, smiling as he groans into the kiss. He pulled black from the kiss, putting the truck into drive. As soon as his hand is free, he takes your hand in his, making your cheeks warm at the gesture, kissing the back of it as he pulls out of the dirt road onto the interstate towards Arkansas.

Let me know what you guys think :) Be sure to leave a comment and reblog :) My inbox is always open to requests and any thoughts you have <3

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[aethelwyneleigh27]

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

[riovidalupdates]

LAST GIRL STANDING - i.

part ii.

“I’m not asking you to stay. I’m asking if this was ever real?” - Wanda Maximoff

“The issue with time is that it’s endless, yet, there’s never enough. How does it fit with us?” - Rio Vidal

“You were never a priority, but you became one that I can’t lose now.” - Agatha Harkness

pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader, agatha harkness x fem!reader, and rio vidal x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to learn that you can love more than one person—because you love them in different ways. the problem: they love you in one way. so, who are you in love with and who gets hurt?

warnings: cursing, angst, intimate moments but not sex, and other stuff that i'll add as time goes on.

notes: this one has been in my drafts for a long time. i did a little bit of revision and editing, but i am busy and i do want to get this story going. as it goes on I will be more efficient with the editing. it is also a college au so there is no witches or anything like that, but other works will be! enjoy! chapters will be longer and the writing will get better. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written a story, but I’ve been working on so many other projects and I had this all planned out before I got my new job.

word count: 1.4k

・❥・

There was never a time where you ever thought you’d be losing your sanity. Months ago, you only ever known the beauty of peace, having full control over your thoughts and emotions with no consequences. Where does the chaos abruptly begin, how does it begin, and why does it begin?

Because fuck all that, why do you have to be involved in a mess that you didn’t ask for?

You stared out of your dorm window, tracing the movement of students below as they hurried between classes. The campus was alive with energy—laughter, chatter, and the constant shuffle of feet on the worn pathways—but it all felt distant to you, like watching life happen through a glass pane. From the outside, you seemed well-adjusted. A few close friends, decent grades, a knack for blending in at social events. But lately, you had begun to feel a quiet, persistent void growing inside, one that friendship, academic success, and even casual flings couldn’t quite fill.

It wasn't that you were lonely in the traditional sense. In fact, you had friends—great friends who provided the utmost support in all that you do. Natasha Romanoff from work, Kate Bishop from short-film club, Steve Rogers from gym (he was also Natasha’s boyfriend), Tony Stark who crashed into your car the first day of move-in (he paid for all damages after you punched him), and Wanda Maximoff, your best friend. Wanda had been by your side for years, a constant source of home. There was so much to your overall relationship with her that it couldn’t be replicated with the others or anyone. Even if you were to try.

But no matter how much you spent time with Wanda, she found her footing in rather quick. And while you don’t want to assume things are going well for her, you could at least tell she was happiest when she was in the arms of her obnoxious, academically skilled boyfriend, Vision. Vision who is ahead of the IT program, the captain of the golf team, and somehow Tony’s coworker at Stark’s Industries (who cares about some intellectual freak? Not you).

Anyway, it felt like there was something missing, some deeper connection you couldn’t quite grasp. Sometimes, you’d feel yourself pulling back in conversations, faking a smile here and there when noticing yourself drifting out of sync.

You sigh as you turned away from the window, grabbing your backpack, and slinging it over your shoulder. Another day of classes to get to, papers to turn in, and your typical routine to follow. It all felt so automatic, like living on autopilot.

Perhaps there was something you weren’t doing. Maybe you were actively doing something to avoid fulfilling that aspect of void?

Your phone buzzed on the desk—Wanda.

“Dinner tonight?” She asks once you pick up. “And I swear if you say no, I am going to drive to your class and drag you out myself.”

 You considered telling her no for a moment but it’s Wanda and because of that you say, “Sure. Just don’t barge in like last time. Felt like I got in trouble with my mother…”  Despite your growing sense of detachment, you couldn’t bring herself to decline. You’ve been avoiding her like the plague. She’s your best friend and has asked to hang out for the last month or so only for you to be nowhere. Questions were beginning to rise, and you weren’t ready to answer any of them.

Her laughter echoed through and you kind of forget that you were falling into a hole of emptiness. “Look, I gotta go,  I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, dekta.”

Dekta. It was always that.

As you made your way across campus, weaving through the throngs of students, you felt a heaviness settle in your chest. Classes, work, clubs, and repeat. How was it that you could be surrounded by people, involved in their lives, and still feel like an outsider looking in?

You loved your friends, or at least you thought you did, but lately, even that felt like a lie you told yourself. You enjoyed your courses. So what if you have to stay up until 2am for shoots and editing, you wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t enjoy it. Actually, you were late to register, and this was kind of a last minute decision.  And you were president for the short film club, but you kind of are guessing why you’re doing this all because you hate people.

The reality is, it’s to avoid facing the deeper truth: that connection, the real kind, the kind that made you feel alive and seen. Not just from relationships, courses, and social life.

Was this what your life was going to be? Always on the fringes, never fully connecting? You wanted more but didn’t know how to get it. Maybe you didn’t even know what “more” really was.

You were good at pretending everything was fine, good at putting on a show of contentment. But deep down, you knew you were waiting for something—or someone—to break through that glass pane that kept you at arm’s length from everyone around.

But until then, you’d keep going, navigating your college life as best as you could, feeling more like an observer than a participant.

・❥・

You sat across from Wanda at your usual spot in the campus dining hall, picking at her salad as Wanda animatedly recounted the latest drama involving her boyfriend, Vision. You nodded along, making the appropriate sounds of sympathy and surprise, but part of you couldn't help but tune out the problem.

“I swear, sometimes he just doesn’t listen,” Wanda continued, exasperation creeping into her voice. “Last night I..." She sighed, looking down at her food. "I told him I needed space and time to collect my thoughts about where this is going, but he kept calling and texting, so we could talk it out..."

You forced yourself back into the conversation. “Sounds like he’s not respecting your boundaries,” you offered, glancing up at Wanda. You couldn’t help the slight resentment that crept in whenever Vision came up. There was always an unspoken tension in your friendship, one that emerged whenever Wanda talked about her boyfriend.

You didn’t know exactly why you disliked him—maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he always seemed to treat Wanda as an accessory rather than an equal. She would often vent about the small ways in which he let her down, like forgetting their date plans or brushing off her opinions, but then she would always follow it up with some form of an excuse that he cares. You would just nod along, hiding the skepticism behind a supportive smile.

"Tell me about it,” Wanda huffed, shaking her head. “It's a flaw of his and when the time is right, we'll discuss it and how we can better ourselves. Enough about me though, how about you? Anything exciting that requires you to get out of that hermit crab shell of yours? Maybe with...that TA? Angus, right?"

You snickered but also couldn’t help but notice how Wanda seemed to skirt around anything serious about her relationship with Vision (what a prick). There was a glint of something—maybe uncertainty, maybe resignation—in her eyes when she spoke about him. You wondered if Wanda was just as skilled at pretending everything was fine as you were. It made you feel a little less alone, knowing you weren’t the only one hiding something.

Yet, despite your doubts about the boyfriend, you never voiced your concerns outright. The last thing you wanted was to come across as jealous or possessive. Deep down, you wondered if there was a part of you that simply didn’t want to share Wanda—a feeling you quickly buried before it could grow into something more troubling.

Your face flushed at the mention of Agatha, and you quickly took a sip of water to hide the embarrassment. “Her name is Agnes,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes for effect. So, maybe you kind of lied. Only because you didn't want Wanda to track and stalk the girl. "And she's just intriguing..."

"Intriguing, huh?” Wanda teased. “You should talk to her more. Or, you know, talk to her at all.”

“Very funny,” You shot back. “It’s not that simple.”

But maybe it was. Maybe if you could muster up the courage to actually talk to Agatha, you’d feel less like you were floating aimlessly and more like you were taking control of your own life. You could already hear Wanda’s voice in your head, encouraging you to just go for it, to not overthink it, to take a chance.

[captainsophiestark]

Unexpected Guest

Dick Grayson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: Dating a vigilante sometimes leads to a few false alarm scares, but Dick Grayson couldn't be happier with how well his partner rolls with his crazy family.

Word Count: 1,410

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Crash!

My eyes shot open at the sound of a noise from the living room of the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Dick Grayson. The man in question still snored peacefully next to me, annoyingly, but a quick glance at the clock told me why. It wasn't quite 5am, and Dick had been out patrolling until one in the morning. I listened carefully for any other noises in the apartment. I didn't want to wake my poor boyfriend up unless I absolutely had to.

After a few minutes of nothing, I heard another crash followed by a tense voice and what sounded like hushed swearing. This time, I didn't hesitate to roll over and whack Dick on the chest, hard.

His eyes shot open and he was half sitting up when I managed to throw a hand over his mouth to keep him from giving away that we were awake. My wide eyes must've tipped him off to something being wrong, because I immediately saw him shift from sleepy to ready for action.

Slowly, I dropped my hand from his mouth and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"There's someone in our living room. I heard two crashes and someone swearing."

Dick nodded once, then motioned with his hands while mouthing 'stay here'. He hopped off the bed, grabbing his escrima sticks from where he'd thrown them onto the dresser, then stalked towards the door with catlike grace and stealth. After a minute, I decided I couldn't just let him go alone, superhero or no, so I grabbed the bat I kept by my side of the bed and followed after him.

Dick popped out the door, and after a moment without hearing anything, I followed, bat at the ready. I found my boyfriend with one hand on his hip, weapons down, staring into the kitchen. I followed his gaze to find none other than Jason Todd in our kitchen, a mixing bowl and some eggs in front of him and a look with a significant lack of guilt on his face.

"What? I was after somebody and it dragged me all the way to Bludhaven. I needed a place to crash that was closer than Gotham."

Dick and I both shook our heads. As the oldest of a very high number of siblings, his apartment had become a second home base for every single other batkid. When we'd finally moved in together last month, he'd warned me I needed to be prepared for things like this.

"Glad you know to help yourself, Little Wing," said Dick with a sigh, waving one tired hand to Jason before turning and heading back to bed. I squeezed his shoulder and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he passed me, then headed into the kitchen with a smile.

"My tax for you making me think I'd have to fight off an assailant with a bat at five in the morning is my own serving of whatever you're making," I said, taking a seat on one of the kitchen island stools. Jason raised an eyebrow at me.

"You're not going back to bed?"

"Nah. Unlike Dick, I got to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour last night, so the adrenaline dump isn't threatening to put me to sleep. I'd rather hang out with you, especially since you're a better cook than Dick and I combined. I'm not missing out on that."

Jason snorted, cracking an egg and resuming his cooking all the same.

"Dick contributes nothing to your combined cooking score," he said. "I'm pretty sure he's burned cereal before."

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're right. He's gotten better though. We watch the Food Network and look up recipes to make together, and I can trust him with way more than I used to be able to."

"If you could teach him anything it'd be a miracle," said Jason with a snort. I just hummed, trying to pick up some new skills of my own as I watched Jason cook.

"To be totally fair to him, I once forgot what I was doing and strained soup because I was on autopilot for pasta."

Jason barked a laugh, unable to hold himself back, and looked at me with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

"Really?" I nodded. "That's pathetic."

I just shrugged. "Yeah. But at least there's not a lot of places to go but up, after that."

"I guess so."

Jason and I chatted as he cooked and I watched, keeping our voices low so Dick could sleep—although, after the night he'd had, he'd probably sleep through a train in our living room. After breakfast, Jason decided to go down for a nap on the couch, passing out almost as soon as we'd put the last few dishes in the sink. I just smiled, threw a blanket over him, and wandered back into the bedroom to find Dick.

It was late enough in the morning now that my boyfriend was officially up and about, stretching by the bed with his hair still a little messed up from sleeping. I grinned and flopped down against the headboard as he crossed the room to the dresser to pull out clothes.

"How's Jaybird?" he asked. "Still a good cook?"

"Still a great cook. And he's good. He seems a little wiped out from patrols and stuff, though. He's taking a nap on the couch right now."

Dick smiled and shook his head. "I get up and he goes to sleep. Typical."

"Clearly he's avoiding you."

"Clearly."

Dick and I shared a smile, and then he sighed.

"I'm going to take a shower. Hopefully Jason will be up by the time I'm out, because I actually have things to do today."

I smiled, shifting on the bed to pull the covers over myself. "I'm sure you can be quiet if he's not. Wake me up when you're out of the shower, okay? A post-breakfast nap sounds too good to resist right now."

My boyfriend laughed. "Alright, will do. I'll wake you and Jason up when I'm out."

"Mhm. Good luck with him."

"Thanks, I'm gonna need it."

I closed my eyes, getting comfortable and ready for my nap, but before I drifted off I heard Dick's shuffling footsteps crossing the room to stand by my side of the bed. A second later, he sat down next to me, the bed dipping under his weight. I cracked an eye open to squint at him.

"What do you want?"

He grinned at me and chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to interfere with your nap. I just... I wanted to say how much I appreciate you, and how good you are with my family. They mean the world to me, but I know having vigilantes dropping in at all hours of the day and night can be a little much to deal with. So thank you for being so wonderful about it, and about them."

I sighed, sitting all the way up and propping myself up on my hands to look Dick in the eye.

"Dick, I love you. And I love your family. Sure, it took a little getting used to some of the vigilante stuff, but the longer I know them the more I love them. You don't have to thank me for anything. They're my family too."

Dick absolutely beamed at me, wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me in for a kiss. I immediately reciprocated, tangling one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck. I smiled into the kiss and a moment later, Dick deepened it. We were right on the edge of escalating into something more, but both thought better of it at the last moment.

"I should take a shower," he said, still looking a little reluctant as he pulled away.

"Yeah, and you should stop interrupting my nap."

Dick snorted, rolling his eyes as he finally stood and headed for the bathroom. I grinned after him as he went, flopping back down onto my pillow only as Dick closed the bathroom door.

I took a deep breath and sighed, a smile on my face, as I closed my eyes for the second time. I heard the water start in the bathroom, and a faint smell of breakfast still hung in the air. I was surrounded by people I loved dearly, and who loved me right back. No matter the scare Jason had given me when he'd shown up, I couldn't ask for a better start to my morning than this.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

DC Taglist: @luv-ghostie

[hannieween]

charmer | heartbreaker series | c.sc

The thing about Seungcheol is that when he loved, he loved with a fervent force that nothing could ever stop it. When he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it. He was passionate like that. And he loved you. Past tense. Loved.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: angst, smut (18+) ✧ word count: 12.7k ✧ aus: boss seungcheol, exes to lovers

₊🎧: habit - i.m ♡ | not over you - taemin [pls, this song is absolutely perfect]

₊ nsfw tags under the cut

✧ warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol and drug use, coups engages in illegal activities such as hosting a gambling house (that's it but still illegal), sexual tension, dirty talk, sex in the workspace, angsty unprotected sex, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), marking (f), a bit of overstimming (f) multiple orgasms (f, m), bigdick!cheol, softdom!cheol, hints of daddy kink, pet names: love, angel, baby (hers) daddy (his)

✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

part i

You arrived at a job interview in a bar.

It's been a week since you started to job hunt. With bills piling up and mediocre PhD student income, you took a chance and picked up a server job at a busy bar on near your neighbourhood.

Although the position seemed at odds with your rigorous PhD student program, you were very capable of managing your time. Plus, you could take the opportunity to increase your income thanks to your ability to get sizeable tips from your old jobs.

This bar, though located a few minutes from your apartment, you had never been. It is not unusual that you have not been to this bar, or any other. As you are busy surviving other jobs and doing research for your PhD research, you barely have time for yourself.

The bar was called The Spot. Nothing more, nothing that differentiated this Spot from other Spots. Whoever thought of that didn't think too hard.

As soon as you walked through the front door, you were hit by the smell of tobacco and dust. But there was no one smoking, in fact, there was only a lone person sitting in a booth at the back of the bar. It seemed to you that the place might be so old that the walls reeked of cigarettes.

You walked to the bar, and thought of maybe sounding the bell that was neatly propped on one corner beside the register. As you lifted your hand to sound the bell, the only other person inside the bar spoke:

"If you're here for the interview. It's with me."

You looked back towards the booth, the guy who spoke to you wasn't even looking in your direction. He seemed busy reading notes in a worn notebook and scratching something on a separate sheet of paper.

"Oh, yes. Hi," you answered awkwardly.

"Have a seat," he said flatly, he pointed with his pencil to the seat in front of him.

The booth, though worn, was clean, when you slid your body into the booth, the guy was in front of you. He wasn't much older than you, from his tired look you estimated a year or two or so, however the glasses he was wearing plus the black sleeveless t-shirt and yellow beanie made you think that he was way too young to be in charge.

"I'm-"

"Yes, I know. I'm Wonwoo," he put down his pencil and extended his hand to shake it with yours awkwardly. "Do you want a glass of water?"

You thought of the way he made his offer, even his handshake was almost robotically.

"Uh, I'm fine thanks. Here's my info. I know you didn't mentioned it when we talked on the phone but I thought you might want to take a look."

You placed your documents on the table. That made Wonwoo lift his eyes from the papers he was scratching absentmindedly.

"Keep it. I'll just ask a few questions," he put down his pencil and started cracking his fingers and wrists at the same moment he suppressed a long, eye watering yawn.

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Sorry. Had a long night," he said after seeing your incredulous expression.

You wanted to laugh. "It's okay."

You found it funny, but at the same time it was giving you major red flags. Is this guy supposed to be interviewing you? Well, can't ask too much from a place job this, right?

"Why do you want to work here?" Wonwoo asked, glancing at a page on the battered notebook.

You decided to drop the act of being the most eager candidate and answered naturally.

You shrugged. "I need money."

The guy almost, almost rolled his eyes. His hand grabbed the folder and skimmed through your resumé. "Here it says you have past experience English teacher. Why not just teach little kids?"

"I didn't like being a teacher, is way too much work. I figured I can do my research during daytime and work on a late shift."

"You could work part time on a coffee shop," he countered.

"I have tried it before. Didn't like it."

"And why is that?"

"It didn't suit my needs. Besides, I like the shift hours you offer," you added a smile, hoping he would be persuaded.

He blinked slowly, totally not convinced. "Have you ever worked at a bar?"

You decided to ignore the derision on his tone. "A few years ago. I know what I'd be up against."

He eyed the first page of your resumé again, his sharp eyes skimming fast. "So let me get this right. You're here because you're doing a postgraduate degree, you know that this isn't an easy job because you have experience... where does that leave you time to actually study or whatever it is you do?"

"I only have one course, and I spend most of my time writing. The stipend is no longer enough to cover my expenses, so I need additional income. Luckily, I have experience earning good tips," you explained, fed up with the questions he kept asking.

"Mmm, right."

Then Wonwoo stood up from the booth and stretched his long arms over his head, letting out a sigh.

"I expect you tomorrow, by... four? Yeah, four'll be fine. Gives time for you to get around," he said with another yawn.

You blinked. "Wh-what?"

He gave you a shy smile. "You have the job," he said with a slight shrug.

His entire demeanour had changed, he looked more relaxed and even a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry, I acted like a complete jerk," he said as you stood up, feeling perplexed. "It's a thing I have to do as part of the filtering."

"Why?"

"Well, you'll see. Our boss is a bit... demanding, to say the least," he muttered.

You blinked slowly. "So... you based your act on your boss?"

His eyes opened in an alarmed expression. "I shouldn't have said that. Don't get me wrong. He's nice. But he can be bossy."

"I'd expect that from any boss," you reassured, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"Well, you haven't met him," he countered, a hand massaging the back of his neck. "Anyway, can I get your details so I can add you to the system and stuff?"

You sighed, almost feeling like laughing again. Wonwoo now seemed boyish in contrast to how he behaved during his questioning.

"Sure thing," you stopped for a moment, "Can I ask why I got the job?"

His lips pursed and shrugged. "You were honest, and didn't break under my jerk persona."

"Well, I actually found it funny. But I was almost sold, though."

"Oh, dang it," he smiled shyly. "I might have to work on it."

"If you want any pointers, I can help," you pressed your lips into a smile.

His smiled quivered slightly. "I'd like that."

"See you tomorrow, then. Uh, is there any dress code?"

Wonwoo studied your frame from your head to your feet. He shrugged carelessly. "Just look a bit more relaxed."

Your brow furrowed. You were wearing a white button up, jeans and snickers. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. Wear something you like. There's no dress code. Boss doesn't care, I don't see why you should either," he brushed it off and started to turn around to walk away.

"Uh, okay. Will I get the boss' name?" you asked, feeling that it was a bit ridiculous the mystery around the boss.

"See you tomorrow, newbie!" he said as he disappeared behind a door marked in red with, 'STAFF ONLY'.

You hoped that you were wearing something appropriate.

Choosing what to wear was something you didn't think was difficult. You were used to wear the same combination of things, so your style was safe, comfy. At least that's what you thought, since all you ever did lately was attending class, work on your research and that was pretty much it.

So, ripped jeans, snickers and an oversized black t-shirt might suit the general vibe of the bar and also what you got from your new partner, Wonwoo.

You parked your old car out back of the bar, and didn't know if you were expected to use the back entrance yet so you used the front door again.

Ah, the smell of old tobacco.

"Oh, the newbie is here," you heard Wonwoo's low voice coming from the same a booth he used on your interview.

"Hi," you waved at the tall lean figure of his as he stood up, and noticed he was looking a bit nervous.

"Let me introduce you," he gestured you over with his hand.

From the booth, a second figure rose, a man of bulkier frame with tousled blond hair that partially hid him from your gaze. He brushed it back with one hand, finally revealing his face to you.

The whole world froze for a second. You almost didn't recognize him, but it was obviously him.

The moment passed in a blur, almost too swift for your mind to process. Yet, in that fleeting instant, you witnessed it all. His deep, searching eyes locked onto you, as if he were scrutinizing every detail–your face, your hair, your hands, your whole body.

It was as though he had stumbled upon a ghost, and you could feel your own disbelief mirrored in his eyes.

"Boss, this is-"

"This is our new recruit?" he asked, his tone not one of anger, but rather filled with genuine bewilderment.

Despite Seungcheol's demeanour, you found it hard to muster up any offense. You were too shocked to speak. Maybe even more shocked than he was.

Wonwoo seemed genuinely lost, his mouth agape. "Uh, yeah. She passed your filters and has some experience," his eyes darted toward you, looking for clues. "What's wrong with her?"

Seungcheol looked ready to explode at any moment. You recognized all the giveaway signs: the way he ran his hand through his hair while taking a controlled breath through his nose in an effort to contain his impending anger.

Given your actions two years ago, you would not be surprised if he decided not to contain his anger. You fully understood the damage you had caused him, and the possibility that his resentment would be unleashed was all too likely. And deserved.

Apparently, after two years, you could still read him like the palm of your hand.

"We'll talk later, Wonwoo," Seungcheol said, appearing to calm himself. "Show her around, the basics and stuff. I'll be out back making a call."

Seungcheol stared at you once and turned to leave, slamming the door shut on his way out.

"What the hell?" Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Well, you met him, that's our boss."

Oh, of course it would be him.

"A charmer," you said, trying to play it cool.

But deep within you, there was an uproar of emotions. Memories flooded your brain and just seeing him for a minute made your heart race, your whole body felt elated, all of this made you feel a little dizzy.

After two years of not seeing him, Seungcheol still has the same effect on you.

"I dunno what got to him. He's always nice with the newbies but..." he shook his head again. "Whatever, sorry 'bout that. Let me show you around."

You were eager to change the subject and start doing something else. Wonwoo signalled you towards the door where Seungcheol had disappeared moments before and pushed it open, revealing a long hallway with four other doors on each side.

"This leads to where we store crates with beer, whisky, vodka, everything bottled and such," he pointed at the first closed door and then to the next, "this is the utilities room. And this, you never go in here, got it?"

He pointed to the door behind you. It had extra locks and looked newer than the rest of the doors in the hallway. The last door was the back exit.

"You'll get a keys for all the doors except that one." Wonwoo said promptly, turning to the door that led to the bar.

"What's in there?" you asked slowly, pointing to the newer door.

Wonwoo stopped and turned to you. "Boss' room," he said simply.

Your heart stopped. "He lives here?" you asked a bit too horrified.

"Oh, God, no," he laughed stiffly. "Well, he might as well. But no, he... does general management stuff there."

"Management stuff," you grinned, spotting a lie.

"Don't ask more questions, it's easier. Believe me."

The two returned to the bar, where the space was neither too large nor too cramped. The place had four tables and an equal number of booths, all with a western charm. The vintage look of the tables and chairs indicated their origin, which seemed to date back to the 1980s.

At the opposite end of the back room, a large pool table occupied the space. The walls were adorned with posters of various rock bands from the eighties and nineties and red neon signs.

Between the tables and the pool table was the bar, which was arranged in a U shape against a brick wall, which also had a large red neon sign that said 'Heartbreaker'.

But surprisingly enough, everything was squeaky clean.

"There's the register, which you can handle if I'm too busy," he pointed. "Mingyu sometimes helps with the register, but he's mostly on the other side of the bar, or dealing with drunkheads."

"So is it just you two handling the drinks?" you asked curiously.

"Yup. We manage just fine, if you're wondering," he smirked and added a proud nod with his head. Then he pointed to the other side of the bar. "Sometimes we move the pool table to make room for the band. We host gigs almost every thursday."

"So, tomorrow," you added.

"Yup. And we're planning on adding stand up nights, but I... differ. Boss is a bit ambitious."

You huffed. That he is. "And does he... is he around much?"

Wonwoo eyed you. "D'you mean does he get his hands dirty?" he smiled. "Yeah, if it's too crowded he helps which is most weekends."

You nodded slowly. "O-okay."

Wonwoo made no further comment. He cocked his head to the side towards the door that was after the pool table. "Come, let me show you the kitchen, and then we get to work."

Most of the things that Wonwoo showed you, you already knew how to work and that made him happy because it, "Is a good thing that I won't be behind you teaching you things."

Wonwoo gave you the task to read the menu before opening for public.

You were sitting at the usual booth, reading in silence as Wonwoo took the task to turn all the neon signs on the walls, and the lights from the ceiling, and soon the room was dimly lit in red and yellow lighting. It was a bit hard to read under the red lights and the hard rock music, but most of the menu was normal stuff you'd find at a bar.

In the corner of your eye, you saw someone occupy the seat in front of you.

"What are you doing here?"

Seungcheol's voice jolted you off the menu and made you turn your head back with a surprised gasp.

The back of his head was resting against the back of the seat, his jaw clenched and his intense gaze piercing through his thick set of eyelashes.

A sharp pang of remorse tugged at your heart. Despite the years of no contact, the intensity of your feelings for him remained as powerful as ever.

Upon getting no response from you, he raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I work here now," you put in simply.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "Don't try to play games with me."

"I didn't know you worked here," you justified weakly.

"I own this place."

"Whatever. I had no idea that you'd be here."

He scoffed, and looked to his side at nothing in particular, his cruel smile vanished. "Right."

Did he actually think you had deliberately planned your arrival to his bar? Perhaps he believed you were intentionally trying to inflict him more pain, a calculated plan to further drive in the pain left over from the aftermath of your messy breakup.

"It's true," you insisted. "Why would I want to work with my ex?"

That made him visibly cringe, his dark eyes setting on your face again. "I thought that mommy and daddy were keeping you well off," his eyebrow jumped slightly again.

You sighed. "Well, not anymore. My parents cut me off."

"Again?" he quipped dryly.

"It is definite this time though," you said as you scratched an imaginary freckle on the back of your hand.

"What did you do this time? Got a tattoo? Cuss them off? Got another boyfriend they didn't like?" you could tell that there was disdain in his words, but he tried to deliver them offhandedly.

You recognised that the things he said were not innately bad, but your upbringing had been conducted by extremely strict parents. As a result, almost anything could seem outrageous to them.

As an additional result, you had become somewhat rebellious when you were younger. It was at this stage of your life that you came across Choi Seungcheol.

You hummed and smiled bitterly. "I might've told them some things they didn't like hearing. Anyway, that was over a year ago, haven't talked to them since."

Seungcheol smiled the way he did when he thought of something he didn't dared to say aloud: the tip of his tongue would slide on his front teeth. He quickly put in: "But why work here?"

Deciding not to probe into what he really wanted to say, you felt a peculiar relief that he was open for a conversation, despite the venomous comments he had made.

"Things got difficult. The stipend it's not enough to live on and I need some quick cash, so here I am." You eyed him again. "You can't fire me just because it didn't work out between us."

"Nobody said anything about firing you," he said rolling his eyes as he straightened up, placing his hands firmly on the table between you. "But I do want to make something very clear."

He leaned forward.

"I'm your boss now, not your ex. We won't talk to you unless is strictly for work. And I don't want the boys to know about us, got it?"

"Works for me," you muttered.

The fleeting thought of quitting had dissipated, replaced by a new determination to stay, motivated by a sense of defiance. Now you were determined to see how far his 'I'm your boss' stance could go.

You knew you were being childish. You didn't care.

Seungcheol nodded and patted the table twice. "Good. Now, get ready, people might start coming soon."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't catch that.

The other staff members that worked in the kitchen were already getting to work. It was a small kitchen, so there were few people working it.

Since it was a space mostly occupied by men, you'd expected that they would speak freely. That included very intimate talks and banter.

Mingyu, who was just introduced to you some moments before, was leaning on the bar hearing what atrocities came out of the kitchen. "Guys, keep it down!" he shouted back. "The newbie doesn't have to hear the atrocities you do off work."

As you returned the menu to its initial position, you reassured Mingyu: "No worries. I'm fine with it," mustering a smile, though the effort felt forced.

"Mingyu is just scared that you won't last long here," Wonwoo chimed in with a devious smirk.

The accused gasped dramatically. "Now, you might be projecting Hyung."

"People don't last long here?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Uh... not really, no," Mingyu said simply. And started to resume with his task of preparing a sour mix, he had a dish cloth thrown on his shoulder.

"May I know why?" you asked slowly.

"Like I said," Wonwoo replied with a firm tone. "Boss is a bit demanding sometimes."

Mingyu rolled his eyes. "It's not normal for everyone who comes here to work to leave after a couple of weeks," he countered. "Obviously it's because the women who come here to work all fall in love with him and he has no choice but to turn them away."

"What?" you gasped.

"Boss is a bit of a heartbreaker," the taller man shrugged. "But he's persistent on hiring pretty servers."

Mingyu's words were nonchalant, almost as though they held no significance, yet you couldn't help but feel a faint blush rise to your face in response

"But why would they fall in love with him?" you asked with an awkward laugh.

"Well, you had the bad luck of meeting him on a bad day," Mingyu mused.

"He's always having a bad day," Wonwoo muttered under his breath, thinking no one would hear him.

"Dunno, 'suppose he's hot? Manly?" Mingyu continued, aloof. "Your guess is better than mine."

"You two are hot too," you blurted out, feeling flustered under the pressure of thinking someone falling for your ex.

The two bartenders exchanged a flat look.

Mingyu coughed up a chuckle. "Newbie, I appreciate the half compliment. But I'm already taken and Wonwoo... well he's a mystery."

"Can we not talk about that right now?" Wonwoo suggested pointedly, just as the front door opened to a handful of customers.

Admittedly, viewed from a somewhat skewed perspective, it made sense. The clientele was predominantly male, and it was an unspoken rule that waitresses tended to get the highest tips, especially in these types of establishments.

As the night progressed, the bar became more crowded, forcing him to constantly move from place to place, juggling multiple tasks, such as taking orders, delivering drinks and clearing tables.

Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. And you thought it was better this way. But you did find yourself glancing at the STAFF ONLY door a few too many times, expecting to see him walk through it.

Apparently, the bar had a special discount on Wednesdays. That's why it was packed with people from the office buildings near the block. And it was a minor detail that Wonwoo casually remembered to tell you when you started to wonder why so many people in uniforms came in packs around 9 PM.

But you managed all the tables by yourself just fine. The orders were simple, and as Wonwoo said, they did work with an efficient dynamic. The two bartenders communicated almost without a word, their coordination seemed to be something they had been trained in for years.

Four hours into your shift, all the tables were occupied. You felt sweaty, your hair stuck to the back of your neck, but the good thing about your first day was that you were kept moving and had no distractions.

That was until you turned around towards the bar, to find Seungcheol on the left end, near the backdoor. He was leaning forward, elbows propped on the lacquered surface of the counter. His heavy gaze was set on you.

The feeling of being watched was really hard to shake off. You felt it on the back of your head as you tried to get to the remaining hours of the shift. But it was nearly impossible. The tight knot on your stomach was so persistent that you sucked air every few minutes in an attempt to get rid of the anxiety that Seungcheol's scrutiny had imposed on you.

He just watched you move through the black and white checkered floor of the bar. You thought it was a tactic to make you feel intimidated, so you decided to continue as normal as you could.

But being watched by him also meant that he saw you smile sweetly to the customers, he saw you bend forward to talk to them over the music, the way you'd bite the tip of your pen as you listened to the customers. When you'd turn around, flicking your hair over your back.

When you mustered the courage to glance his way your eyes met. The red lights over him made him look dangerous, his hands tightly clasped over the counter, his head slightly inclined forward his eyes focused on you. You looked away anxiously, hoping he didn't see how you reacted under his eye.

The rest of the shift was like that.

"Good god," Mingyu said at the end of the shift while counting the tips jar. "We'd never had this much on a wednesday night."

You smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Seungcheol was still on the bar, but at least now he was helping around. Bringing in boxes of utilities to restock while Wonwoo cleaned the area and Mingyu managed the income for the night. You knew that he was avoiding you, but that was fine by you.

"Please, newbie, last longer than the others," Mingyu sighed dramatically.

Someone shushed. You didn't have to look to know who it was.

"Sorry boss," Mingyu mumbled, but he was smiling contentedly as he continued counting coins and bills.

It was 3 AM. when you pulled out into the parking lot, the slippery pavement reflecting the faint red glow of the bar's neon sign. Leaning against the car, you took a long drag of the blunt that you had been saving only for stressful moments such as this.

"You still smoke?" Seungcheol's asked as he came out of the back exit, his hands buried in the pockets of his black hoodie.

Something tightened in your stomach. You saw him walk up to you, feeling marvelled at the sight of him after so many years of not seeing him, years of wondering what he might be up to and here he was, standing in front of you.

You tried to bite back a snarky comment about 'not talking unless is strictly for work', to yourself. As you noticed he wasn't trying to chastise you anymore, you decided to chime in for a conversation with him.

"Sometimes," you admitted.

Seungcheol stood in the rain washed parking in front of you, he looked at you as if you were some kind of lost memory to him. The yearning in his eyes matched what you felt in your heart.

"You?" you asked, lifting your head to meet his dark eyes.

He shook his head silently. The features of his face looked more relaxed now.

The rattling noise from the back door broke your silent scrutiny of your ex's face, and you adverted your gaze to see Wonwoo and Mingyu coming out of the bar.

"See you tomorrow, newbie." Mingyu called and placed two fingers to the crown of his head, saluting. "Bye, boss."

Wonwoo just raised his hand to wave goodbye. The two bartenders got in a car and drove away.

"Can you drive like that?" he asked, still not chastising but it did make you feel a little optimistic that he'd worry about you.

"Yeah, it'll start making its effect by the time I get home," you tried smiling reassuringly.

"Mm'okay. But be careful, okay?" he seemed to roll his eyes with annoyance. "I don't want to start interviews again."

You chuckled and you started feeling a sense of normality in the conversation. However, you noticed that there was something unspoken written in his gaze, implying there was something that he was not willing to say.

"Are you staying?" you asked, noticing that the lights of the bar were still on.

He blinked lazily and you noticed he tried suppressing a yawn, the dimple of his right cheek deepened a bit.

"Have to finishing a couple of things. They can't wait till tomorrow."

"Don't stay up too late, Seungcheol," you mustered up a kind smile, turning your back to him as you opened the door of your old car.

As you drove away, Seungcheol remained standing in the faint reflection of the red lights from the bar. His figure disappeared from your rear view mirror as you changed directions.

The next day resulted a bit more challenging.

The bar was so packed it was difficult to move, the counter was surrounded by customers sitting on barstools. Tables and booths were occupied too.

As Wonwoo had mentioned, there were live shows every thursday.

The group, known as Midnight Haze, consisted of three members: a drummer, a bass player and a singer who played the guitar skilfully. Their performances had gained them a large following, and some customers frequented the bar solely for the pleasure of watching their performances, they were mostly groups of women.

And the loud noise from the live music was filling your brain and making your bones vibrate but it was nice to feel something other than the anxiety of being under your ex's relentless scrutiny.

You opted for an outfit that matched the mood of the night: black shorts and fishnet tights, paired with a black and red tank top. The side slits of the shirt, gave a small glimpse of the lacey bra you wore underneath, a deliberate nod to the energy in the warmth of the bar, despite the cold outside.

The blush on your cheeks could be partly blamed on the crowded atmosphere, but you were also aware that your own behaviour had something to do with it. You recognized the calculated flirting you employed with customers, a strategy aimed at getting higher tips, even if it made you feel a little foolish from time to time.

Every now and then you would catch Seungcheol eyeing you. Noticing how his gaze would momentarily linger on your lush lips whenever you turned in his direction or walked by, you decided to make it a performance for him.

Whenever you were talking with clients within his view, you would playfully tuck the tip of your pen between your lips, offering a coy smile. You'd twirl your fingers on lose strands of your hair while greeting customers, well aware that he was likely watching.

Again, childish. But who cares.

There was no denying that you liked the fact that Seungcheol kept a watchful eye on you. It reminded you of your time together, when you were so in love you could barely tear your eyes (or hands) off each other.

You had to bite your lower lip down as you worked on the tables. Going down on memory lane when Seungcheol used to be so clingy to you that he'd find a way to drag you to any corner where he could fuck you. And he'd do it so good you'd see stars.

You let out a silent groan. Feeling your body grow hotter just with the memory of him.

Goddamnit.

The band finished playing their last song after an hour and a half without interruptions. They had already started to pack up their stuff when you approached the singer, a tall guy with raven black hair and big doe eyes.

Shouting over the hard rock music playing now on the speakers, you said, "Boss says whatever you want is on the house."

It wasn't really Seungcheol who told you that. Wonwoo informed you beforehand that band usually get freebies, specially the lead singer of Midnight Haze, for some reason you didn't ask.

He turned to you, looking you in the eyes took off the strap of his guitar to leave it aside. "You're new," he pointed with a polite smile. "I'm Joshua."

"Hi," you returned the polite smile and told him your name. "And yes, I'm new here."

He let out a sigh, a faint smile playing on his lips as he attempted to conceal the fact that his gaze darted up and down your figure. "Well, let him know I'll have the usual, please," he responded.

"I trust he knows what your usual is," you replied with a smile.

Joshua jumped off the small stage and walked up to you. He was a beautiful man, even without his flashing smile or without the fiery energy he brought on stage while playing his guitar.

Suddenly you understood why there were so many groups of women on the bar tonight.

The Midnight Haze front man was hot as fuck.

"He knows, don't worry. And tell him that I'll take a table out back too, please."

One of his eyebrows was adorned with a silver piercing, and his lips, which he was pushing into a small smile were reddened.

You tried to smile at his kindness, totally not what you were expecting. "Uh, don't know what that means but... sure thing."

"Kay. Thank you, sweetheart," he replied with a content smirk, darting one final look at you before walking away.

You thought nothing of it, really. You returned to the bar, noticing that Wonwoo was watching your exchange with Joshua from afar. He leaned forward when you motioned to him that you were going to tell him something.

"He said he wants his usual," you informed. "And he said he wants a table out back."

Wonwoo's eyes glanced over to where Joshua was standing, chatting with some girls with a charming smile. "I'll tell boss about the table," Wonwoo turned to Mingyu. "One corrido prohibido for a table out back."

"Right away!" Mingyu nodded his head, and grabbed the sour mix he concocted earlier, a shot tequila and a beer.

Wonwoo exited the bar and went through the staff door. And then Mingyu pushed the drink towards you and swiftly rung the bell twice.

"Mingyu, I'm right here, you don't have to ring the bell," you chuckled.

He slapped his hand on the bell repeatedly, his lower lip trapped behind his teeth.

Ding, ding, dingdingding.

"Stop. Stop it, Kim Mingyu," you hissed and he giggled when you slapped his hand playfully.

You went to grab the drink, but as you turned over to where you last saw Joshua, he wasn't there anymore.

"What should I do with this?" you pointed to Joshua's drink.

"Boss wants you to take it to his office," Wonwoo told you, he was returning from the backdoor. He looked somewhat baffled.

Mingyu's eyes shot open. "Huh?!"

Wonwoo shrugged. "I don't ask questions," he said under his breath and pointed with his nose at the drink. "Go. I'll cover you."

"Uh, okay. Sure," you muttered, grabbing drink and turned to the backdoor.

The doorknob of the door that led to Seungcheol's office was unusually cold when you turned to open it. As you pushed in, you were received with a cool breeze that smelled like cigarettes, vape and alcohol.

It wasn't an office. Not really. Yellow lamps hung low on the ceiling, just above a few round black tables, surrounded by foldable chairs which were all occupied. The walls were bare, except for the three fridges were beer and other drinks were stored and the uncovered windows at the top of the opposite wall.

The faint echo of the music back at the bar was drowned by the mixed sounds of cards shuffling, clinking of poker chips, the finger taps on tables and constant chattering.

There was a desk on one corner of the cramped room, where you saw that Seungcheol was sitting, observing you make your way inside his room.

You closed the door behind you quietly. And quickly found Joshua sitting on one of the tables, accompanied by his bandmates. He was shuffling some cards, with a devious smile on his face.

He eyed you up and down again swiftly when you walked up to his table and handed him his drink. "Thank you, sweetheart," his lip curled into a smirk. "Don't stay too far."

Your breath caught for a moment, and though your typical response would have been dismissive, you managed a smile to the hot singer.

"Sure thing, hun," you chirped in your usual customer service voice. And turned to the door.

When you turned to the door, walking through the tables and chairs you eyed over the desk to see that it had been vacated. You opened the door to go back to the bar, feeling deeply confused about the secret gambling den on your boss' 'office'.

But as soon as you exited to the hallway that led to the door of the bar, you found Seungcheol leaning against the wall.

"Shit. You scared me, Seungcheol," you hissed.

He remained silent, and you briefly considered walking past him to head back to the bar. However, the expression on his face told you that he had something on his mind, yet he seemed set to not speak about it without some prompting from you.

"What is that room?" you started, pointing back to the door behind you.

Seungcheol crossed his arms over his chest and shifted on his feet. "It's my office," he replied in a simple tone.

"So what, you run a gambling house now?" you laughed dryly.

"It's just between friends. No one enters without my permission," he put in flatly.

"But I do?"

He blinked again, rolling his eyes with a hint of annoyance. "Joshua asked for you," he said through his teeth. "Normally I'd say no, but I wanted to see what you'd do."

"And what is that?"

"Don't try to play innocent with me," he warned, throwing a dark look at you.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about," you shrugged, trying to look serious.

"Do you honestly think I don't know what you're trying to do?" he demanded, taking a step towards you.

Suddenly you felt small under his gaze. And now that you realized how close his body was to yours, you took the opportunity to really see him. He had gotten bulkier, his arms were more muscly, and his chest and shoulders were wider, more voluminous.

You swallowed hard.

"Flirting with customers, with Joshua?" his face was dangerously close to yours.

Your eyes narrowed as you scrutinized him for a split second. Seungcheol wasn't angry. If he were, you'd now it for sure. He was playing a game with you and you were to slow to catch it.

"I didn't flirt with him," you muttered, playing his game now. "And why do you care?"

"I don't care," he remarked, rolling his dark eyes. "Just quit it."

You scoffed at him. "You're not my-"

"Boss?"

Your breath caught in your teeth.

Seungcheol smiled cruelly. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You can't tell me what to do, Seungcheol," you snapped.

"Fuck yes I can," he bit back.

Whenever Seungcheol was angry, he could be downright scary. But he wasn't angry, he was just annoyed, running a hand on his pale blond hair, looking at you as if he didn't know what to do with you.

Seungcheol was jealous.

A sigh escaped your lips trying to suppress the rush of emotions you felt at that moment. Whatever judgement you had on your mind slipped away when with a sudden movement, you grabbed your ex's face in your hands at the same time he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer his body.

Your face was so close to his that you could feel his breath landing softly on your chin. Then your lips brushed, not kissing. Waiting for either to push away. Until your mouth was clashing with his followed by a groan from Seungcheol.

The first kiss was heated. Your lips were clasped tightly on his and a small snap came out when you separated from his face.

Seungcheol didn't say anything at all, but his widen eyes were reading your face. He looked troubled for a second, and that almost shattered you. The ache in your heart robbed the air from your lungs.

You knew that kissing your boss was a terrible decision, but kissing your ex-boyfriend was an even worse decision. But, fuck, you missed him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that," you whispered, retracting your hands from his face.

His thick eyebrows arched in response. "Why?" he inquired, his voice sounded small, vulnerable.

Hearing his question made you notice that he was genuinely curious. As if the past between you never had happened. And as if you weren't his employee now.

"Because it's not right," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Why?" he prodded again. Seungcheol's dark eyes drooped from your eyes to your mouth and wandered back up.

"Exes don't kiss," you whispered.

A grin appeared on his lips along with a sigh, as his warm hand crept up the nape of your neck, making you shiver.

"Yeah, right," he whispered in your lips before kissing you again.

This kiss was greedy, as if he was making up for lost time. His lips locked in yours, the hand on your hip moved up your back so that his arm was encircling you, pulling you closer to his body with a groan on your mouth. His tongue swiftly slid inside your mouth, finding yours, knowing well what would elicit a moan from you.

He had missed you too. He didn't need to say it either.

Kissing Seungcheol again after so two years was so brutal that it left your head buzzing. But who were you kidding? You knew this would eventually happen. His arm around you, his other hand on the nape of your neck, the taste of his lips. It was deeply familiar, all of it.

"Do whatever you want," Seungcheol mumbled, breathing heavily in your lips. "Just don't flirt with him. Okay?"

"Whatever you say, boss," you whispered with a playful smile.

He laughed softly, but now his eyebrows arched up. "I mean it. He's my friend."

"Okay," you mumbled, not caring to contradict having flirted with Joshua. "I won't."

Even though Seungcheol was your ex, there was something in the way he made his request that made you feel sympathetic.

"I need to go back," he mumbled reluctantly.

"Me too," you replied.

But none of you moved.

He smiled again and pressed his forehead on yours gently. "Come on. We're almost done for the night."

You stole one final glance at his eyes before kissing him softly and turning away from him, not daring to look back as you made your way to the door.

As you returned to the bar, you noticed that it was not as crowded as when you had left. Many of the tables were still in use, but there were noticeably fewer people.

But as soon as Wonwoo saw you returned, he groaned: "Thank god," he threw a dishcloth over his shoulder. "What took you so long?"

Wonwoo returned to his initial position, behind the bar. He looked sweaty and stressed up from tending to your tables.

"Sorry, Wonwoo. B-boss needed to talk to me," you lied stuttering a bit. It wasn't much of a lie since you two did talked a little.

"Oh. Really? Everything okay?" he raised his head to look at you.

You sighed, still feeling flustered but it made up for the lies you were trying to tell Wonwoo. "Yeah, don't worry. I'm fine," you pressed your lips in a smile, and continued checking up on tables.

You returned to Seungcheol's office to check on the table Joshua was with his friends. They have resorted to drink from whatever was offered on the fridges but asked for a bottle of tequila, since they were playing an friendly game of black jack.

You returned with the bottle and placed it on the centre of their table.

"Thank you," Joshua smiled sweetly, you could tell by his glazed eyes that he was already tipsy. And you thought that might be the reason why he had dropped the flirtatious act.

"No problem," you replied and turned away.

Seungcheol wasn't observing you this time. He was sitting at the desk, counting a big pile of chips and putting groups of them in separate piles. At least he could busy himself, you thought.

You tried not to think too much what had happened, but just couldn't help it. It was driving you insane. Your skin felt ablaze still, like it was patiently waiting to feel Seungcheol's touch again.

The rest of the night went by quickly. And you were eager for your shift to end quickly so you could return home, have a cold shower and scream into your pillow until you fall sleep.

When you were finishing up your activities by the end of your shift, the noises coming from Mingyu's voice counting money, and Wonwoo running a list of things needed for restock slowly turned into a background noise for you.

It was hard to concentrate. You found yourself deep in thought, remembering over and over again the feeling of Seungcheol's lips on yours.

"Newbie, come to collect your tips," you heard Mingyu calling from the cash register.

"How much did we make?" you asked, aloof. You were just trying to divert your attention elsewhere.

Mingyu told you a number and you feigned surprise by seeing his big content smile.

"Nice, isn't it?" he giggled at the same time he bounced on his knees.

"Yeah," you sighed. "Very nice."

The bar felt really eerie when the lights were off. It was your turn to get the neon signs and lights because, as Mingyu put it, "The last one to get out gets all the lights."

Thankfully Wonwoo stayed behind and helped you out to get the neon signs, since you didn't know where all the switches were.

As you were going out, you made an additional stop to the restroom to wash your face, since nothing seemed to fully snap out from the constant overthinking. Nothing seemed to be able to put the buzzing in your head to rest.

When you came out from the restroom, the hallway was dark except for dim source of light came from Seungcheol's office, which had the door wide open.

The people that occupied the gambling tables had long evacuated the place, so it was all quiet and empty. You stepped under the doorframe. Expecting to see Seungcheol deep in work.

But he was leaning back on his desk, a leg crossed, hands resting at his sides on the edges of the desk. As soon as he saw you by the door of his office, he smirked, lifting his triumphant eyes to see you.

"Did you know I'd come?" you asked, walking a few steps up to him.

"I hoped you would," he replied simply.

A long silence filled the room. You felt hesitant about touching the subject of what had happened earlier in the hallway, but you knew that in reality, you and Seungcheol had to talk about many other things that went down between you.

But instead, you dropped your bag at your feet to then close the distance between you and your ex. Grabbing the hem of his shirt to pull him yet again to another fervent, needy kiss.

Seungcheol was expecting that as well apparently, locking lips with you almost instantly, his hands quickly found your hips, pulling you as close as he could to his frame.

"We need to talk, Seungcheol," you gasped in his mouth.

A groan in annoyance came from him as he captured your lips again. Then his hands moved from your hips to your lower back, ignoring the t-shirt you were wearing. His hands making contact with your bare skin sent a shiver up your spine.

"We'll talk later," he replied with a hoarse voice.

Then Seungcheol was back on your lips, fully knowing that you would make no real effort to make your demands happen. Hungrier this time, when his lips slid in yours he did it with more impatience, the hands on your body pressed you towards his body tightly, earning a soft noise that coiled in your chest.

It was almost as if you remembered perfectly the way he used to kiss your lips and your mouth parted just exactly when his tongue slid in your mouth, a soft moan coming from him in approval as his tongue lapped yours.

Soft pecks landed on your lower lip, to your chin and jawline. You angled your head to give him access, a mewl escaped your lips as he reached the tender spot beneath your earlobe.

"I'm sorry for being an asshole to you," he said in a raspy tone, pulling away so that he could see eye to eye with you. "I was just so angry. Seeing you again just brought everything back."

You could say the same. You never imagined you would see him again. For the past two years, your ex had been a living ghost in your mind, making you wonder constantly if he had ever found it in himself to forgive you. Above all, you wondered if he thought of you as often as you did of him.

"I should be apologizing to you, too. For everything that happened."

He shook his blond head once. "Later," he commanded before his lips sealed yours again.

Then he took you in his arms, turning you around to sit you down on the edge of the cold glass surface of his desk. Slotting himself between your legs, he removed his arms encircling you to cup your face before he kissed you fervently.

The muscles on his back felt hard as your hands slid on his white t-shirt from his waist to his shoulder blades, your hand found the back of his neck, fingers tangled on his soft blond hair. You used that hand to push him closer to your face, earning a throaty moan from him.

Then the tip of his tongue dragged on top of your lower lip, finding your tongue to stroke yours as his hands dropped from your face to roam on your body. His fingers squeezed your waist, grabbing the fabric of your top to lift it up slightly to dip his hands under it. Greedily roaming your skin.

Deciding it wasn't enough, he yanked the tank top from your body and you willingly lifted your arms for him. His dark eyes marvelled on your body for a second, tracing an invisible line with ginger fingers over your neckline.

You swallowed up a whimper at the gentle touch of his fingers.

"You looked so fucking hot tonight," he uttered in a raspy whisper. "Prancing around my bar in those shorts. Everyone had their eyes glued to your ass and all I could do was stand and let it be like a fucking idiot."

You smiled shyly, feeling flustered that Seungcheol actually fell in your little game. "What would you have done?"

One of his dark eyebrows arched up. "Given my way?" his hand moved from your neck to the back of your head, a fist tightening on your hair at the scalp. "I would let everyone know that you're mine. Mine to look at, mine to kiss, mine to fuck."

Your breath hitched, eyelids fluttered when he pulled your hair softly to angle your face for him to look in your eyes.

"But I'm not," you breathed. "Not yours."

His lips brushed beneath your jawline and you could tell he was smiling. "Really?" he placed feathery kisses on your neck, so gently that it tickled, but he continued making his way to your mouth.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling his lips on yours now as you spoke, you wanted more. "You'd have to make me yours."

You stole a glance at his eyes, a faint smile of victory appeared on his cherry lips. "What are you saying?"

Seungcheol's eyes looked at your face attentively, as if absorbing every movement and gesture you made. Taking advantage of the moment, you scrutinised the features of his face. A lock of pale blonde hair had fallen over his forehead, covering one of his eyes.

"Make me yours," you breathed and with your fingers you gently brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. Your touch caused his eyelids to flutter briefly. "Fuck me, Seungcheol."

You weren't sure what overpowered your mind in that moment. But every cell, every inch of your body felt an unbearable ache for him, it made your heart race, rushing blood in your neck and face. Harder to ignore was the throbbing pain, pooling in between your legs, demanding his undivided attention.

A groan escaped his mouth as he clashed it on yours again, demanding, suffocating. His hands slid down your back, unclasping your black lacey bra skilfully, removing the straps from your shoulders as he threw it aside. The cold of the air bit at your now bare skin as your breasts were now exposed to his view.

"Lie down," he ordered in a low tone.

You lied back on the cool surface of his desk, which was empty now so you had enough room for your body. Seungcheol wasted no time, busying himself in removing your sneakers swiftly to then take your shorts off. So now you were wearing fishnets and panties only.

His hands caressed your legs above the fabric of your fishnets, your body flinching when his fingertips reached your inner thighs, so close to your crotch. You let out a broken sigh when two curious fingers slid down your clothed pussy, pulling the fabric of your thong aside to dip the pad of his fingers in your entrance.

"God, you're soaking wet already," he smiled and then pulled his lower lip in between his teeth.

"I've been wet for you all night, Cheol," you confessed with a muffled whimper.

Seungcheol sighed under a bitter smile. "Flirting with other guys hoping to make me feel jealous gets you horny. Is that it, love?" he asked in a feigned sweet tone.

That made you blink and try to protest at the same time you felt his fingers on the sides of your hips, yanking down your panties and fishnets all together.

So he was jealous, but at the same time all too knowing that you were doing it on purpose.

A rush of warmth and eagerness flooded all over you just as his fingers ran down between your pussy lips again, skipping all build up, but it was just what you silently desired: his index finger sliding inside your wet core. You gasped and closed your eyes again when his finger was joined by his middle.

"I asked you a question," he purred as his fingers massaged your inner walls.

"Mmm, thinking about you makes me horny, Cheol," you gulped hard, giving up the last bit of your sanity at the delicious thrust of his fingers. "I saw you looking at me and that alone got me wet."

"Really?" he asked, just before running the tip of his tongue down your neck, making you moan and blink to see him bending down on you, his fingers buried in your wet cunt, pumping in and out.

It was a little game Seungcheol liked to play. You remembered it too well. He would tease you, pleasure your body while making you either beg or show him just how down bad you were for him. He loved it, like a cat playing with its food.

"It made me remember..." you breathed as he placed open mouthed kisses along your collarbones. "M-made me remember when you'd fuck me so good I'd see stars."

That took him off guard, his breathy chuckle brushed your skin softly, making it prickle. "So you were going around my bar with your panties wet because you'd think about us?"

You nodded. "Mmm-mmph."

He hummed as his mouth kissed one of your nipples, lapping around your areola just before his fingers crooked inside you, eliciting a loud moan from you.

What followed then were wet sounds coming from your cunt, while Seungcheol worked his fingers inside you and his tongue slid across the underside of your tits, to then suck harshly at your skin. The skin around your nipples started to flare and prickle as you whimpered and writhed under him.

"What would you think of?" he asked in a gentle tone. Then his teeth grazed at the soft underside of one of tits, causing you to whimper and grab his hair by the scalp and tug softly.

"Anything, really. I thought of your hands, your lips..." you whimpered as he repeated the same process with your other breast, leaving a trail of drool on your skin. "The night of your twenty-fifth birthday," you muttered.

"You thought of that?" he asked, lifting his head to catch your gaze. "While working? Angel, you can't be doing that on the clock..." he cocked his head to one side slightly.

He wasn't actually reprimanding you, but the tone he took when he said that was almost as if he were concerned. Seungcheol was well aware that you liked it: being told off by him while his fingers were still plunging inside your cunt and the palm of his hand pressing down on your swollen clit.

Your whole body tensed up. "I think of that night when I touch myself," you confessed, looking at his face through your lashes.

"You do, love?" he asked in a sweet tone.

"It's the only thing that does it for me," you replied in a broken moan as he continued to fuck you with his two fingers inside your cunt, his palm pressing hard on your sensitive bud, pushing you further to your release.

And in fact, you almost confessed that you haven't been able to cum with someone else since you broke up with him.

But he doesn't have to hear that.

Seungcheol hummed thoughtfully and turned his attention to the hand he was using to fuck you with to start using more speed and force on your cunt, causing the sounds of your arousal to splash on his hand louder.

"Oh, shit," you hissed. "Cheol, I-I'm, oh–,"

The veins in his forearm flared up, as he appeared to be determined to do it for you again. You knew what he was trying to do, and you got your body ready for it–your swollen clit pressed under his palm and his fingers twisting inside your walls, as he moved his hand harder on your cunt.

Whimpers and incoherencies came out from your lips, feeling the thrusting of his hand forcing an orgasm out of you. You cried out, stirring your back on the cold surface of Seungcheol's desk, hearing your own lewd cries and moans reverberating across the dark room.

"Mmm, that's it baby, cum all over my hand," he hummed softly, as his hand continued to move inside you mercilessly despite your walls clenching hard around his fingers.

Coming down from the rough orgasm, your body twitched and coiled, giving deep shaky breaths you opened your eyes to see him.

"That reminded you of something?" he asked in a gentle tone, but you could see in his face that he was tense: pupils blown in lust, the tip of his tongue dragging on his lower lip. And then pulled his fingers out of you, they were coated in your arousal, almost dripping to his knuckles as he took them to his mouth, licking them clean.

You nodded silently, and shuddered at the sight of him licking your slick off his fingers.

One of his eyebrows rose, a sigh escaping under a sweet, genuine smile. "Only the memory of us can make you cum yet you say you're not mine?" he tilted his head to one side and clicked his tongue. "Now, you might be lying to yourself, love."

You returned him a shy smile. "Maybe I just want to relive the memory."

Bingo.

He only hummed in response, his hand cupped the side of your face, his fingers reaching your scalp as he bent down to kiss you, his tongue sliding inside your mouth. You tasted yourself in his tongue and that made him moan sweetly before pulling away.

You felt restive under his lust-ridden gaze, impatient for him to just keep going. But you knew better than to pressure him, you knew when to beg for it and now you knew he was taking his time.

"I never imagined I'd see you here like this," he muttered in a low voice, taking a step back from his desk and his dark eyes studying your naked body splayed on the heavy glass surface. He ran his fingertips over your abdomen, tracing a line from your bellybutton to the middle of your clavicles, prickling your skin.

You bit your lower lip hard when your ex knelt down before you, taking your thighs in his large hands. You knew exactly what would follow next, because if Seungcheol knew what made you had you begging for him faster was his tongue lapping on your folds, licking your arousal from your core.

You cried out when you felt his tongue glide on your sensitive clit, your hands grabbed at his pale blond hair. Thrashing, you glanced down at the lower half of your body wholly naked on his desk, his blond head between your lush thighs.

Seungcheol hummed softly as his the tip of his tongue made a trail from your core up to your clit, giving it broad and generous strokes at your pussy, not neglecting a single inch. As he licked your arousal from your entrance, the tip of his nose bumped gently with your clit, knowing that would make you moan louder.

You arched your back on the cold surface of his desk, crying out his name and his calloused hands immediately slid on your lower abdomen, pressing his palms down on you before his tongue focused on your clit.

The tip of his tongue flickered at your already swollen clit, to only give it a few swirls around it and start nibbling at it with his lips. The movement almost sent you over the edge, just before his pointed tongue started flicking your clit as he moved his head up and down slightly, giving more motion to the movement of his tongue on your clit.

His hands pressed down on your lower abdomen, knowing well that would elicit more cries and whimpers from you. Your body grew tense and you let your body savour it. Your mouth parted, letting soft gasps out, your body twitching uncontrollably on his desk.

You jolted up, propping your upper body up on your elbows to see his face buried in your pussy, his mouth on your clit and folds as if he were making out with it. The image was almost sinful to watch. The lewd sounds coming from the interaction of his mouth on your cunt plus the whimpers and moans coming from you.

"Ohmygod, Cheol," you cried out, grabbing his hair tightly and your other hand found one of his that was pressing down on your lower abdomen. "'m going to cum, I'm going to–," you whimpered, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

As your cries of pleasure echoed across the room, you heard Seungcheol hum softly with you. Your body relaxed into your orgasm, mind going completely blank, eyes rolling back so hard that you saw colours behind your eyelids while you let your orgasm take you in waves of pure bliss, moaning his name over and over again.

He planted soft kisses on your pussy lips and one last kiss on your swollen clit, humming softly as he pressed his lips on your pussy lovingly. Your legs went limp as you felt him place them back on the cold hard surface of his desk.

"Cheol," you called in a lazy groan, still recovering from your high with shaky thighs and blurred vision. "I need you."

Seungcheol smiled at your soft pleas and whimpers, but his hand cupped your chin, his dark eyes locking on yours. "Are you still on the pill?" he asked while his other hand brushed a lose strand of hair from your forehead.

"Yes," you whispered and nodded with your head. Your hands searched for the hem of his t-shirt, sliding it up his back and he pulled away to help you take it off.

You sat up on his desk again, hooking your fingers on the hem of his jeans to pull him closer, your legs framing his body as you unfastened the buckle of his belt, hearing him sigh. You darted a look at his face, finding the ghost of a smile on his chapped red lips.

Seungcheol had definitely buffier since you last saw him. You noticed that he had accumulated more muscle mass, his lean chest showed more mass around his pectorals and shoulders, the muscles of his abdomen that would tighten softly when he breathed out at the touch of your fingers.

He placed a small kiss on your lower lip, making you smile as your fingers rushed to undo the button and zipper of his jeans. He helped you get rid of the rest of his clothes, standing completely nude before you in the middle of his 'office'.

"Remember when we used to do this in your bedroom at your parents'?" you asked sheepishly, a hand cupping his face as he kissed your face and lips fervently. "We'd pretend to study."

Seungcheol's lips rose in a bittersweet smile. "I remember everything, baby," he replied in a raspy tone. "We could barely keep our hands to ourselves. We didn't care if we got caught."

You placed impatient, rushed kisses on his wet lips. "I miss that," you muttered. "We'd fuck anywhere. In your brother's car, the park, the school library."

Seungcheol laughed as his hand snuck in between your bodies, grabbing his cock with one hand to guide it to your core. He gently dropped his forehead on yours and you whimpered when you felt his cockhead pushing on your entrance.

"We were so crazy about each other. So fucking in love," he whispered.

A sob coiled in your throat second before Seungcheol slid inside you slowly, his cock buried in you so deeply that you had to bite his shoulder to not scream. Your legs were wrapped around him as he started thrusting his hips on you, fucking you hard on his desk.

You groaned loudly when you felt his cock fill you up so nicely that you almost forget where you were, and everything that had led you to that moment.

Seungcheol fit in your body so perfectly that nothing–no one had even come close to making you feel like he did. Your breath hitched and you closed your eyes when you felt tears of pleasure brimming in the corners.

His hands held you close to his body, a hand placed in one of your glutes and the other flatly on your spine–holding you in place as he plunged his cock deep inside you, fucking you open so good you couldn't think of anything else.

"You feel so fucking good. So tight around me. Just how I remember," he whispered in your ear, pushing so deep in you as if to make his point across.

You shuddered against his body at the same time you nibbled his shoulder with your teeth, drowning your cries of pleasure as Seungcheol plunged in your walls with little heed for being careful, but he knew you liked it just like that. You liked it hard, you liked that his cock was so big for you that it made your eyes water.

"Look at me, love," he commanded and you pulled your head back to face his dark eyes. "You're okay there?"

He read you so well.

You nodded, blinking lazily. "'m okay. Jus'keep going, Cheol."

The thing about Seungcheol is that when he loved, he loved with a fervent force that nothing could ever stop it. When he wanted something, he would stop at nothing to get it. He was passionate like that. And he loved you.

Past tense. Loved.

Now, you were sure that he was trying to relive the memory of what you had together, his desperate kisses and moans as he pushed his cock deep in you. His arms holding you as if you were a product of his memory, torturing him, kissing him softly.

Soft whispers of incoherent mumbles brushed in his lips, and you could make out your name in between broken sentences as Seungcheol appeared to be so lost in you that he could barely breathe.

"Fuck," he muttered through gritted teeth. You saw him shut his eyes tightly, his mouth parted a little, forming a little 'oh' but not quite uttering anything. Small giveaways that he was about to cum.

You used a hand to cup the side of his face to angle his lips to yours. "Cum in me," you whispered on his lips. "I want you to fill me up, Cheol."

Usually, he was the one telling you when to cum. Never the other way around. But the way he was trying to resist his release made you want to take control for a second.

Your hand slid on the back of his head, grabbing his long hair in one fist as he blinked and found your eyes. His hips buckled a second before he plunged them so hard and deep inside you, gasping for air as he came inside you.

His chest was so close to yours that you could feel the stutter of his heartbeat against you. A long second happened between you, exchanging longing glances as he breathed hard on your face, trying to calm himself down.

But then he made a motion for you to lie back down on his desk again, confused you followed his silent command and understood when he started plunging his cock inside your walls again.

Your brow furrowed, noticing how tired Seungcheol looked. "W-what–,"

"I'm not done with you," he explained and you could feel that his cock was still hard inside you.

Then he placed the palms of his hands flatly on the surface of the desk, his eyes wandering all over your body before stopping on your sopping cunt where his cum had already mixed with your juices.

You saw the features of his face as he pulled his hips back until the tip of his hard cock reached your entrance again and then he slammed his hips back in.

Seungcheol sucked in a breath and then bit his lower lip and muffled a long strangled moan in his mouth, sending a shiver along your spine.

"You look so fucking gorgeous," he groaned, his lust-lidded eyes looking at you.

The wet sounds that the movement created made him sigh in pleasure and throw his head back a bit, the enjoyment on his face was so arousing that had you moaning with him.

"So fucking wet and tight on my cock. Like its made for me," he sighed.

Your walls fluttered around him in response. Because probably he was right and your body was made for his. The way your body responded to the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands, when you felt his eyes on you, all for him.

Seungcheol shuddered as he pushed inside you before bending down and place open mouthed kisses on your chest. He hummed along the trail of kisses he started making while plunging inside you, his lips stopping on the soft skin of one of your tits to start sucking.

"Cheol," you whimpered.

The pressure on his lips against your skin intensified, leaving a trail of red spots all over your tits as he continued moving his hips mindlessly on yours.

A loud moan escaped your mouth and your body started trembling in pleasure uncontrollably beneath his weight, barely holding on for him.

"Shit," you hissed at the feeling of him marking you and your hand tangled in his hair.

A small snapping sound came from his lips when he finished marking hickeys in your skin, lifting his head to see you. His lust blown eyes found yours, a faint smile stretching on his chapped lips.

Then, you felt a hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your swollen clit immediately to start rubbing fast and hard with his thumb.

"Cum for me, baby," he instructed, already knowing that you were nearing to your third orgasm.

"Cheol–Daddy!" you called in a high keen whimper; the pressure from your release taking you over and washing you into uncontrollable waves of joy and ecstasy that roamed all over your body, leaving you breathless.

"I'm here, baby," he groaned and watched your face as you cried and thrashed under his body, the merciless plunging of his cock in your throbbing, aching walls.

Then his thrusts became shallow for a second before he slammed his hips against yours so deep and slow that you cried out and bit your lip, your body still twitching from your high.

"You're mine," Seungcheol said in shaky breaths as he came inside you again, blinking slowly but never looking away from your face. "You've always been mine."

Sharp breaths left your mouth, trying to regain conscious under the weight of his body as he too appeared to be trying to compose himself. You blinked away some tears, reaching for his face to kiss his face.

While panting, he pressed lazy kisses on your lips and you returned every single one.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he whispered.

"I missed you too," you replied, pushing a blond strand of hair away from his face.

He shook his head once, his eyes glinting with anguish. "You left. We could've find a way to work it out but you just left."

The pain became more and more intense. You couldn't shrug off the feeling that everything had changed, that the person in front of you was not the same person who had loved you so fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Seungcheol," you whispered, swallowing thickly. "I really am. I made a mistake. It was really stupid of me to leave."

Your hand returned to his cheek and he pressed his face towards it, shuddering under your touch. Your lip quivered as your eyes started to well up in tears again, so you thought to make an attempt to remove yourself from his desk and search for your clothes.

He pressed his body down on yours, trapping you between his frame and the desk beneath you. "Don't."

"Seungcheol–,"

"I'm not over you," he muttered, then he laughed bitterly. "As if this wasn't proof. I saw you again and I knew I was fucking done for."

"N-no, you fucked me because you can, Cheol. To prove a point to me–," you stuttered, trying to make sense of it all.

His big teary eyes drooped with disappointment, his brows knitted. "Baby, I tried to move on. For two fucking years I tried... and look where that's got me."

He made a gesture with his head, signalling to your naked bodies. You were so tightly pressed beneath the weight of the upper half of his body, his chest flatly pressed against yours that you barely had any space to breathe.

"Can you take me back after what I did? How?" you asked in a weak voice from swallowing your tears.

"I just want you," he whispered. "We can figure out the rest."

You swallowed thickly. "We're so different now. You're my boss now, Cheol. And I'm..."

He licked his chapped lips, his lower lip getting caught between his teeth as he seemed to run through his options in his mind. "I don't want you to quit. We can find a way to make it work."

Your eyes locked with his dark brown ones. "So what happens now?"

"It doesn't matter right now. All I want is us," he whispered, his hands moving to cup your face, a desperate look in his features. "Please, baby, just trust me this time. I know we can work it out. I'm ready now."

A sharp pang stabbed into your heart as you heard him practically pleading for your return. It was a sound you had never dared to wish for, something you would have only imagined in your most fervent dreams.

Tracing an invisible line along his lower lip with your fingers, Seungcheol sighed softly, his heavy eyelashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. You knew you couldn't say no to Seungcheol.

After all, you never stopped loving him.

✧ a/n: uuuggghhh i feel like a hypocrite cause i've always said that blonds aren't my type but i literally go feral for blond seventeen, oh well. if you liked reading this show it some love pls pls pls. stay tuned for part 2! taglist is open! tehe ₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎

PART TWO

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Could you do an imagine with Steve rogers and yn where he takes her virginity smooth talk to her into it and she comes to shield quarters to drop off some stuff he left over and she over hears him talking to tony,Buck & the avengers a both the bet they made that Steve couldn’t f*ck yn and she gets heartbroken and uses her superpowers to fight against Steve when she barges in. Like throw him into a wall. I hope you get my concept (btw yn has powers also & she’s new to the shield inc as an avenger)

Betrayed

PAIRING | Steve Rogers x Avenger!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.7K

SUMMARY | You're the latest addition to the Avengers, and Steve takes on a bet behind your back that he wouldn't be able to take your virginity. When you find out about the bet a few weeks later, you lose it and your superpowers rise to their full potential.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Steve being an asshole, swearing, smut [ loss of virginity, fingering, protected sex, massage turned to sex, light spanking ]

A/N | Hi nonnie, thank you so much for my very first request, I hope this is what you were looking for when you thought of the prompt! After all the love and many people requesting a part 2, I finally caved and you can find that right here! 🖤

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

It has been a dream of yours ever since being recruited by SHIELD as an agent, to climb the ranks to becoming part of the Avengers. That dream finally became a reality and you were ecstatic when you found out you were accepted into the Avengers program. Right from the start all of the Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and you felt at home immediately, maybe a bit too much if you look back at it. During one of Tony's afterparties, you accidentally let it slip that you're still a virgin and that you wish you weren't anymore. There are some strange looks shared between some of the guys at your confession, but you decided to let it go at that time. Right now, however, you wish you hadn't.

After you went to bed that night, some of the guys got into a heated discussion about the fact that you're a virgin, and they all wanted to help you out. You know you're quite attractive - nothing over the top, but you take good care of yourself and it shows - so the fact that they all wanted to sleep with you wasn't much of a surprise. The fact that it was Steve who offered to do it first, did surprise every single one of the guys. ''No way you're taking her virginity, Cap. You have the sex appeal of a piece of grass,'' Clint remarked, which earned him a glare that wasn't all that nice. ''I think we should make a bet,'' Steve said, a mischievous look in his eyes.

''I want to make a bet if I can do it or not. If I win, I won't have to go on missions for a month. If you guys win, I will take one mission of your hands of your choice, each,'' Steve offered and they immediately agreed to these terms. And that is how Steve tried to talk you into his bed, which took more effort than he had anticipated, you weren't as easy as you made yourself sound that night. It took him a little over 5 months, but eventually, his hard work and patience paid off, for him at least.

~ 5 months later ~

You just went on a gruesome mission with all of the Avengers, and it was already late so instead of flying home now, all of you went to a hotel and spend the night. You had been incredibly frustrated for a while, and this mission was too much at this point. The mission ended up being successful, but Steve was being an asshole towards you the entire time, all to get under your skin for his gain, with the bet still in his mind. All the other Avengers quickly teamed up with the rooms, so your only option was to share a room with Steve, and you weren't happy with that. In the slightest.

''Guys, can any one of you please switch with me? I can't look at his face right now and I want to smack that smug grin of his fucking face,'' you say through gritted teeth, but they aren't helping one bit. ''Sorry doll, we always have the same sleeping arrangements and Steve usually sleeps alone, so you don't have a choice,'' Bucky said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. ''You guys are unbelievable,'' you said and you opened the door to your shared bedroom, rushing in to get away from all of them.

''Don't mind them,'' Steve said when he followed you and you let yourself fall on your back on the bed. ''Maybe it's a good thing you and I are sharing a bedroom tonight, I had a plan to get both of our frustrations out of our systems,'' Steve said with an innocent look in his eyes. ''You do...?'' you ask him, unsure where he's going with this. ''Yeah, I find that a massage works well, get someone to rub all my frustrations away. I brought some massage oil that I could use on you if you want,'' he offered, and you were thinking about it. ''I'm gonna take a shower first though, I don't want to be disgusting when you massage me,'' you said.

When you were in the shower, Steve texted the guys' group chat that his plan would work, you agreed to a massage and he would most definitely be able to turn it around so he could fuck your brains out later that night. When you came back from your shower, you put your hair in a claw clip so it would be out of the way, and you noticed Steve already prepared his bed to be used as the massage 'table'. ''Please, lay down without the towel so I can reach your entire back with ease,'' he said with a small grin on his face, but you did it. You needed a way to get this frustration out of your body, and it was worth a shot. ''Lay down for me, baby,'' he said and you didn't even think twice about the nickname he gave you.

You did as he said and made yourself comfortable. ''No towel baby, that was it's easier for me to reach everywhere,'' Steve said and because you're lying on your stomach, you can't see the smug look he has on his face. He took the towel away and softly gasped at the sight of you, you were even more beautiful than he thought you'd be and he was very happy he got to do this. He put a little bit of the massage oil on your back and his hands before he started, rubbing it all over your shoulders and back first, just grazing your cheeks when he's rubbing it over your lower back, teasing you ever so slightly. After it's nice and spread out he starts putting some pressure and you let out a soft moan at the feeling.

''Mmh Steve, feels good,'' you softly moan and he smiles at the way you praise him, happy he can make you feel that good. ''Are you feeling better yet, baby?'' he asked and you nodded, letting out a content sigh. The fact that you're completely naked is long forgotten, you were very comfortable around Steve now with his hands running over your body like that. ''Got some more pressure points in my lower back you could massage,'' you tell him, it's always been a point that's bothering you and now that he was massaging you, it was the perfect timing to get help. ''Like this?'' he said as he put a bit more pressure on your lower back with his palms, moving from your spine outwards and down to your hips. This makes you groan, and in all honesty, a little turned on too.

When he's taken good care of your shoulders and back, he moves on to your calves and thighs. ''Time for these beautiful legs,'' he says as he silently takes off his shirt and pants, they were getting more and more uncomfortable now that he was getting pretty hard from just massaging you. He was standing in his boxer briefs and you didn't notice, completely taken over by pure bliss. He dripped a little oil on both your legs, stopping right beneath your cheeks and he put it to the side, ready for later. He started massaging at your ankles and slowly work his way up to your thighs, giving special attention to the tops, near your ass. His fingers slowly move up and when he's kneading and rubbing your ass, you let out a gasp which turns into a moan.

''S-Steve...'' you say but he quickly cuts you off, ''Shh, it's okay baby, this is normal,'' he says and he starts kneading more roughly, even going as far as landing a slap on both your cheeks at the same time, watching them ripple under his hands. ''Fuck, doing so good for me, baby,'' Steve praised you and you couldn't help but enjoy it, even though you knew in the back of your head it was still wrong. It was at that moment Steve couldn't take it any longer, and his hand wandered down between your thighs, cupping your dripping pussy. ''Hm, you're already dripping wet baby, 'm gonna take good care of you,'' he says as he slowly slides his fingers through your folds, giving special attention to your clit with his middle finger. You moan loudly at the feeling, your ass automatically lifting in the air at the feeling.

''Such a good girl for me right now, letting me take good care of you,'' he praised you and you started clenching around nothing. ''Steve, please,'' you whimpered, you wanted to feel his fingers inside you by now. ''What is it, baby? What do you need from me? Just say it and I'll do it,'' he says, whispering the words in your ear as he pushes your thighs further apart for better access. ''Need you, need your fingers inside me,'' you said shyly and he happily complied, immediately shoving 2 fingers deep inside your dripping entrance without warning. This makes you gasp loudly and grind your hips against his hand. ''How does it feel baby?'' Steve asks with a huge grin on his face while picking up his pace and curling his fingers so he can continue to stimulate your sweet spot.

''G-good, gonna cum,'' you moan as you keep grinding against his fingers. He uses his other hand to play some more with your clit and before you know it, you feel your orgasm wash over you while you moan out his name loudly. ''Yes, let everyone know who's making you feel this good baby,'' he said, knowing full well all the guys could hear what you were doing through the tins walls of the hotel. ''Fuck, feels so good,'' you say as you come down from your high. Steve pulls his fingers softly out of you before turning you over on your back, so he could massage the front of your body. He started with your legs, giving them the same treatment as when he massaged the back of your legs, but avoiding your sensitive pussy this time.

Next up is your stomach, which he drips some oil onto before massaging it deeply, so you let out soft whimpers, especially when his hands' ghost over the underside of your breasts, which were beautifully exposed for his viewing pleasure, your nipples still hard after your first orgasm. ''Those breasts look delicious baby,'' Steve cooed and it made you giggle a little bit before he softly grabbed them and massaged them, giving extra attention to your sensitive nipples. He noticed every single whine, whimper, and moan coming out of you when he played with them, either by rubbing, tugging, or softly flicking them, and he was reveling in the sounds that left your lips.

He finished with your upper chest and neck before leaning down and softly kissing you, which you have been longing for this entire time. He wasn't your first kiss, but he was by far the best you ever had, and you didn't hesitate when he slipped his soft, warm tongue in your mouth to explore every single inch of it. He sat down on the bed and removed his underwear, exposing his painfully hard cock, which was laying on your thigh as he took his place between your legs. ''Steve, condom please,'' you said. You were on birth control and this was your first time, but you weren't sure where he had been and didn't want to risk either getting pregnant or an STD, but Steve didn't mind, he always used one anyways.

He grabbed one from the nightstand - thank god he came prepared - and ripped open the foil before rolling it onto his hard length. ''Are you ready baby?'' he asked and you said yes, giving him a soft smile too. ''Need you inside me,'' you said and without a second to think about it, Steve was pushing himself into your entrance, the burning sensation quickly subsiding and making way for pleasure. He is very big and a lot to get used to, but in no time he was buried inside you completely, letting you get used to the sensation as he bent over, stealing soft kisses from your lips. ''Steve, please move,'' you beg softly and he does, going slow at first but slowly picking up the pace, making you moan louder every single time.

Sure, he may be doing this for a bet, but he was still mindful of the fact that this is your very first time, and he did want to give you the pleasure you deserve, and not go too rough at first. ''Steve, harder'' you beg, and with that, he quickly picks up the pace as you wrap your legs around his waist, so he can hit the deepest spots inside you. ''F-fuck, Steve, gonna cum-'' you practically yelled when your orgasm washed over you again, making your vision go temporarily black with the intensity of it, Steve followed quickly after with the chant of your name, and he buries his face in your neck as he spills his cum inside of the condom. ''Fuck, feels so good around me baby, such a good girl for me,'' he says before pulling out. The rest of the night is spent lazily making out and cuddling, before falling asleep in each other's arms.

~ 3 weeks after the mission ~

You and Steve talked about what happened that night and both agreed nothing more would come of it, it was just a one-time thing to get both your frustrations out and you would remain friends. He talked to the guys about it and they all heard, clapping him on his back and saying he won the bet fair and square, so they would pick up his missions for the next month. ''How was it?'' Tony asked and he told them all about the massage and how it felt to be buried balls deep inside you. They were still talking about the bet when you happened to walk into the room since you accidentally left some files in the living room you needed to prepare.

''Good job Steve, you won the bet fair and square, I didn't think you would fuck her but you earned it'' Bucky said as he got up, and immediately you realize they're talking about you. ''What bet are you guys talking about?'' you ask, and all the guys' heads snap in your direction. ''Y/N, hey...'' Steve said, his face becoming bright red. ''Did you guys seriously bet on if he was able to fuck me? You guys are fucking unbelievable,'' you snarled at each of them, but you're the most mad at Steve. ''You're such a dick, Steve, you know that?'' you yelled at him and you felt your powers come out, usually you tried to keep them hidden since they could cause quite a lot of destruction. ''Using me for a fucking bet?!'' is the last thing you said before you lifted Steve off his chair with your mind, using your telekinesis.

You slam him into the wall on the other side of the living room with your full force, making him go through it like the wall was made of a thin sheet of paper. ''Don't ever fuck with me like that again, or he won't be the only one on the receiving end of my powers,'' you say to the rest of the guys, and they quickly scramble away. To make Steve hurt even more, you walked over to him and made him squirm by giving him a head-splitting headache with your mind, as he grabbed his head to stop it. ''Y/N PLEASE STOP!'' he begged you, but you didn't. You want him to hurt just as much as you were. ''Oh no Rogers, you don't get to beg now, you earned everything I'm going to do with you,” Your power got out of hand and when Wanda walked into the living room, she managed to snap you out of it at the right time, if she didn't you would've killed him.

And just like that, your dream of becoming an Avenger is completely shattered.

[junkissed]

late night talking

member — minghao x f reader genre — angst, idk if there's enough fluff for this to count as hurt/comfort but the ending is sort of happy ? word count — 2.1k synopsis — the best and worst conversations always happen at 1am. warnings — reader is very drunk and very very insecure, lots of crying, lots of internal back & forth, unreliable narrator moment, refers to reader as girlfriend/my girl/etc., idk if i'm missing anything else but lmk if i am notes — this is an old fic that i never really intended to be released but @onlymingyus and @wooahaeproductions convinced me otherwise. sorry this is not at all what i normally post lmao i swear don't write like this often i just found this in my drive that i wrote when i was in a very shitty mood. we will return to your regularly scheduled smut programming soon i promise lmao! leave a comment in the reblogs or send an ask if you enjoyed this? idk i am nervous to post this pls don't perceive me too much

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you're ugly when you're drunk.

“hao?”

your voice rings throughout the house, the sound shaky and quieter than usual.

he wouldn't even have known you were home if he hadn't heard your friend's car pull up minutes ago, bright headlights flashing through the bedroom window. he wouldn't have known, if he wasn't already worried sick at you being gone so long and consuming an unknown amount of alcohol. he should've been there with you, but too much was riding on the deadline for his students’ grades that had to be finished before midnight. any other day he would've been by your side the whole night, a steady hand on your arm for balance and a sharp eye on your glass just in case. he loves playing the role of protective boyfriend, letting his girl do whatever she wants because he'll always be there to watch over her. but he couldn't do that tonight, and it tears him up inside.

he hears your trudging footsteps down the hall, soft footfalls signalling your approach as you drag yourself towards the room. he pretends not to hear; he doesn't want to make a big deal out of this and embarrass you.

“you're home early,” he comments with a chuckle, but his sarcasm is lost on you in this state. it's well after 1 in the morning, and you tilt your head in confusion at his words, brows deeply furrowed.

“what— are you working on?” you ask after a moment, focusing all your energy on not stumbling over your words. 

you know how drunk you are, he knows how drunk you are, but even now you're still putting on an act. you hate feeling stupid in front of him, and right now you couldn't feel any stupider. the worst part is that you feel as stupid when you're sober as you do right now, but you couldn't tell him that.

he pauses, choosing his next words carefully as he surveys your current state. he can't risk hurting your feelings, especially in such a vulnerable headspace.

“grading finals,” he decides on. not too detailed to confuse you, not too simplified to make you feel stupid, just enough to make you feel involved.

distantly you feel your eyes welling up with tears. you don't know why, but at the same time you know exactly why. you're never good enough compared to him, not when you come home drunk in the dead of night, and he never does. not when he's so good at everything he touches, so talented and beautiful and perfect, and you're… not. 

he deserves someone at his level, an artistic genius like him who can help him with his work. someone with an eye for his paintings, someone smarter, someone prettier, someone who can keep him on his toes. someone who won't drag him down and burden him with your obvious lack of skill and your quality of being so embarrassingly lightweight that you need to be supervised at all times. 

“i’m sorry,” you finally muster. you can't find the words to explain what you mean, but you hope he's able to sense your sincerity.

“what for?” he asks. his voice is softer now. 

you hate it when he uses that voice. he's talking down to you, talking like you're a child and he has to explain everything to you in the gentlest way possible because you aren't capable of handling the truth.

you love when he uses that voice. sometimes he can be so blunt it almost feels isolating, but when he talks to you like you're a child in that sweet, gentle, kind tone you feel like everything will be okay. he can soften himself for you, drop his straightforward persona around you and be the tender man you know he's capable of being. 

you lift your eyes to his computer screen and the feelings you've been struggling with float back into view. “i'm sorry,” you repeat, voice cracking despite the effort you put in to stop it from breaking. it's all you can say.

you don't notice when the tears overflow, bursting from your eyes without a sound. you're embarrassing, you're an idiot, standing in front of him with red eyes and hunched shoulders as tears stream down your cheeks. you don't even feel them fall.

if he knows what you're trying to convey with your tearful apologies, he doesn't mention it. 

of course he knows, how could he not when he's so astute with everything? you suck at keeping things to yourself. 

of course he doesn't know, why would he take the time out of his busy schedule to care about how you're feeling? you're not worth his energy.

the moment seems to stretch on for eternity, standing in front of him. you don't know why you started dating in the first place; he doesn't have the time, you're too annoying, too clingy, too affectionate. standing in front of him, you don't feel anything. you just feel cold.

you turn to drag yourself out of the room, deciding that you've embarrassed yourself enough by now. you don't know where you'll go or what you're doing, probably to pour yourself a glass of water and try to sleep on the couch. obviously he won't want you to sleep in his bed when you’re like this, why should he? you aren’t deserving of that privilege.

but then you feel a warm hand on your wrist, gently tugging you back towards him. you lose your balance, stumble over your feet, fall onto his lap. you're mortified, barely able to get another “sorry” out before trying to stand again on wobbly legs. you shouldn't be here. you're so aware, so painfully conscious of your weight on him, every ounce of energy you have left fighting to keep yourself from annoying him even further but it feels like it's too late. everything that comes from you is too little, too late.

“no,” he says. his tone is still that soft, sweet sound, but his voice is firm and you don't try to get up again. “we can talk tomorrow,” he says as he begins to run his hand along your back, and you hate yourself for the way you instantly melt at his touch. “just… relax. calm down.”

your body slouches against his chest, feeling like a puddle on his lap, head tucked into the crook of his neck whether you meant to or not. your legs dangle limply off his lap, arms wrapped loosely around the back of his chair as he holds you.

“it's okay,” he says simply, still stroking his hand along your back in small, soothing motions. “it's okay.” he repeats the words, maybe to convince himself but mostly to convince you from having a breakdown. even now when he's treating you so delicately, your brain won't let you rest: he's probably scared of you, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean any of it and he's using whatever means necessary to stop you from turning hysterical or even violent. of course it doesn't mean anything to him. 

“how much did you drink tonight, baby?” he asks, and you know you should take that as judgmental but you don't have the energy left anymore. you don't note the twinge of concern in his voice, you can't see the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“a little— a lot,” you answer, somewhat truthfully. the real truth is that you lost count. you weren't trying to get drunk, but one turned into two turned into ten and before you even knew what you were doing a car was dropping you off in front of your house.

he shifts his legs for you to sit more comfortably on his lap, and as much as you want to fight it you don't have the strength to. “do you want to go to bed?” he asks gently. “or do you want to stay up with me?”

“don't… want you to go to bed ‘cuz of me,” you mumble against his neck. god, his skin is so soft and warm. you couldn't move your body right now even if you tried. “not your fault.”

“what kind of guy would i be if i didn't take care of my girlfriend when she needs me?” he asks. “i can put you to bed if you want. it's alright. it's late anyway.”

“it's not– your job,” you manage to reply, and his hand on your back stops for a second.

“it is my job,” he says softly. he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “i'm sorry if you feel like i haven't done that.”

“please, don't— no sorry,” you choke out as fresh tears prick at your eyes. “it's my fault. i'm sorry. it's my fault.”

he holds you tighter, both arms wrapped around you on his lap now. “it's not your fault,” he says in that same firm but gentle voice. “you haven't done anything wrong at all. it's alright, baby, i promise. you don't have anything to worry about. why are you sorry?”

“i don't know,” you mumble. your hand clutches at his chest unconsciously, balling his t-shirt in your fist. “i dunno. i love you. i dunno.”

“i love you, too,” he says after a beat. the tears, the drunken outburst, he just lets it all happen. without a word of complaint. despite the voices in your head fighting to convince you otherwise, he never says a single negative thing to you.

you know he's not normally like this. with everyone else he's polite, unemotional, reserved. he's never vulnerable. which is why you're so confused right now.

“why?” you slur, still grasping onto hope.

he hums in questioning, nudging you to elaborate.

“why are you like this to me?”

but now he's the one who's confused. “like what?”

you pause, and the room goes quiet for a moment, the only sound your shallow breaths against his chest. “nice.”

for all his knowledge, this time he's actually lost. “why would i not be nice to you?”

“i don't deserve it.”

he shifts again, pulling you closer to his chest as he starts to run his fingers through his hair. “of course you do, baby.”

“you don't deserve me.”

he stops again, this time in shock. “hey. that's not true.”

“is too true,” you say. your eyes are closed and you can't help the frown overtaking your face. “you should have somebody you deserve. it's not me.”

he just sighs, and you feel his chest expand beneath your cheek at the deep breath he takes. “i love you, baby. not anyone else. you'll feel better in the morning, and we can talk then. but i'm not mad at you, okay? there's nothing wrong. everything's okay.”

you try to mimic his sigh, but the angle you're laying at on his chest and the alcohol in your system makes it hard to breathe deeply. 

“do you want to keep sitting with me?” he asks. he knows how much you like the sounds his keyboard makes, the quiet tapping as he enters grades and types comments to his students about things you could never fathom to understand.

your eyes stay closed and your head doesn't move. “yeah,” you murmur softly.

he settles back into his chair, you curled up on his lap. he's not doing much, he's finished the worst of it and now just entering numbers. he glances down at your figure, almost asleep on him, and he feels an ache in his chest. 

every emotion feels amplified to you right now, but if it took getting blackout drunk for you to finally say it then it must've been weighing on you for a long time coming. he wonders how long you've felt like this, felt inadequate compared to him, and it makes him pause. it was never his intention. when you're awake and sober and hopefully not massively hungover, then you can talk, and he can make this right.

he loves the person snuggled against his chest, loves the feeling of you comforted and protected by him, and he'll do anything to make sure you know that. he'll do anything to let you see yourself the way he sees you. above all the worries he has about you, he knows one thing for sure.

you're cute when you're drunk.

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i hope you enjoyed this!! if you did, consider reblogging or leaving a comment or an ask :) it shows me this is something people want to see more of, and knowing people like this makes me want to write more of it! thanks for reading!!

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[caineinthecorner]

Language (The Demon Brothers)

★ Based on my language general hcs. Part 2 is here.

Hi. Today we have the demon brothers language hcs, brought to you by a single dumbass bilingual. :D

I include mentions of bilingual/multilingual MC, but I use the term MC and you interchangeably in the bullet points. It's the same thing who cares (you can also add whatever languages you think fit I am just going off vibes tbh)

★ Lucifer.

Since he was the strongest and highest ranked out of the brothers, his innate abilities were muddled the least.

This is to say that he remembers a lot from his innate knowledge as an angel, and can actually fare incredibly well on his own if you leave him in the human realm.

(the language he preferred back in his angel days was Archaic Latin, which is also Simeon's preferred language)

When Diavolo brought up the idea of the human exchange program he was like "(: ok" and binged human language for like two months straight like a total psychopath

He's like one of those fancy 10+ languages fluent polyglots (how)

Despite his fluency, it is rare to ever see him speak them. He has better things to do and prefers demon tongue.

Or if he does, the Loquar Ad Vos that was applied to you once you arrived in Devildom doesn't allow you to hear it.

You try to swear in your native language around him and oh boy it backfires

That is how you learn he's fluent in everything under the sun (exaggeration)

Frustrated, you grumble that you will learn demon tongue just to one up him

He takes it like a challenge. Enjoy reading a million books on the demonic language and having double the homework for your little joke.

(he gives you hard material to learn on purpose to see you fail. Enjoy hell buckoo. Double hell? Hell²)

You kept misspelling good morning in demon tongue as a demonic death threat and that somehow turned into an inside joke between the two of you.

He has to keep himself from chuckling whenever MC screws up words

Your accent is lovely though. Keep it up

★ Mammon.

Spanish and English.

Ok I actually can't justify myself further than "Mams would absolutely fucking go to Vegas" and the fact that USA has a large Latino population but hear me out

You cannot tell me that he would not watch telenovelas. Like. C'mon.

he has the vibes of a Spanish speaker is what I am saying

he was SO frustrated about having to learn human languages you have no idea

In fact he probably still struggles a bit and that makes him really mad

Why is it so complicated all of the sudden?! It wasn't complicated Before!

He unconsciously associates human languages with the trauma of the fall, and the stress and hurt and turbulent emotions it conveys

So learning new languages besides the two he knows is a touchy subject for him

(but like, he will learn MC's native language despite this. Whining to hell about it, but he will. Everything for MC)

You are actually very lucky that you have Loquar Ad Vos with you, bcs he actually switches from demon tongue to either English or Spanish mid sentence sometimes.

Not that you notice with your crusty translator (Loquar also works for human languages it supports), of course.

"Ayo can you [Spanish phrase], oh and give me a [English word], for a [spanglish nonsense]" <- Mammon's dumbass not functioning in trilingual

Also he has an accent but he's trying

The others are used to it so they don't question it anymore, but they deadass could not understand Mammon at some point because trilingual was not computing

It was frustrating to say the least

You two play charades with each other when the other forgets a word in your respective languages

"MC WHAT'S THE NAME OF THE ANIMAL FUCK THAT CHANGES HOME" "... Hermit crab?" "THATS THE BITCH"

★ Leviathan.

Japanese (very decent) and English (bad) are musts.

You cannot tell me for a second this fuck watches anime subbed OR dubbed. He's too weeb for that. He will watch the original dub version for the full emotional impact

He wanted to know what happens in the weeb world of the west (and internet discourse), so he learned English through shitty 2000s anime forums and Duolingo

Probably plays Duolingo competitively and/or cries if he loses his streak

His hearing and speaking English is okay, his writing is literally so so shit

Tried to learn a romantic language to be corny but failed miserably.

(He steered clear of languages his brothers know so he isn't self conscious)

It was probably Portuguese or something since Mammon kept talking about being good at figuring it out as a Spanish speaker (due to it being a romantic language)

The diacritical marks killed him on the spot

Meu português não é bom... (crying)

Victim of the you're* corrections

Runs his several-paragraphs-long rants about weeb stuff through Satan so the grammar is legit

Actually thinking about it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if he knew russian just for funsies. Yeah add Russian to the list

He sends you crusty Russian memes at unholy hours in the morning. Calls that bonding

Would absolutely swear in loud ass Russian while playing Valorant or smt

"ПИЗДЕЦ" "LEVI IT'S 2AM SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Ah + he knows Morse code (obviously). He was really excited when he discovered it and proceeded to obsess over it for like three weeks straight.

Although by the time he learned about it humans had already moved on from its wide-spead use at sea (post-1999), the Devildom Navy adapted Morse code for their own use as per Levi's command.

He teaches MC how to use Morse code (bashfully) and they send lil' messages to each other for fun

★ Satan.

He inherited a good chunk of Lucifer’s angel-knows-all-languages innate talents.

He doesn't have the angel knowledge of every language, of course, but he definitely has a really high count since birth; Unlike his brothers who had to relearn their languages of interest.

However, he can tell™ that the topic of languages is kinda taboo-y, as it signifies the traumatic fall he himself was not there to witness, and kept quiet about it.

The others (mostly) think he just learned languages in his free time.

He is the designated google translate person. When the other brothers need translations, they ask him.

He gets very frustrated when he has to translate something on the spot

Absolutely knows Chinese and Latin just to read fancy old human books and be a menace about it

He has a copy of the Art Of War in Chinese I will fight you on that

Actually he probably owns every important human book in its native language

Culprit of the you're* corrections

If he has to read another thesis-length essay abt weeb shit by leviathan he will actually lose his shit

You know the Voynich manuscript? He's probably trying to decode it for funsies.

If you and him (unfortunately) share a language, he will absolutely correct the living shit out of you when you speak it

Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't "erm ACtuAllY" MC. You can't.

His ass does not understand slang. At all. You tell him See You Later Alligator and he'll be like "tf you smoking ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ?"

★ Asmodeus.

French. And Korean. Maybe very mid English.

Ok so french is the language of lOVe and whatever + Korea is known for their heavy beauty-focused culture

I can see Asmo definitely picking up Korean just for makeup and self care brands purposes.

Like it is easier to browse for products he wants if he can actually browse the original places/websites himself

It's just more convenient and he's actually very good at language learning

+ Korean it is a "cutesy" language so it fits his vibe.

Like he absolutely would go "안녕 teehee (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)" to look disarming is what I am saying

He flirts to hell with Solomon in French. It is a language they both know and isn't supported by Loquar for translation so nobody can snoop their conversations

If you have the misfortune of knowing French I am so sorry for you bcs they are NASTY

Solomon is teaching him English. Asmo fakes being bad at it on purpose

★ Beelzebub.

He knows a decent amount of English.

What does he use it for? Order food. Obviously.

In fact everyone kinda assumes he just knows a few food orders and that's it but no he's actually very decent at English (borderline fluent)

He learned through clunky conversation with small restaurant owners

Beel actually makes a great effort to enunciate every word clearly, so he doesn't like speaking long sentences

"Would you like Salsa with that, sweetheart?" "... Yes," <- Beel has no fucking clue wtf salsa is but it tastes good so who is he to defy food gods (a nice Mexican grandma with a killer Pozole) whom have blessed him

I also think he would probably know some kind of sign language

Fingerspelling maybe, solely because it allows him to talk while having his mouth full or bcs his games are loud and he can't hear words very well

That and, like, the Devildom equivalent of sign language. DSL or something.

Look at him. Absolute sweetheart. He would absolutely want to include deaf or hard of hearing ppl.

★ Belphegor.

Ok so

I am going to be very fr with you

I believe Belphie would be the only monolingual (demon tongue "native") of the brothers

at most he would remember a few phrases of a few languages from back when he was an angel, but not any specifics

Like this dude has ZERO interest in human culture I cannot think he would sit down to (re)learn anything

he would fall asleep trying to learn human verbs actually

He only knows how to tell you to fuck off on 4 languages (/hj)

None which you speak. So that's kinda awkward

He doesn't know how to cast Loquar (nor has any interest in learning how)

Beel casts it for him if he needs it

He can and will deadass just remove the translator spell from you if you try to annoy/interact with him (except if Beel is who casts it on you).

(so Beel now also casts Loquar for you)

Begone >:(

[paradiseprincesss]

Absolutely ANYTHING with psychiatrist reader x patient jon crane! We don’t have enough of these 😭 and I loveee your fics so far!

Just a suggestion, maybe him meeting reader who has suppressed feelings for him in order to not cross any professional boundaries, at her place after breaking out of Arkham. Could be angsty with some intense lovemaking afterwards (once again, it’s totally up to you what you want to write. This was just an idea I had. No smut is fine too)

experience | jonathan crane

hello my love - this is such a good idea! i tried to write it the way you explained it so i hope this lives up to all ur expectations haha <3 and thank you for the kind words! i had so much fun writing this!

summary: falling in love with your patient was not something you ever thought you'd experience - but what if he's fallen for you too?

warnings: mentions of suicide, swearing, p in v, masturbation, slight choking, kind of size kink lowkeyyy, just smut lol, mdni 18+ only

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

working at arkham asylum was...interesting to say the least. you were in the last year of your psychiatry residency, and after this you'd be a full, licensed, practicing doctor specializing in psychiatry. it was exciting for sure, but dealing with your patients at arkham was no easy feat.

you'd seen it all - criminals, drug addicts, the insane; all of it. every single day there was something, wether that was an patient or inmate causing a riot or someone having a mental breakdown and hanging themselves in their cell - there was always something happening.

however, there was one patient; inmate - that stood out the most to you; jonathan crane.

he'd been your patient for the last eight months as none of your colleagues wanted to take him on because of who he was - but you loved a challenge. you wanted to prove yourself to your higher-ups, you wanted to show the preceptor in charge your residency program to see what you were capable of.

so, you offered to take him off everyone else's hands - and well, you'd come to partially regret that decision. however, your higher-ups and preceptor were impressed by your skills. he wasn't easy to deal with, that's for sure. he was the scarecrow after all - and don't forget, he was a psychiatrist himself.

though, you had a hold on him the same way he had a hold on you - but you didn't tell him that. jonathan made it clear from the start that he found you attractive, even behind bars and wrapped up in a straightjacket he would find ways to flirt with you, talk to you, or get your attention.

today, you had a scheduled session with jonathan to see if any progress was being made regarding his medication (which you knew he never took), and his behaviour.

your black pumps clicked against the wooden floor, and you closed the door quietly behind you, taking a seat in your office chair. you pulled up his file quickly on your laptop, and he sat a few feet away from you on the plush couch in your office. straightjacket and all.

"good morning, jonathan." you say, finally looking up from your laptop and locking eyes with him - god, his eyes were so pretty.

he never addressed you as "doctor" with your last name following, but instead, he insisted on calling you by your first name, or some pet name he felt like using that day.

you didn't mind actually, he was one of your more...tame and easy patients that you had, if not the easiest to deal with.

"you look beautiful as always." he said, and you smile at him sweetly. "thank you, jonathan."

today, you wore a black, mid-length pencil skirt and white blouse, with your hair down in your favourite style, some black pumps - and you finished it off with your doctors coat, of course.

skimming over his file, you type a few quick notes into your laptop - freshly done nails clicking over the keys in the otherwise silent office. after that, you got up and went over to him, helping him out of the straightjacket as he sat there in his white arkham inmate jumpsuit.

at first, you didn't let him have this privilege, but as he proved himself to be non-temperamental over time, it started off with the loosening of the straightjacket just a little...then taking it off fully but making sure he wore handcuffs. slowly, under your careful watch, you allowed him the freedom of zero restraints in your office once he proved he wasn't a threat or a danger towards you.

"let's get you out of this." you say softly, and he stays quiet for a moment, just stretching once the restraint was fully off of him. you had a different method of approaching him than the other doctors who worked (and gave up) with him.

you noticed that in a calmer, less hectic environment he responded better. so instead of having check-ups in his cell or in an interrogation room like you did with all your other patients, you let him chill in your office - restraint free.

you returned to your chair, and started to type away as you asked him the usual questions.

"how are you feeling today?"

"fine, i missed seeing your face though. seeing you three times a week isn't enough for me anymore." he says to you, making you stop typing and look up at him.

"please elaborate for me, jonathan." you say clinically, trying to ignore the way your heart started to race when he said that.

"you know what i mean. you're the only thing keeping me sane in here." he says to you with a pleading tone, making you sigh as you continue to write down your clinical notes onto the laptop.

"but you're making progress, jonathan. you seem to be doing better, there's no need for me to be seeing you more frequently." you answer curtly, but pause for a moment for letting the next few words slip out in a hushed tone, "...unless you feel like you need a few extra therapy sessions on a weekly basis."

he smirks, looking you up and down - clearly checking you out with no shame. "that's exactly what i need. i'm going crazy without you. i'd be so good to you if you were mine..." he throws in that last part quickly, but you catch it.

you clear your throat and try not to pay any mind to it, as to appear professional - but he's slowly breaking your walls down. he already has. you couldn't even lie to yourself - you were attracted to your patient. fuck, maybe you were even in love with him - how could you not be?

the fluffy brown hair, slightly tousled and messy, those beautiful, blue eyes that reminded you of sapphires, those plump, pink lips that-

no, stop it, you told yourself, focus on your job.

"ah, um- have you been taking your medications?" you ask softly, giving him a small smile to which he returns. "...yeah." he says hesitantly, and you know he's lying - you find the little cup the nurses gave him full of the pills he's supposed to be taking every time you check up on how he's feeling in his cell.

but you turn a blind eye - you may have been giving him special treatment because you were attracted to him, but you tried to tell yourself it was fine, that it wasn't like you were breaking any professional boundaries because technically, you didn't act on his advances - yet.

"good, just wanted to make sure." you speak in a hushed tone again, typing up all information in his file.

"you're a really good doctor." he says, breaking the momentary silence between the two of you, "you work hard, i can tell."

"thanks, jonathan." you say, trying your hardest to sound detached as you keep your eyes on the laptop in front of you, continuing to type away but he speaks again.

"you're welcome. you're so pretty." he sighs, "is it wrong for me to be having these thoughts about-? never mind, actually."

now it was your turn to sigh, looking up at him with a raised brow. you knew what he was doing, he was literally trying to play mind games with you. he was on purposely trying to get you to pry so he could flirt with you more - but that was your job...right? to pry?

"what thoughts?" you ask, biting your lip. "i have to ask cause...it's my job to know what's going on up here." you gesture to your own temple. he knew that this was indeed your job - to know what was going through his mind.

buuuuut you were definitely curious. the way he would talk to you gave you butterflies. the way he would act out and act violently to everyone except you gave you butterflies - even though it shouldn't have.

"i just can't get you out of my mind, pretty girl. you do things to me. 'm thinking about you when i'm all alone in my cell, how your body would feel. how it feels to kiss you, hold you. what it's like to love you." he breaths out, and you look at him incredulously, feeling your cheeks heat up at his admission.

"well," you stay, breathing slightly staggered now, "you must have an active imagination, then." you couldn't look him in the eye after that. you were trying so hard to suppress your feelings for him that were ever growing.

although one part of you knew it was wrong on both ends, wrong of you to let him effect you this way (and letting it happen), and wrong of him to be talking to you like this - you couldn't stop yourself. however, a part of you wondered if this was really how he felt - or if it was just some ploy to get out of arkham. perhaps he thought if he could get into your head, you would either help him escape or sign his release papers.

you always tried to force yourself to believe that to prevent your fantasies from growing any further - but it drove you wild.

"i know you feel the same way," his voice cut through the silence, snapping you out of your thoughts again, "i have a doctorate in psychiatry - don't forget i can also see right through you and your thoughts too."

"i-i can assure you that this is strictly professional - you and i. i mean, even if it were true, that it was mutual, it wouldn't work. you're my patient in an asylum for the criminally insane and i'm your doctor because you are criminally insane." you say, looking at him with a stoic expression, though both you and him knew of the feelings that were lurking underneath your "professional" facade. "plus, saying this won't help you get out of here any quicker. i'm not stupid."

you entirely regretted those words as soon as they left your mouth, and he shot you a look of surprise.

suddenly, he got up off the couch and made his way over to your desk - your heart now palpitating in ways you didn't even realize was physically possible.

he placed his hands on the desk, looming over you - but not in a psychotic way - or threatening, even. he just looked at you up and down, with a small smirk.

"why can't you just give in? i'm not going to tell anyone. it's not like i can, anyway." he said jokingly, but went back to being serious quickly. "please."

the way he said "please" made your breath hitch, and you look up at him with poorly concealed desire. "w-we can't, okay? we just...can't."

"but i have feelings for you - and i know you do too." he insists, and you get up out of your chair, walking over to him, having to look up at him due to your height difference.

"how i feel isn't important," you state, trying so hard not to break your facade. "if you really cared about me, you would stop doing this to me. stop making my job harder than it has to be, please jonathan. it's- it's just not fair. telling me this won't make me sign those papers-"

"fuck the papers, i don't need anything as long as i have you. you're-" he exasperates, but pauses before continuing, "you're all i have in here, you're the only one who's treated me like a person, like a real person with valid emotions. you know who i am and you don't have any fear - you aren't scared of me. you see me for...me."

silence.

after he confessed that to you, it was silent. he stood there, looking at you through his wire-frame glasses that he always wore, and you stood there in shock. at that moment, you didn't know what to say - what to do.

"i'm not feeling well," you suddenly say, "i-i'm going to take the rest of the day off. i'm going to call a nurse to escort you back to your cell." you say quickly, trying to keep your composure.

you weren't very good at that when he was around, but he didn't say anything. he let you process your emotions in your own way - of course he would. but he was plotting.

you paged a nurse to escort him back to his cell early, and you didn't dare look at him when they took him out of your office - too embarrassed and such to do so.

that night, when you got home, you decided to take the next few days off work before returning - you were too high strung with anxiety for work right now; and the cause of that anxiety was literally at work.

you ran yourself a hot shower, dried your hair, and got ready for bed throwing on your silk nightie in your favourite colour. that night, you couldn't sleep at all - constantly tossing and turning in bed, thoughts running wild.

why did it all have to be so complicated?

you didn't understand, honestly. the one guy who actually managed to steal your heart happened to be...him.

you laid in the dark quietly, the only thing light source being the tv on the wall of your bedroom. the sound of your tv playing faintly in the silence, some random show you put on was on in the background.

"can't sleep either?" a familiar voice said softly from the doorway of your bedroom, causing you to let out a small scream from being startled - nobody expects someone to be in their house at nearly 3 am unnoticed.

"what the fuck?!" you say, reaching to turn the light on your bedside table on, and sat up in your bed - seeing the one and only jonathan crane standing in your bedroom looking a little different than before.

he had escaped, that much was clear. but instead of that stupid inmate jumpsuit, he was in his actual suit and tie attire but no scarecrow mask.

"sorry, darling." he cringed at the way he startled you. "hear me out, please. you look beautiful, by the way. you always do."

"jonathan-" you warned.

"i know." he says, walking towards you, now sitting on the edge of your bed as you watched in both fear and awe. "i can't let you go. if 'professional boundaries' are whats standing between us-"

"you broke into my house, jonathan!" you exclaim, cutting him off but he just gives you a small smile, which made your heart leap. "and i'm sorry for that," he explains, "but like i said, now there is nothing standing in between us."

you look at him, and your jaw almost drops. was he for real right now?

"i just wanted you to know that, um, i wasn't just saying those things with the hope that you'd ya know - release me from arkham." he says to you softly, and you nod. "well, you've made that pretty clear by doing...this." you tell him, a small smile playing on your lips.

god, he was crazy - but he was crazy over you, and maybe you were fucked up in your own little way because you found it endearing, the thought of it all excited you.

"you don't need to fight the feeling anymore." he informs you softly, reaching a hand out for you to take - and you do. his hands were surprisingly soft, a little calloused but soft.

"you know how i feel about you, i want to be yours - i want us." you finally tell him.

"be mine, then." he whispers, and you crawl over to him on your king sized bed. you crawl onto his lap, and you can already feel him getting harder by the minute.

"i can't sleep, dr. crane." you tease, calling him 'dr. crane,' instead of the usual 'jonathan.'

he places a trail of kisses down your neck softly, pushing your hair back to do so, and whispers softly to you. "why don't you let me take care of you for once?"

the words gave you shivers, and you felt yourself getting wetter with every word he said - hanging onto them with desperation. "please, baby." you whisper, and he pulls you into a frenzied kiss.

his lips were soft - so soft. you kiss him back and he takes his time with you, hands roaming all over your body as he explored your mouth. you moaned softly into the kiss, giving him the green light to keep going. he pulled away from the kiss hesitantly to undress you.

slowly, he pulled the skimpy little nightie you wore to bed down, past your shoulders - then all the way down. you felt the cold air of your room hit your bare chest, but that feeling was replaced with the new sensation of jonathans warm mouth taking one of your nipples in his mouth. he took the bud in his mouth, licking and sucking.

"oh, baby." you say, letting out a breathless moan at the sensation. in response, he took hold of your other breast and started to play with your nipple between his fingers.

"fuck, need you so bad." you say, profanities leaving your mouth every five seconds with the way he was touching you. "yeah? tell me how badly you need me, sweetheart." he says to you, coming back up to trail kisses along your jawline and neck.

"i need you so bad, jon. please, you're everything i want." you tell him, breathless and soaked. he snaked his hand up to your neck and gave it a light squeeze, keeping his hand there. "fucking jerked off to the thought of you every night in arkham," he says, making your cheeks heat up from the thought, "every time we had our little scheduled meetings - fuck, you looked so good. just the thought of you alone had me cumming all over my fist instantly."

"i-i touched myself to the thought of you in my bed, too." you tell him, making him smirk. "did you?" he cooed, "why don't you show me how you did it. let me see."

that had you blushing, and you swallowed. you nervously laid back, propped up on your elbows as he watched. with a little hesitance, you spread your legs - suddenly feeling very vulnerable. he watched you intently, still smirking, and ran his hand along your lower leg - slowly trailing it up to your thighs, rubbing up and down.

"don't be shy, sweetheart." he says lowly, licking his lips at the sight of your glistening cunt on full display for him. you take your hand and slowly started to rub your clit in front of him, and you can feel how wet you are.

tossing your head back slightly, and closing your eyes you let out a filthy moan, and he groans at the sight of you. you hear his belt buckle being undone, and you open your eyes to see him pulling his cock out - fat and leaking at the tip.

he positioned himself between your spread legs - your hand still rubbing your clit. he started to stroke his cock slowly, the pre cum leaking out the pink head of his cock. it was so big it looked like it could split you in two. "feel good, princess?" he asked, making you nod and moan.

"f-fuck, yeah. f-feels ah- so good, baby." you respond, and he started to rub the head of his cock through your sticky, soaking folds making you whine. "please!"

he chuckled lowly, and pushed into your soaked cunt with no warning. your hands flew to his shoulders, and his hand snaked to your clit to replace yours. "oh fuck-" you say, his cock stretching you out to the limit. you felt so full.

"jesus, sweetheart," he moans as he sunk into you, "fuck- tightest pussy i've ever had. best pussy i've ever had, actually." he decided as he started to thrust himself in and out of you.

"right there, baby ah-" you moan, looking up at him. his fat cock was stretching you so good - he was so deep. as his fingers played with your clit, you couldn't help but start screaming out his name.

"jonathan, fuuuck-!" you were a screaming, moaning mess for him - and he adored it. the sight alone almost had him cumming into your tight little cunt. as he pounded the same spot in your cunt, you felt yourself about to cum for him.

"i-i'm gonna fucking cum, please." you started to beg incoherently, and he moaned as he felt your pussy tighten up around his cock. "cum for me baby, i wanna see your pretty face when you cum." he says to you softly, voice saccharine.

as you came all over his cock, you swore you saw stars. the feeling was otherworldly when your orgasm washed over you. jonathans thrusts started to get sloppy and erratic indicating that he was about to cum, too.

"gonna fill this little pussy up, make sure everyone knows your mine, fuck-" he grunted, "you're gonna be dripping with my cum."

he fucked his cock into you a few more times before stilling with a groan, and his cock twitched inside of you; spilling all of his cum into your cunt, filling you up with everything he had.

he pulled out slowly, and used his fingers to push his cum back into your cunt as soon as it started to leak out, causing you to moan. "what a sight." he sighs out of breath, and you giggle breathlessly to that.

"can we cuddle?" you ask quietly, and he was already pulling you into his arms. "open." he says, fingers covered with both your fluids mixed together at your lips. you wrap your lips around his fingers, sucking them and swallowing the mixture with a little moan. "such a pretty, obedient girl." he coos, making you blush.

you settle into his arms, exhausted, and he holds you close as his heart beat heavily in his chest. he placed a kiss on the top of your head, and you felt your eyes grow heavy.

when you went back to work, you knew you would have to pretend that you didn't know where or how jonathan escaped arkham (to be fair - you still weren't 100% sure on how he actually escaped), but that was still a few days down the road - you were too fucked out and sleepy to think about that right now.

"go to sleep, sweetheart." he says to you softly, turning the light on your bedside table off, "i'll be here when you wake up - i'll always be here. i love you."

with a content sigh, and a sleepily mumbled little "i love you too," you fell asleep wrapped up in your no-longer-forbidden lovers embrace for the night.

together at last.

[danieyells]

@mayoigotokurousagi asked for a few more of the home screen dialogues I liked from a couple of characters, so here's Leo! Also included are the Japanese versions of the text for this one.

I LOVE HIM HE'S SUCH A LITTLE SHIT. . . . Once again this is nearly now all of them because this mfer has such personality lmao his also go with a few other characters', so there's i think one for Romeo and two or three for Sho in there too.

Also as a warning. . .i got a little horny in my commentary for some of these. But it's not my fault, Leo's the one who's saying things like that lol

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Nice timing, Honor Roll. Give me your hand. Come on, just do it." あ、特待生サマちょうどよかった。手、貸して。早く早く

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, your messages are piling up. Hurry up and open them, it's annoying." ねぇ、さっきからずっと未読の通知来てんじゃん。うざいから早く読んじゃってよ

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Ugh, you're so loud. Ask for permission if you want to talk to me. ...Nope, denied." うるさ……オレに話しかけんなら先に許可取ってくんない？ ……はい駄目

This isn't the only time he complains about volume. Maybe his ears are always sensitive even without using his stigma?

"I'm thirsty, go buy me a drink. What kind? Why don't you take a guess?" 喉乾いた。��ュース買ってきて。 なに系がいいって？ じゃあ、オレが飲みたい味、当ててみてよ

he likes spicy stuff, do you think he likes bitter stuff too? Maybe lemonade? Do you think he's one of those influences who's like 'i never eat anything bad for me' so he either drinks diet soda or no soda at all? I feel like he wouldn't be able to handle restrictions like that--also he loves Painfully Spicy Food so. . . .

Hey Honor Roll! ...Don't make that face at me. I'm being totally genuine right now. ね、特待生サマ♡ ……なにその顔。別になんも企んでないよ

We were deprived of a cute heart in his localized text to emphasize how saccharine he was being. How dare they.

"Have you seen Cap? Ugh, bet he's lurching around lost again..." ねぇ、うちの寮長サマ見なかった？ ……あいつ、また迷子にでもなってんじゃないの

the real question is, does Leo then go look for him himself, wait for him to come back on his own, or get Sho, the PC, or someone else to bring him back for him?

"We're fighting again? Which house? ...Ugh, pass." ……なになに、また揉めてんの？どこの寮？ なんだ……つまんな

I wonder which houses he wouldbe up to fight. Probably Hotarubi since he's kind of invested in Subaru's suffering? Maybe Frostheim since they already have beef--on the other hand, maybe that'd be boring for him. But man he seems pretty ready to go with that, Sho wasn't kidding when he said they got kicked out of every club in Shibuya because Leo's always picking fights.

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh, I'm so tired... I'm done with these classes already. I'll just show up for tests and skip the rest." は～……ねむ…… なんか怪異の授業も飽きたし、テスト以外もう出んのやめよ……

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm starving! Huh? Where'd Sho go? I swear he was here a second ago... Whatever. I'll make that NPC go buy something for me." お腹空いた～。 あれ、翔ちゃんは？ここにいると思ったんだけど…… ま、いっか。モブ女に購買行かせよ

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That fucking himbo left me behind again..." あのポンコツ朴念仁……またオレのこと置いて行きやがって

he really wants to get involved in the spy situation huh. That or it's something administrative. Even at affinity 3 Alan leaving him out of something interesting upsets him a bit, which is interesting.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Right now? I'm programming an app. I'm not doing anything that complex, just making an ordering system." 今？　アプリのプログラミング中。 別にそんな難しいことしてないよ。オーダーシステム作ってるだけ～

Of note, this is Sho's Affinity 7 line:

"Nice, got an order. More demand than I thought. Getting Leo to make this app was a good call." お、出前の予約が入ったわ……思ったより需要あってよ。 玲音に予約アプリ作らせたの正解だったな

So he made Sho an app for his food truck! Probably not for free of course--good to get the occasional reminder that Leo's both really smart and really good with technology lol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh... Cap smashed my woofer. I was just playing music in the Pit since we can't go clubbing..." だっる……クラブ行けない代わりに地下で音楽流してたら、寮長サマにウーハーぶっ壊されたんだけど……

That was kinda mean on Alan's part haha

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Who's DMing me? Oh, it's this account. Huh... Now that's interesting."

the tea has arrived, piping hot i see. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, over here. Give this tabloid to that national treasure wannabe in front of the food truck. Just do it!" キミ、こっちこっち。 あのキッチンカーの前にいる国宝気取りに、この週刊誌渡してきて。いいから早く！

My guy does not like Subaru huh lmao or rather he loves tea and wants to set Subaru off or something. . . .

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey, Cap, could you open this bottle for me? Do it yourself? I can't, that's why I'm— hey! Where are you going?! ねぇ寮長サマ～、このペットボトルの蓋開けて～♡　 いや、無理だから頼んで…… ちょっとどこ行くの！？

Leo really said 'i need a big strong man in my life' and Alan said 'good luck becoming one' kekw ONCE AGAIN DEPRIVED OF HEARTS

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Time to see what the bug I planted in his car picked up... Huh? What the fuck?! Someone broke it!!" さてと、あいつの車に仕込んだ盗聴器の収穫は～…… は？　なにこれ！壊されてんだけど！！

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"This pillow mist? I only bought it because it was trending, but it's better than I thought it'd be. Ro-Ro's hooked on it too." あ、この寝香水？　バズってるから買ったんだけど、意外とよくてさ。ロミサマもハマってるみたいよ？

Romeo's Affinity 8 line references this:

"You're smelling the bedtime fragrance I bought from Kurossa earlier. He has a good eye, so I often ask him to pick things out for me." この香り？　さっきクロッサから買った寝香水だよ。あいつセンスいいから、よく見繕ってもらうわけ

"Kurossa" obviously being from "Kurosagi", Leo's surname. These two became fast friends, huh. Maybe they already knew each other from social media, since Romeo has an Instagram too. I bet they take the prettiest selfies.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Night, then. What? I haven't slept yet. Unlike you, I actually have shit to do." じゃ、おやすみ～…… なに？　今から寝るんだけど。オレ、キミと違って忙しいの

Sho also stays up pretty late lmao. I assume Leo does much of his hacking in the dead of night. . .then again why's he using his sleep mist before he goes to bed?

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Why is this place so overrun with fucking losers?! My eardrums are going to burst!! ...I'm going back to the garage to play with Cap." どこいても雑魚どもがうっさい！！この学園、マジどうなってんの！？ ……ガレージ戻って寮長サマで遊ぼ

The word "雑魚" which was translated as 'loser' means "nobody" or "unimportant person" lol which means Alan is someone of greater importance than others to him? Or just more bearable? Or maybe just likes that he's quieter or finds him more entertaining lol it's kind of nice to see that they're "getting along" in the loosest sense of the term i guess. . . .

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Huh... The little kabuki prince's sister married an actor from a different troupe? Bet there's something going on there." ふ～ん……梨園の御曹司サマには、別の屋号の歌舞伎役者と結婚した姉がいる…… なんか、超匂うわ～……

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"You think I smell good? It's L'Occitane body lotion. I just throw some on after showering in the morning." この匂い？　ロクシタンのボディーローションだけど。 朝シャンの後、ぱぱっとつけてるだけだよ

the pc mentions that Leo's hair smells floral, so I bet he smells super nice. And I guarantee you he's not using men's fragrances either, he wants to smell pretty, leave that hypermasculine shit to Alan and Sho.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Okay, okay, I'm coming... Ugh. Calling the whole house out at the ass crack of dawn... What is wrong with that himbo?" はいはい、行くってば…… はぁ。朝っぱらから寮生集会とか、あのポンコツ朴念仁なに考えてんの？

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ugh, I totally missed out on that ultra-spicy chicken thing they had in Shin-Okubo. Guess I'll read the reviews and get Sho to recreate it." あ～新大久保の激辛チキン、完全に食べ損ねてる…… ネットのレビュー調べて、翔ちゃんに再現させるか

I feel like, if not for that it'd have all the flavor sucked out of it from the spiciness, Sho would probably have a good time replicating flavors like that. He likes to make different cultures' foods after all.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Wow, so late already. Better get a bath going and get ready for bed. Here you go. It's for scrubbing the bath." やば、もうこん��時間じゃん。さっさと風呂溜めて寝る支度しよ。 はいこれ、風呂掃除用のブラシ♪

If you do a real good job of cleaning the tub for him, he may even let you have some of his bathwater! Isn't he generous?

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"That dumb video got over 10k interacts? God, you're all so basic... Muting." あんな適当な動画が万バズとか、本当ちょろすぎ……うるさいから通知切ろ……

No respect or love for his fans is2g

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"I can touch you, but you can't touch me. That's how this works, got it?" オレからキミに触るのはオッケー。キミからオレに触るのはダメ。 いい？　これがオレたちのルールね

This is probably so much more innocuous than it sounds--like literal touching, or maybe him holding his fame as an influencer over you--especially since he's saying it with a straight face but. . .it's so easy to imagine this as Leo cuffing or tying your hands and when you ask what he's doing he climbs in your lap and moves your clothes out of his way and says this. . .and at this point you've probably never fucked or kissed or anything before so it's a little out of the blue but you can't really stop him and he just toys with you until he's satisfied. . .one of my favorite of his lines just because it's a little dirty lol

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"There she is. Hey, Honor Roll! You free? There's something I was really hoping you could help me with." あ、いたいた。ねぇ特待生サマ～、今日って暇？　 ちょっと付き合って欲しいことがあんだけど♪

given this is his expression in the first line(and the little music note with his second line) he's probably up to no good lol there's either something he really needs to hear or something he really wants to do to you specifically. in Japanese he says "I just want you to keep me company for a while♪"

BUT MAYBE I'M ASSUMING TOO MUCH MAYBE HE JUST DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO ASK YOU TO HANG OUT OTHERWISE. Like how the PC asks Sho if they need help on the food truck and he immediately clocks "you don't have to offer to help just so you can spend time with me you know"

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey, Honor Roll, come sit down. Not over there, next to me. Good, you're comfy. Don't move, I'm taking a nap." 特待生サマ、ちょっとここ座って。 違うよ、オレの隣。 あ～気持ち～♡しばらく昼寝するから動かないでね

Lap pillow hours! Whether you like it or not! He said no touching him, so no moving him off your lap, either! He might make an exception for having his hair pet though.

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"They went to the Pit again? Must really get a kick out of it... Like big, dumb animals throwing themselves at each other." あいつら、また地下に行ってんの？好きだね～本当…… やってること、虫相撲とほぼ変わんないじゃん……

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"The whole demon nickname? People can call me whatever they want. I know who I am." 悪魔って呼ばれてること？ 別に、好きにすればって感じ。オレが何者かは、オレが一番わかってるもん

His expression saying this is his default one where he's smiling, so I guess it really doesn't bug him, which is good. He probably gets a kick out of it.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Stay like this till I tell you to leave, okay? Got it? I didn't hear an answer." オレが行っていいって言うまで、キミはずっとこうしててね♡ ……わかった？　返事は？

Again, this one's a little dirty which makes me like it a lot hahaha. . .this is a late night one(it's labeled "GoodNight" and only pops up between 10pm and midnight) is he telling you to sit still while he sleeps on your lap or uses you as a body pillow? Is he making you sit still with a toy in you while he ignores you or pretends he's not tormenting you sexually? SORRY I FIND SEXUAL THINGS SO AMUSING BUT HE'S MAKING IT SOUNDS SO HORNY. The audio doesn't sound as horny as i'm making it sound off but like LOOK AT IT.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Wanna make a bet, Honor Roll? Over which will come first—me falling for you, or you getting hooked on me." 特待生サマさ、オレと賭けない？ オレがキミを好きになるのが先か、キミがオレに沼るのが先か

I think it's a little late for you, sweetheart. I think you've already caught the feels and that ship is sailed.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"Why the hell would I go to class? I already learned all the first year material." 授業なんて出るわけないじゃん。１年で覚えなきゃいけない範囲は、もう全部やっちゃったし

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Cap really puts the "him" in "himbo..." Look at him, he's got a flower stuck in his hair." 寮長サマってさ、あんな見た目してなんでポンコツなんだろね…… ほら見てよ。頭に花くっついてるし

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Quick Honor Roll, stand over there. Perfect. Now hold my phone. You're the cameraman." ちょっと特待生サマ、そこ立って。そそ、いい感じ。 で、オレのスマホ持って。はいキミ、カメラマンね

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Can't believe how many gross dudes this account keeps reeling in. AI-generated pics make it so easy! "Could you send me some more money ♡?” Send." このアカ、変態ジジイ釣れすぎなんだけど。ＡＩ美女画像マジ便利～！ もっとペイペイちょ～だい♡っと

I find it funny that they use AI generated images for their backgrounds and also have a character who scams people with AI generated images. . . .

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"That rule about having to wear your academy or house uniform on campus is so outdated. I'm going to die wearing all this crap in this heat." 学内は基本、制服か寮服じゃなきゃ駄目ってさ、今時そんな校則あり？ 暑くて死んじゃうんですけど

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I can't believe Sho seriously ran out of my Killer Sauce. It's summer, this is when I want to eat spicy stuff." 翔ちゃん、オレのキラーソース切らしてんのマジあり得ないんだけど。夏こそ辛いもん食べたいのに

well maybe if you didn't dump so much of it on whatever you ate. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I keep telling Sho we should let off some fireworks and he keeps saying no! You want to do it too, don't you, Honor Roll?" 翔ちゃんに花火したいって言ってんのに、全然付き合ってくんないの！ 特待生サマも、やりたいもんね～？

One of Sho's summer lines references this:

"Leo won't shut up about wanting to let off fireworks, but no way am I doing that shit with him again. I'm sure you can guess why." 玲音が花火してぇってうるせぇんだけどよ、俺は二度とあいつとはやんねぇって決めてんの。わかんだろ？

I guess Leo isn't a very responsible fireworks user.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Yeah, apparently there's more anomalies around in summer. Statistically speaking. It's just fucking annoying more than anything else, really." ああ、なんかこの時期って、日本は怪異が増えるらしいね、統計的に。 普通にめんどくさいだけなんだけど

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Thought I could have some fun here at Japan's most elite educational institution. What a let down." 日本有数の名門校なんて言われて、期待して入ったのにさぁ。 結局この学園も、つまんないやつばっか

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Sports? Hard pass. I hate getting sweaty. Ask Sho instead." スポーツ？　パス。オレ、汗かくの嫌いなの。 翔ちゃんでも誘ってきなよ

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sho hurt himself playing basketball? How unfortunate." 翔ちゃんがバスケ��に怪我した？ へぇ、そうなんだ。大変だね

He gives so few fucks about his best friend lmao then again they're ghouls, Sho'll probably be fine in like two hours.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh, I want to go clubbing... We should make one in the Pit. Sinostra's got a casino, can't be that hard to get a permit." あ～クラブ行きて～…… いっそさ、地下改造して箱にしちゃうのどう？カジノがありなら余裕じゃない？

Leo pointing at sinostra: if the criminals in there can have a fucking casino there's no way it's hard to get a business permit here. They kill people like on a weekly basis and no one's shut them down. The standards must be in the ground.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"This coat? Cute, right? I knew it'd look good on me, so I bought it." ああ、このアウター？可愛いっしょ。絶対オレに似合うと思って買ったんだ～♪

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm freezing... I'm having a carbonated bath tonight. Wanna join, Honor Roll? Of course I'm serious." あ～、さぶ。今日の風呂は強炭酸にしよ…… 特待生サマも一緒に入る？ 別に、マジで言ってんだけど

This one happens regardless of affinity which is kinda funny to think about. then again, Japanese bathhouse culture probably means that's not super weird if you have a tub big enough, maybe? Then again a bathhouse and just having a bath with someone are different things. I bet he has lots of baths with Sho.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey, everyone! It's me! Ugh, my throat's all dry from the cold. I'll just stream tomorrow..." こんばんは。ＬＥＯだよ～！ ……やば、乾燥で喉死んでるわ。配信は明日にしとこ……

Of note here, Leo's online handle is just "LEO" in Japanese. In English his name probably had to be given just as Leo to prevent this being lost in translation, because his actual name, in kanji, is 玲音, which is pronounced "Reio"(the same as 'leo' but with an r). But "Leo" is stylized since Japanese doesn't have the L sound and the R sound is closest. So in Japanese he says "It's LEO!" whereas in English he just says "It's me!" since his handle and his name are the same. Although, as someone who follows streamers, introducing yourself again at the top of a stream isn't too uncommon i think? But I also don't watch the influencer types, so the culture is probably very different haha.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"The ghouls won't listen to you? No shit. You realize we were hand-picked by demons, right?" グールが言うこと聞いてくれない？そんなの当たり前でしょ。 だって、オレたち悪魔に選ばれた人間よ？

He's one of the only ones who mentions something like this on the homescreen(off the top of my head Haku is the other one who really mentions how none of them are normal). And he's absolutely right--they were chosen by demons, made pacts with those demons, and ultimately overcame them somehow. Most of them are gonna be kinda stubborn. A demon probably wouldn't choose someone who'd be influenced easily. . .except the demon who chose Kaito apparently. Probably just looking for easy pickings, that one. Or maybe Kaito wasn't always such a coward. . . .

His birthday: (May 23rd)

"You got me a birthday present? Oh, thanks. Just put it over there, I'll look at it later.  I will, I promise." オレに誕生日プレゼント？　あ～、ありがと。そこらへん置いといて。 大丈夫だよ、後で見るってば

Rude ungrateful little shit lmaoooooo "yeah yeah my fans sent me a bunch of gifts already. I'll get to it."

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday? I'll help you celebrate.  Meet me behind the garage later." へぇ。今日キミ、誕生日なんだ。 そうだ……オレが祝ってあげる♡後でガレージの裏においで

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! I prefer digital payment.  What do you mean, what do I mean? I'll be nice to you again this year, so pay up." ハッピーニューイヤー♪　はい！ なにって……今年も仲良くしてあげるから、お年玉ちょ～だい？

He's referencing otoshidama, money you're given on new years(usually as a child) but it sounds like you've just got a recurring subscription to Leo's friendship lmaoooo "We can still be friends, so compensate me monetarily" lolol i swear if he weren't vice captain i wouldn't be surprised if he eventually transferred to Sinostra in his second or third year. I think he'd fit in.

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"This is that ultra-spicy chocolate they only sell this time of year... I'm actually genuinely stoked right now." これ、毎年この時期にしか買えない激辛生チョコレートじゃん…… え、普通に嬉しいんだけど

White Day: (March 14th)

"Here, as thanks for the chocolate. You're not going to tell me you don't know Godiva, are you? All right, now we're even." はい、これお返し。キミ……まさかゴディバ知らないわけないよね？ じゃ、これで貸し借りはチャラね

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Ha ha. You were photobombing one of my pics so I uploaded it and said I had a new girlfriend. 10K interacts in less than an hour. Suckers." あはは。新しく彼女できましたって特待生サマのこと匂わせたら、一瞬で万バズしたんだけど。嘘なのに～

Comments section like "gee Leo how come your boyfriend lets you have two partners?"

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat!  Ugh, the only good thing about this dumb event is the video content it provides." トリックオアトリート！ 　って……こんなくだらないイベント、動画のネタになるだけマシなんだけどさぁ

Not much of a halloween guy. . .even though this is Sho's halloween dialogue???

"You really need an explanation? Leo made me wear it! Shit, why am I always the girl..." ああ？　言わなくてもわかんだろ。玲音に着せられたんだっつの！ クソ、なんで毎年女装なんだよ……

You're making your boyfriend best friend crossdress for your halloween vids? When you don't even like Halloween? And this is a REGULAR occurrence??? Like I get that he doesn't like sweets I guess but lmaoooo

Christmas: (December 25th)

"This Christmas-themed food Sho made might pull some traffic.  All right, uploaded. You can eat the rest, Honor Roll. Say "ah"!" 翔ちゃんのクリスマス映えごはん、適当にあげて…… はい終わり。後は特待生サマが食べてね。あ～ん♡

what you want him to eat all of that? and mess up his figure?

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Was that on purpose?  Are you seriously ignoring me right now?" あのさ、それわざと？ キミ今、オレのこと無視してるよね？

(13 affinity and above)

"Ugh, everyone's so loud.  I'm putting my headphones on, so tap here if you need me, okay?" はぁ……どこもうるさ…… オレ音楽聴いてるから、なんかあったらここ触って呼んでね～♡

oh no he's becoming self aware i like that he's not like. 'hey pay attention to me!!' instead he's like 'okay we can sit here in silence that's fine, i'm gonna listen to music so if you want something let me know'. Parallel play with Leo! He's content to just vibe out with you--and he likes you enough that he'll give you attention if you ask too.

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Who are you? Ah ha ha! I'm kidding. Have you got a good excuse for why you've been gone so long?" ……キミ、誰？ ……あはは！冗談だよ。 で、しばらく来なかった言い訳、ちゃんと用意してきた？

MAN THAT TOOK A LONG TIME. He really just has a lot of personality lol or maybe i just like his personality a lot? Either way I like a bunch of his lines so that's honestly like 90% of them. Bit of a goober. I'll do Sho's in a few hours! Since i already have his japanese file open from doing Leo's lol this is now all of his lines, and Sho's is partially done as well as of writing this! I love Leo so much haha

[worriedvision]

NPC behaviour - Wanderer

Gender neutral reader, reader and wanderer were basically scripted to be together and it was rolled back due to backlash. For obvious reasons, this is solely a hypothetical. Angst ending for reader. Short compared to what I was going to write, as I don't really know how to not make it sound too complicated tbh lol!

--

"Hey, Wanderer, who's that?" Paimon asks, tilting her head as she spots you running towards Wanderer. He groans, knowing what you were about to do but not stopping you as you tackle him into a hug. "Hey, I get why you'd not trust him but-" Paimon protests, assuming you were attempting to hurt Wanderer.

"Don't worry, I'm dating this one." Wanderer tuts, you kissing him on the cheek. "...why do you look so shocked?"

"Well..." Paimon starts, whispering to the traveler to speak for her.

"...you didn't strike us as the lovey dovey type." The traveler starts, changing their pose. "Happy for you, though!"

If only the players agreed. Your NPC was programmed to stay in the one spot, gushing about your plans with your partner.. the development of you was to be the opposite of Donna.

Unfortunately, you are gushing so much without being able to help it that players would make fun of you. Pulling up characters they ship with your partner, attacking your NPC (doing no damage) and you'd even hear some people discuss how you were not worthy of dating the Wanderer.

When you were able to have the rare moments of offline time with your partner, he reassured you he isn't dating you because he felt guilty, or he feels like he needs something to keep the other side of the bed warm.

"Don't forget, we have our promise rings." He states, pulling out the ring he puts in his pocket every day. You trace the ring on your finger, and you smile warmly at him for the gesture.

...if only that wasn't a scripted event, one where the traveler eavesdropped.

Your next "scene" was your boyfriend pulling out the ring that he had in his pocket, smirking devilishly at you as he makes his way towards the edge of the port. Your character runs, begging him to explain what happened, but he only chastises you for being so silly to think you were going to be together long term. You try to explain you want to have a proper discussion - even if it does end with a break up, you'll at least know what went wrong.

The music fades when he throws the ring, you rushing to grab the ring only to be stopped by the Traveler who holds you back from jumping in. You hear your now ex-partner walk off, laughing as your character begs for another chance to no avail.

You could swear when you next saw him offline, he looked guilty, but you quickly brush it off as he returns to his no longer living you face.

While you were tired from being in scenes where your boyfriend needed you for character enhancement, it was much more humiliating to be the NPC with a well known line.

Your characters voiced line is stuck at a whiny "Maybe I need to give up on love".